SCREEN PRACTICE BEFORE FILM
University
of Exeter - Bill Douglas Centre
for the History of Film and Popular Culture
The
aim of this project is to reconsider the continuities between nineteenth-century
optical recreations and the cinema in both its formative and mature phases.
Using the extensive resources of the Bill Douglas Centre, consideration will
be given to two key issues in the production of screen practice before film.
1. The history of large format and projected images from the panorama and
magic lantern to early cinema and subsequent widescreen formats up to and
including IMAX. 2.
The identification and mapping of distinct public and domestic spheres of
consumption. Optical media were produced for a variety of market and the public
popularity of entertainments like the peepshow and magic lantern was complemented
by the consumption of domestic versions of these media.
PROJECT OUTLINE Given
the comparative nature of this project, I think that a categorical rather
than a historical approach would be the most effective way of structuring
the proposed research. One of the major difficulties in mapping the family
of nineteenth century screen practices is the interrelationship between the
different visual and optical media. Critical histories of the panorama and
diorama have usually treated them as individual and distinct entities (Richard
Altick, The Shows of London(1978);
Ralph Hyde, Panoramania! (1984);
Stephen Oetermann, Panorama: History
of a mass medium (1997); Laurent Mannoni, The Great Art of Light and Shadow(2001)). Foregrounding individual
media necessarily downplays the way that peepshows, panoramas and magic lanterns
were affected by similar aesthetic and commercial demands. My
work will be structured around four key categories in order to argue that
screen practices have a longstanding role in popular leisure and entertainment;
exhibition practices; modes of spectatorship; genre; and domestic consumption.
These categories provide a framework to map the relationship between nineteenth-century
screen practices and the cinema.
Chapter One: Public Exhibitions and Picture Palaces Chapter
One will identify a set of common production and exhibition practices for
public screen entertainments, especially panoramas, dioramas and magic lantern
shows. The functioning of large-format images can be separated into two distinct
genealogies. The first of these stems from the way in which panoramas and
dioramas constituted an independent entertainment industry through the development
of purpose-built institutions. Robert Barker's patent for the panorama relied
on the creation of a purpose-built rotunda for its visual impact. A circular
building ensured that the sight of the viewer was directed towards the only
possible reality: that which was portrayed on the 360-degree painted scene.
The first rotunda opened in Leicester Square in 1793, and another soon followed
it in the Strand. Daguerre's diorama similarly relied on a purpose-built venue
to blur the relationship between screen and audience. The Diorama first opened
in Regent's Park in 1823, and temporary buildings soon followed in Manchester,
Liverpool, Edinburgh and Dublin. Large
screen media housed in specific venues were notable for their visual spectacle
and optical scale. The pictures displayed were enormous. The largest panorama
circle at Leicester Square was around 90ft in diameter, and the diorama screen
in Regent's Park was 45ft by 72ft. However, while architectural features were
crucial in producing their initial attraction, purpose-built panoramas and
dioramas functioned as fashionable rather than popular entertainments. They
were inherently limited in their attraction. Outside London, most of these
venues were very short-lived. The large outlay of capital required for each
picture, along with the consequent inability to change the scene more than
once a year, meant that, their success could not be sustained. The rotunda
in Leicester Square closed in 1861 and the Regent's Park Diorama in 1851.
One way that large-format images survived was to become one element of venues
that offered multiple attractions. The most significant example of this is
the London Colosseum, which opened in 1829, and claimed to have been visited
by more than 1m people in the first fifteen years. Its main attraction was
a panorama of London viewed from an imaginary standpoint at the top of St
Paul's, and which measured 40,000sq feet. Additionally though, the Colosseum
offered a Saloon decorated with sculpture and object
d'art, a cleverly constructed landscape garden in which had been cut ravines,
mountains and dells, and a Conservatory 300ft in length that was filled with
exotic flowers and plants [Figure 1]. An imitation Swiss
Cottage, which looked out onto a cleverly constructed mountain waterfall,
completed the range of entertainment. On the roof there was a circular veranda
that housed an enormous camera obscura. In 1844, an arena was even installed
for the newly invented sport of roller-skating. The
360-degree panorama thus remained something of a novelty. It was viable only
for large fairs and exhibitions. In the latter part of the nineteenth century,
360-degree screens were standard exhibits at the Crystal Palace in London,
and the Universal Expositions in Paris. The Universal Exposition in 1889 included
no less than seven different panoramas, and at the Universal Exposition of
1900, visitors could see the Pleorama, Stereorama, Cineorama, and the Lumiere
Brothers photorama. There is a clear link between this mode of exhibition
- where the panorama functioned in a fashion akin to Tom Gunning's notion
of cinema of attractions - and the subsequent development of widescreen formats
like Cinemascope, Cine 180 and IMAX. These have remained limited to theme
parks and individual venues, and rely on an overwhelming sensory experience
rather than narrative appeal. The
second mode of exhibition practice stems from the standard product provided
by panoramas, dioramas and magic lanterns. The key feature in the standard
organisation of large-format images is the number of different venues that
travelling shows could be seen at, both in London and the provinces. Moving
panoramas, operated between two rollers, could be transported to a number
of venues. They were consequently the industrial norm. These first moving
panoramas came into operation in the early 1820s. One of the most famous was
Marshall's Grand Moving Panorama of the Coronation of George IV, which was
accompanied by a band playing suitably patriotic music at the correct moments.
By the late 1840s, the majority of large-format screen shows were of this
type. The
number of different venues for optical entertainments suggest that there has
been an underestimation of the extensiveness of nineteenth-century screen
practice. In Leicester Square alone, the institutions showing optical entertainment
in the 1850s included Wyld's Great Globe; the Panopticon of Arts and Sciences;
the Linwood Gallery, the Western Institution, and the Apollonicon Rooms [Figure
2]. Individual screen media usually formed only one element in larger
exhibitions of technological curiosity and optical entertainment. The Regent
Street Polytechnic, which opened in 1838, had a typically eclectic program
that included oxyhydrogen microscopes alongside phantasmagorias, dissolving
views and elaborate lantern shows. Employing a combination of magical illusion
and scientific realism, its motto was 'If you want science you can have it.
If you want instruction you can have it. If you prefer amusement you can have
it. You can have either or all three by paying the admission price of a shilling'.
Institutions like the Polytechnic existed alongside numerous galleries of
science, full of anatomical displays and cabinets of curiosities
Optical shows could be found as part of pantomimes and theatrical performances,
alongside wax-works, and at several pleasure gardens. Screen and stage practices
were closely integrated. Professor Pepper's famous ghost shows at the Royal
Polytechnic, for example, inspired numerous stage effects in plays such as
A Christmas Carol, Hamlet
and Faust. Screen entertainment was also very
much part of the new world of leisure and retailing. Cosmoramas became standard
attractions at bazaars, which were early forms of department stores. The first
Cosmorama opened in London in May 1821, and Cosmorama rooms were soon part
of the Saville House Bazaar, St James's Bazaar, and the Oriental Bazaar in
High Holborn. What bazaars offered was an integrated leisure complex, offering
a variety of pleasures. In
addition to London venues, there was a thriving network of provincial distribution.
After exhausting their appeal in London, the most successful tours would visit
forty or fifty provincial towns. Hamilton's Panorama of 'An Excursion to the
Continent and Back' played for seventeen weeks at the Trade Hall in Manchester
and was reputed to have been visited by over 80,000 people.
Chapter Two: Of Visual and Other Pleasures Chapter
Two seeks to identify the appeal of the different visual media. It examines
the relationship between their attraction and the dominant genres associated
with nineteenth-century screen practice. Optical shows played upon both realism
and spectacle; they were consequently predisposed towards subject matter that
accentuated the impact of the screen experience.
For domestic artefacts and public exhibitions, exotic landscapes, vast cityscapes,
natural disasters and large news events formed the staple subject matter.
Oft repeated shows included the Eruption of Mount Vesuvius, the Battle of
Trafalgar and journeys across America and the Orient. Such generic categories
also constituted the usual fare of the magic lantern, illustrated journalism,
and, to a lesser degree, early film. Magic lantern travelogues used elaborately
painted slides in order to conjure up the allure of far-off lands. The dominant
genres produced existed in a symbiotic nature with the nature of the screen
experience. Panoramas that revealed the new urban phantasmagoria of London
and Paris did so through a screen practice that was itself part of the opening
up of new forms of consciousness. Despite
the common subject matter of screen entertainment, visual shows had widely
different forms of appeal. Different modes of exhibition invariably produced
different types of attraction. At one end of the spectrum is a concern with
the opening up of what Walter Benjamin has called the optical unconscious
[1]
. With the proliferation of optical inventions, the supernatural
illusion of natural magic was superseded by a new technological visuality.
Barker's patent for the panorama described it as 'La Nature a Coup D'Oeil'.
Its appeal depended as much on the topographical realism of the scene portrayed
as on its scale. Similarly, solar microscopes and achromatic telescopes were
regularly included as part of optical exhibitions. One typical show at Short's
Carlton Observatory in Edinburgh promised to show the eye of a fly 'magnified
into an expanse of 12 feet, each of its many hundred pupils assuming the size
of a human eye'
[2]
[Figure 3]. Optical technology opened
up a realism whose modernity made gave it a general scopic fascination. Realism
and spectacle, however impressive, were nevertheless not enough to sustain
screen entertainment. Screen practice is usually identified with visual pleasure
but the most successful shows incorporated a variety of attractions. They
relied on narrative appeal and instruction as well as spectacle. The success
of many shows stemmed from their employment of a lecturer rather than the
quality or novelty of their visual experience. During the 1850s and 1860s,
moving panoramas and dioramas were closer to live theatrical shows than to
fashionable art exhibitions. The lecturer cum showman emerged in the late
1840s, when several American panoramic shows arrived, usually accompanied
by vivacious American showman. John Banvard's panorama of the Mississippi
played at the Egyptian Hall with enormous success between 1848 and 1850. One
condescending reviewer from the Saturday Review, when describing his visit
to Hardy Gillard's Great American Educational Panorama, declared that 'in
the absence of a poet we have Mr Gillard screaming until he becomes almost
inaudible, and making terrible cuts and slashes with a long wand, as of he
were performing sword exercises against a giant'
[3]
. In contrast with the grand history paintings of the early
panoramas, the showman acted as a democratic interlocutor between picture
and audience. The performative aspect of many large-format screen shows makes
them much closer to the magic lantern than has commonly been realised.
A figure who exemplifies the success of the showman is Albert Smith. His shows,
The Overland Mail to India, The Ascent
of Mont Blanc, and To China and Back, were incredibly successful. The Ascent of Mont Blanc started its performances in March 1852 at
the Egyptian Hall. It ran for six years, playing for over 2,000 shows. The
Mont Blanc show was a dioramic journey
of Smith's own mountain ascent. Its success, however, stemmed from his showmanship.
The stage contained a mock-up of a Swiss chalet with a pool in front of it
surrounded by Alpine plants [Figure 4]. Smith gave his
performance in full evening dress; it consisted of anecdotes, literary description,
impersonations and patter songs. It was also regularly rewritten to include
allusions to current news items. Significantly, the cultural frenzy around
The Ascent of Mont Blanc created
a host of spin-off products. These included engravings, dances, stereoscopic
pictures, plates decorated with Smith's portrait, magic lantern slides, and
even a Mont Blanc game. Screen
practice developed a dominant mode of exhibition that ensured the provision
of multiple attractions. During the 1880s and 1890s, this is exemplified by
the most successful of the surviving visual tours was Poole's Myriorama [Figure
5]. Poole's usually had six shows on the road at once, each with a staff
of thirty-five including musicians, machinists, a lecturer and other artistes.
The basic element of Poole's shows was invariably a panoramic travelogue across
Europe and America. Their entertainment, nevertheless, belongs to the genealogy
established by the showmen of the 1850s and 1860's. They offered hybrid variety
shows that included songs, anecdotes and frequent references to topical events.
Short films were included after 1896. The visual spectacle was only one element
of a form of entertainment that was heavily influenced by the music hall.
The auditory and communal experience were as much the attraction as the visual
extravaganza. The
differing nineteenth-century optical recreations feed into the range of attractions
subsequently offered by the cinema. One mode of appeal, best embodied by the
purpose-built panoramas and dioramas, was almost wholly reliant on visual
spectacle. This is a genealogy that stretches forward to Cinemascope and IMAX.
The dominant form of appeal, however, was much closer to the hybrid narrative
and performative pleasures of the cinema.
Chapter Three: Domestic multi-media: screen practice in the home Chapter
three maps the existence of public and domestic spheres in the consumption
of popular visual entertainment. There are two important reasons for identifying
the predominance of optical toys within the nineteenth-century drawing room.
It locates twentieth-century domestic image production in terms of a tradition
of screen entertainment within the home. Secondly, it exemplifies the extent
to which the nineteenth-century was what Isobel Armstrong has described as
an avidly scopic culture, 'obsessed with the disorientating thrill of reflection,
refraction, projection and anamorphosis'. Perspective games competed with
stereoscopes and praxinoscopes as favourite drawing room recreations. This
chapter seeks to demonstrate that domestic optical activities were widespread
and demonstrated all strata of society. In London Labour and the London Poor, for
example, Henry Mayhew records a conversation with a London street peddler
selling a range of what he called 'magical delusions'. These included a crude
version of the thaumotrope that relied merely on carefully cut out sheets
of paper to throw grotesque silhouettes on the nearest wall. Sold for the
bargain price of a penny, these magical attractions mimicked many of the effects
of more expensive magic lanterns and dissolving views. Mayhew himself specifically
mentioned his encounter with the street seller because of the 'improving'
nature of these occupations. In his words, it showed 'something of a change
in the winter's evening's amusements of the children of the working class'
[4]. The
second way that this chapter identifies the different spheres in which optical
media were consumed is through tracing their aesthetic influence over a diverse
range of graphic media. The technological effects of the panorama and diorama
were often reproduced as a set of formal characteristics by small-scale artefacts
and prints. During the 1830s, for example, cleverly designed protean views
mimicked the effect of a diorama so that when held up to the light the scene
underwent a dramatic transformation. Illustrated journalism and hand-held
reels, when portraying large public events, invariably mimicked the conventions
of the panorama [Figure 6].
Chapter 4: Spectatorship and the screen
Chapter
four examines the similarities in the spectating process associated with the
different optical media. Merlau-Ponty has argued that seeing is a kind of
possession, and one recurring feature of the nineteenth-century relationship
with the screen is the desire for interactivity. There was an abiding fantasy
and fear of possessing the world of the screen. This
chapter explores the experience of optical toys, arguing their pleasure was
keyed into the changing and uncertain relationship between the self and the
world. Screen practices manipulated both the properties of light and the phenomenological
working of the eye. Isobel Armstrong has argued that optical toys offered
sensory experiences without a sensory, tactile image - they were caught in
a constant play of materiality and phantasmagoria.
The eye was less the organ of truth than the most fertile source of
imagination and illusion. For the spectator, optical toys like the kaleidoscope
offered a multiplicity of subject positions. Anamorphic prints, whose distortion
had to be unravelled through viewing mirrors, subverted the rules of conventional
perspective [Figure 7]. In so doing, they also disturbed
the viewer's comfortable relationship with the world. The thrill of many optical
toys derives from the unstable subjectivities they produced: where the spectator,
nevertheless, remained in control of the image. Domestic optical
media were equally concerned with screen interaction. Portable peepshows and
stereoscopic photographs offered the opportunity to become at one with the
world of the screen. The term stereoscope derives from two Greek words, stereo
meaning solid, and skopein
meaning to look at. Seen through specially designed viewers, stereoscopic
pictures provided a three-dimensional experience [Figure 8].
They were an incredibly popular parlour-room pastime from the mid 1850s. The
London Stereoscopic Company was set up in 1854 and by 1858 its trade list
included more than 10,000 titles. Dr John Plunkett All images
© Bill Douglas Centre NOTES
[1]
. Walter Benjamin, 'The Work of Art in an Age
of Mechanical Reproduction', Illuminations
trans. Harry Zohn (London: Jonathan Cape, 1970) 212.
[2]
. EXEBD12785, Handbill for Short's
Carlton Observatory (1851-2).
[3]
. EXEBD10072, Handbill for Hardy
Gillard's Great American Educational Panorama (1873)
[4]
. Henry Mayhew, London
Labour and the London Poor vol. 1 (London: William Clowes, 1861) 287.
Figure
1: EXEBD79285 - Colloseum, Regent's Park (London: J.T. Wood, n.d.)
Figure
3: EXEBD12785 - Short's Observatory, Calton Hill, Edinburgh (Edinburgh,
1852)
Junior Research Fellow
Contact:
Dr John Plunkett
School of English
University of Exeter
Queen's Building
The Queen's Drive
Exeter EX4 4QH Professor Steve Neale
Director
Bill Douglas Centre for the History of Cinema and Popular Culture
School of English
University of Exeter
Queen's Building
The Queen's Drive
Exeter EX4 4QH
s.b.m.neale@exeter.ac.uk