Mr. Ambrosio comes to America

Arturo Ambrosio
Arturo Ambrosio

November 6, 1909. The trade-mark of “Ambrosio” having appeared on so many of the best films issued by the independents during the past year, great was our pleasure to be honored with the first private interview with Arturo Ambrosio, the head of the Ambrosio Company at Torino, Italy, on the first day of his arrival in this country. Whenever we have been fortunate enough to see any of the Ambrosio productions on the screen we have marvelled at the originality of conception, the thoroughness of execution and the daring flights of imagination, and have wondered what manner of man it was who directed these finished specimen’s of moving picture art.

Ambrosio — Arturo Ambrosio — the name which has been the opening gun, the slogan of the independent exchanges, is a man rather below the average stature, alert in action, pleasant in personality, and primed with enthusiasm as to the possibilities of the art of moving picture making. For Mr. Ambrosio considers it art and treats it as an art, and the early part of our interview was mainly on these lines and the effect it was having and would have on other arts. The interview had not progressed very far before we were fully convinced of the fact that Mr. Ambrosio’s ambitions were entirely different from those of many who have drifted into the moving picture game. Said he: “Our aim is to produce the most impressive, most realistic and technically perfect pictures within the bounds of human ingenuity and genius.” How different from the ambitions of those whose aim it is to make and sell the most film!

“Mr. Ambrosio, will you tell me how long you have been making moving pictures and something about your studio?”

“The firm of Ambrosio, of which I am — what you call it — chief stockholder, has now been doing business for five years. That we have prospered is largely due to my partner, friend and chief aide, Mr. Gondolfi. We have a glass studio 120 feet in length, but much of our work is done under the sunny skies of Italy. We have thirty trained artists in our steady employ, besides scores of supernumeraries. We are a little artistic colony, with entree into the most select circles in Italy, and Italy’s best dramatic talent at our disposal.”

“Mr. Ambrosio, we have seen and admired much of your work. May I ask why you have come to the United States? Are you not satisfied with the sales of your product in this country?”

The answer was an expressive shrug and “I come to see for myself and study the tastes of your people. I want to know why it is that the American selections from my output are not those which I consider my best, nor even those which I consider best adapted to the general public.”

“Mr. Ambrosio, why do you think our people should buy more of your pictures? We have our own manufacturers here who can supply the demand.”

“I believe our productions are the equal, if not the superior, of any in the whole world. I see the work of others. Your American pictures come to my country. We enjoy them. They are so delightfully fresh, and some of them are now even becoming artistic. No, I do not wish to criticise the work of your manufacturers or their art, or lack of art, but the superficial nature of much of the output is apparent. Is it from lack of effort and concentration, or lack of ambition, or is it because they do too much? At any rate, they seldom seem to rise above a certain level. Understand me, I am not making a comparison. I have not yet seen enough of your work to judge.”

“Mr. Ambrosio, the manufacturers of this country may be said to work to a schedule. They have to supply a regular output, released on stated days. It sometimes happens that circumstances will delay a certain subject and a manufacturer may have to rush out some simple production to fill his orders. Working to a schedule is not conducive to art, but our American system of standing orders is a sound business basis for the manufacturers to work upon and it has not interfered with the quality, which has materially advanced and is advancing. Do you have a regular output and regular release days?”

“No, we have no fixed output. In Europe this is governed by the demand, and the demand is governed by the quality. We may make one picture a week, or three a week, or we may spend weeks or months on a production, but we always have on hand an ample supply of finished negatives to meet any demand. Take, as an example, our ‘Nero,’ which you have seen. This was made months ago, and its date of issue in Europe is October 28. It is one of a series of spectacular subjects which we call the ‘Golden Series.’ Others of this series are ready, and some of them will far excel ‘Nero’ in my estimation. Yes, we adhere to a uniform release date in the various countries, as far as possible. Films are sold by sample in Europe, and up to now we have taken orders for 342 copies of ‘Nero.’

“Mr. Ambrosio, you have mentioned ‘Nero’; this picture must have cost you much money and much hard work.”

“Money! There you are! American — Money. Money — American. We do not take cost into consideration in making our pictures. We set out to attain a desired result — and we get it. We rehearse and rehearse and take and re-take scenes until I am satisfied we cannot do it better. And work? Yes, we work. I seldom ate or slept while this same ‘Nero’ was being produced, and if I did sleep 1 dreamed ‘Nero.’ Yes, we work until we perspire, and I can tell you that after directing the scene of the burning of Rome I almost collapsed.”

“Do your sales in Europe warrant the expense and effort you put in your work? In other words, if the American market was closed to you, could you afford to do things so elaborately?”

“No, not on the European trade alone. We would barely come out even. That is one reason why I am here. We need the support of the whole world to give the world the best that can be produced in motion pictures. My correspondence and not my vanity leads me to believe that more Ambrosio films can be sold in America. And we need the money to expend in making still better pictures.”

“Mr. Ambrosio, that leads up to the question, Who is your representative in this country?”

“Messrs. Raleigh & Robert, of Paris, are our exclusive agents for every country except Italy and Spain.”

“Did you ever have any direct dealings with the International Projecting and Producing Company of America or its president, Mr. Murdock?”

“No. I had a letter from Mr. Murdock during his recent visit to Paris, saying that illness prevented him from visiting our plant. Here it is. I have never met Mr. Murdock, but I hope to have that pleasure.”

“Are Raleigh & Robert still your agents, or have you come here to make other arrangements?”

“Raleigh & Robert are still our exclusive agents and will be until I announce to the contrary.”

This ended a very interesting chat. The following day we again saw Mr. Ambrosio in the presence of a representative of the “Billboard” and of the “Dramatic Mirror.” His attention was called to an advertisement published in a trade paper, dated October 9, stating that a certain company had exclusive control of his films in this country.

Mr. Ambrosio emphatically denied the right of anyone to make such a statement, and at the suggestion of the “Billboard” representative gave out a signed statement that Messrs. Raleigh & Robert, and through them the Film Import and Trading Company, of this city, were the only concerns authorized to handle his output in America.
(Moving Picture World)

Storie del cinema nordamericano: Hollywood

Dicono che la prima compagnia di attori cinematografici fu condotta a Los Angeles nel 1908 dal colonnello William Selig di Chicago. Questo pioniere scelse la California per girare gli esterni del film “Il conte di Montecristo”, tratto dal romanzo di Alexandre Dumas.  Gli interni di questo film furono girati a Chicago; e perciò il primo film realizzato completamente a Los Angeles fu “In the Sultan’s Power”, diretto da Francis Boggs. Del lavoro, vero cimelio della cinematografia, furono interpreti Hobart Bosworth, Stella Adams, Tom Santschi e Frank Montgomery. In questo primo viaggio nell’Ovest, Frank Boggs era con James L. Mc Gee e J. Crosby, il quale era un po’ l’impresario della troupe, di cui facevano parte anche Gene Ward e Mary Hosmer.

Il primo studio cinematografico fu così impiantato in un terreno fra Olive Street e l’Ottava Strada, nel centro di Los Angeles; il luogo era bene scelto perché il sole vi batteva per buona parte del giorno. Per evitare la curiosità dei profani, allora alquanto scettici e perciò più noiosi, lo studio fu circondato da alte staccionate, dalle quali tuttavia ogni tanto di affacciavano grappoli di teste e le cui tavole venivano bucate come stacci dai più accessi ficcanaso. Paragonati quelli moderni, gli scenari usati per “In the Sultan’s Power” possono sembrare semplicemente pietosi; tutte le scene furono riprese con la luce del sole e tuttavia alcune di quelle girate nei dintorni di Los Angeles, sulle spiagge del Pacifico allora deserte, sarebbero belle ancor oggi.

Un anno dopo, nel 1909, arrivò a Los Angeles la seconda compagnia cinematografica, che si chiamò la New-York Motion Picture Company e che ebbe per direttore artistico Charles K. French. Quanto agli artisti, essi non erano alle prime armi, avendo già girato in altre città una dozzina di film, sotto il nome della Bison, con la direzione di Charles O. Baumann, Adam Kessell e C. K. Franch: essi erano E. Allen, Barney Sherry, Jule Darrell, Evelyn Graham, Bill Gibbons, Phillis Daniels, Margaret Favor, Jack Conway, Ha Davies, e molti altri. La compagnia Bison produceva quasi esclusivamente dei western. Lo studio era di quanto più curioso si possa immaginare: una parte del terreno simulava una intricata foresta, un’altra una brulla pianura, un’altra una selvaggia gola di montagne, con rocce enormi, grotte e scoscendimenti che un accorto uso della macchina da presa poteva far passare per abissi paurosi.

Un angolo del vasto recinto era occupato da un piccolo teatro di posa, da una scuderia per cavalli e da un’infermeria (gli accidenti non erano rari); per quel terreno, la Bison pagava un affitto di 40 dollari al mese. Gli artisti — di star non si parlava ancora, a quel tempo — guadagnavano dai venti ai trenta dollari la settimana. La paga delle migliori comparse era di 5 dollari al giorno, quando lavoravano; 18 dollari la settimana guadagnavano i cowboys per le loro pericolose acrobazie a cavallo. I primi film costavano da 150 a 200 dollari (e parvero cari); queste cifre oggi ci fanno sorridere e ci sembrano quasi inverosimili, ma bisogna pensare che un film si finiva in un paio di giorni, che la pellicola costava poco, che le scene erano girate all’aperto e con la luce naturale, e che i personaggi erano in numero assai ridotto. Si cominciava a lavorare la mattina presto, e spesso prima del calar del sole la troupe era era giunta a quel punto dell’intreccio in cui il protagonista ritrovava la fanciulla rapita dagli indiani o dai banditi e, dopo una drammatica vittoriosa lotta, caricatala sul suo cavallo, la riportava in salvo saltando precipizi e attraversando torrenti, verso l’immancabile lieto fine. Fu così che in sei mesi la compagnia Bison  girò la bagattella di 185 film.

Nel 1910, mentre la Bison lavorava a tutto spiano, arrivò a Los Angeles la Biograph, che ebbe la sua sede fra Pico Street e Georgia Street. Si deve alla Biograph uno dei migliori film dell’epoca: “Ramona”; dell’elenco artistico di questa compagnia, una delle grandi, storiche case cinematografiche nordamericane, facevano parte D. W. Griffith, Mack Sennet, Mary Pickford, Owen Moore, Arthur Johnson, Lee Dugherty, Florence Lawrence, Marjory Favor.

Qualche mese dopo, ecco una nuova compagnia, la Essanay diretta da M. Gilbert e da M. Anderson e, dopo una infelice sosta a Golden, nel Colorado, dove la pioggia la tenne lungamente inattiva, trovò più accoglienti cieli a Santa Monica, sulle rive del Pacifico, donde si trasferì più tardi a Hollywood.

Una volta iniziatosi, il cambiamento di sede di tutte le grandi compagnie da Chicago a da New York in California, continuò su vasta scala. Ai primi del 1911 giunse a Los Angeles Keenan Buell con la Kalem, che fin allora aveva lavorato nella Florida, e che si stabilì a Glendale, e quindi a Hollywood, nel 1913. L’esempio fu successivamente seguito dalla Nestor, diretta da David Horsley, dalla Thomas Ricketts Co., dalla Milton Fahrney Co., dalla Christie Company, editrice di film comici.

Nell’agosto del 1912 W. H. Swanson comprò per la Universal un vastissimo terreno nella valle di San Fernando, che fu poi rivenduto nel 1914 quando la compagnia si trasferì parecchi chilometri più lontano nel punto che oggi di chiama Universal City. Sempre nel 1912 Mack Sennett comprò lo studio della Bison e cominciò con Mabel Normand e Ford Sterling una intensa produzione di films comici sotto il marchio Keystone. Nel 1913 arrivò in questa casa un giovane comico inglese: Charles Spencer  Chaplin…

About Ben-Hur 1920

Ben-Hur (1907)
Ben-Hur (1907)

February 19, 1920. Officials of both the United Artists — the Big Four — and the First National denied yesterday knowing anything about certain information which, according to report, developed in the litigation between Harper Bros. and Henry L. Wallace and Klaw & Erlanger.

The value of the picture rights of “Ben Hur” was one of the points developing in the litigation, and correspondence filed showed that Marc Klaw had written Wallace suggesting that the United Artists make the production, and also that First National were ready to produce the picture, guaranteeing the owners $250,000; a figure which Klaw said he believed was the best obtainable. Wallace, who owns a third interest in the picture rights, figures his interest as being worth $400,000, which would make the total value of the rights $1,200,000.

In his decision Judge Hough suggested that the litigants reach an agreement regarding the value of the picture rights.

It has been reported at various times that Griffith wanted to make the picture, and also that the rights were held at $500,000.
(The Film Daily)