"VILLAGE OF MY FATHERS“

AK EXPERIMENTAE. FILM

Thesis fer the Degree a? M. A.
MICHEGAN STATE UNSVERSET‘!’

'Daugias B‘ meficn
1962.

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ABSTRACT

"VILLAGE OF MY FATHERS"
AN EXPERIMENTAL FILM

by Douglas B. Knowlton

This study consists of two parts: a motion picture film,
Village of My Fathers, and the present volume which explains
the conception, planning, and production of the film and
then, by citing audience reactions, estimates how well the
film succeeded in achieving its intended effect. Copies of
the film are available at the Department of Radio, Television,
and Film and at the film library of the Audio—Visual Center,
Michigan State University.

In addition to scholastic study of film and television
production, the author has had several years of professional
experience as a film editor and camera man and lesser exper-
ience as a director, animator, musical composer, and sound
recordist.

This study was an attempt to make a truly cinematic film
from a series of still photographs. This was done by exten-
sive use of complex camera movements, positioning and crop-
ping of the photographs, editing, and suggestive music. The
unique feature of the film is the use of full photographs

which do not conform to screen proportions.

Douglas B. Knowlton

The first chapter considers the planning and design of
the film. It begins with the conception of the idea, in-
cludes the scripting, music recording, and the preparation
of camera guide sheets which controlled the filming.

The second chapter surveys the processes of shooting
the film, recording and editing the voice track and the
final preparations for making prints.

The final chapter is an assessment by the author of how
closely the finished film reflects the design and how well
it achieves its intended effect. Reactions of casual
audience members as well as those of other film makers are
cited.

This study should be of value to people planning to
make films using similar materials and techniques. As a
description of the process of developing a very detailed
film design, it should be valuable to film makers desirous
of refining their own designs. The reader should have some
knowledge of film production and animation techniques to

derive fullest benefit from the study.

"VILLAGE OF MY FATHERS"

AN EXPERIMENTAL FILM

BY

Douglas B. Knowlton

A THESIS

Submitted to the College of Communication Arts
Michigan State University in partial
fulfillment of the requirements
for the degree of

MASTER OF ARTS

Department of Radio, Television and Film

1962

 

I
Approved __§a9£_5’l_a¢m

r 7 ‘

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I am indebted to the many persons who assisted in the
production of the film and the completion of this volume:
Italo P. B. Scanga, without whose photographs there would
be no film; Sherman Krane, whose musical score provided the
heartbeat of the film; the musicians Paul Harder, Wildon
Shinn, Jr., Nadine Price, Marcia Mitchell, Chandler
Goetting, Kenneth Watson, and Gerald Spry, who gave freely
of their time and talents; the voices, Chuck Cioffi, James
Douglas, John Herr, Patton Lockwood, Debra Mitchell, Janet
Mitchell, Mary Scanga, my wife Constance, and my son James,
who put a great deal of effort into a few lines.

The Audio-Visual Center and Capital Film Service, East
Lansing, were particularly generous in offering their
facilities.

I am especially grateful to Edward P. McCoy for his
sustained support of the film project and to Dr. Colby Lewis
for his encouragement and advice during the writing of this

study.

iii

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Page
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ... . iii
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . V
INTRODUCTION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1
Chapter
I. PRE—PRODUCTION PLANNING . . . . . . . . . 4
Having the Vision
Grasping and Holding It
The Music
The Camera Guides
II. PRODUCTION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53
Shooting the Film
Recording the Voices
III. CRITIQUE AND CONCLUSION . . . . . . . . . 59
APPENDIX . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67
BIBLIOGRAPHY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 70

iv

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Guide Sheet for Scene 15 . . . . . . .
Guide Sheet for Scene 25 . . . . . . .
Guide Sheet for Scene 44 . . . . . . .

Zoom Tape To Accompany the Guide Sheet
for Scene 44 . . . . . . . . . . . .

Page
49
50

51

52

INTRODUCTION

Film resembles painting, music, literature, and

the dance in this respect -- it is a medium that

may, but need not, be used to produce artistic

results.1

I undertook the graduate study of film to expand my

capacities for using the medium to produce artistic results.
It seemed clear that the best way to expand capacities was
by the thoughtful production of results: films, which
thru the experiences of production, self-evaluation, and
audience criticism, could serve as the treads and risers in
a flight of ascending artistic merit. The film Village of
My Fathers, which is submitted as the major part of this
thesis, is the last of these few but significant steps which
I took as a candidate for the degree of Master of Arts.
From the beginning of my studies I pondered what this last
step should be. The ideas for many films were found or
created but were quickly shelved or discarded. Some ideas

were quite fully developed and then set aside. Films died

aborning due to insufficiencies of time, talent, cooperation,

 

lRudolf Arnheim, Film as Art (Berkeley: University of
California Press, 1957). p. 8.

and funds, particularly funds. Somehow a film had to be
produced for no money.

One of the film ideas I carried about with me was the
vague notion that it would be interesting to attempt making
a truly cinematic film from a series of still photographs.
Many collections and series of photOgraphs were viewed with
this notion in mind. The first of these viewings that
developed into anything started at about 7:05 p.m., March 18,
1959. I tuned in WMSB-TV. The program in progress was a
presentation of some photographs of Italy taken by Italo
P. B. Scanga -- photOgraphs I had seen previously in the
gallery of the Kresge Art Center. The television cameras
looked at the pictures and the music of a string quartet
provided the sound. I felt that the program gave a fairly
adequate View of the photOgraphs to those of the audience
who had not seen them in the gallery. It seemed to me, how-
ever, that the dimensions of time and sound added little
to these stills themselves. The program was not an artistic
entity in itself but rather a transmission of previous
artistic results: the still photOgraphs. I asked myself,
"What would I have done with these stills to give them a
larger life?" Before I could ponder the reply I was rushed

on to other activities.

In June, 1959, the subject of film, Italo Scanga, and

I were thrown together in the film laboratory sessions of a
course entitled Local Production of Audio-Visual Materials.
Italo was a student and I was assisting in the instruction.
After one of these sessions an informal discussion between
the two of us turned from the film making problem of the day
to the television program of Italo's photographs. As a
result of our talk we agreed to explore the possibility of
making a film using the same stills. The idea that was to

eventuate in Village of My Fathers began to take shape.

 

In the pages that follow the reader will find described
the initial concept of the film, how it was shaped into a
script and formalized into highly detailed guides so that
the concept could be actualized on film, and the process and
problems of production. How accurately the finished film
reflects the design and how successfully it achieves its
intended effect will be discussed in the final chapter. To
benefit fully from this study the reader should bring to it
some knowledge of film production and animation techniques.
I will discuss general techniques only as I deem necessary,

to make clear specific variations or applications of my own.

CHAPTER I

PRE-PRODUCTION PLANNING

The most important thing is to have the
vision. The next is to grasp and hold it.
HAVING THE VISION

Whence cometh a film? Most films start when someone
with an idea he wants to express or communicate decides that
film would be an effective medium for doing so. Others start
when someone decides that film would be an effective means of
recording some visually observable occurrence. A few start
when someone is excited by the cinematic possibilities of
some particular images or techniques and then seeks an idea
which these images or techniques can effectively communicate
or express. Village of My Fathers started this last way.

I sat in Italo Scanga's apartment with a pile of excit-
ing images -- photographs Italo had taken of Lago, his native
Calabrian village. Images alone do not a movie make. What
was the idea that could be expressed with this group of

photographs? Each photograph expressed its own discrete

 

2Sergei Eisenstein, Film Form, ed. and trans. Jay Leyda
(New York: Meridian Books, 1957), p. 261.

 

idea. There was no apparent unifying element that organized
them into a theme or story. Like the fortune teller's cards
this stack of photographs could be reshuffled and a dif-
ferent story imagined each time they were lifted, one by
one, from the pile. These stills were the images available
for expressing an idea, but they did not define an idea.
They could be used to illustrate a sociological lecture about
southern Italian peasant culture. Stacked one way, they
could say, "Ain't life beautiful." But, then, looked at in
the reverse order, the message could become "Ain't life sad."
If I could discover no satisfying story or theme in the
pictures themselves, there was one, certainly, in the situa-
tion surrounding their creation. After all, it was not by
happenstance that these one-hundred enlargements of differ-
ing sizes and proportions had been brought into being from
a selection of more than five hundred negatives each exposed
through the mediating influence of the photographer. Italo
had not simply recorded what he saw around him as objec-
tively as he could, he had reacted to it. These pictures
were the visual evidence of those reactions. I needed a
fuller understanding of his reactions.

I asked questions and Italo began to tell me about his

pictures. At first he talked about who was in them, the
circumstances under which they were taken, his thoughts on
the composition and technique. Gradually his expressions
became more subjective. A picture of an old crumbling wall,
which for me had only pictorial interest, reminded Italo of
how he had felt suffocated in the narrow streets of the
village when he first returned there. Other photos elicited
further revealing subjective statements. Gradually there
developed the image of a man who had returned to the familiar
but foreign world of his childhood and found himself in
great sympathy, but out of harmony, with it. This, then,
was an idea involved with these pictures. Italo left home
as a child, returned home as a man, and then, because of
his experiences there, broke away from home psycholOgically
as well as physically.

This was the nucleus of the idea, the theme, from which
I considered making a film. Was it filmic? Limited to
using only those visual images which the motion picture
camera could discover in these stills, was it possible to
express this theme effectively? I thought it was. I thought
that these pictures could be arranged in such a way, looked
at in such a way, that with the addition of the right words

the idea could be communicated to an audience.

Yes, words would be needed. Words suggested by what
Italo said about his pictures. Words which augmented the
quality of reaction I perceived in the stills. Why not use
music as well? Music has the capacity to indicate qualities
of reaction.

If I did decide to use music, it would have to be com—
posed for the film so that it would complement the other
elements of the total design. Could we find an artistically
capable composer who would also be sympathetic to film re—
quirements? Italo thought we could. Inquiries led him to
Sherman Krane, a graduate student in music composition here
at Michigan State University. Sherman was interested in the
idea of composing a film score, but with reservations.
Generally, he considered most films he had seen, especially
those in that peculiar category called 16 mm., very misdir-
ected in their use of music. Specifically, he had never
attempted a film score. Even so, his interest was strong
enough so that he did agree to discuss the project with

Italo and me.

GRASPING AND HOLDING IT
Well, where was I? I had visual materials from which

to make a film. I was hopeful that Sherman would turn out

to be the composer I needed. Before I talked with him I
wanted to organize some of my ideas concerning the design

of the film. Accepting the idea of making a film from still
photographs imposed automatically the basic feature of the
visual design. There would be no "live” motion; no movement
of elements within the frame in relationship to each other.
All motion of the ”motion picture” would come from camera
movement toward, away from, and across each still, and from
the editing, considered as motion in time. Regarding the
pictures themselves, about one-half of them had approximately
the same proportions as the motion picture screen. The
other half were taller than they were wide. I felt it

would be impossible to make an effective film without using
any of the pictures in this second half. On the other hand,
if I cropped these pictures so that I could fill the screen
with them, so much of their area would have to be cut off
that some of them would become almost meaningless. The
photographs had been designed as finished, self-sufficient,
works of art, not for film use. I wanted to use many of
them in their entirety. Instead of fitting the pictures to
the screen, I wanted to make the screen fit the pictures.

This called for using flexible screen proportions. I would

shoot those pictures I wanted to use in their entirety
against a black background, placing them as desired within
the camera frame. I hoped that by a happy combination of
film stock, exposure, and processing the density of the
film would be great enough so that the black background
would be perceived as part of the general black of the
viewing room. Then, in effect, the proportions of the screen
would be those of the picture being viewed. Establishing

a certain flexibility in screen proportions would also make
possible more flexibility in the positioning of succeeding
photographs. I felt that this would be a great aid in
implying spatial relationships between the subjects of suc-
ceeding stills. For instance, if a still showing a man
looking to the right was projected in the left side of the
screen area and this was followed by the picture of a tree
projected in the right of the screen area I felt that the
implication that the man was looking at the tree would be
much stronger than if the two stills each filled the screen
with their subjects more or less centered. The pictured
"viewer" and the object viewed would be in a relationship
which made the viewing possible. I also believed that there

was a possibility that the physical eye motion involved

10

when an audience member shifted his center of attention
from man, left, to tree, right, would help imply the desired
spatial relationship.

An additional means of suggesting relationships between
succeeding pictures is found in the techniques used for
making the transition between them. A rapid pan from one
still to "find" the next could be used to suggest spatial
relationship. The brief superimposure of images during a
dissolve could suggest a thematic relationship. Cutting
from a detail of a still to a detail of the next which was
similar in form could help emphasize the subject similarity
or contrast of the stills as a whole. For instance, if I
identified a bunch of grapes in a still as something that
was for sale and followed that still with another of a bunch
of baskets, they, too, might be taken as something for sale.
Thus, I planned to use similarity of form to suggest simi-
larity of the essence of the subjects.

I saw much of what I intended to do in regard to pro-
portion, position, and transition as serving a real communi-
cative purpose. Of course, many of my intentions regarding
technique were concerned with instilling in the film that

grace of expression which elevates art above function and

ll

utility. Well designed music in films traditionally has

had much to do with instilling this grace. Ah, yes, music --
what was I going to do with it and why? Sherman Krane, the
composer-to-be for my film, made it very clear that he had

no desire to compose "background music." This was fine

with me because I wanted music to be a functioning, inter-
related element of the film. I intended to use music to
suggest the subjective attitudes I wanted the audience to
have toward some of the pictures. In some cases this would
be simply a matter of reinforcement -- for instance, using
happy music with a picture which showed happy people. The
happy music could become the means of maintaining this happy
mood as the pictures became those of walls or trees or other
neutral visual images. The music could be used as a counter-
point to suggest the mood of the main character, the music
could suggest his sadness as he looked at the happy people.
Quite in another vein, music could give a sense of motion

and force to certain sequences. The hoes of men working in
the fields, their motion arrested as they raced toward the
earth, could almost seem to swing and strike if complemented

by suggestive music.

12

Neither picture nor music, singly or together, could
communicate all the ideas I wanted to express in this film.
Spoken words would be needed. They could very quickly and
economically establish the frame of reference within which
the film should be viewed —— important in a short film.
They could help identify people and things where necessary.
In addition, words could aid in making the unrelated still
photographs all a part of the unified expression.

Confident that I now had some design ideas that could
be developed into a successful film, I arranged a meeting
with Sherman Krane and Italo Scanga.

When the three of us got together that first time we
talked about music, film, art, and finally, the pile of
photographs. As we discussed the stills I arranged them
into some fairly obvious sets. Pictures of a funeral, men
working, shopping, a religious procession, old men and
women, trees, children, were grouped by subject. As I talked
about my ideas it became clear to Sherman that I wanted the
film to produce its effect through the balanced integration
of all its elements. Since the music was to be more than
just background he eagerly accepted the challenge of com-
posing the score. Of course, before he could start composing

I had to write a script.

13

This was to be the production procedure for the film.
First, I would develop a final script in which every scene
was precisely timed. Second, Sherman would compose the
music to fit the intent and timing of the script. Third,
the music would be recorded. Fourth, I would make whatever
adjustments were necessary in the script timings so that
the music, as recorded, and the other elements of the film
would be in the desired relationship, one with another.
Then would follow all the steps of programming, shooting,
voice recording, and the laboratory processes which would
lead to a final release of the film.

I gathered up the stills and set off to write a script.
In addition to the enlargements I had contact prints for all
of the negatives of Italo's trip to Lago. In all, I had
approximately 500 pictures from which to select those to be
used in the film. For the interests of economy, I planned
to select the majority of stills to be used from those
already enlarged. Money was not available for making more
than a few additional enlargements.

I had a headful of information and reactions that came
from listening to Italo talk about Lago and the pictures.

Each day I thought of other questions to ask Italo as I

14

looked at the pictures with which I had surrounded myself.
Gradually the feelings and ideas which I wanted to communi-
cate about Lago, its people, Italo, and his stills organized
themselves into an overall scheme and a title: Village of My
Fathers. Lago is a village rooted in the past. I hoped the
plural Fathers would help suggest this. Some people still
refer to the film as Village of My Father. But Italo was not
returning to the village in which his father had lived, he
was returning to the place where all his forebears had lived
for as long as anyone could remember. He was returning to a
way of life which had been their way of life.

The over-all shape of the film developed into what I call
a vignette: a short, graceful sketch. It presents an atti—
tude, then a situation which modifies it, and finally the
modified attitude. In the spirit of experiment I set out
to make my main character exist more by what he saw and what
was said to him than by what he said; and of course he did
not exist visually at all. The identification of the audi-
ence members with my main character is all that would carry
him through the mid—section of the film once he had been
established. To complicate my problem, I was going to con-

tinually remind the audience that they were looking at

15

photographs, not reality. I was deliberately rejecting the
idea of establishing a film reality in the usual sense by
using stills. Even with stills one can become involved,
can empathize and sympathize by putting one's self within
the frame. Other films made from stills which I have seen
always keep the audience within the frame simply by keeping
the film frame smaller and within the limits of the photo—
graphic frame. Here I was planning to remind the audience
again and again that they were not in the frame but observ-
ing it, observing the responses of someone else to a remote
reality. This meant to me that my communication depended
as much on intellection as on emotion to be received as I
intended.

The over-all scheme for the film was first written down
as the following sequence breakdown. The words in the right—
hand column are shorthand references to specific pictures and

words I was planning to use.

l6

VILLAGE OF MY FATHERS

Major Sequences

 

1. Approach - titles, valley, little girl

2. Arrival - crumbling walls,<ikiage,depression
3. Funeral - ”He died, she died, we will die.”
4. Work - town crier (reaction), butchered

hind quarter, pig, woman with
chicken, food shops, other shops,
people, market day

5. Evening at home doorway groups, interiors

6. Church festival individuals, small groups, happy

talk, united procession

7. Farewell - village, little girl, village

The End

With a clear sequence established, I now concerned my—
self with the precise arrangement of pictures and words. I
planned to direct precisely the way in which the audience
would look at the pictures -- what they would see of them
and in them and when. I looked thru the pictures as I wanted
the audience to see them. I panned with my eyes, zoomed in
and out with my head, created closeups using my fingers to
define the frame. By imagination and manipulation I created
'the transitions from scene to scene. As I did this, I also

Ckoncerned myself with the words. I wanted the words to do

17

more than simply amplify what the audience would experience
visually. They had to be the things the returning son heard,
the articulated thoughts of rather inarticulate people, the
reactions of the son to what he saw, heard, and felt. Words
had to create other dimensions not available in the pictures.
The returning son is never seen. He must be created by
words and by what he sees. The pictures were very specific
images of individuals in a particular village. Words, too,
would sometimes be concrete, specific. In addition, however,
I wanted the words to suggest the universal quality of the
returning son's experience: many people have returned to
the place they still regard as "home" to find life there

different from their memories of it.

THE SCRIPT

I went thru this process of looking at the stills, say-
ing the words, and imagining the appearance of the film on
the projection screen many times. Once a pattern of looking
at the pictures and saying the words was well established, I
set this down on paper as the script.

Sequence six, the church festival, was not scripted. I
had in hand only about five pictures for this sequence and

planned to use an additional twenty or so which would have

18

to be printed from the negatives. I tried scripting this
section by going thru the contact prints for these other-
wise unprinted negatives. The attempts were unsuccessful
because I could not develop a sense of specific timing and
movement working with these very small 35 mm and 2 1/4" by
2 1/4" pictures. For this sequence, then, the script
indicates only the type of pictures to be used and their
general sequence. There are no words. Words would be un-
necessary and intrusive if the combination of music and
pictures could convey the developing idea of the sequence.
The festival was to appear in the film as the high point
of community life in the village. It was to begin on a
note of gaiety and develop a sense of the villagers'
emotional involvement in the group religious experience. At
the very end of the sequence the procession recedes and
leaves the returning son excluded from the group and the
group feeling. Words are then used again to help convey
the returned son's lack of involvement in this experience
and his bittersweet disappointment with the images of his
youth.

The script written, I went thru the pattern of pictures

and words that it prescribed. I timed scenes and words

19

with a stop watch and recorded these times on the script.
Of course, for sequence six, the church festival, there were
no specific scenes and so there could be no specific timings.
Since I wanted the film to be eleven minutes long, the length
of sequence six was established by subtracting the time of
all other sequences from eleven minutes. This left 121
seconds which I felt was about right for sequence six, con—
sidering the over—all balance of the film.

Here, then, is the script -— the basic record of the

film design.

20
VILLAGE OF MY FATHERS

(O) 1. Valley - tilt Fourteen years . . . fourteen
years ago I left this valley.
Fourteen years away from the
valley, from Calabria, from
Italy. A half of my life,
spent in America, separated
me even now from this valley,
from village of . . .

swish to
(21) 2. Little girl. GIRL: Mister . . . where

are you going?

NARR: To the village of Lago.
GIRL: Why are you going
there?

NARR: Because . . . I was
born there.

out of focus & pan to
(30) 3. Village.

(33) Fade in title (VILLAGE OF MY FATHERS)
(38) Diss title (PHOTOGRAPHS - ITALO SCANGA
MUSIC - SHERMAN KRANE

PRODUCTION - DOUGLAS KNOWLTON)

3 . . . . . . .
Figures in parentheses indicate cumulative time in seconds.

(53)

(59)

(62.5)

(70)

(75)

(82)

(87)

(89.5)
(93)
(94.5)
(96)
(97.5)

(99)

.p.

\l

8.

9.

ll.

12.

13.

14.

21

fade out titles (50)
zoom in & diss to
Narrow street — zoom
diss., pan

Devil.

diss

Walls.

diss
Pan across wall.

diss, pan
Narrow street.

(77) start zoom to

back wall

Wake.

Crucifix (upper right)
Wake (9 fld)

Corpse (6 fld)
Crucifix (4 1/2 fld)
Watchers ( 5 fld)
Watchers (5 fld)

Watchers

DEVIL: Welcome to Lago.

NARR: Welcome to Lago

Old memories crowded me in

the narrow street. I could
not breathe, crushed in by

these fragile walls and

memories.

In America I had forgotten .
almost forgotten .

death.

VOICE: She died . . .

He died . . .

We will die.

She died

He died . .

We will die.

We will die.

We will die.

(100.75)l7.

(102.75)18.

(105)

(108)

(130)

(140)

(145)

(150)

19.

20.

21.

22.

23.

24.

22

Watchers.
Watchers.
Watchers.

diss
Procession (coffin,
3 fld)

(lufi zoom out, tilt
up.

zoom in on girl.

diss
Little girl (4 fld)

(132) Swish to right,
pan left and zoom out

(139) mask (zoom?) in
to fern bouquet

Cemetery.
mask out from coffin

diss

Sealing sarcophagus.
zoom in, go out of
focus

diss

Cemetery.

out of focus -
zoom out 1 sec.
hold 3 sec.
F0 2 sec.

(156) l/2 sec. black.

wipe on

(156,5) 25. Devil.

DEVIL:

Don't feel

so bad.

(163.5)

(168)

(171)

(174)

(177)

(180)

(183)

(189)

(193)

26.

27.

28.

29.

30.

31.

33.

34.

slow diss
Hoing in fog.

Hoing in fog.

Hoing in fog.

Hoing.

Hoing.

CU hoing.

Youth.

Children.

Couple.

23

In Lago there is more to life
than death. Every morning

the men go out to work the
fields to bring forth new life
from our old soil . . .

(music up)

MAN #1: We work and it keeps
us alive.

MAN #2: If crops are no
better this year . . .

I'll go to the Saar for a few
months and dig coal.

YOUTH: Why work? My father
drills for oil in Venezuela.
CHILDREN: When we grow up
we will go to America.

MAN: I make big money up
North. Let me take you away

from all this.

(199)

(202.5)

(207)

(212)

(217)

(221)

(226)

(230.5)
(236)

(240)

(252)

36.

39.

41.

42.

43.

44.

45.

Old man.

Old man.

Old man.

24

diss (on "nothing”)

Tree trunk.

diss

Bare fig tree

zoom out
diss

Same tree with

foliage.

zoom, tilt up to figs

diss

Olive tree.
tilt down
Pickers.
Old man.
Plowing.
(3field on

zoom out

zoom in to

Butchering

bare tree)

OX

OX.

OLD MAN: I worked in America
for twenty years . . .

but here I am back again.
This is home.

OLD MAN #2: I am old. I go

nowhere. I do nothing.

MAN: Our old trees still

bear figs and olives each year.

And we . .

pick them.

We harvest, the trees drop
their leaves,

and we dig and plow again.

If one of the plow oxen should
happen to break a leg in a
hole, there is

butchering to be done.

(259.5)

(266)

(276)

(281)

(286)

(290)

(295)

(302)

46.

47.

48.

49.

50.

51.

52.

53.

25

(257) CU man
(258.5) CU meat

diss
CU meat

zoom out to full pix

diss to wall pan to
Two women.

Two women.

Devil, side View.

Pig's head.

Kid.

diss

Fruit shop

zoom in to slices
of stuff

diss
Hanging stuff
CU bananas,

Beef is special, so the town
crier calls to the people of
the village (trumpet)
CRIER: Beef, fresh beef .
Fresh beef can be bought today
at the shop of Marchelli.
(Trumpet) Fresh beef can be
(under)

bought today .

DEVIL: Do you hear? Now

there is pleasure in shopping

for something special. Beef
is special.

Pork is special.

Kid is special. But, then, in

a small, poor village any

shopping is a pleasure,

(314)

(322)

(333)

(344)

(350)

(358)

(360)

54.

55.

56.

57.

58.

59.

60.

26

pan left and zoom out
tilt down, zoom in to
grapes

diss
Bunch of baskets

zoom out

wipe on
Harness.

(330) zoom in on man
diss

Fish vender, CU empty
scale pan

zoom out to full pix

zoom in on sad woman
(3 fld)

center right eyes

 

diss
Two women,

CU right woman
zoom out to full pix

pan wipe to

Chicken woman, CU face.

zoom out to show hen

CU hen.

diss
CU woman

WOMAN: I hope I'm lucky
today. I hope I can sell
this old hen. I hope no
one can tell she won't lay

anymore.

(361.5) 61.

(362.5) 62.

(363)

(364)

(367)

(373)

(375)

(381)

(392)

(401)

(405)

63.

64.

65.

66.

67.

68.

69.

70.

71.

diss
CU hen.

diss
CU woman.

diss
CU hen.

diss
CU woman

pan off left to wall

diss
Pretzel woman.

CU wall, zoom out to

full pix
CU pretzels in hand

diss
Man with bread.
CU bread, zoom out

pan wipe to
Wine sale.

zoom in to funnel,
tilt down to bottle

diss

Water woman

CU right hand, zoom
out

diss
Faggot woman
pan right

diss
Two boys.
zoom in, tilt up

MAN: After a busy day,

getting water,

working .

shopping,

what pleasure to go home

to those who so eagerly . .

wait for you.

family

Home to your

(415)

(420)

(425)

(431)

(438)

(444)

(460)

(468)

(467)

28
diss
72. Woman.

Tilt up on dress, zoom out

diss
73. Old woman.

center faces

diss
74. Girl.

pan wipe left to
75. Two kids.

zoom in on boy

diss
76. CU woman's face

zoom out to
woman and child Ah, to be with one's . . .

77. Family group. family.

With one's

78. Man drinking wine family. In one's own
CU pictures
zoom out home.

zoom in on glass
diss

79. Old and young woman.
CU wine glass

zoom out

diss
80. Woman in kitchen. WOMAN: When the pots and

pans are clean and hanging

in place again, there is

(486)

(491)

(498)

(504)

(519)

81.

82.

83.

84.

85.

29

diss
Woman in doorway.

zoom in on knitting
diss

CU knitting, talking
group.

zoom out

diss
Men in doorway.

zoom in to old man

diss
Devil

fade out

Pop in festival pix.

FESTIVAL TO 640 SECONDS

Line of kids waiting
to march.

Spectators and marchers

waiting.

Town band (about 520).

Group laughing at band.

Waiting groups.

Procession (about 535).

often still enough light
in the doorway . . .

for a little sociable
knitting . . .

or talk.

DEVIL: A good day, no?
And tomorrow . . . the

feast day of San Nicola.

Shots alternate between

marching priests and

onlookers.

(640) X.

(646) Y.

(655) z.

30

Villagers following priests.

Image of the Virgin Mary
(about 600).

Devil
zoom out

Little girl.

Village.
zoom out

fade out (660)

credits (to 680).

The End

DEVIL: Still not as you
remembered? Has the village
changed, or have you?

GIRL: Are you leaving Lago,
Mister?

NARR: YeS.

GIRL: Why?

NARR: Because it is no
longer my . .

home.

31

This script defines a film. It acts as a frame of
reference within which all subsequent design decisions
regarding the film are to be made. Still the script is
only the bare bones of a larger body of design decisions
which have already been made, but which are not reflected
in it. What follows is a filling out of that body of
design. Hopefully, this will elucidate those decisions which
eventuated as script elements.

The film begins. Throughout the film the camera is
equated with the main character. Scene 1 must establish the
main character and begin to establish the camera-narrator
relationship. I present the audience with a picture which
gives them nothing unusual in the way of form to deal with.
Since it will no doubt be perceived as a "motion" scene the
audience is not distracted by the necessity of adjusting to
a "still" mOtion picture. Hopefully, audience attention is
concentrated on the main character or narrator as he is over—
heard, speaking in sentimental reverie about the scene which
both he and the audience sees. Now comes the jolt. The
narrator is interrupted by a small girl who is no respecter
of reverie and wants a matter of fact statement about why

he is walking along her road. This is a foreboding that the

32

narrator's memories and present realities will not mix.

The jolt is complex because now the audience realizes it is
looking at still pictures , ones of non-screen proportions
at that. Reverie is not disrupted easily, however, and the
narrator answers that he is going to Lago, "Because . . . I
was born there." This summation of his feelings about the
old place reinforces the impression that this is a senti-
mental journey. The village now comes into View. On the
scene of the village the music begins. A single chime, as
if the bell of the village church, is heard. The titles now
label the film and the village as well. In scenes 4 thru 8
the narrator is suddenly overwhelmed by Lago and his memories
as he moves thru the streets. The camera, still his eyes,
takes the audience along with him. The music reflects his
internal turmoil. Then the camera cinematically leaps dis—
tance and time to bring the audience to a wake. The audience
is now the only reactor. It no longer has the verbally ex-
pressed reactions of the narrator to share. If any sense

of a main character is to persist until the end of the film,
a film narrator-camera—audience relationship must have been
established by this time. The narrator was saying, "This

is the way I feel about what I see and hear." The audience

33

is now called upon to contribute to the film experience by
saying, "What I feel is what this man feels." The music
continues as a reacting element. From scene 14 to 20 a
three note musical figure should follow after each "We will

die in the same rhythm pattern as the spoken words as a
specific reaction to them.

The audience view of the funeral procession, scenes 21
thru 24, is public as contrasted with the very personal
nature of the wake. As Emily Dickenson put it, "After
great pain a formal feeling comes." The music here should
reflect the public, formal reaction to death. The transi-
tions in this funeral sequence reflect the principle of
editing according to visual similarity. A close-up of the
little girl in scene 20 dissolves into a close-up of another
little girl in scene 21. The masked in bouquet against the
black dresses of scene 21 becomes the metal floral decora—
tions of the coffin in scene 22. Between scenes 23 and 24
the transition should emphasize the plurality of death,
visually echoing the earlier, "We will die." Rather than
simply zooming back from the sarcophagus to View the whole

cemetery, zooming in to concentrate on this particular death

and then coming out to the whole cemetery, helps make this

34

a statement on the general nature of death rather than
merely a wider View of what has just been seen. At the end
of scene 24 the picture fades and for one-half of a second
there is nothing to be seen, befitting the gloom which has
been generated.

At the beginning of scene 25 the music suddenly becomes
an announcement rather than a reaction. A sprightly musical
figure reintroduces the character I have dubbed "The Devil."
I gave him that name because of his appearance. It has
nothing to do with his role in the story. To heighten the
feeling that he is intruding into the black mood he slides in
from the side. This character, the Devil, is the village
sage. He welcomes the returning son and suggests to him the
pleasures to be found in the village with the cynical knowl-
edge that they are actually tedious and pleasurable only
when romanticized. This first reappearance of the Devil is
the test of how well the narrator-audience relationship is
holding up. If the audience members perceive that this
direct statement is addressed to the returning son, whose
part they are now taking, the intended form of the film will
be perceived and the narrator's closing re-vocalization and

the statement he makes will be accepted as a logical outcome

35

of the film. Here in scene 25 the Devil is saying, "Cheer
up. Don't let your first impressions get you down." Of
course, the pleasure he now suggests is the joy of hard
labor on old soil. The music should be strong and rhythmic
to supply the vitality and force of work to the pictures.
Here the music is not reacting to the pictures but comple-
menting them by suggesting the dynamics which are suspended
in them. In scenes 30 and 31 the music and voice must be
coordinated to give the effect of the workman's speech
being interrupted by the strain of striking the ground with
his pick.

The music from scene 32 through scene 44 should gradu-
ally modify from its "work" quality to suit the more relaxed
character of the following scenes. However, the quality or
development of the music must be consistent enough so as to
suggest that these somewhat dissimilar scenes are concerned
with the same general idea; earning a livelihood. The Devil's
nice idea about bringing forth new life from the old soil
gets pretty well tainted by the time we are through listen—
ing to those who work the soil and those who don't have to.

With scene 44 the work sequence comes full cycle as the

film returns to the idea of tilling the soil. But scene 44

36

also begins an extension or sideline of tilling -- the
butchering of draft animals either injured or too old to
pull a plow. To lose an ox is serious but the vocal empha—
sis should suggest anticipation since this is one of the
few circumstances in which the villagers are able to obtain
meat.

The music in scenes 45 and 46 should suggest the violence
with which the men hack at the carcass of the ox.

Scenes 47, 48, and 49 are people listening to the town
crier who is introduced in scene 47 by a two note trumpet
figure. These scenes begin the sequence concerned with
shopping.

For a touch of humor an attempt is made to equate the
dried-up old woman with her dried—up old hen in scenes 58
thru 64. Visually this is done by matching the position of
the hen's eye and the woman's eye in the succeeding shots,
by using very short dissolves (4 to 6 frames) between shots
to create a momentary super-imposition or after image, and
by shortening each succeeding shot. The music should be
suggestive of a cackle and timed to the dissolves. In
scenes 65 thru 69 the pictures and music have again the

quality of the beginning of the shopping sequence.

37

Scene 70, the shepherd, is the beginning of the evening
at home sequence. The voice and music should be character-
ized by warmth and richness. There should be a distorted
musical figure at the transition to scene 73 to introduce
the old crippled woman. The music can come to rest at
scene 79 and then begin again on scene 80. This will create
a more definite separation between the scenes of coming home
and the brief after supper sequence. The voice here should
be a little flippant but affectionate. The reappearance of
the Devil, introduced by his theme, at scene 84 ends this
sequence and sets up the next.

The church festival sequence begins at 504 seconds. No
voice is used for this sequence. Pictures and music can
convey the desired ideas without verbal help. The festival
begins with a line of children waiting to march in the pro-
cession. The next few scenes are marchers and spectators
waiting for things to start. Then the homespun, off-key
town band strikes up a tune. This is followed by a group
laughing at the band and then by other groups still waiting
for things to start. Then the procession begins. The
canopy is seen approaching in the distance. Then shots

alternate between the priest marching under the canopy and

38

people watching him. The canopy goes away down a narrow
street and then the mass of following villagers is seen.
Finally the image of the Virgin Mary is seen. This is the
climax of the procession. However, almost as soon as it
begins to build it falters and fades, both visually and
musically. This is to suggest that although this group
religious activity is the fullest experience the village
has to offer, it is a disappointment to the returned native
son.

At 640 seconds the Devil is introduced by his theme for
the last time. His remarks cap the disappointment of the
returned son, give a reason for it, and suggest the basis
of the reason. The delivery of the lines should suggest a
feeling of sympathy for the returned son's inability to find
in Lago the home he assumed was there. The little girl in
the next to last scene reflects the one in scene 2. She is
unaware but matter of fact. The returned son, the narrator,
is finally heard again. His response to the little girl's
question must suggest a sadder—but-wiser acceptance of life
as it is.

The last scene is a fast zoom back from the village. The

music reaches its climax, resolves and fades out at 660

39

seconds. The credits last for an additional 20 seconds
and are accompanied by the single chime with which the music
began.

The film is what it is, partly because of the attempt
to give it a bit of a cyclic structure. It begins with the
narrator, a little girl, and a single chime and ends the

same way.

THE MUSIC

The script completed and timed, we were ready to move
on to the next step in the production process; composition
of the musical score. I delivered to Sherman Krane the
script and the sequenced photoqraphs. As I went thru the
script and photographs with him many points of design were
discussed as in the preceeding paragraphs. Sherman wrote
extensive notes on my comments so that his composition
would reflect my general and specific musical desires. I
suggested to Sherman that he might find it interesting but
perhaps not very helpful to look thru The Technique of

. . 4 . . . .
Film Mu51c. Before starting hlS comp051ng efforts, he did

 

look thru it and found it interesting but not very helpful.

 

4John Huntley and Roger Manvell, The Technique of Film
Music (New York: Focal Press, 1957).

40

Sherman did the bulk of the composing while on vacation the
month preceding the opening of fall term. When the term
was well under way, he organized an ensemble to record the
music. Sherman and I went over the score together. He gave
a virtuoso performance, humming all the parts. From what I
could tell from the score, and the humming, the music was
eminently compatible with my image of the film.

The music was recorded in the band practice room of the
Music Building using an Electro Voice model 666 microphone
and an Ampex 601 tape recorder. The musicians were all un-
paid volunteers whom Sherman had recruited from the faculty
and student body of the Music Department. The musicians had
one brief practice session the day before the actual record-
ing. At the recording itself, the ensemble read through the
entire score and then began working on the music section by
section. Starting from the beginning, the music was recorded
until an error in playing occurred; the error was then cor-
rected and the recording begun at the head of the section in
which the error occurred. What with repeats to alter inter—
pretations of certain sections, we recorded about twenty-five

"takes" representing about ten distinct sections of the score.

41

Most sections were recorded at least twice. One section was
recorded five times.

To make it easier for me to edit a mosaic of sections
into a complete music track, the ensemble then recorded the
whole score without stopping to correct or re-do any section.

Two nights after the recording session, Sherman and I
played back the recorded tapes and selected the best takes.
As it turned out, Sherman decided that one of the sections

sounded better in the complete "cue recording than in
either of the separate renditions of it. I assembled the
good takes into a complete music track which I then trans-

ferred to 16 mm. magnetic film. Thus, the music for Village

of My Fathers was recorded and in a form which made it sub-

 

jectable to the precise time analysis required for the next
production step -- readjustment of the script to the exact

timings of the recorded music.

THE CAMERA GUIDES

The first step taken to adjust script timing to the
music was to construct a skeleton of the film structure. For
this purpose I used a roll of clear leader upon which I
marked scene changes and effects with a grease pencil. I

will refer to this strip of marked leader as the guide roll.

42

I ran the magnetic music tract and the guide roll thru a
Moviola editing machine. This allowed me to hear the music
and mark the guide roll in relation to it. Since the first
music cue occurred at thirty seconds from the start of the
film, I first located the note on the track that corre-
sponded to the cue and then backed up the track eighteen
feet, the 16 mm. equivalent in length of thirty seconds in
time. I labeled the frame of track thus arrived at 0 (zero)
and the corresponding frame on the guide roll 0. This was
followed by a standard symbol for fade in twenty-four frames
in length and this in turn was followed by the numeral 1.
Thus was indicated a twenty-four frame fade in on scene 1. I
proceeded thru the entire roll in this fashion, marking the
effects and numbering the scenes. I followed both script
and score as I worked my way thru the music track. To guide
me as to Sherman's intentions regarding the music there were
occasional time indications on the score. These ranged from
three seconds to one hundred and two and one-half seconds
apart. In the longer stretches this required extensive in—
terpolation by bar and note to get a sense of the composer's
intent. While there were many distinctive musical figures

which I knew were intended to go with particular pictures,

43

additional time indications would have made it much faster
to relate music to script.

By the time I reached scene 25 the music was twelve and
one-quarter seconds longer than planned. Since this extra
length had shown itself as a slightly slower pace than
planned during the funeral sequence I wasn't disturbed by
it. The pace fit the mood. However, as I checked thru the
next sequence it was readily apparent that, quite the other
way, I was going to run out of music—to—hoe-by much too
soon. The work sequence as a whole was seventeen seconds
too short. Since it was at the head of the sequence, the
part showing the men working in the fields, that I needed
more music, I looked there for a way to stretch it. Study—
ing the score, I decided that six bars could be repeated
without in any way upsetting the musical line. Therefore,
I made another 16 mm. magnetic copy of that section of
music from the original 1/4 inch tape. By careful editing
of the track I was able to insert the additional six bars
and thus gain almost fourteen seconds of time.5 This was
the only place in the track that music was mechanically

lengthened, and nowhere was it shortened.

 

5See Appendix, page 68.

44

Scenes 45 and 46 provide an example of a different type
of adjustment. Here the planned time of fourteen seconds
has been reduced slightly to thirteen and one-third seconds
but the number of shots has doubled from a planned four to
eight. This came about because I felt that the music pre—
scribed this treatment and that, fortunately, it heightened
the feeling of violence that I wanted to communicate.

Following scene 69 there is another example of picture
additions suggested by the music. In this case I repeated
elements of pictures already used to form a visual and
musical recap of the foregoing sequence. Here again I think
this change added to the film by creating a small climax and
rest point before the following change of mood with which the
reappearance of spoken words now coincides.

The progressive unmasking of the picture in scene 80
was suggested by the music. However, this is also an exam-
ple of how the composer's intentions were sometimes dis-
regarded. Sherman had intended this music to start in the
middle of scene 78 after the words "In one's own home.” I
did not feel that this was an appropriate place for a new
musical beginning. Since it was possible to adjust this new

beginning to scene 80, I did so. With the music-picture

45

relationship thus established, I felt that the transition
between scenes 79 and 80 did a smooth job of leap-froging
the unvisualized supper hour.

The next sequence for major consideration is the church
festival. This is the sequence for which Sherman was given
no internal timings, only an indication of what the pictures
would be and the sequence in which they would appear. The
music worked out very well in this sequence. I would have
liked the very successful band music to come just a few
seconds earlier but I was very satisfied with the rest of it.
My satisfaction is a bit surprising in light of the fact
that the music with which I end the film in the farewell
sequence was intended by Sherman to be used with the credit
titles. Evidently I had not made it clear that I expected
to use the chime with the credits. A thirty second shift
in the music at the end gave me just the feeling that I
wanted for the end of the church procession. However, I
would have liked the crescendo at the end of the picture to
have been just a bit longer.

I now had a guide roll marked to show when every picture
would be on the screen and how I would make the transition

from one to the next. In addition it was marked with symbols

46

to indicate when many of the camera movements were to take
place. In a few cases I had written on the guide roll

words of dialogue to indicate where they should occur in
relation to a picture or a particular musical figure. The
low fidelity of sound editing equipment makes it very dif-
ficult to pick out individual notes in any music in which
there is a background of sustained tone. Because of this
mechanical problem and the necessity of adjusting the music-
script relationships more than anticipated, it took about
fifty hours to complete this operation.

To get a sense of the structure and the music timing of
the finished film I now projected the guide roll in a syn-
chronous projector while playing the music track on related
sound equipment. After this screening I returned the rolls
to the Moviola to readjust about ten of my cue marks. In
all cases I changed relationships so that either picture or
music would seem to impel the other to change rather than
just having them change at the same time.

Once I was satisfied with the guide roll as being repre-
sentative of the structure I wanted the film to have, I
measured the cue marks and symbols in a footage counter and
transferred these measurements in feet and frames to the

script.

47

This precisely timed script now indicated when scenes
should begin and end, the type and length of effects to be
used in transition from scene to scene, and when certain of
the internal effects (zooms, pans, tilts) were to begin or
end. In addition, there was some indication as to which
part of a photograph was to be filmed in a given shot and
in some cases the field size was indicated. For scene 20,
for instance, the script indicates that the scene fades in
at 69 feet and 21 frames with a view of the coffin on a
three field and, further, that starting at 71 feet and 35
frames there is to be a zoom out to be followed by a tilt up
followed, in turn, by a zoom in on a girl at 74 feet and 29
frames. Finally, scene 20 dissolves into scene 21 at 80
feet and 20 frames.

This detailed prescriptive information had to be further
refined, however, to make the script amenable to execution
by means of the single frame animation technique. The spatial
relationships which were to pertain between camera and subject
materials had to be planned for each of the 16,796 frames of
the film. The most practical method for indicating these
relationships, considering the equipment and materials in-

volved, seemed to be the use of overlay guide sheets. A

48

sheet of tracing paper was laid over each photograph and
the edges or corners of the photograph marked on it. The
center of the desired camera field was then marked on the
guide sheet for each frame of film on which that photograph
was to appear. All horizontal relationships were indicated
with points and lines. The vertical relationship, the dis-
tance from the photograph to the camera, could not be indi-
cated graphically. These relationships were prescribed by
notations of the desired field size and, in the cases where
zooms were to be made, by a column of numbers run off on
adding machine tape which corresponded to numbers on the
animation stand elevation indicator.

Figures one through three illustrate actual guide sheets
of increasing complexity. Figure four illustrates the zoom
tape which accompanies the guide sheet in figure three.

The guide sheets, then, were the frame by frame nota—
tions of my mental images of the finished film. Whatever
art I had brought to bear on the visual elements of the film
was noted now on these sheets of paper. The script, that
gross design for a film, had now been refined to its prac-

tical limit.

49

 

@ 56/7.

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1433—1475
O

 

 

 

L_ _J

Figure 1: Guide sheet for scene 15. The "L" shaped marks
near the corners of the guide sheet indicate the corners of
the photograph. The camera center is indicated by the cir-
cled dot. The numbers of frames to be exposed by the numbers
2438-2475, the field size by 5 fld. The frame drawn on the
guide sheet also indicates the field size but was for plan-
ning only. It was not necessary for purposes of filming.
(Scale: 1” = 3”)

 

 

 

50

 

@ 72 m.

 

403! BLACK-9 40+?

40 o 407 51 4060 . 5: 4050
48 r3, 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 l 1 I 1 1. i 1 L 1 1 O
(E 1.0 v I l 7 T

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+393 <—-— 43459; 4053

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Figure 2: Guide sheet for scene 25. Here the photograph is
indicated by a complete outline. Frames 4031 thru 4048 are
not to be exposed 0r "black." The line with numbered camera
center marks is the line of camera travel. The edge of the
picture will actually appear in the camera frame at frame
4050. The distance between camera center marks decreases as
frame 4083 is approached. This will have the effect of de-
celerating the pan. Camera center position is to be held from
frame 4083 to frame 4393. A forty-eight frame dissolve is

to begin at frame 4345. The long triangle symbol indicates
that a fade out is to be made on this scene. The shutter
must be gradually closed starting at frame 4345. Once the
still for scene 26 is positioned, the film must be run in
reverse back to frame 4344 with the shutter still closed. Then
the shutter will be gradually opened on scene 26 starting with
frame 4345 and a dissolve or lap fade will result.

51

 

@.@ flak.

2. —1

”OLD
67-I0 #6134- —+ 67.40

 

 

 

L_

Figure 3: Guide sheet for scene 44. The field sizes indi-
cated at the top of the sheet indicate the beginning field
size, the biggest field size and the end field size to be
used. The movement indicated is three dimensional; a com-
bination tilt and pan and a zoom-out-zoom-in. The speed of
the horizontal (picture plane) movement accelerates and then
decelerates between frame 6240 and 6279 as indicated by the
varying distances between camera center marks. The circled
intermediate field size numbers indicate the frames at which
given field sizes were to occur. They were not used for
shooting purposes but as a planning guide only.

 

 

@ 611/0 1 00

#7 1.05 S

.10
42 1.15 s

.15
43 1.30 s

.20
471.50 s

.25
451.75 s

.30
462.05 s

.35
4'7 2.40 s

.40
45 2.80 s

.45
7‘7 3.25 s

50

 

62W

/

 

52

{.60/5:373”. S
// . 55

51 4.30 s

.60
51 4.90 s

.65
53 5.55 S

.70
15¢ 6.25 S

.75
55 7.00 S

.80
.56 7.80 S

 

.85

 

 

Actually continuing by
increments of 85 to:

.65 S

J
.85

6177 26.50 s

 

 

Figure 4: Zoom tape to accompany guide sheet for scene 44.
The beginning frame number is 6240 and the camera height is
100, equivalent to a 4 field (2650 equals a 14 field).

CHAPTER II

PRODUCTION

Those phases of making this film which have arbitrarily
been included in this chapter are shooting the film, record-
ing and editing the voice track, and the final preparations
for making prints. The performance and recording of the
music, which are usually considered phases of production,
have been considered earlier because so much of the pre-

production planning depended on their outcome.

SHOOTING THE FILM

Before the shooting of the film could begin, the camera
equipment had to be modified to accommodate the dimensions
of the selected photographs. The film was shot on an Ox-
berry Model S-A animation stand at the Audio-Visual Center,
Michigan State University. The compound of this stand will
accommodate art materials up to 10 inches in height and 13
inches in width. I was using many pictures which exceeded
these dimensions, some being as wide or as tall as 22 inches.
To overcome these limitations of the stand it was necessary
to remove the compound so that the large pictures could be
placed directly on the bed of the stand. Then, in the case

53

54

of pictures over 13 inches wide, it was necessary to sub—
stitute a wide angle lens for the one normally used on the
camera so that all of a picture could be seen. A sheet of
3/4 inch plywood of approximately the dimensions of the
animation stand bed was placed upon it to cover the hole
normally filled by the compound. To this board was hinged
a sheet of plate glass 30" by 40” in size. The function of
the glass was to hold the pictures flat and in place. A
sheet of glossy black poster board under the glass served
as background for the pictures. With this setup the camera
could now expose fields varying from size three to size
fourteen with the normal lens and from size six to size
twenty—seven with the wide angle lens. Field size corre-
sponds to the width in inches of subject area exposed. The
guide sheets were placed on the right hand end of the bed
of the stand. A fixed pointer over the guide sheets cor—
responded to the center of the camera frame over the pictures.
A picture was placed under the glass so that it was
approximately centered. The corresponding guide sheet was
placed on top of the glass in registration with the picture.
The bed was then moved so that the start point on the guide

sheet was centered under the cross hairs of the camera

55

viewer. The guide sheet was then placed with the start
point under the guide pointer. Any change in the relation—
ship between guide sheet and pointer now made a correspond-
ing change occur between picture and camera. The stand
functioned as a sort of an elaborate pantograph.

Once the picture was in position and the camera was at
the desired height, one frame of film was exposed. If there
were no effects or movement on the picture the shutter con—
trol was simply kept on until the desired number of frames
was exposed. At the other extreme of complexity, shooting
involved making five adjustments between each frame. The
sequence of adjustments usually followed this pattern

(1) Change camera height,

(2) Change focus,

(3) Adjust fader control,

(4) Change horizontal position of picture,

(5) Change vertical position of picture.

After all this, one frame was exposed and the process re-
peated. Most of the shooting fell between these extremes
of complexity.

Shooting the film required approximately sixty hours.

This total time includes about five hours spent in reshoot—

ing two short sections which were damaged in processing.

56

RECORDING THE VOICES

The voice recording sessions were conducted before the
film material was returned by the laboratory. Thus, none
of the people involved were able to see the film of which
their voices were to become a part prior to recording.

Since I realized from the outset of this project that
it would be impossible to find people with authentic Italian
accents to fill all the roles, I rejected the oft made sug-
gestion that accents be used. Italo and I recruited the
recording talent from among our acquaintances and families.
The necessity of using free talent inevitably imposed some
compromises on my original conception of how the voices
should sound.

The voices were recorded in the Audio-Visual Center
film studio in a total time of about four hours. This in—
cluded numerous rehearsals for some voices and the time spent
trying to get an adequate performance from two people for
whom I later substituted other voices.

In order of appearance, the voices are as follows:
Scene 1. Narrator (The Returning Son) Patton Lockwood
Scene 2. Little Girl James Knowlton

Scene 5. Devil Edward P. McCoy

57

Scene 9. Voice (During Wake) Constance Knowlton
Scene 29. Man #1 Chuck Cioffi
Scene 30. Man #2 Chuck Cioffi
Scene 32. Youth James Douglas

Scene 33. Children (changed to one voice) Debra Mitchell

Scene 34. Man (from up north) Chuck Cioffi
Scene 35. Old Man John Herr

Scene 37. Old Man #2 John Herr

Scene 39.- 46. Man John Herr

Scene 47. Town Crier Douglas Knowlton
Scene 58. Woman (with chicken) Mary Scanga
Scene 69. Man. Chuck Cioffi
Scene 80. Woman(changed to man's voice) John Herr

Scene Y. Girl Janet Mitchell

For this collection of talent there was a production cost
of sixty cents -- twenty cents paid to each of the children
involved.

All the voices were recorded initially on 1/4" magnetic
tape. The good takes were transferred to 16 mm. magnetic
film. Then the voices were edited to a work print of the
picture. One other deviation from the script became neces-

sary at scene 36. I had not allowed enough picture length

58

to accommodate the whole line and so the last part of it,
"This Is Home," had to be cut. This did not disturb me
greatly because I felt that the idea was strongly implied.

After interlock projection of the work print, voice
track, and music track, minor adjustments were made in the
voice track.

The two tracks were then sent to the laboratory for
mixing and transfer to an optical track for printing with
the picture negative.

The first trial print, or answer print, was received
from the laboratory approximately two hours before its
scheduled premiere showing, on May 6, 1960, as part of a
prOgram of student compositions presented by the Michigan
State University Department of Music. It was Sherman
Krane's original music score for the film which caused it
to be included in the program.

The film was received with exuberant acclaim by those
closely connected with its production -- all of whom, ex-

cept for myself, were seeing the film for the first time.

CHAPTER III

CRITIQUE AND CONCLUSION

One of the underlying ideas which caused me to produce
this film in the way that I did, following the particular
sequence of planning and production steps that I did, was
to see how close I could come to matching the finished
product, projected on a screen, to my mental image, as hinted
at in the script and other plans. I feel that in this sense
the film was a success. Of course, there were shortcomings.
Several of the voices were far from sounding like the
earlier image of my inner ear. My own lack of experience
and skill as an animation camera man injected quite a lot of
visual "noise" -— jerks and bobs in the middle of what should
have been smooth, gliding, camera movements. If the execu-
tion had been of greater precision, the design would have
come closer to reflecting my mental image.

The design itself fell short of bringing forth an execu-
tion of my image in the following ways. First, a minor and
specific point: the rapid movement of the picture in
scene 45. This gave an impression of a still picture moving

rather than that of a man moving. This was the only attempt

59

60

of its kind in the film to inject a feeling of primary
motion into the film. All it did was pointedly reaffirm
that, although you can do a great deal with still photos
in films, you can't make the subject move.

The second shortcoming of the plans concerns the com—
munication of my total image to others. I wanted to com-
municate the image of a man returning to his boyhood home
and then coming to the bittersweet realization that it was
no longer the place where he belonged. Unfortunately, this
idea escaped approximately 30% of the people Who saw the
film. I had not provided them with enough cues so that they
identified with the returning son at the beginning and re-
tained this identification. Some perceived him as two dif-
ferent persons, one at the beginning of the film and one
at the end, who made up part of the passing parade in a small
town. Others identified other men as also being the return-

ing son. This led to great confusion at the end of the film

because from this viewpoint the son returns, settles down
and gets married, but then leaves again. Other viewers

thought that they should identify with the returning son
but didn't really feel an identification. This placed a

burden on them which interfered with their enjoyment of the

61

film. I found that there were not many viewers of this
last description. Viewers either were captured into my
narrative snare and perceived my image or they missed this
main point of the film.

As a group, my most perceptive audience was a seminar.
of graduate students in art, here at Michigan State Univer—
sity in the fall of 1960. In general, their individual
comments were very gratifying for they had perceived many
of the subtleties of positioning, composition and movement
which, while I assumed they would have some effect on audi-
ence perception of the film, I felt I was including pri-
marily for my own enjoyment. In the group of twenty-three
students there was only one dissenter -- an attitude that
I attributed not to any insensitivity on his part, but
rather to the fact that he was born and raised in Brooklyn.
Villages were simply beyond his ken.

The film was shown at the 1960 University Film Producers
Association Conference. There it garnered this review:

Village of My Fathers (Michigan State University, 8
min. B W) is the most ambitious student production [of
those shown at the conference]. It tries to tell the
story of an Italian student's visit to his old home
village through still photographs and a multi-voice sound

track. In some ways this film is genuinely experimental,
with an attempt to find new methods of handling stills

 

62

within the fixed ratio of the screen. Individual shots
are composed as on a magazine page layout, sometimes
using a black background, occasionally mounting more
than one picture in the frame. It is an interesting
attempt on a technical level, but as a film it never
gets off the ground because of lack of pacing, variety,
and build.6
Village was shown at the Conference to an audience of
fifty-seven. In response to the rather enigmatic question,
"Do you feel that this film fulfilled its intended purpose?",
forty-three viewers answered, "Yes," four voted "No." In
addition, ten viewers wrote comments on cards which were
handed in and eventually delivered to me. Of these, three
made glowing remarks, six liked the film with reservations.
The remaining card simply states, "very disturbing." I'm
afraid this has been the reaction of at least one-third of
the people who have seen this film. This disturbing quality
is basically a function of the design. Edward P. McCoy, head
of film production at the Michigan State University Audio-
Visual Center has made the following comments on the design

of this film. I believe they accurately assess the major

causes of this disturbance.

 

6
Calvin Pryluck, "A Review of University Produced
Films -- 1960," Journal of the University Film ProducerS'
Association, XIII (Fall, 1960), 9—11.

 

63

Village of My Fathers should be of interest to any film—
maker for the modest but significant departure which it
makes in film form. Its basic elements are conventional,
at least with modern film-makers: still photographs,
music, human voices, absence of sound effects. (I men—
tion this latter negative element because its absence is
as significant a film design selection as any other as-
pect of the film.)

 

The still photographs have considerable merit in them—
selves, but one significant and successful characteristic
of the film designer has been to make these totally sub-
servient to his cinematic art, rather than subserving
their merit with his camera: What we see, how long we
see it, with what visual progress and design it develops
on the screen, what camera movement is made relative to
it -— these matters are decided not on the basis of
getting a look at or interpreting still photographs, but
in terms of cinematic effect.

In the montage of these stills, there is a deliberate
discard of the fixed dimensions of the camera frame, and
a dynamic attempt to develop flexible and changing "frame-
shapes" on our screen —- a kind of cinematic collage.
This is one of the more original features of the design,
although it is not totally successful, nor does it seem
totally assured. One defect, possibly, is the acceptance
at the opening of the film of the conventional screen
aspect, instead of using this crucial point in the film
experience to begin to generate a validity and meaning
for the flexible frame immediately the film experience
begins to develop.

Musically there is nothing particularly new. The score
is original and, depending on one's musical taste per-
haps more or less appropriate. No radically new rela-
tionships between music and picture are made to pertain.
The music generally is dominant and assertive, so much

so that one takes it psychologically as the authoritative
commentary on the pictures yet misses any musical devel-
opment and resolution which are cinematically conceived.

64

The voice track is the least decisively handled ele-
ment in the film's design. The relationship of the
voices to the pictures is not clear and is not consis-
tent, nor is it effectively inconsistent: It is
indecisive and unassured in a film that is too brief
for either quality to be desirable.

It is presumptuous to suggest what a film maker might
have done, but it is probably reasonable to suggest
that what may be lacking most in this film is a devel-
opment into the new and interesting form which it
suggests, even illustrates, but never psychologically
effectuates. The film never becomes. It is. The
relationships between the elements are. They do not
develop or grow to be. And before we quite solve them
or yield to their impact the film is finished.

When evaluating a film such as Village of My Fathers,

 

it is possible that someone may raise the question: "Is it
art?" Important as that question may be, I consider it to

fall outside the scope of the present study. What men call

art varies from prehistoric paintings on cave walls to the
'music of Schoenberg. The essential nature of these diver-
gent objects and experiences seemingly defies definition.
Therefore, I will leave the question of art to the delibera-
tion of a philosopher of esthetics with space and time

enough to resolve the various notions about art and the natures
of esthetic stimulation and satisfaction. I shall simply

state that Village of My Fathers is more than a casual re-

 

cording or literal transcription of a group of photographs,

65

a piece of music, and some words. It is, or at least at-
tempts to be, a unified, audio-visual experience, its ele-
ments related and focused to express a particular facet of
the human condition. It is a deliberate attempt to explore
the potentialities and limitations of the sound motion
picture film as a medium of expression and communication.
Whether or not viewing this film results in esthetic satis-
faction will be left to the individual viewer to decide for
himself.

Making this film was a very instructive and rewarding
experience. I would suggest that the development of a very
detailed design calls for much mental experimentation at the
planning stage. It requires that many of these decisions
which often are defaulted to the editing stage in film
making be made before the shooting begins.

This approach to film making emphasizes pre—production
planning. The opposite approach is to film a number of
objects and actions with no particular design and then, at
the editing stage, to construct a film from these images.
Most film making falls between these extremes of planning
and non-planning. Practically speaking, detailed planning

of any film will lead to savings in production materials,

66

time, and a consequent saving of money. This is an impor-
tant consideration for any film maker, especially one on a
student budget. Making a film of this type, using static
materials such as photographs or sculpture, also leads to
money saving because of the precise control which can be
exercised. One has to expose very little more film stock
than the eventual length of the finished film.

To conclude, I would recommend to students of film making
that production of films of this type can provide very worth-
while experience in design and economy in production.
Furthermore, the concept of using inanimate objects and
other art media as the subject materials for films is by no
means exhausted. The horizons of cinematic potentiality are

there for anyone willing to reach toward them.

APPENDIX

SELECTED PASSAGES FROM THE MUSIC SCORE

67

VILLAGE OF MY FATHERS

.30 SHERMAN KRANE
08

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

OBOE
CLAR. a)?
TRUMP.

m
BSN. P
PERCUSS ‘
CELLO

These are the opening bars of the musical score. The
numbers in squares represent the cumulative film time in
seconds. The music began thirty seconds after the beginning
of the film. The repeat signs in the following passages
indicate the six bars which were mechanically repeated by

duplicating a section of the music track and editing it into
the full track.

68

WOPK SEQUENCE
£430-. < \ ’

...—.....r- - -‘ -’-

 

...—..--.— -—-

 

mf. \’

BSNFHf

 

(3 )5 SECS. ADDED

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Books

Arnheim, Rudolph. Film as Art. Berkeley: University of
California Press, 1957.

Eisenstein, Sergei. Film Form. Edited and translated by
Jay Leyda. New York: Meridian Books, 1957.

. The Film Sense. Edited and translated by Jay
Leyda. Bound in the same volume with Film Form. New
Meridian Press, 1957.

 

 

Halas, John and Manvell, Roger. The Technique of Film
Animation. New York: Hastings House, 1959.

 

 

Huntley, John and Manvell, Roger. The Technique of Film
Music. New York: Focal Press, 1957.

Reisz, Karel. The Technique of Film Editing: Basic
Principles for T.V. 3rd ed.; New York: Farrar, Strauss
and Cudahy, 1955.

 

Articles and Periodicals
Film Culture. 1956-1959.
Pryluck, Calvin. "A Review of University Produced Films --

1960," Journal of the University Film Producers' Asso-
ciation, XIII (Fall, 1960), 9—11.

70

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MICHIGAN STATE UNIV. LIBRARIES

 

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