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Sounds for the Silents: Early Cinema Music
by Rick Benjamin
It seems difficult to believe that motion pictures have been with us now for more than a century. Since their invention by Thomas A. Edison 1891, the "movies" have evolved from humble beginnings in Victorian America into perhaps the most influential art form in human history. And despite the appeal of today's high-tech films, many still find great enjoyment and meaning in the works of Hollywood's pioneers—legends like D.W. Griffith, Mary Pickford, Rudolph Valentino, and the great Charlie Chaplin.
The first movie audiences in the 1890s were enchanted simply by the movement of the silvery, ghostly pictures. The early "flickers" were a brief minute or so in duration, and anything that moved was mesmerizing ("Fred Ott's Sneeze," depicting one of Edison's hay-feverish technicians, was a blockbuster). But gradually the novelty of pure motion began to wear off, and it was realized that to hold interest the pictures would not only have to move, but also tell a story. The first generally-acknowledged film to do this, "The Great Train Robbery," appeared in 1903.
Motion pictures were initially introduced to the public on programs of live vaudeville entertainment. Though enthralled by the new technology, many patrons found cinema exhibitions to be nerve-wracking, not just because of the films themselves (which often seemed "eerie" or "otherworldly"), but because the auditorium had to be completely darkened to show them. Theatrical performances had always been done with the audience almost as brightly lit as the performers on stage. Now, plunged into darkness, some felt vulnerable to attack by pickpockets, "mashers," and other unsavory characters. Also, many found the loud, incessant clatter of the movie projector itself to be a source of irritation. Clearly, exhibitors needed to find a way around these problems, and they did—with music: it occurred to somebody that the same orchestra that played for the live acts could also accompany the movies.
At first, little thought went into matching appropriate music to the action on the screen (Sousa marches blaring through funeral scenes were commonplace); most conductors had neither the inclination nor the opportunity to preview and plan for coming screen attractions. And while live performers could complain if the music didn't fit their act, the films couldn't—and they suffered for it. But after 1899, when the first specially-composed motion picture music appeared, things began to improve, and soon an orchestra's goal was not just to pacify jittery patrons and mask projector noise, but to reinforce the emotional content of the film. The art of "underscoring" was born.
During the 1910s over ten thousand newly-built movie theatres appeared across the America. In the smallest of these, called "Nickelodeons," music was usually provided by a solitary piano, ad-libbed upon by the neighborhood "Professor." But in theatres of any size or pretense, music performed by a regulation twelve-piece "pit" orchestra was the norm. For their ten cent admission, customers expected to hear violin, cornet, drums, etc. with their Douglas Fairbanks or Keystone Kops, and as the films grew in sophistication, so did the musical accompaniments. It was finally realized that appropriate music really helped to "put over" a new movie. By then film makers had adopted the practice of sending their movies out along with a musical "cue sheet"—a detailed list of the picture's scenes and timings, as well as suggested musical selections to go with each. Then it was the local conductor's job to go to his music library (every theatre had such a collection, often with thousands of titles), find the recommended music, sequence it, and—since only snippets of each tune would be used—mark the parts so the players would know where to start and stop for each cue. Finally, since it was not common procedure to rehearse, the conductor would probably have to try out his new pastiche "score" for the first time in front of a paying audience, and hope that it would more or less work!
With the Paragon Ragtime Orchestra's vintage movie programs, we relive those pioneering days, although with perhaps a bit more sonic "quality control" than was once required. I still piece together the accompaniments from original orchestrations using cue sheets, just as was done in the 1910s and early '20s. However, unlike our hapless forbearers, the drummer and I have seen the picture forty or fifty times, and we know exactly how to fit each melody (and sound effect) with each scene. Due to this preparation, our underscoring probably achieves a closer fit to the action than was possible during the Silent Era. This "tight" live synchronization is still extremely difficult to pull off, but today's audiences, having been spoiled by modern movies and television, demand it. Little do they know of the NASA-like electronic studios where top audio engineers create the complex "sound tracks" of today's TV shows and movies. If those guys miss a cue, they can wind the tape back and try again, but if PRO hasn't finished the sword-fight music when the love scene begins, you'll know it! But we love our anachronistic underscoring method all the same. Much like the seat-of-the pants thrill of flying in an open-cockpit biplane, the experience of seeing these old films combined with live music is indescribably wonderful. Audiences around the world seem to agree, so grab some popcorn and join us. ROLL 'EM!
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