Dickson Experimental Sound Film

It was on a day in 1891 when Scottish inventor William K.L. Dickson surprised his boss, Thomas Alva Edison with his remarkable work in the development of motion pictures. After many experiments, Dickson was now able to capture scenes of real life with his camera, and reproduce them through his invention, the Kinetoscope, as if a fragment of time were preserved in celluloid. Soon, Dickson's Kinetoscope would become an enormous success as a new way of entertainment, with many people eager to pay the nickel that was charged to be able to watch people dancing, or acrobats performing stunts through the "peepshow" of the Kinetoscope. However, the invention wasn't complete, in order for it to capture on film the real life as we know it, sound was needed on the movies. So Dickson kept experimenting and this short experiment, Kinetophone's first film, was the result.

In this experiment, codenamed simply as "Dickson Experimental Sound Film", director William K.L. Dickson stands in front of a recording cone for a wax cylinder (earliest method of recording sound), with his violin on hands, playing a song named "Song of the Cabin Boy". The idea was to record the song into the cylinder at the same time that the camera was recording his movements. In order to show that this was a motion picture, two of Edison's "Black Maria" laboratory decided to do a little dance in front of the camera. Unlike what author Vito Russo claimed in his book, "The Celluloid Closet", this little dance had nothing to do with homosexuality as it obviously is a reference to the environment of loneliness of the lab, akin to the lonely sailors to whom the "Song of the Cabin Boy" was dedicated to (the title Russo suggests, "The Gay Brothers", is actually anachronistic as "gay" had no homosexual connotation in the late 1890s).

Sadly, Dickson was unable to achieve the desired effect, and the Kinetophone never could really produce the synchronized audio with images. While he had the cylinder with the sound and the celluloid with the images, the synchronization of the two elements was not exactly effective, and the sudden appearance of Auguste and Louis Lumière's Cinématographe prompted Edison's team to focus on projecting systems and eventually Dickson left the company. Fortunately, in 1998 Dickson's cylinder with the movie's sound was rebuilt and film editor Walter Murch made a restoration of the experiment as it was intended. Finally, "Dickson Experimental Sound Film" could be heard with synchronized sound, just as its creative inventor had intended. While it was not a successful attempt, this outstanding film is a testament of the enormous genius of the father of Kinetoscope. 8/10

The very first talking picture has returned from oblivion, and now you can hear it and see it! In autumn of 1894, at the Edison lab complex in West Orange, New Jersey, Thomas Edison's associate William Dickson tried to combine two existing technologies (the phonograph and the kinetoscope) to record sound and image together. In the event, Dickson was unable to synchronise the playback of sound and image, so this experimental film was never released to paying audiences ... and consequently (unlike many silent films which Dickson made for Edison at this time) it has no official title. The silent image (recorded at 40 fps) has been in the Library of Congress for years, known to film historians as a mute curiosity. It was also known that the 'soundtrack' had been recorded on one of the crude wax cylinders languishing at the Edison National Historic Site ... although nobody knew which one.

But now that's changed. Recently, curators located the wax cylinder, which had broken into several pieces. These were reassembled: a playback was obtained, and the sound was digitised. Hollywood's veteran soundtrack editor Walter Murch cleaned up the background noise and tweaked the digitisation to make it synch with the film image, which Murch had digitally compressed to 30 fps. Sound and image are synchronised at last!

The film begins with an offscreen man's voice calling: 'The rest of you fellows ready? Go ahead!' (The unseen speaker remains unidentified, but was probably Dickson's assistant Fred Ott.) On screen, Dickson plays a violin into an immense funnel mounted on a tripod (one of Edison's sound-recording devices) while alongside him, in full view of the camera, two male lab assistants embrace each other for some quick ballroom dancing to the tempo of Dickson's music.

The film lasts barely 17 seconds: just long enough for us to marvel at this crude technology before being provoked to laughter at the sight of two men waltzing in each other's arms. Speaking of which, here's a WARNING: a well-known but extremely inaccurate reference book ('The Celluloid Closet', by the late Vito Russo) includes a frame enlargement from this movie and identifies it as 'The Gay Brothers'. That's incorrect. 'The Gay Brothers' is an entirely different movie, made by Dickson at the Edison lab during this same period. 'The Gay Brothers' never had a soundtrack: it's a brief fiction film about two brothers who are NOT 'gay' in the sense Russo meant it. The deceased Mr Russo, for his own reasons, wanted us to perceive Dickson's experimental sound film (arguably the first movie musical!) as an artefact of 19th-century homoeroticism. (Hmm, what is it about gay men and musicals?) Sorry, but there's just no such content here.

This vitally important film deserves a rating of 10 out of 10. I've often maintained that no 'lost' movie should ever be considered irretrievable unless it was deliberately destroyed: I'm delighted to report that this film is finally available to audiences as its producer intended it, more than a century after it was filmed!

The Edison company in the US made experimental motion pictures on photographic film from 1889, and first exploited film commercially with the Kinetoscope system in 1894. The Lumières in France, however, are usually credited with launching the cinema proper a year later, as they saw the virtue in projecting films so they could be enjoyed communally. Thomas Alva Edison, in contrast, seems to have regarded moving images as a novelty to be consumed in an atomised and slightly voyeuristic way, by an individual peering through a lens. In a time when people regularly watch theatrical features on their smartphones, this mode of consumption has made a comeback.

This experimental example from Edison's famous Black Maria studio in New Jersey is particularly remarkable as it's the earliest known sound film, a full third of a century prior to The Jazz Singer. It's perhaps less surprising when you realise that Edison's main interest in film was as an enhancement of his other great cultural invention, the phonograph, which he regarded as a more enduring content medium. The film is a test run for a planned Kinetophone system in which film is combined with a soundtrack recorded on a wax cylinder, an idea that finally had its day with the Scopitone visual jukebox of the 1950s and persists in contemporary music video.

Successful synchronisation defeated Edison's engineers and their pre-electronic mechanical equipment, however, and the kinetophone was eventually launched with unsynchronised musical accompaniment. This film was never exhibited and over the years film print and cylinder became separated. In 1998 researchers realised the connection between the two and veteran Hollywood editor Walter Murch finally completed the synchronisation using digital technology.

But the film also gets into this list for its intriguing content. While director and film pioneer William K L Dickson plays a simple fiddle tune into one of the massive horns then used for audio recording, two men dance together, one of them occasionally smiling. It's therefore been claimed as the first gay film, notably by Vito Russo in his book The Celluloid Closet, and features in the documentary of the same name based on the book (Rob Epstein, Jeffrey Friedman 1995). More plausibly, it offers a window into an era where all male environments were common — in research and development as well as the naval setting that the lyrics of the song Dickson plays allude to — and where sex was so far off the agenda the obvious modern interpretation of the scene would have been unthinkable.

Some commentors note that this is of historic importance. But the point is precisely that it is not.

Film is like everything else, but moreso. It is what it is because of a process of evolution, accident, selfish urges and technology circumstance. Film affects us profoundly, indeed defines large parts of our lives. The unhappy fact is that what it makes in us is twisted by its past, how it got to us.

So our worlds have all sorts of legacies of its accidental past, just as our bodies have vestigial tails and gills. You just cannot be a person at all unless you know who you are, and part of that self-discovery is in understanding the snowball of cinema.

This isn't part of that snowball because the technology was forgotten, almost as if it never happened. Maybe if they worked late one night, if it hadn't rained, if a joke hadn't been so funny, it would have become part of the medium.

Then we would have avoided all that adventure in pantomime and shadow that forms the nervous system of our images today.

See this as a reminder of all the extinct possibilities that were pruned from what we have. Maybe it will help illuminate what wasn't pruned.

Ted's Evaluation -- 3 of 3: Worth watching.

The Library of Congress has discovered the missing sound-track for this film, which was at the Edison National Historical Site all along. It was a cylinder, broken in half, labelled "WKL Dickson Violin with Kineto" and it has recently been repaired, transcribed, and put in synch with the image. This short film now takes its place as the oldest existing sound film. Before the image starts, you can just hear someone saying "Are the rest of you ready? Go ahead!"