mechakingghidorah69

The Lumière Brothers had the foresight to see that, in addition to familiar sights of France and snapshots of everyday life, film had the ability to transport viewers to faraway lands: to see places, things, and cultures that they might otherwise not have the opportunity to be exposed to. This insight led to a series of films, produced over several years, that showcased scenes from many different countries: ranging every continent except Antarctica.

The title refers to a muezzin, which is an Islamic crier who intones a call for Muslims to prayer five times a day. Traditionally, the muezzin would stand at the top of a minaret (a tower) or another high part of a mosque so that he could be heard. The muezzin in this film, who appears to be on a rooftop, repeatedly goes from a standing position to kneeling, where he kisses the ground. Bertrand Tavernier, a French filmmaker who narrates the Kino DVD The Lumière Brothers' First Films, reports that a Muslim friend of the Lumière Institute verified that the prayer in the film is made up, a fictional representation for the camera. We may never know the reason why. It is possible that the cameraman told the muezzin how to perform for the camera; it is possible the muezzin was just an actor who made it up on the spot; or it is also possible that the muezzin didn't want to profane an authentic prayer by performing it for a film audience. Whatever the reason, it is unlikely that most audiences of the time would have known the difference.

Henry Short, an associate and cameraman for Robert W. Paul, traveled to Spain and Portugal to make a 14-part film series, aptly named A Tour in Spain and Portugal. For many years, only one of that collection was believed to have survived: A Sea Cave Near Lisbon. However, in recent years, a second film was recovered due to its preservation as a novelty item called a Filoscope, essentially a flip book that could be used to simulate motion. In fact, a few titles from the R.W. Paul catalog were saved this way, as Short published several of his films in the Filoscope format. These books were able to be re-photographed and animated, allowing previously lost films to be seen again in the 21st century.

For world cinema buffs, Andalusian Dance is one of the oldest surviving films shot in Spain. The dancers are two sisters, Margarida and Amparo Aguilera, who both worked at the Teatro Real Coliseu, a place where Paul's films were on display at the time of this film's production. The two women dance back and forth across a room: one wearing a dress, the other a more masculine outfit. The film quality isn't the greatest, due to it having to be reconstructed from the Filoscope, but it is clear enough for the viewer to follow. Worthwhile mainly as a curiosity.

Not to be confused with the same year's Arrival of a Train in Perrache, another Lumière film that shows the train's arrival from the point of view of the station, this film was shot from the moving train itself. This sense of movement, as we watch buildings and landmarks go by, is remarkable for a time in which the vast majority of films, whether filmed inside or outdoors, were shot from a stationary position. In reality, this (and similar Lumière films from the same year) was also shot stationary, but placing the camera on a moving vehicle or platform gives a sense of motion that make these films feel more modern than their contemporaries.

The film opens on the side of a building that quickly whizzes by. As the camera moves past the first few buildings, we get a deeper focus background with a house atop a big hill, move across a river where we can see horse-drawn carriages and people crossing a bridge, track past some trees and buildings with full-side billboards for lingerie, and end up in what appears to be a rail yard. As the film ends, the train is presumably reaching its destination at the station. Arrival by Train is a beautiful film that ranks among the best of the Lumière location shoots. I highly recommend it to anyone with a serious interest in early film history.