Carmencita

"Carmencita Dancing," one of a series of Edison short films featuring circus and vaudeville acts, displayed the... um... "talents" of a zaftig belly-dancer who agreed to undulate before the camera of the famous "Black Maria" studio. The dance was originally intended to be played in a Kinetoscope, a single -person arcade viewer connected to Edison's more famous invention, the phonograph. Through a pair of crude headphones, the latter device supplied an asynchronous soundtrack of "hootchie-cootchie" music. The Kinetograph camera here employed is so new -- even to its inventors -- that director Dickson has drastically "overcranked" the film, unintentionally producing one of the first examples of slow-motion. Carmencita's titillating movements were considered by many to be scandalous. Thus, the film prompted some of the earliest discussions of film censorship.

Carmencita (1894)

*** 1/2 (out of 4)

Infamous Edison short, which features the title dancer, quite famous at the time, doing one of her dances. The film runs only 24-seconds but who today could really imagine how much trouble this film would get into with such a short running time. The movie was famous because it came under a lot of censorship issues wherever it would be played. The most famous incident happened in Boston where it was pulled from theaters after a preacher complained that it was sinful. We only see a brief bit of the dancer's leg (below the knee) so that should tell you something. There's certainly nothing great here but from a historical standpoint this is a very important film.

Here's a perfect example of the pitfalls of writing about films: especially films from the earliest days of the cinema. The other IMDb'ers who have posted reviews of Carmencita's performance for Thomas Edison's Kinetograph camera are apparently reviewing footage from Edison Motion Picture #28, which has been reissued on DVD as part of "Edison: The Invention of the Movies". Well, I am likewise reviewing Carmencita's performance for Edison's Kinetograph. However, the performance I saw (and which I'm reviewing) was a different performance by the same dancer, filmed on the same occasion -- the second week of March 1894 -- but photographed on a different negative and not included in the DVD.

I saw this film (the one I'm reviewing, mind) in October 2006 at the Cinema Muto festival in Sacile, Italy. The print screened at Sacile was retrieved from the National Fairground Archive in Sheffield, England. (WKL Dickson, who shot many films for Edison, was an Englishman; he shipped prints of many of his Edison films to Britain.) When the Sheffield print was found, it was at first assumed to be one more copy of the existing Carmencita footage (the one on the DVD). However, after restoration, it was discovered that this was a 'lost' movie which no living person knew had ever existed in the first place: a completely different take of Carmencita's performance, differing significantly from the 'known' version. Since Edison's catalogue lists only one version, this 'lost' film has been provisionally titled "Carmencita #2" and catalogued as EMP 28.1.

This is certainly not a 'belly dance', despite a previous IMDb'er's comment. Carmencita's performance here is virtually identical to the one in the DVD version, with one interesting difference: in the version found at Sheffield and screened at Sacile (the one I saw), the señorita concludes her performance by curtseying to the camera (or to its operator?) and offering a moue.

Frame-by-frame comparisons make it clear that these are two separate 'takes': two completely different pieces of footage of the same dancer giving similar but not identical performances. I'd be keen to learn which one was shot first. Carmencita's acknowledgment in the Sheffield version might imply that this was the conclusion of her performance, therefore the final take. Or perhaps this was her first take, and Dickson may have felt that Carmencita's gesture -- appropriate enough for a live audience watching a stage performance -- was inappropriate for a movie, and he required her to do a retake. Barring authorisation for a trip yesterwards to March 1894 (grease up the time-portal!), it's unlikely that anyone will ever know which version was shot first.

On its own merits as an historic artefact, I'll rate "Carmencita #2" 6 points out of 10 ... plus one point extra (7 total) because this film and its twin sister -- placed side by side -- serve as a caution to those who would review old-time movies, or who would criticise other reviewers' film scholarship: sometimes the version which you saw, and the version which I saw, really are NOT the same movie!

In Carmencita, we get the story of a dance, and that's all. It's a great thing that the first woman who was ever photographed on celluloid was seen doing what she loves, doing it relatively well (I can't judge how the dancing was by 1894 standards, but she never appears to slip up), and is not being exploited for the sake of it. Here is a MOTION PICTURE, so here's motion and here's a picture of it. Simple. Awesome. I hope women seeing it today are empowered by it. Or if they want to scream "Patriarchy" and be mad that it's not showing a woman doing something that isn't meant to only appeal to men I understand. But it is splendid and exciting to see, especially in the not-quite 24 frame per second film speed it has been preserved at, and I think it's amazing to watch past the film history of it.

PS: on IMDb this is title url 0000001

This is the first movie in what quickly became one of the most popular genres in the earliest years of motion pictures. Many of Edison's earliest Kinetoscope films featured popular dancers, the best known probably being Annabelle (Whitford) Moore. But "Carmencita" was the first such feature and, as best as anyone has been able to determine, the dancer herself also became the first woman to appear in an American-made movie.

The dance routine itself is similar in style and quality to most of the other movies of its kind and era. The completely dark background makes "Carmencita" herself the full focus of attention. Her appeal is said to have been based as much on her energy and fervor as on her actual skill in dancing, and even with the limitations of 1890s cinematography, it's easy to tell that she is enthusiastic about what she is doing. Her stage routine was probably even livelier.

It's not hard to guess why this kind of movie was so popular in its time. This and similar features could provide something worth seeing within the very limited running time of the earliest movies. Some of the later movies of popular dancers display more film-making experience, but "Carmencita" got the genre off to a lively start.