Reel to Reel Film Heritage 2022

Vital to its presentation, the film gauge and image format of a film are elements too immediate for the audience to overlook—yet sometimes they are. To mark the centenary of the invention of the 9.5mm celluloid film and the 70th anniversary of the groundbreaking Cinerama widescreen process, this programme highlights some of the key technological developments in film gauge and aspect ratio and how they are shaping the cinematic experience.

In the early days of cinema, film stock inventions came in a range of materials, gauges and perforlations in response to the filming equipment used. From 1909 onwards, the 35mm format developed by Thomas Edison with W. K. L. Dickson and produced by Kodak, with an aspect ratio of 1.33:1 (or 4:3), was widely used in silent films.

With the advent of sound film in the late 1920s, the image size on film was reduced as an optical soundtrack was added. The Movietone system was a widely known example of adopting such reduction, with a semi-square image aspect ratio of 1.16:1 which soon proved unpopular. Regardless, German director F. W. Murnau exploited this format fully with his acclaimed Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans (1927). Later, thicker, black frame lines were added to reproduce the common aspect ratio; the projector lens magnification had to be increased to accommodate the decrease in image area. In face of such changes, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Science established a new standard—the 1.37:1 Academy ratio—in 1932.

While film studios began to produce widescreen films at this time, like Roland West’s cinematographic breakthrough The Bat Whispers (1930) made in the Magnifilm process, they soon refrained from doing so, learning that theatre operators were reluctant to invest in equipment required to project widescreen films. It was not until the 1950s, with the rise of television, that this process became apparently the trump card to get audiences back to the cinema. Films in aspect ratios 1.66, 1.75 and 1.85:1 were released since. However, many of them were merely creating the false impression of a panorama by simply cropping the top and bottom of the images and projecting them with increased magnification.

Meanwhile, innovative processes like Polyvision and Cinerama were introduced to create visual spectacles by simultaneously projecting three reels of film with partially overlapping images seamlessly merged onto a wide screen. In its 1962 release, The Wonderful World of the Brothers Grimm was presented in Cinerama with an ultra-widescreen 2.65:1 aspect ratio. Currently there are only three film theatres around the world equipped to screen films made in the three-strip Cinerama process. During the restoration of Cinerama films from 2002, an alternate ‘SmileBox’ version was rendered by curving the three-panel image towards its centre to simulate Cinerama’s wraparound effect on a flat screen.

Introduced in 1953, with its new optical equipment and anamorphic lenses, the more flexible CinemaScope became the most successful widescreen process in Hollywood that later spread to Japan and Hong Kong, with Shaw Brothers’ Shawscope process making a wide stride in local filmmaking. Both Kon Ichikawa’s Conflagration (1958) and Doe Ching’s Love Without End (1961) demonstrate the Asian filmmakers’ ingenuity in their application of and innovation with film technology.

The race for the best widescreen process did not stop there. Film studios continued to compete with new widescreen formats and produce films with wide film gauges like 65mm for enhanced definition. While the medium of filmmaking is switching from analogue to digital, aspect ratio remains an essential consideration in presenting the filmmaker’s vision.

Due to technical limitations and commercial developments in filming and projection equipment, the evolution of film gauge for domestic or amateur use went an entirely different direction from that of professional film, with the former going from 16mm and 9.5mm to as small as 8mm. Before the spread of digital technology, the lack of compatible projectors has made it a challenge to show to the public images shot in non-standard formats (such as 9.5mm, 17.5mm and 68mm). In 2020, the Eye Filmmuseum in the Netherlands overcame one such challenge by scanning and restoring in 8K a selection of 68mm films from the Mutoscope and Biograph¹ Collections of the museum and the British Film Institute, making it possible for viewers to experience their remarkably high quality. A compilation of these films will be shown in this programme, along with early shorts and animations that illustrate the role small-format film and cameras play in film innovation.

—

¹ Founded in 1895 and named American Mutoscope Company, with branches around Europe the next year and active until 1916; renamed American Mutoscope and Biograph Company in 1899 and then Biograph Company in 1908.

This programme seeks to explore the different ways and implications of celluloid filmmaking. Celluloid and digital filmmaking differ in their modes of production, resulting in drastically distinctive styles and effects. Here we introduce some of the filmmakers who work with found footage and look into the many possibilities of moving images.

Found footage is moving images created with pre-existing footage that one obtains without shooting firsthand, and may be understood as derivative works. Filmmakers with different motivations and creative approaches may understand ‘found footage’ very differently. With analogue or digital tools, one reworks a single or multiple found footage by adding, editing, collaging, accelerating or decelerating the original celluloid materials. The footage might be resized, cropped in photographic processing, its soundtrack and music score reedited, dubbed, replaced or commented. Such reworks are not arbitrarily reordering of existing footage, but consciously illustrating editing aesthetics, narrating stories or discourses. It could also be a critique or parody of the original materials by ways of allusion, deconstruction or decontextualisation. Editing or processing existing celluloid film has been a common creative approach ever since moving image was invented. Some artists and experimental and analogue filmmakers have demonstrated the inexhaustible possibilities of reworking existing film materials since the 1920s. Access to film collections at archives or museums had long been restricted to film preservation workers, artists and filmmakers. Thanks to digital technology advancements in the past 20 years, archival footage have become more accessible. The material turn also renews attention on the nature of audio-visual carriers.

British avant-garde filmmaker and artist Malcolm Le Grice perceives found footage as the ideal bridge between analogue and digital technologies.¹ With moving images, cultural experiences transcend time and space, while responding to social changes brought about by technological developments. Whether creating with celluloid film or editing analogue audio-visual materials digitally, found footage in recent years involves more and more rediscovered family videos, film classics, TV commercials and unrecognised early footage. Presented in this programme include works by Peter Tscherkassky, who prefers the analogue process in the darkroom, exhibiting the irreplaceable nature of celluloid film while presenting an alternate spatial realm of moving image. Bill Morrison adopts digital tools and reshapes the audience’s perceptions towards the materiality of celluloid film by slowing the frames, narrating the passage of time and film history with film decomposition. Robin Hunzinger rekindles memories of intimate experience that belonged to his late grandmother with a variety of existing footage. Peet Gelderblom explores the battle of the sexes while unearthing a cascade of incomplete footage of different genres, years and purposes. Resources for found footage filmmaking in Hong Kong are relatively scarce. Linda Lai Chiu-han experiments montage with Cantonese cinema footage and contemplates on the interrelation between drama and reality.

—

¹ Malcolm Le Grice, Experimental Cinema in the Digital Age (London: British Film Institute, 2001), 312.

Curated and written by Lau Yam

This year’s ‘Rediscover and Restructure: Chinese-language Lost Gems and Restored Classics’ programme continues to expand on the foundation set by the 2020 programme by establishing a Hong Kong perspective as we take a broad view of Chinese-language film history. This section has three parts— ‘Thrice the Goddess’, ‘History Hour’, and ‘Prelude to New Cinema’ that will showcase Chinese-language gems and restored films from various film archives for local audiences, researchers, young filmmakers and students.

Hong Kong cinema’s decades of achievement are the results of hard work by several generations of filmmakers. However, Hong Kong filmmakers’ contributions are not limited to Hong Kong. In the 1920s, the Lai Man-wai clan and Sit Kok-sin chased their celluloid dreams in Shanghai. Then in the mid and late 30s, the likes of Lo Duen, Nancy Chan, and Lee Yi-nin had their go in Shanghai. Meanwhile, due to the War of Resistance against Japanese Aggression and the development of Cantonese sound film, quite a few Shanghainese came to Hong Kong and became trailblazers for Cantonese film despite their lack of command of the language. Besides, by taking advantage of Hong Kong’s stability over risks in Shanghai, some filmmakers made Mandarin films in Hong Kong to supply the Mainland market. For example, Rouge Tears (1938) and The Angel (1939) of the first part ‘Thrice the Goddess’ are results of these two opposing currents. After the war, a lot of professionals in film and drama relocated to Hong Kong. The masterful Zhu Shilin directed The Third Generation (1948) that carried the legacy of Shanghai while starting a new chapter at the same time. Shanghai’s film culture intersects with the open and flexible local environment, leading to the establishment of Hong Kong’s Mandarin films, which then integrated with Cantonese films to form the influential Hong Kong cinema.

Since Southeast Asia was a key market for Hong Kong film industry in the 1950s and 1960s, Mandarin and Cantonese films were often shot there with cast and crew from Hong Kong, yet the stories were unable to reflect the situation of different ethnic groups there. Hence, Singapore-Malyasian filmmaker Yi Sui advocated for the ‘Malayanisation of Chinese-language Cinema’—stories told by locals in various Chinese languages that were seen as part of the efforts on building Malayan cultural awareness. The Lion City (1960) is the only film by Yi that still exists today, regarded as a precious record of his artistic achievement and cultural vision. Shot in the 1930s, Taiwanese photography maestro Deng Nan-guang’s 8mm films are rare records of family activities and street shots from a civilian’s perspective. We could worry for them because we understand the historical background of the era, yet the protagonist is closely filming his family life and local practices. Then there’s also Pai Ching-jui’s documentary essay A Morning in Taipei (1964), featuring an abundance of documentary footage that takes us to a tour of the many spaces in Taipei. It illustrates a confident crowd and a bustling city with images of families and communities that are part of human history. Together, these three films form the second part ‘History Hour’.

We featured the works of Mou Tun-fei and Chiu Kang-chien in our 2020 programme as a way to reconnect with the twenty years before New Taiwanese Cinema when young filmmakers surpassed the practice of the mainstream film industry. This year’s ‘Prelude to New Cinema’ continues to piece together the fragments of film history. In the late 70s, Taiwanese cinema was looking for breakthroughs, resulting in innovative genres, or an injection of fresh ideas into traditional genres. Long-time celebrated director Lee Hsing made Good Morning, Taipei (1979), which at its core is still adhering to morality. But it dares to challenge the established norms and continues its exploration of moral topics with refreshing ways while exuding the light sensibility of the times. Hou Hsiao-hsien’s first two directorial features, Lovable You (1981) and Cheerful Wind (1982), had successfully combined the new generation’s way of thinking and urban romantic comedy. At first glance, these early films seem to be quite different from his later acclaimed works. But under close inspection, the large number of long shots, the back-and-forth between Taipei and the countryside, and the directionless love affairs are obviously the start of ‘New Cinema’ and Hou’s signature style. His peer Lee Mi-mi focused on using the middlebrow sensibilities to explore the situation of contemporary women that included topics such as marital strife of professional women and cases of single motherhood. Our selection Girls’ School (1982) touches on topics like homosexuality, sex culture, and family. The film brings up these hot topics in a broad social level, showing various viewpoints with a rational and compassionate attitude, and always sticking to the warm respects of human relations.

There is no one path or experience that can encapsulate the rich and diverse field that is Hong Kong cinema. By tracing the history of Chinese-language films and sorting out the intricate contexts, we can understand the historical pattern and achievements of Chinese-language films from these ties that spanned across regions and eras. Among them are the unique and lasting brilliance of Hong Kong cinema and the beauty in its interaction with other films.