888 



Popular Science Monthly 



Douglas Fairbanks has forsaken the regular stage 



for such dare-devil "stunts" as this 



endangered to make a few feet of film, 

 come and watch how it is done. Behold 

 the locomotive with the engineer on the 

 cowcatcher, Nellie in his arms. Observe 

 that the train is moving slowly backward 

 and that the camera man is grinding 

 slowly. Papa lays Nellie carefully down 

 on the track ; then walks backward to his 

 cab. When the film, reversed, is run 

 rapidly through the projector, there will 

 be another thriller on the screen. 



[N. B. — It is now considered advisable 

 to use hard coal when doing this feat, 

 since a keen observer in the audience 

 once noted that the clouds of 

 smoke were pouring into the 

 stack instead of out of it.] 



Did you ever notice the realis- 

 tic manner in which a screen 

 motor-car will bump its victim? 

 It is so natural that you would 

 imagine yourself witnessing an 

 actual occurrence at Fifth Avenue 

 and Thirty-fourth Street while 

 the traffic policeman's back is 

 turned. There are several 



methods by which the operation 

 may be performed without losing 

 the bumpee's services for the 

 next picture. The victim 

 may lie down in the road, right 

 up against the front tires and 

 the car is started on the reverse 



with a most natural jump. Then 

 the cameraman ceases turning 

 while the car is brought to 

 the other side of the prostrate 

 one, with the back of the rear 

 tires touching him this time. 

 Quick throwing of the lever into 

 speed forward produces another 

 jump. The whole performance 

 looks very tragic when it gets on 

 the screen. 



Another method is actually to 

 bump and push the victim over 

 and then to pass over him at slow 

 speed with the camera-crank also 

 turning slowly. A rather spare 

 style of architecture is pre- 

 ferred in the victim of this 

 method, as clearances must be 

 carefully considered. 



But it is not all trick work, 



however. There are actors of 



the screen whose artistic sense 



or pure dare-deviltry causes them 



to yearn for a realism which lands them 



alternately in the Hall of Fame and the 



hospital. 



Some time ago, Irving Cummings 

 worked in a picture which called 

 for a close crossing of an automobile 

 and a railroad train. Picking his cross- 

 ing, he timed a particular train from a 

 given point to the exact spot selected for 

 the crossing. Then, with a stop watch, 

 he timed his car, from a start from 

 which he could view the train reaching 

 the fixed point. He averaged train and 

 car for several days. At last he made 



Helen Gibson makes a safe landing on a horse from 

 a crane on a moving wrecking-train 



