PRODUCING “THE MARCH OF TIME”

Southland Times, Issue 24109, 24 April 1940, Page 9

PRODUCING “THE MARCH OF TIME”

Journalism For The Screen

The history of “The March of Time” is a twentieth century fable come true. Originally arising out of a desire to serve the public thirsting for knowledge and the real story behind the news, it has filled such a great want that from its humble beginning it has attained its present important position in the film world. Entertainment and education joined in partnership when two magazines, Time and Fortune, decided to work together on a film series to be known as “The March of Time.” Time founded in 1923, and Fortune, founded in 1930, were two powerful magazines whose circulation and influence were felt and respected in every walk of American life. Having as their principals groups of young men who avidly watched every phase of modern, commercial, political and financial change, and suggested changes, these two papers became mediums of public knowledge. Entirely fearless and unbiased in their views, both publications commanded the respect of readers. FIRST VENTURE The first film venture of the newlyformed group was ready for general release in the theatres of the world in 1935. In every audience there were dozens of people who, intrigued and impressed, went home to talk about it. Others, with but little notion of what it was all about, were startled into a few minutes of attention while it was unreeled, and then promptly forgot about it. But, both the disappointment of those who expected too much, and the amazement of those who expected nothing, proved one thing—the eagerness with which people would respond to a really vigorous treatment of current events on the screen. The demand was there —totally unfilled. The theory of “The March of Time” is that people want to know—to see and hear as well as to read—what is going

on in their world at the time. The more important a thing is the more intensely they want to know about it. So the policy is one of insisting that each sequence presented must have some bearing, and the sharper the bearing the better, on a news story of national significance and lasting human interest. Just as a news magazine is in no sense competitive with the daily newspaper, so is “March of Time” a different form of screen journalism, entirely non-competitive with the long-estab-lished universally accepted newsreel. Always to be on the spot ready to snap an action picture when news breaks is too much to expect of any camera staff, and it is for this reason that newsreels confine themselves so largely to naval reviews, the dedication of monuments, and other scheduled events. These things are news, indeed, but they are seldom as exciting or significant as news that breaks unheralded. There is no way of knowing when a dictator or a king will be assassinated, when an international incident will precipitate a war, when an industrial dispute will burst into flame or a new party attempt a coup d’etat. It is the business of the news editor to anticipate such stories when possible, to be able to dig up background information about them and interpret them. In the news-gathering field, “Time’s” editors have had long experience. So, in making “March of Time,” the first problem is to decide not only what is important news today, but what will still be news a month or two months from today. It takes four weeks to make one “March of Time,” and each issue is shown for several months after release date. The next job is to write a script based on important news stories. “Time” has news agents all over the world, and an elaborate clipping file and research library on which the script writers can depend for facts. The third step is to take the care-fully-prepared script in hand and go in search of pictures which will best tell the story. First, there are the participants in

the news itself. “March of Time” has been very successful in securing persons whose activities have just made or are about to make news to act before the cameras. Contrary to general newsreel practice, prominent personages are not just backed up against walls and asked to read a speech to the camera, or to smile while a news commentator speaks. Instead, they are persuaded to act out the part they play in real life, and it is by no means easy to get people to “be themselves” when confronted by a camera. At times the script calls for pictures of a personage of news importance who is camera-shy—in fact so shy that he has himself protected by bodyguards to ward off cameramen. To secure pictures of the ageing and secretive Sir Basil Zaharoff, famous muntions salesman, the Paris cameraman had to masquerade as a pushcart pedlar and conceal his camera under a pile of oranges before he could get near the suspicious old man. SCENES RE-ENACTED When actual scenes cannot be found or taken of the persons or events that have made or are making news, “March of Time” re-enacts from documented news reports scenes necessary to the continuity of the story. Occasionally, when historical background requires film of a particular past event, certain shots are taken from film libraries. After all the film has been collected for one script, it is roughly spliced together and run off. Then begins a long siege of cutting, reallocating, retaking, and collecting more film. At last the finished sequence is ready. Then follows the sound synchronization and the addition where necessary, of the commentator’s voice to clarify and explain the action. This brings us to a most important personage, the man behind “The Voice of Time,” says a writer in The Sydney Morning Herald. That voice on the screen is probably

[recognized more quickly and imitated (more often than any other. In makiing “time march on” the man behind I that voice has become what the motion I picture industry has never before j known—an actor rocketed to fame and I stardom without having once set foot i before moviedom’s Klieg lights. His is I the distinction of being the only star jwho comes to life on the movie screen I without the aid of visual image. i Millions of people know him as the [Voice of Time. Yet only a few know [the man behind that voice. He is C. | Westbrook Van Voorhis, and he contends that saying “Time Marches On!” !is the easiest thing he does. He can (swing into it and give it all he’s got lin a few short seconds. But the acItual commentary—his part as the mysterious, detached voice of the news telling the narrative of “March of Time”—is a different story. It takes long, tedious hours of rehearsal—hours spent in reading and re-reading, of marking and re-mark-ling of script for each movie release and [each radio broadcast. Van Voorhis has his own special symbols, which act as signposts to proper emphasis, word grouping and inflection. To the average eye they look like meaningless hieroglyphics. But each mark—whether it be a line under a particular word, a double line, shaky line, single or double vertical line, between words and sentences, or curved lines joining groups of words together—signifies to Van that he has planned to speak those particular words in some special manner. When reading his script for a movie “March of Time” Van has the additional gruelling task of timing every spoken word to each foot of film as it flashes by on the miniature screen before him. Despite his unparalleled success, the |fact that he has become a voice personality is not entirely pleasing to Van. He complains bitterly that he just can’t get away from the sound of his own voice and from his friends’ and acquaintances’ imitations of it. And it’s always his luck, it seems, to go to the movies when he is part of the programme.