Several lovingly compiled oilcloth albums filled with film frames, stored in the Cinemateca Portuguesa – Museo do Cinema’s archives, testify of a disconcerting method of appropriating and gathering film memorabilia in the 1920s: Portuguese film aficionados treated film frames, then called “os pontos” (“the points”), as valuable collector’s items.
In an article for the Portuguese film magazine Imagem (50/1932), film director António Lopes Ribeiro (1908-1995) shed light on this extraordinary practice: In the early 1920s, film projectionists (especially those working in second-rate theatres) had to cope with the projector’s mechanical imperfections; the sprocket wheels of the machines used to damage the edges of the film, often ripping meters of perforation, and the projectionist, acting as an implacable judge, would cut damaged parts without mercy, simply leaving some of the wreckage on the floor. One day, a youngster found those bits and pieces and – compelled by his passion for film – started stealing those film clippings after the last show. With this lovingly compiled collection, he soon become the envy of all his fellow newspaper boys, to whom he exhibited his treasures. The trade with film frames started when the boy hesitatingly agreed to sell a close-up of Hollywood actor William Duncan.
However, the real business was carried out by another, more ruthless youngster, who discovered that it was much more profitable to deliberately cut the films, to satisfy the demand for close-ups and capital scenes. He set up an organisation of several projectionists as well as salesmen to procure and sell the frames on a grand scale.
The enterprising youngster’s vaulting ambition and the great success of a 15-episode film, “Os Mistérios da Selva” (“The Jungle Mysteries”) finally caused the plot to be uncovered. It was common practice at that time that the introduction of the main characters was followed by his or her picture. After its premiere at Theatre Condes in 1922, “Os Mistérios da Selva” ran successfully at other Lisbon theatres, but when it was eventually reprised at the Chiado Terrasse, the titles were there but all pictures were missing! The young tradesman had taken advantage of such a great loot and had simply cut them all, leaving behind the titles as silent witnesses of his work.
Alarmed by the angry audience, the exhibitor investigated what had happened, related the events to the distribution company, which called the police and even established a lawsuit.
The Cinemateca Portuguesa obtained those collections of frames through different legacies. Whether the people who legated them were the first-hand collectors is still unknown. In any case, this peculiar episode truly demonstrates the allure of film and people’s need to materialise their desire for it.
Cinemateca Portuguesa-Museu do Cinema |