My Nitrate Memories

Print source: George Eastman House Running time: 95 minutes

Screening Sunday, May 3 at 2 p.m. at the Nitrate Picture Show.

About the film The frame enlargement reproduced above was taken from the nitrate print to be presented in this program. If you are able to identify its title from the image, you are more than welcome to spread the news ahead of the screening.

All of the other films featured in the official schedule of the Nitrate Picture Show were announced on the morning of the festival’s opening day. We are now asking you to take a further leap of faith and come to this show without knowing what the film is.

In the months preceding this weekend, our technicians and curators inspected all sorts of films, ranging from undisputed classics to relatively obscure items. Our pleasure in looking at them didn’t derive much from the reputation of their creators, or from their stylistic achievements; we were, quite simply, in awe at how beautiful they looked after so many years. We would like to share some of this joy with you, regardless of the film’s critical pedigree.

The second reason for inviting you to a blind date with nitrate is the element of surprise. Each of us, at least once in our lives, has gone to the movies without knowing anything about the title we would see. This condition of blissful ignorance was, to some extent, part of the game. Not infrequently, the will to embrace the unknown is rewarded with a revelation, whether of a major work or an undiscovered gem. The sense of surprise achieved through this humble gesture has given these films a special place in our itinerary as moviegoers. It is a precious gift that deserves to be honored.

Print source: UCLA Film and Television Archive Courtesy of Twentieth Century-Fox Running time: 110 minutes

Screening Sunday, May 3 at 10 a.m. at the Nitrate Picture Show.

About the print This is a vintage release print on deposit with UCLA for Twentieth Century-Fox. Slight scratching and wear are visible. Shrinkage rate: 0.85%.

About the film “All those who derogate the word ‘psychological’ as applied to the modern movie of crime will find in ‘Leave Her to Heaven,’ at long last, a picture that sensationally and completely fills the bill. Gene Tierney, in fact, has a role to play that is veritably psychopathic in its violence, yet so solidly motivated that you view her as a thoroughly poisonous heroine. She is the hopeless victim of a selfishness so consuming that when it manifests itself in love, she sacrifices everything for possession, and for vengeance when she cannot possess.” —Edwin Schallert, The Los Angeles Times, December 29, 1945

“The film has some moments of mounting suspense, inasmuch as John Stahl has given it capable direction for the most part, and the color is lovely to look at, with magnificent outdoor shots and attractive interiors. In fact, the stunning sets are likely to distract your attention from the story, and it’s almost too pretty for the subject matter.” —Mae Tinee, The Chicago Daily Tribune, December 31, 1945

Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, UK 1948 Print source: Academy Film Archive Running time: 100 minutes

Screening Saturday, May 2 at 10 p.m. at The Nitrate Picture Show.

About the print Very likely to have been the property of J. Arthur Rank, this nitrate print has some splices in the early reels, and it exhibits some cinching that causes crackling and popping on the sound track. There is some oil on the print throughout, but the general condition is excellent. Shrinkage rate: 0.80%.

About the film “‘Black Narcissus’ is the only picture in several months to which I have returned eagerly. . . . And again I found it an exquisite cinematic jewel, an exotic bloom among the potted plants of Hollywood. . . . The production, designed by Alfred Junge, unfolds a series of Technicolor tapestries as rich, detailed and beautiful as any I have ever seen.” —Philip K. Scheuer, The Los Angeles Times, September 19, 1947

“I don’t recall ever seeing such stunning screen photography. Technicolor has caught sunrise in India’s Himalaya Mountains with haunting fidelity. The incredible softness of India’s early morning sky fire used to drag this quondam soldier from his bunk betimes even in lesser mountains, and here it all is in Himalayan setting and heavenly glory.” —Richard L. Coe, The Washington Post, March 6, 1948

Alfred Hitchcock, UK 1934 Print source: George Eastman House Running time: 75 minutes

Screening Friday, May 1, 2015 at 10:30 p.m. in the Dryden Theatre at George Eastman House as part of the Nitrate Picture Show.

About the print A reissue print from 1943 with a dual bilateral variable area sound track, it has the British Board of Film Censors logo and the General Film Logo distribution card. George Eastman House acquired the copy in 1999. As usual in vintage film material, this print shows some scratches on the heads and tails of each reel. It has very few splices throughout— proof that the copy was well maintained over the years. Shrinkage rate: 0.98%.

About the film “The British cinema, never notable for its command of filmic pace, goes in for a blistering style of story-telling in ‘The Man Who Knew Too Much.’ . . . Directed with a fascinating staccato violence by Alfred Hitchcock, it is the swiftest screen melodrama this column can recall. . . . ‘The Man Who Knew Too Much’ is distinctly Mr. Hitchcock’s picture. Although the photography and lighting are inferior according to Hollywood standards, the film is an interesting example of technical ingenuity as well as an absorbing melodrama.” —A.S., The New York Times, March 23, 1935

Michael Curtiz, US 1942 Print source: The Museum of Modern Art Running time: 101 minutes

Screening Friday, May 1, 2015 at 8 p.m. in the Dryden Theatre at George Eastman House as part of the Nitrate Picture Show. 

About the print This print was acquired by the Museum of Modern Art from Warner Bros. in May 1947. It was step-printed from the original negatives after some sections were replaced with dupes. The original nitrate negative is no longer extant. Shrinkage rate: 0.70%.

About the film “Casablanca! A magic word, that. A word that will open theater doors wide and keep them open. For the movement of humanity into houses where this Warner film is played will be constant and heavy. Yes, Casablanca is a word that piques the interest and stirs the imagination.” —The Film Daily, November 27, 1942

“It goes heavy on the love theme. Although the title and Humphrey Bogart’s name convey the impression of high adventure rather than romance, there’s plenty of the latter for the femme trade. Adventure is there, too, but it’s more as exciting background to the Bogart-Bergman heart department. Bogart, incidentally, as a tender lover (in addition to being a cold-as-ice nitery operator) is a novel characterization that, properly billed, might itself be good for some coin in the trough.”

—Variety, December 2, 1942

In the year 2000, the International Federation of Film Archives held a special program at the British Film Institute. It was called “The Last Nitrate Picture Show.” David Francis, former head of BFI’s National Film and Television Archive, was its godfather. His successor, Clyde Jeavons, was the chief curator of the series. A book was published for the occasion, titled This Film Is Dangerous, edited by Roger Smither. Fifteen years later, nitrate film hasn’t gone away. Its valedictory appearance at the National Film Theatre in London turned out to be a “see you later” rather than a farewell. Francis, Jeavons, and Smither are also doing fine. They are the guardian angels of the festival you are about to attend.

More than being dangerous, nitrate film was an endangered species from the beginning of its tormented, beautiful life. Because it is chemically unstable, archives and museums have tried to transfer its images onto other carriers; hence the catchphrase “nitrate won’t wait,” adopted in the 1970s as the mantra of preservation activists. In some countries, nitrate film must be destroyed after duplication. Projecting it is forbidden everywhere except at a handful of specialized venues. The Dryden Theatre at George Eastman House is one of them.

In quantitative terms, nitrate prints are a legion—well over a million reels worldwide. Because of their fragile condition, most of them can be used only for the purposes of preservation. Some prints, however, still possess most of their original radiance and can be projected on a big screen. You are about to witness their resurrection in a unique event where cinema will speak on its own terms.

Nitrate film projection is a curatorial discipline in itself; as such, its performance is a synthesis of art and science. The Nitrate Picture Show is also a celebration of all of the individuals and organizations in charge of this mission. Its motto is a variation of our predecessors’ call to action: nitrate can wait. It did. Here it is.

Full 2015 program schedule: eastmanhouse.org/nitratepictureshow

George Eastman House welcomes famed actor, producer, and author William Wellman Jr. to launch the preview event for the Nitrate Picture Show, the world’s first festival of film conservation, on Thursday, April 30. Wellman will be introducing one of his father’s famous films, A Star Is Born (William A. Wellman, US 1937) at 8 p.m. in the Dryden Theatre, followed by a discussion and book signing.

About the print Struck in 1946, almost ten years after the original release, this print is probably a re-release copy for theaters (at one point, the reels had been doubled up into 2,000-foot rolls for projection). A dye-transfer print with the original variable density sound track, it is part of the donation made to George Eastman House in 1999 by Daniel Selznick, son of David O. Selznick. Few splices and minimal scratches at the heads and tails. Shrinkage rate: 1.0%.

About the film “You can chalk this up as a production that will have the town talking, and a natural for the word-of-mouth advertising. It is the sort of film that is bound to create plenty of discussion. A lot of it controversial. But that is nothing to be alarmed about. . . . The film has all sorts of appeal with a real Hollywood studio story, great cast, beautiful directorial touches, and a writing job on the script that is a delight for human touches, clever dialogue and witty lines that are in the best Dorothy Parker tradition. . . . Direction, Excellent. Photography, Grand.” —The Film Daily, April 23, 1937

During my first year in film school I was required to take a traditional black and white 35mm photography class and an introductory film class where we only shot on black and white 8mm film. As I toyed with the film technology, I was drawn to high contrast style. I aimed to capture thick blacks and shocking whites. I felt good enough about traditional photography that I chose to continue onto a color photography class the next year. This choice came to define my style and what I look for in films.

When I shot, developed, and printed my first color photograph I was floored. The way the color allowed me to express my vision made me itch with excitement. It fit what I was seeing and what I was trying to show to my audience. I translated my excitement from my color stills to my moving image projects. I went out and bought 16mm color film, popped it into my wind-up Bolex and shot my next short in color. I only made color films from there on out. It allowed me to show crazy and electric colors, as well as muted tones. It let me pinpoint the mood I wanted to capture for my films. It let me truly and accurately express myself.

What's more, is that the color was on film. Tons of little dots organically taking their place on the negative. No grids, no pixels. As the Digital Archivist for the Eastman House's Moving Image Department, I work with things like grids, pixels, bits, file structures, and digital storage daily. I fully respect and embrace the wonderful world that digital cinema has given to us. But it is such a different medium than film. Film is a medium that I better relate to at my core. It has that glow and depth that film lovers talk about. I still shoot film to this day.

So, when I walked into the Dryden Theatre and saw my first color nitrate print, I melted into my seat. The color was almost tangible! You could swim in it! I had heard people talk about the shimmer of the black and white prints, and there it was, translating to color! The film had survived this many years to bring to my eyes this collection of little organically placed dots of color. These directors and these actors and these camera operators and these massive film crews got their hands on this artistic process I love generations before me, worked together to make this beautiful creation, and then it was handed to me and my senses years later. Nitrate color topped the excitement I got from my polyester creations. Nitrate had been waiting to let me really know how deeply it could express the color I see at my core.

Making Nitrocellulose Film!

Are you attending one of our Making Nitrate Film workshops this weekend? Process Historian Mark Osterman is preparing for your arrival!‪#‎nitrateshow2015‬

I’ve been in the motion picture business for 35 years with Kodak, and all of those years I’ve only handled nitrate base film a few times. I was taught to always handle film very carefully and keep it clean when printing or running it through a telecine. Not to say I that haven’t had some close calls with film in a printer or telecine, I have.

Current color negative film has a certain feel and texture. What I mean is the thickness of the base and emulsion hasn’t changed in many years. There are 2 bases that are common - acetate and estar based films with the words “safety film” on them. The black and white films also have a slightly different feel than color negative. When I first started working at Kodak I was printing film in a dark room and I noticed the words “safety film.” Because I worked in the dark with film, I acquired a talent that is of no value anywhere but Kodak. I could tell the difference between the films in the dark. The negative film, the print film, and the internegative film all had a different thickness and smell to them. It’s something that just happens when you do the same job for a long time.

Luckily, I learned enough about digital telecines and video that I could get out of the dark.  One day many years ago a customer brought in some film that had a very thick base. At the time I thought nothing of it, and my customer asked if it was OK to transfer this film on the telecine. I asked him if I could take a look at the film to determine if it would be safe to run through the telecines, thinking that the film had damaged areas and I wanted to make sure it didn’t break in the machine.

The first thing that I noticed is the thickness because of my darkroom experience. There was no damage - no vinegar smell, no physical damage, but also no “safety film” on the edge of the film. At this point I thought, OK - the film looks good, let’s transfer. Not knowing it was Nitrate based film, we transferred the film. It was in good shape and went through the machine just fine.

The images looked great - the blacks were dark and held the light back, the tone scale was bold and detailed right up to the highlights. I was impressed with the images. I told my customer that this film looks different than any Black and White film that I had ever seen. Then when I unloaded the film I wanted to look at it again on the bench. The film was so thick I knew that it had to be a different base than I had ever handled had before. I asked an older co-worker to look at the film. He said that this is Nitrate and wanted to know if I ran it through the telecine. Of course I did, I told him. He told me that the film could catch on fire if exposed to high heat or flame. At this point, I needed to research more about nitrate film. Luckily I was working at Kodak, and was able to find many informational documents about the handling of the film. The first thing that caught my attention is that the film could explode and when ignited, the film would burn till there was no film left. I was glad that the telecine light source wasn’t hot and the film was in good condition.

Nitrate film has its own look and feel to it on a projector and also on the digital telecines, even though when it was made there was no intent for it to be used on digital equipment. With film today, you need very little light to capture an image. When nitrate film was used before 1950 the film’s EI speed was slow and needed a lot of light to expose the silver. I believe the biggest difference between the films is the silver content of the emulsion; today’s films have much less. The nitrate base films had a lot of silver on them.

[above] Silver lay down on film base

Kodak has perfected how the silver was coated on the film. They could use less silver on the film to expose the silver and leave dye clouds for color and still capture an image. The silver on the nitrate base film is forever. It will never fade or change if stored in climate controlled environments.

We are lucky that there are people and institutions that have stored these films for us to view because they will never be made again. I consider myself very lucky. I have a new job with George Eastman House where I get to work with nitrate film, and translate all the silver on it to a digital space for all to see. Let’s hope that the film is kept forever because we still are trying to figure out the digital archiving process.

Kyle Alvut George Eastman House Moving Image Department Eastman Digital Services

George Eastman House staff members and Rochester movie buffs are lucky because we have opportunities every year to see nitrate film projected. During my 13 years here I have gained many fond memories of such experiences. I’m usually at a work bench prepping the films, or in the booth projecting them, but occasionally I’m fortunate enough to sit in the theater and watch a great story with great dialogue spoken by great actors and photographed by great cinematographers look just like it did when it was screened for audiences 60 or 70 years ago.

We’ve already prepped and pre-screened all of the films that are running in this year’s Nitrate Picture Show. That process involves winding the films onto projection reels, spot cleaning, reinforcing splices, occasional edge or perforation repair, and checking shrinkage, cue marks and countdowns. We run the films in advance to make sure that the images are steady, that they track well through the projectors’ fire rollers, that they don’t chatter too much, and that the sound and image quality meet the standards that the audience will expect.

The projectionists have already put in many dozens of hours to make sure that these films look their best and to make sure that the element are properly cared for. Thanks to the archives that have loaned their nitrate prints, and thanks to the collection onsite, those folks lucky enough to get tickets for the Nitrate Picture Show are going to be wowed. Throughout the first half of the 20th Century every movie-going audience saw the splendor of nitrate films. But to have an entire weekend devoted to screening them in 2015 is a truly unique experience. I presume that there is nothing like this going on anywhere else in the world. I’m looking forward to it.

Prelude Despite the aroma of fresh popped corn that accented screenings of our home movies, it’s the smell of our glass-beaded movie screen and the purring sound of our Kodak movie projector that remain vivid memories to this day.  Back then, I couldn’t wait till I was old enough for Dad to let me run the projector and put on the show!  Little did I know.

Act I I gazed upon the photo, an awestruck teenager.  

“That horror of horrors rising behind Mrs. George Evan Young (then Miss Geraldine Hathaway), of Niagara Falls, Ont., is Crystal Beach’s famed Cyclone, which has been called the granddaddy of all rollercoasters in terms of thrills.”

Thus began the newspaper caption accompanying a 1927 photo of the legendary Crystal Beach Cyclone, published in a Buffalo, New York newspaper.  That photo would impact the course of my life years into the future.  The sculptural quality of the twisted trackage fascinated me, igniting a passion to build a model replica of it, and, in the process, overcome my fear of roller coasters.  I began riding, filming, and photographing them.  Joining the Western New York Coaster Club some years later, I met Norm Liemberger and Art Parmele, coaster enthusiasts by day, and union projectionists by night.  It didn’t take long for me begin visiting them in the booth, igniting a passion for theatrical projection.  Following an apprenticeship, I began working as a part-time moving picture machine operator on nights and weekends, with daytime employment in television.  Projecting 35mm motion picture film (and getting paid for it) was a thrill!

Act II After 18 years’ work in media, I enrolled in The L. Jeffery Selznick School of Film Preservation, which provided my first introduction to nitrocellulose film.  Nitrate film is a dangerous good.  It is classified as UN Hazard Class 4 – Flammable Solids.  The storage, projection, and shipment of nitrocellulose base films are highly regulated.  The federal government requires dangerous goods shipping training for anyone shipping this material.

Upon graduating from the Selznick School, I began work at George Eastman House as a film technician, joining the archival projection staff as well.   Working with manual change-over projection in an archival venue fed my passion and furthered my education.  As a projectionist, I operate a piece of electro mechanical equipment in the booth.  In the theater auditorium, the audience is psychologically / emotionally engaged in a narrative.  Somewhere between the projection equipment and the audience, magic is happening, and I have the opportunity to make the magic.  How satisfying!  

The opportunity to project nitrate film is exciting, yet not an experience to be taken lightly.  The aged, irreplaceable prints, running through a piece of machinery with teeth, printed on flammable nitrocellulose base, exposed to the light and heat of a 2000-watt lamp, adjacent to an auditorium full of people, presents a sobering responsibility.  During the projection of nitrate film, while the audience is focused on lustrous images, the projectionist focuses their attention on the film travelling through the picture head of the projector.  Preventing a jam in the projector is the primary line of defense in preventing damage to the print and combustion.  Travelling at a speed of 90-feet a minute, film damage can occur, and multiply, very quickly.  The operator keeps one hand on the mechanical dowser of the lamp house, ready to close it and cut off the light & heat from reaching the film, while the other hand hovers near the motor switch, ready to stop the projector in case of a film break.  The chatter from shrunken prints and the pops of splices entering the gate serve to heighten one’s awareness of the fragility of the object in their care.  Keep in mind, the youngest nitrate prints are 63 years old.

From personal experience, I can tell you that projecting nitrate film for a festival is a lot of work!  Film inspection and preparation warrants an essay unto itself.  During the festival, each projector commands its own operator, while another projectionist winds and rewinds nitrate prints onto and off of house reels, and a fourth is busy transporting reels.  A limited amount of nitrate film is allowed in the projection booth, so film reels are constantly trafficked between storage, prep, and projection spaces.  Nitrate films are mounted on 1000-foot reels, providing a 10-minute maximum run, with most reels running less.  Threading the projector, running the reel, cleaning the film path, threading the next reel, and beginning again at the next change-over keeps the operators very busy, and, nitrate prints typically have double the amount of reels of their safety counterparts.  After the festival ends, dangerous goods shipping protocols are employed to return the prints safely to their respective archives.

Screenings were so much easier when Dad ran the show!

One of the privileges of being the manager of a theater is being a participant in the myriad conversations that take place in the lobby following the film. For most screenings, a handful of people can be found chatting in the lobby after the last credit scrolls and the curtain drops. For others, there’s no one. And even rarer are the nights where the lobby is packed with people, all conversing about what they’ve just experienced. Sometimes they stay for an hour, sometimes they leave immediately. There are many familiar film terms floating around after a show. With a nitrate screening, it’s entirely different.

I remember being in middle school and a friend of mine coming up to me one day “Did you see the Dryden is showing a nitrate film?” “What’s that?” I said. “Apparently it can spontaneously combust as its going through the projector!” “No way! We have to go!” For some reason we never made it to the Dryden to see any nitrate film, perhaps our parents wouldn’t drive us that night. Years later, when I was first hired at the Dryden, I remember taking a tour of the booth. “These are the projectors we show nitrate on” said the manager at the time, casually pointing to two Century projectors in the center of the booth, “and here are the safety mechanisms that are required” she said, directing my attention to the labyrinthine array of chains and pulleys along the ceiling. “We’re one of only 4 theaters that can show nitrate film” she said. I missed that opportunity in middle school, but now here I was, looking at the machines that made it all possible. It would still be another year before I would see my first nitrate print as manager of the theater.

It was a film I was somewhat familiar with, The Fallen Idol directed by Carol Reed. In the film a naïve young boy assumes the worst, even without all of the information. I must admit I was a little like that boy. “So what happens if it catches fire?” I remember asking then-chief projectionist Dave Rodriguez at the time. “I pull that lever, and I run!” he said, giving me a reassuring smile that instilled a confidence that he wouldn’t let that happen. I remember being nervous. Somehow I was skeptical, but I also didn’t fully realize that with proper care, the probability of a fire was extremely miniscule. I just couldn’t get the fiery images from YouTube out of my head.

As soon as the screen lit up, you knew you were seeing something special. Something that had survived where so many others had perished. A relic that wasn’t really a relic at all, but something fresh. All thoughts of danger were completely overshadowed by the brilliant images on screen.

No matter the film, following a nitrate screening the audience is always electric. As if they’ve just stepped off a rollercoaster. It’s an experience you won’t get in almost any other cinema in the world. Where other screenings find audience members discussing themes and meanings, nitrate has them discussing history and film preservation. Maybe they come for the story, but they leave with so much more. One man drove in from Utica for The Fallen Idol and I remember thinking how great it was that people want to travel to see something that we love and celebrate at George Eastman House. The next screening there was a professor from Connecticut. The next, a student from New York City and a couple from Pittsburgh. It seems that with every screening, movie lovers are more and more willing to travel in order to indulge their passion. And one nitrate screening can make any lukewarm audience member a cinephile overnight.

This is the story of a before, an after, and an after the after.

My experience with nitrate started in books. I happened to read about it and developedthe typical curiosity for all things that are unreachable, or forbidden. In Italy-- and mostly elsewhere as far as I knew, nitrate happened to be both: stored in unreachable archives and prohibited for public showings. From disposable artifact to the Grail of image quality, nitrate is a fascinating subject, and it felt that in one way or another I needed to get acquainted with it .

Problem #1: Inaccessibility

The only solution to solve problem #1 was, quite simply, to work in an archive. My studies and a brand new internship program in collaboration with the local film archive in Milan gave me such opportunity – the nitrate collections at Cineteca Italiana, for long years wrapped in a smoky curtain, were simply legendary. Once I started working in the archive, I let passion guide me, and I worked my way from collection to collection, leading an ideal cursus honorum from polyester, to acetate, to the archival gold standard: nitrate. I was finally handling nitrate, a dream denied to most, and - an even rarer privilege - nitrate negatives. There was now a “before” and an “after” nitrate in my life. Nitrate on an inspection bench. Nitrate looked at through a magnifying glass.

Problem #2: Prohibition

Problem #2 was of a more difficult nature, nearly impossible to overcome. Public showings of nitrate seemed to have been prohibited, or perhaps just become impossible because of the age and condition of nitrate materials, for as long as could be remembered. Only older film historians knew how nitrate really looked on a screen, and the few opportunities to listen to their accounts were just like those fascinating obscure stories about people you have never met and will never meet. To my great surprise, my next stop in Rochester, NY gave me the opportunity not only to learn the science of film archiving, but also to finally meet projected nitrate. What revelation it was when, as a student of the L. Jeffrey Selznick School of Film Preservation, I found out that the Dryden Theater was doing something unheard of: nitrate was being projected. I couldn’t believe that was even possible or allowed, and I felt as privileged as a king to be on this very spot on earth.

Since then, and after a detour back to northern Europe, which kept me far from nitrate projected on a screen, but very close to nitrate seen through a magnifying glass, I have enjoyed the projection of several nitrate prints at the Dryden Theatre. Every time is like the first time. At each screening I cannot help weighing all the theories about the nitrate “look”: the velvety shadows, the clarity of the highlights, the warm tones, the superior contrast and gray scale. I always try to confirm or deny all of that. Each print is different, and scientific considerations prove to be tricky outside of a laboratory. However, what I have learned is that nitrate does look different for one reason or the other. And it is not only the nearly transparent film base, or the emulsions used back then, with higher silver content and different grain structure. Or the likely proximity of those images to the original camera negative, or the emotional connection with the audiences that watched those very same images so many years ago. It is a mix of all this, with the subtle pleasure of attaining something that would otherwise be impossible or forbidden topping it all.

Reaching the impossible and forbidden just by sitting in a theatre, in a comfortable little chair.  In no other place in the world you could experience all this.