#nitrateshow

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

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!

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. 

As a 1999 graduate of The L. Jeffrey Selznick School of Film Preservation and an employee of George Eastman House for the past 14 years, I have been luckier than most people my age in having the opportunity to see nitrate prints projected.  To date I’ve seen 25 nitrate feature films, plus a number of short subjects and individual reels from features. But of all the nitrate films that I’ve seen on the screen my favorite nitrate experience without a doubt would be Portrait of Jennie.

While probably not high on many people’s lists of favorite films or even favorite David O. Selznick films, I love the weirdness of this film, the unusual love story, the use of themes of Claude Debussy as adapted by Dimitri Tiomkin, the great acting by all, but especially of Joseph Cotten, Jennifer Jones and Ethel Barrymore. And for me, the biggest plus was the great number of location shots of New York City. On the visual side, the nitrate print that we have in the collection at George Eastman House is stunning. This was Selznick’s personal print and was not projected many times, so it is in great shape and it has all the qualities of the “nitrate look.” The black and white has the dark, inky blacks and the white highlights have a luminous pearly quality with an amazing range of tonal gray scale between the highlights and shadows. Then the final reel switches to green tinted stock for the storm sequence, sepia tone for the aftermath, and full three strip Technicolor for the final shot of the legendary portrait.

I’ve seen the nitrate print of Portrait of Jennie projected twice. The first time was nice, but the second time was really terrific. When the film was originally shown in New York at the Rivoli Theatre, to give it added punch, the last reel (which includes the storm sequence) was shown on what was advertised as the “cycloramic screen." So while the most of the film was shown in the Academy ratio of 1.37:1, the end was shown on a wide screen that filled the proscenium of the theatre. At a 2012 screening of the film at the Dryden Theatre, this effect was re-created (probably for the first time since 1949) and it was fantastic. The opening up of the screen gives the film an unexpected punch that combined with the color effects of the tinting, toning and Technicolor to create something quite unforgettable and it will long stay in my memory as the most memorable nitrate screening that I have ever seen.

What do you see in thispicture?

Perhaps you see a small coastal or port town in the late 19th century.  You may notice the particular sailboats, and what looks to be freshly built docks and warehouses. For a specific visitor to George Eastman House, it meant so much more.

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As the Assistant Curator for The L. Jeffrey Selznick School of Film Preservation in the Moving Image Department I have had the great fortune of playing a small part in introducing students to nitrate films both on inspection benches and on the big screen. I am also privileged to work with a number of archives from around the world who have sent staff members to George Eastman House for training.  

In October of 2001 Andrew Walls, a Film Archivist from the National Library of Norway, visited George Eastman House.  He was, obviously, interested in any films in our collection from Norway.  As we have very little in Norwegian film holdings this did not take very long, but we moved on and while we were reviewing our Stills, Posters and Paper Collections catalog we found a record entitled, simply, ‘Hammerfest.’ It referred to a still photo in the collection, and on its own it did not mean much to us, but it immediately caught Andrew’s eye. Hammerfest is a city in Northern Norway that holds a long history of tragedy, including a massive fire in 1890, and it was destroyed by retreating Nazis in late 1944.  In looking at the still Andrew immediately recognized not only the city but also the telltale vertical scratches that indicated this still was taken from a film. The scratches would have been obtained as the print wound through a projector.  A quick trip to our film catalog revealed that George Eastman House held a nitrate print that had been identified as Hammerfest (R.W. Paul, United Kingdom, 1903).  

Since the film was identified as a British production, it didn’t register as a film from Norway. Still, we inspected the print and found that these were, indeed images of a city lost to time. After the 1890 fire, the city decided to rebuild, and all the buildings seen in the film were built in that 13-year period. But even those buildings no longer exist thanks to the Nazi occupation and its subsequent destruction of the port town. These images, captured in 1903, and saved by George Eastman House represent a past that can never be revisited, but they also turned out to be the oldest surviving footage of Norway in existence today

What I like most about the Nitrate Picture Show is its subtitle: A Festival of Conservation.  It is NOT a festival of the latest independents, blockbusters or even preservation.  Instead, it is a celebration of the Archives, with a capital ‘A’.  Conservation is the storing of film in climatized vaults to ensure the longest possible survival of motion picture film with minimal deterioration.  Andrew returned to Norway with a safety negative from our nitrate print and the National Library of Norway has preserved the film on film and has also made it available online here:   

Had George Eastman House not conserved Hammerfest it would not be available today.  

The films of the Nitrate Picture show have been conserved by archives and archivists from around the world. For their work I am incredibly indebted and to all my colleagues in archives whose work this festival is celebrating, Thank You.