Printed Paper (Part 1)

Before anything else, I must apologize about last week's lack of article. I was on a very interesting film-related trip to Chicago, which I will expound upon soon. Hopefully, my variety this week will redeem me. I've been on a '50s kick lately, so I'll try to break away from that within the next few weeks.

Several people have been asking about the size of the photos-- you have to click on them to see the full image. The ones in the article are just thumbnails.

This is part one of a two part post. Part II will be posted later this week.

Looking at the image to the right of this 1903 poster, one might think it originated as a piece of advertising for an early Edison, Biograph or Lubin short. But this colorful artwork is actually a relic of William W. Pratt's stage play, Ten Nights in a Bar-Room, based on the book of the same title by T.S. Arthur. The reformist play, which had premiered in 1856, was a perennial favorite with American audiences, and continued to play theaters into the 1920s.

It is not a poster for a movie, but I'm using it to illustrate the colorful, detailed art craft that not too long after would saturate the pedestrian market for motion pictures.

If there's anything that attracts the human eye, it's pattern and color. It's one of the subliminal reasons that movie-going is so popular. It's also the target behind advertising pictures well. And while one sheets and window cards are nice, there's nothing like large paper. This blog is dedicated to big, colorful paper that caught our eyes all those years ago...

Between the years 1910 and around 1975, some of the most artistically, inimitable poster artwork was created in order to attract patrons. Sizes varied from the relatively small lobby cards and window cards, up the the very largest, the 24-sheet, a billboard poster sizing an intimidating 12 feet by 9 feet.

Almost all of the large paper was printed in sections: three sheets (81 inches by 41 inches) started as literally three sheets, but soon came in two pieces, and even as a whole, occasionally. Six sheets (81 inches by 81 inches) came in sometimes three, but usually four pieces. 24 sheets varied, but were generally 10 to 12 pieces.

While many posters were off-set printed in regularly lithography style, the nonpareil printing style was unarguably that of stone lithography. An artist creates a "plate" for each primary color (magenta, yellow, cyan and black) using blocks of flat limestone of a fine grain. A litho crayon, or oily paint substance is used to make the image, in positive, on each block, by the artist. Much care must be taken care, as each block must be identical in shape, and proportional in color.

Once each color is laid out, all of the porous limestone blocks are saturated in water. Those areas painted repel the water, as they are oil based.

An oil based ink is then rolled onto each block. The water soaked areas that are not painted repel the ink, and the areas covered in the crayon or paint hold the ink.

Finally, a sheet of paper is carefully pressed onto the block.

The result is infinite tonality-- a delicate blend of color and detail that is unique to any other printing process. Examine this six sheet from Biograph's 1917 reissue of D.W. Griffith's 1913 production, JUDITH OF BETHULIA. As Griffith left the next year for better things, the obvious happened to the one-trick-pony Biograph Studios. This re-edited version of the film, entitled HER CONDONED SIN, was one of their last releases before the company folded.

Study the poster carefully and you will begin to pick up details that are not apparent on first glance. Notice the detail in color tonality, particularly the flesh tones. The choice of color is like that of the old masters... the virginal, white Judith dances in somewhat pink hues in front of a dark, sea green orgy in the background. The stray rose on the ground is almost an afterthought, but could be a painting in itself.

If Griffith was the pinnacle of drama, it was undeniable that Charlie Chaplin was the apex of comedy. I had many large-sized posters to choose from to represent Chaplin-- all colorful and beautiful-- but I chose this particular three sheet because I feel it is one of the only pieces that best represents the spirit of Chaplin's films.

The striking blue background contrasts nicely with Charlie's red vest, and little Jackie Coogan's maroon rag clothing. Primary colors are the emphasis in this portrait, resonating nicely off of Chaplin's primary elements of drama and comedy woven into the film.

The company of First National Pictures in less than a decade would be purchased by Warner Brothers Pictures, after their tremendous success with the Vitaphone picture, THE JAZZ SINGER.

And not less than four year later, this colorful six sheet from the 1932 Warner Bros.-First National picture, I AM A FUGITIVE FROM A CHAIN GANG.


I always enjoy paintings of subjects that utilized colored light from different directions, particularly the contrasting use of the colors blue or green on a person's face. With the CHAIN GANG 6-sheet, Paul Muni's awestruck expression is heightened by the subtle blend between a pale yellow and a deep green. Muni's figure is then contrasted by the blood red background of the harsh events that occur in prison.

Just a year before, this three sheet lured audiences in with its exploitative promises of native women being defiled by the most savage gorilla of Darkest Africa, INGAGI.

Produced by Congo Pictures, Ltd., and available in both silent and sound editions, the picture initially caused a sensation at the Box Office, grossing much needed profit for an independent distributor in the early days of the Great Depression, but the feature was also dealt a major scandal.

Aside from the bare-breasted native women being groped by a six-foot gorilla, the supposedly 100% authentic documentary soon was exposed as a fraud-- the woman seen here in the poster and figuring prominently in the storyline was caught by some to be, in actuality, a fairly well-known Hollywood actress that had been trying to get leading roles for some time.

Further examination proved that the supposed jungles of Africa were no farther from the arc-lights of Hollywood, California than Bronson Canyon!

Even INGAGI's overgrown chimp was a fake, albeit a masterful one-- the king of monkey costumes himself, Charlie Gemora, a master make-up artist and ape man par excellence was the supposedly ferocious gorilla.

Footage of the jungles were culled from documentaries, and just as lawsuits were starting to materialize, the film was pulled from the market. The success of the film's sexual relations between woman and overgrown simian no doubt inspired a couple of entrepreneurial producers to create the grand-daddy of all over-sized apes, KING KING, two years later.

Speaking of Kong and overgrown gorillas, here is RKO's family-friendly answer to their continuing series of giant ape films, 1948's MIGHTY JOE YOUNG. Seen in this lithographic three-sheet is the climax of the film, as Joe saves a group of children from a burning orphanage.

The scene was heightened by an interesting printing effect, thanks to the Technicolor Corporation and an inventive process, in which the film was "colorized" in a fashion that certain highlights, midtones and shadows were all uniquely colored. The end effect was a startling mix of red, orange and yellow hues, with localized colors in certain areas of the image.

Experiments continued for some time on Merian C. Cooper's earlier production of CHANG to a good degree of success. These test still survive today.

Around the same time, there were other kinds of monsters scaring up big bucks at the Box Office. Universal-International decided it was time to pair their biggest money-makers together-- Abbott and Costello, along with Frankenstein, Dracula and The Wolf Man, in what most film buffs consider the best blending of comedy and horror ever put on screen: ABBOTT AND COSTELLO MEET FRANKENSTEIN (or for you purists out there, BUD ABBOTT AND LOU COSTELLO MEET FRANKENSTEIN).


Above is a rarely seen image: the astounding 24-sheet for the film. Only one is known to exist in a private collection, dusted off time to time only to be put on display for a short period. Driving down an urban highway and seeing this sign MUST have gotten someone to take the next exit to the nearest theater for an afternoon of laughs and fun.

About a decade later, Universal turned out another classic. Neither the primary 24 sheet nor this following poster exist, as far as I know. This particular picture is taken from the pressbook and is about as close to the real thing as we'll get, unless someone unearths one in a warehouse somewhere...

THE INCREDIBLE SHRINKING MAN had an incredibly COLORFUL teaser 24-sheet, as seen above. Printed with black and Day-Glo Orange ink, I tried to recreate the color as best as possible on the computer, but as we all know, these sort of things are best seen in person. I have to imagine a poster of this contrast, color and size both startled and amazed drivers on the road. No doubt, it left a very sizable impression on those who saw it.