Who's trashing 3-D? ...or... 3-D: What's it to me?

In a September, 1996 issue of 3D News, Marvin Jones told this amusing story in his article about the misconceptions of red and blue-- anaglyph-- 3-D glasses, and the general attitude towards 3-D movies by "critics," which I believe will illustrate my point for this article beautifully:

This came to a head a few weeks ago when, in a cable-TV special on movie gimmicks, film critic, Roger Ebert, commented that one of the things that killed 3D movies was the dislike of the audience for those pesky red and blue glasses.

Jones went onto an Internet forum which Ebert frequented and set the facts straight, only to find a truism about posting facts on the web-- there will always be a million monkeys with a million keyboards to "set you straight":

Immediately the bulletin board was filled with messages from literally dozens of people who clearly and without any doubt remembered going to 3D movies as kids, and watching them through red and blue glasses! One man had absolute proof-- when he saw HOUSE OF WAX, he became so frightened that he removed the glasses and saw the images on the screen fringed in color, proving that they could not possibly have been anything but red and blue glasses he so clearly remembered anyway!

Another man had seen the Polaroid system for the very first time only a couple of years ago at a business conference and he had commented at that time that if this technology had been available in the 1950s, 3D movies might have survived, a sentiment shared by the dozens of others at the meeting.

Many made the point that Roger Ebert should certainly know what he was talking about and is much more to be believed than some obstinate no-nothing like me who refused to accept the testimony of dozens of reliable eye witnesses.


For years, words synonymous with 3-D movies have been "cheesy," "low-budget," "unimportant," and filled with "a cast of nobodies." How many times have you read in a magazine retrospective, such as the one above, that three-dee films of the '50s required "those corny red and green glasses" and that 3-D died because these glasses gave people headaches and strained their eyes? The iconic image of summer nights at the drive-in, with greasers in their hot rods with their gals in poodle skirts watching CREATURE FROM THE BLACK LAGOON, using colored glasses no less, is about as fake as the nostalgia that generated it.

There is something alluring to myself and many other artists about stereoscopic photography, particularly in movies. The thought that your favorite actors or actresses are almost real enough that you can touch them is the draw for most. Others find the added sense of realism is pleasant and enhances the story. To me, I feel I fall into both categories. 3-D in any form-- still, motion or sonic, excites me as a movie goer. If you invite me to a 3-D movie, even if it has the worst story ever written, I'll give it a shot.

On the other hand, there is no denying that even though there a trend of public interest in 3-D every thirty years or so (1923, 1953, 1983 and 2003), the most carefully photographed and, in my opinion, the most enduring of these films were those made in the '50s. And take it from me: anyone who tells you seeing a flat version of a 3-D film is the same thing doesn't know what they're talking about. You simply cannot judge what is there by what is not there! How, for example, can you enjoy or critique ROBOT MONSTER without its biggest asset, its stereo photography (or the "Billion Bubble Machine")? When Charles Bronson jumps up from the camera to attack Paul Picerni in HOUSE OF WAX, how can you say the effect is not totally lost when the film is seen flat? The performances are still the same, but performance makes not a film alone.

Have no fear, dear readers. Professor Theakston is here to set the record straight for 3-D, who is currently not here to speak on his own behalf.

One of the most entertaining experiences in this writer's recollection was attending and helping put on last year's Second World 3-D Exposition, held at the Egyptian Theater in Hollywood, CA from September 8 to Sept. 17. The festival was organized by the 3-D Film Preservation Fund through Jeff Joseph/Sabucat Productions. The nine-day show presented almost 40 different programs, including features, shorts and special guests. The most important aspect of the festival, however, was its presentation-- exactly as these films were meant to be seen-- with two interlocked projectors, Polaroid glasses and filters, in synchronization, and on a silver screen.

The attendance list read like a "who's who" of 3-D. More famous names such as Leonard Maltin and Joe Dante presided over some of the interviews. Bob Furmanek, who single-handily saved more than THIRTY stereoscopic pictures with his own money was there to enjoy them. Stereoscopic historians Ray Zone and Dan Symmes both clocked in about a thousand hours at the Egyptian, I think. Jeff Joseph sweat bullets striving for perfection, and I know that he loved every minute of it.

For the those who were lucky enough to have attended, the first thing the festival did was shine light on the oft-published myth that only B-movies starring unknown actors made up the majority of 3-D films. MGM's KISS ME KATE with Howard Keel, Kathryn Grayson, Ann Miller, Bobby Van, Keenan Wynn, James Whitmore, Tommy Rall and Bob Fosse? Never heard of them. MONEY FROM HOME with Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis? Who are they? SECOND CHANCE with Robert Mitchum, Linda Darnell and Jack Palance... who? Well, someone important must have been in one of those films... let's see... who else were in these films? Jane Russell, Ray Milland, Grace Kelly, Victor Mature, Robert Stack, Rita Hayworth, Jose Ferrer, Vincent Price, Gilbert Roland, Phil Silvers, Randolph Scott, Victor Jory, Edmund O'Brien, John Ireland, Joanne Dru, Macdonald Carey, Charles Bronson, Virginia Mayo, Ernest Borgnine, Lee Marvin, Cameron Mitchell, Anne Bancroft, Lee J. Cobb... okay, you get the idea.

Once, when I was speaking with Dan Symmes, he had something very profound to say that I tend to agree with. According to him, 3-D is something that should be taken in small doses by the masses, but not for the reasons most critics would have us believe. Symmes made an analogy to me that still holds true today: 3-D is like the circus-- it is something special when it comes to town once a year, but if it was here all year around, it would become commonplace and dull. Part of the magic of 3-D is that it's a special occurrence, and that you savor it when you get that rare opportunity to experience it.

It is also often written that it is the glasses that always kill 3-D. This subject is always the basis for ignorant writers who like to slight stereoscopic films' benefits. But how frequently do these "writers" take the time out to research their topic. How did, and how do, audiences really feel about wearing glasses? As with anything, some history must be stated to put things into context.



When BWANA DEVIL was released in 1952, there had already been at least a dozen 3-D films shown in the US alone, starting in 1922 with THE POWER OF LOVE, a feature starring Noah Beery and Barbara Bedford. There were examples of 3-D test films shown to audiences before this film, but to all intents and purposes, POWER OF LOVE was the first time an audience saw a finished 3-D product, in this case, a feature. After this, a slew of 3-D short subject novelties were produced, and even a feature, M.A.R.S. (aka RADIO-MANIA, which survives, in its flat form only). With the exception of M.A.R.S. (which had its own crazy system you can read about here), all of these films utilized cardboard, anaglyph (red and green/cyan/or blue) spectacles that you held by hand up to your eyes.

Dual-strip, Polaroid projection techniques became an enterprise in motion pictures at the 1939 World's Fair in Flushing, New York, however, when John Norling's animated short, IN TUNE WITH TOMORROW appeared, projected in black and white, dual-strip 3-D, introducing the spectacle of Polaroid filters to the public. A year later, the film was remade in color as NEW DIMENSIONS, which was subsequently reintroduced to a new public in 1953 by RKO-Pathe as MOTOR RHYTHM.

The viewers for IN TUNE WITH TOMORROW and NEW DIMENSIONS were, similar to previous glasses, cardboard spectacles that the audience member held with his or her hand to eye level (uniquely shaped like Chrysler Plymouths, the car that the short promoted), but unlike previous attempts, the lenses had magically become clear, not colored.

(It should be noted that this was not truly the first time that any audience saw Polarized 3-D-- such an event had occurred at demonstrations given by Edwin H. Land, the inventor of Polaroid, in New York City during the winter of 1936.)

But for IN TUNE WITH TOMORROW, Polaroid had made the breakthrough that was expected of them-- instead of projecting just slides and crude home movies with their filters, it was time to go a step further and make the technology available for film makers who were interested in realism. After all-- the cameras for shooting such things were already available and accessible. Men such as John Norling and Jacob Leventhal had been shooting footage in 3-D for years. The only limiting factors up until that point were the projection techniques-- color filter-based anaglyph processes. Polaroid filters took things a step further by making the signals being sent from the film capable of being transmitted in and not limited by color.


The following year, at the Golden Gate International Exposition in San Francisco, CA, the Pennsylvania Railroad Co. premiered their own travelogue in the Vacationland Building as "Pennsylvania Railroad's Magic Movies!" The eight-minute, black and white short, entitled THRILLS FOR YOU might seem to be pedestrian commercial to some viewers today, but to a 1940s moviegoer, the added illusion of depth to the image made it much more. Not unlike the IN TUNE WITH TOMORROW viewers, THRILLS FOR YOU came with a set of Art Deco glasses shaped like the trains that Pennsy was going to try to sell you tickets to hop on. But the audience was there to hop on a different kind of train-- it was a short ride, but a good one-- the illusion that for just a few moments, they were going to see all of the luxuries of PR as if they themselves were in the cabin with the wealthy, lucky folks that got to travel cross-country.



















3-D sat dormant for another decade or so, with one or two items popping up as the typical "novelty." World War II raged on, and Polaroid had far more important things to submit to the country than funny glasses and pictures that leaped off the screen.

Largely forgotten, it was in 1951 that 3-D was re-invented. During the Festival of Britain, numerous stereoscopic shorts were exhibited, many made by the Stereo Techniques company in the UK. In these instances, the spectacles took a new form thanks to the Polaroid Corporation, who had focused on comfortable glasses for stereo slide photograph projection. No longer did you need to hold glasses up to your eye-- in the interim, Polaroid introduced the modern cardboard "flap glasses." With tabs on the sides, the glasses rested comfortably over your ears, in the manner of normal glasses.

Thus, these were the glasses that were used when BWANA DEVIL first hit the screen. In a way, you could say that the film was the first American 3-D feature shot in color, or the first 3-D feature in the US shown in a Polaroid system. In any case, it was the film that started the public interest in the format. Because of BWANA's groundbreaking technique, all of the features released in the US between 1952 and 1955 were shown with Polaroid glasses. The Lippert shorts A DAY IN THE COUNTRY, COLLEGE CAPERS, BANDIT ISLAND, as well as some burlesque shorts, were the exception to the rule, and even some of these were available in dual-strip formats.

With the introduction of newer and better distribution of films in 1953, more comfortable glasses were not the prime concern of those involved-- quantity and availability was. Flimsy models put out by fly-by-night companies first flooded the market during the first few months following the November premiere of BWANA DEVIL. Polaroid warned exhibitors against such firms.

By May, a steady supply of quality 3-D glasses was being manufactured by a number of companies, including Polaroid. But the comfort of the glasses was still an issue that had to be solved. Polaroid and other companies worked feverishly on developing various models of glasses with varying degrees of comfort and adjustment.

In August, 1953, a report-- a result of months of research conducted by Certified Reports, Inc. for one "major client,"-- was published. The study detailed the use of glasses in conjunction with stereoscopic pictures, and more importantly, what patrons thought of them. As reported in MOTION PICTURE DAILY on Aug. 5, 1953:

"The survey was a continuing study which began in February and lasted through a part of July and was conducted in key cities in the East, South, Midwest and West, covering four pictures, "Bwana Devil," "Man in the Dark," "House of Wax," and "Fort Ti." The results are based on the answers of 4,336 patrons who were interviewed personally in the lobbies, 1,648 patrons who submitted completed questionnaires and 4,592 patrons who were metered uttering spontaneous remarks in the auditorium and lobbies. These figures totalled 10,576 persons."

The article continued:

In answer to a question regarding the comfort of the glasses, 2,348 of those interviewed in lobbies said they were uncomfortable, and 1,998 said they were comfortable. Those who responded in questionnaires registered, percentage wise, a heavier opposition, 1,132 patrons stating that their viewers were uncomfortable and 516 offering no complaint Thus, 58.2 per cent of the total reported discomfort and 41.8 per cent no discomfort.

In total, a majority of patrons did not care for how the glasses wore, but did it effect their choice of returning for another 3-D picture?

"To the question of whether their experience in wearing the 3-D glasses to see future three-dimensional pictures, the answers were more favorable to the new medium. Of those who were interviewed personally, 3,826 said that they expected to return to see more, 480 answered negatively and 30 said they were undecided. Those who responded through questionnaires also cast a majority vote along the same lines: 1,092 stated that the glasses would be no factor in keeping them away, 548 said the viewers would keep them away and eight said they were undecided.

"Combining the two groups, those who disavowed the effect of the viewers on future 3-D attendance comprised 82.2 per cent of the total, those who asserted that it would have an effect on their return formed 17.2 per cent and those who were undecided comprised 0.6 per cent."

While viewers felt the glasses needed to be improved, clearly it did not effect their choice to return to the movies for another dose of their favorite stars leaping off the screen into their laps. Film equipment companies were going at it all wrong trying to fix the glasses-- while they needed to be more comfortable, such as the design of those seen below, the glasses were not the problem with 3-D films.


It is often stated that glasses were the cause of headaches. This common misconception is repeated continuously by the press because the lay man does not know or understand the technical process behind stereoscopic projection techniques. In public lectures and in short articles, compression of space and time is stressed by editors and therefore the public rarely is given the full and technical details of any given subject.

Projecting dual-strip 3-D is a science. I draw the line between an "art" and a "science" because for all practical purposes, a science is based on rigid fact and standard, whereas "art" utilizes talent and imagination. In order for a dual-strip presentation to work correctly, standards must be applied and adhered to at every performance.
In the dual-strip projection set-up, you have three key players: the projectors, the screen and the viewer. The first-- projectors-- must be of the standard change-over operational set. They must be able to or modified to load 6000-foot reels, rather than the normal 2000-foot reels, as both machines are being utilized, and therefore cannot achieve a change-over without another set of machines (thus, all 3-D films that go over the time limit of about an hour must have one or more intermissions). Both lamp houses must be balanced precisely, as both will be illuminating the screen at once.

Most importantly, the two projectors must be linked in a way that the electrical impulses of the motors to each projector are identical. This can be achieved in a number of ways, the most popular being that of Selsyn motors. Keeping perfect synchronization is of paramount importance. Every motion between the two machines must be identical-- there is no margin for error.

Essentially, the reason for keeping sync is the result of why 3-D failed in the '50s. If you're running two films at once, and one film goes out of sync, even by a frame, your eye cannot adjust to the difference in motion. The result is a watery mess-- it induces headaches and eye strain if not treated. Similarly, phasing of shutters have to be in perfect synchronization, too. Shutters must open and close at precisely the same moment. If one shutter is closed while the other is open, even at 1/8 of a frame's difference, the viewer may not consciously note any issue, but the image will have visually smaller, but equally important issues similar to sync problems. The look on the screen is not particularly watery, but is more of a blurry, jerky look.

Framing is imperative. Two images can be easily aligned symmetrically by the naked eye, but it is important that the framing of the two images be perfect. Otherwise, the viewer's eyes are straining to "lower" one image and "heighten" the other in order to converge the two. This results in eye strain. This is the first item that should be checked before anything else, as it is the most noticeable and most painful.

The two images are projected out through their respective ports through Polaroid filters placed over the port glass, which in turn filter what is essentially scattered light into vertical or horizontally polarized beams. When the beams hit the screen and reflect back, horizontal beams are picked up by their corresponding filters in the glasses and the vertical beams are reflected. This process works in a complementary fashion with the other filter.

The Polaroid filters have to be adjusted at precise right angles to one another in order to correctly filter out one another (in turn, these adjusted angled must be in conjunction to the glasses.) Turning a flat Polaroid filter at the wrong angle will change the direction of the light and therefore let unwanted light though to the complementary filter. This is why at many presentations of Polaroid 3-D, you cannot cock your head to an angle without compromising the 3-D image. The ghost image, or "crosstalk" as it is referred to, is your glasses picking up the perpendicular light beams.

Each Polaroid filter should be changed after several performances for optimum filtration. Polaroid filters are light sensitive, and after a certain amount of strong light is exposed to them, will lose their polarizing characteristics.

The screen to which these beams are projected must be metallic, preferably a silver screen. Because of its optical nature, metallic screens will reflect the two images without scattering the light beams, thus preserving the filtration effect.

A minor problem, fingerprints should be avoided at all costs on both glasses and booth filters. Fingerprints on Polaroid surfaces can compromise the 3-D effect.

With all of these operational challenges, is it any wonder that exhibitors, projectionists and studios ran to CinemaScope, a push-button "miracle"? Certainly, you viewed it without glasses, but how could a wider screen even compare to the true, third dimension? Whereas 3-D promised things leaping off the screen, to some extent-- well done or not-- it was delivered. It may not have been "a lion in your lap," but who doesn't blink at the paddle-ball man in HOUSE OF WAX delivering his eponymous gimmick into the audience. Even Vincent Price remarks after that very moment, "I hope you don't think I've gone too far hiring this fellow to bring people in [...] let's try it for a week or two and once we're established, we won't need that sort of thing."

Developments in technology always come at a stagnant pace. Had 3-D come as foolproof as CinemaScope had, perhaps we would be seeing half of our films today in a stereoscopic form. But unlike its predecessor, Cinerama, 3-D had the disadvantage of confusion and imperfection working against it. Whereas Cinerama was format far and few, its sparsity was its savior. Quality control ruled Cinerama's grandeur, but 3-D unfortunately fell victim to many formats competing for Exhibitor's dollar, promising the same thing with different titles-- Natural Vision, Paravision, Dynoptic 3-D-- it was all the same thing, but on paper, it seemed like a million formats with subtle nuances that each other had apart from one another. When CinemaScope came at Exhibitors' door, the previous "gimmick" could be laughed off with profit.

Thus, knowingly or not, there was a conspiracy to kill 3-D, and it was coming from all directions. It started with the projectionists. Sync issues kept creeping in. From day one, even at press screenings and premieres, projectionists had a tough time keeping sync, it seemed. Harrison's Reports told of one such press event on April 11, 1953:

"In showing "Man in the Dark," Columbia utilized 17-inch magazines, necessitating two intermisions. At the beginning of the second of the three parts in which the film was shown, the synchronization was so out of kilter that the showing had to be stopped for adjustment. Three separate attempts were made to bring the second part into synchronization but to no avail, with the result that, after a delay of approximately forty-five minutes, it was decided to skip the second part and to proceed with the third part. At the conclusion of the third part, the second part was screened, for by this time the trouble had been corrected."

A couple of months later on June 13, Harrison's Reports revisited the issue, citing the MAN IN THE DARK incident and also:

"But that was not so bad because the picture was shown, not to the public, but to the critics. Here is a case, however that concerns the public, which paid good money to see a 3-D picture. It happened at the Wiltern, a Hollywood theatre owned by the Stanley-Warner circuit, during the showing of "House of Wax." The two prints were out of synchronization by one frame for two days; the projectionist could not correct the trouble on the first day and continued showing the picture out of sunchronism the second day. The result was that the eyes of the patrons were so strained that some of them suffered headaches while others became nauseated."

What happened at the Wiltern wasn't the only case of such an occurance. According to Harrison's, at the Criterion Theater in New York City during a showing of FORT TI, a show was canceled and more than one hundred admissions had to be refunded because the projectionist could not sync the two prints. That audience no doubt went home disappointed, but perhaps free, for the better, of a headache.

All of this trouble could have been easily remedied with more careful consideration of the prints. Built into most prints are edge coding-- numbers that repeat in order every foot, so that the number of frames missing may be judged. Had the projectionist at the Criterion inspected the two prints side-by-side, utilizing the identical edge code printed in both "eyes," he could have fixed the out-of-sync splice and gone on with trouble-free shows, assuming his projection equipment was in perfect operation.

On top of the languidness of the projectionists personally, their union was asking for more. At theaters running 3-D demanded that the Exhibitor employ an extra projectionist, as you are using an extra projector! And if you were running a film with stereophonic sound, forget paying two operators-- you had to add a third one to thread up the magnetic sound print! Then, once the first or second reel was going, said sound operator sat down picking his nose for an hour-- on the theater's payroll, of course. Because of the extra cost of the sound operator, the Paramount in Hollywood opted to play Columbia's FORT TI in mono, rather than pay another wage.

Polaroid and involved parties scrambled frantically to find a solution. The 3-D boom meant prestige and profit for Polaroid, and it wasn't going to be a stretched out, stereophonic splash on a screen that would cut them short, if they had anything to say about it. What Exhibitors needed was an invention that would remedy all of the problems that arose of a dual-strip projection system-- and Polaroid wasn't the only company working on that issue:

And that... is what we'll talk about next week.