Who really originated the "moving picture"? David Wilkinson's THE FIRST FILM hits VOD

Garnering in Britain an actual theatrical release and some very nice critical praise, THE FIRST FILM -- by British filmmaker David Nicholas Wilkinson, who directed, co-wrote (with Irfan Shah) and co-produced -- appears to be going straight-to-digital on this side of the pond. This is a shame, I think, because the movie, in many respects, deserves the kind of coverage that a theatrical release would entail. It posits that so much of what we think we know about who was responsible for the beginnings of cinema -- Thomas Edison, the Lumière brothers, Georges Méliès -- is nothing like the entire picture, especially as concerns a French fellow by the name of Louis Aimé Augustin Le Prince (henceforth to be known in this post as simply Louis Le Prince).

Filmmaker Wilkinson (shown at right) is convinced -- and does an awfully good job of convincing us, in turn -- that it was Louis Le Prince who actually made what can be considered the first motion picture, even though only a tiny portion of same (a shot from which can be seen on the computer below) still exists. The raison d'être of the film can be traced to a public relations flub in which a book on film that mentioned Le Prince and his contribution was rejected for review by a couple of important media outlets because of its theory about Le Prince's contribution to the history of film. So pissed-off was Wilkinson that he set about making this film as a kind of proof of his thesis. Sometimes, it seems, a little righteous anger can lead us to positive ends.

As interesting and worthwhile as is The First Film, I would not call it an unqualified success, as it is a little bit too long and a tad repetitive. But so thorough and technically proficient is Wilkinson (shown below, right, with Daniel Martin of the Leeds Industrial Museum) in his research and investigation that we come away convinced that Le Prince was at least as important, if not more so, than any of the other names generally associated with the "birth of film." For this reason his movie becomes an instant must-see for anyone genuinely interested in and/or involved with film history.

The tagline on the poster at top -- The Greatest Mystery in Cinema History -- is no marketing ploy. A deep and still unresolved mystery lies at the heart of the film and its story: the complete disappearance of Le Prince just days before he was to unveil his moving picture. So, in addition to what we learn about the man's contribution to the birth of cinema (and there's plenty), Wilkinson also investigates that disappearance, with the help of everyone from an actual relative (Laurie Snyder, shown below, Le Prince's great-great-granddaughter, located here in Memphis, Tennessee), to an ex-policeman, and various film historians and technicians.

We get a good number of the usual talking heads, but as these include the likes of actor Tom Courtenay, who will complain? At the film's beginning, Wilkinson asks several people involved in film about Le Prince, and no one, it seems, has heard of the man. At the finale, he corners a few of them again and -- in the movie's most embarrassing moment (for the filmmaker) -- rather forces them to own up as to whether or not Wilkinson has proven his theory. Any intelligent viewer will by now have formed his own opinion, and so certainly does not need to be further prodded and cajoled by the filmmaker badgering his interviewees.

To my mind Wilkinson has indeed proven his point, and done so via good research, a technical understanding of the earliest cameras, smart investigation, and the ability to put some puzzle pieces together with flair and intelligence. And then, finally, to have made a movie about all this which, if not great, is good enough to pass muster.

There are a couple of fun, ah-ha! moments along the way -- one at a grave site (above) that helps seal the deal -- along with a genuine understanding of how difficult it can be to lay precise attribution to the idea of "being first," when so many people in so many places were simultaneously striving for the same results. Still, the reputation of certain "great men" are reduced a notch or two here. (What TrustMovies learned back in grade school about Thomas Alva Edison was certainly nothing like what he found here: Mr. Edison now seems less an inventor and more of a smart marketer and "patent thief.")

Overall the filmmaker has made a fine case for his findings that place Le Prince front and center in the history of film. We learn a lot about this unusual man and by film's end quite appreciate him and his efforts. It remains to be seen how willing the "film community" -- all those critics and historians and the rest who've accepted down the decades the conventional wisdom regarding who got there first -- will be to fully accept the Le Prince possibility, too.

Meanwhile, The First Film -- from Guerilla Films and running 106 minutes -- makes its U.S. debut this coming Monday, September 12, online via all major platforms. I would hope that a DVD will also appear at some point. We shall see. 

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British documentaries, David Wilkinson, dislodging conventional wisdom, film history, Louis Le Prince, the birth of cinema, THE FIRST FILM,

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MAGICIAN: Orson's back (we don't mean Bean) in Chuck Workman's new doc about the master

Is "astonishing" the best overall word to describe the life and work of Orson Welles? That, in any case, is the adjective chosen for MAGICIAN: THE ASTONISHING LIFE AND WORK OF ORSON WELLES, the new documentary by Oscar-winning filmmaker, Chuck Workman. After watching the movie and letting it sink in a bit, TrustMovies suspects that it really is the right choice. At the time of the debut of Welles' various creations -- for legitimate theater, radio and film -- the populace (industry folk, too) were indeed astonished by the work of this "boy wonder," as the fellow was often called, well past the time he reached manhood. Even today, after some of his innovations have been re-used past cliche, his work stands up to scrutiny, and when coupled to the history we get here, astonishes all over again.

Whatever you may think of Welles and his oeuvre, I suspect that you may find yourself astonished, too, at his story, and the way in which Workman (shown at left) weaves it together via some priceless archival material (photos, newspaper clippings), along with interviews of old friends, co-workers and relatives (one of Welles' daughters contributed to the film, another refused to). After viewing the movie, my appreciation for this master has deepened and I find myself wanting to go back and see some of his work again (as well as wishing I could have experienced his live theater productions).

Mr. Workman divides his film (and Welles' life) into sections: Boy Wonder (through 1941), The Outsider (1942-49), The Gypsy (1949-57), The Road Back (1958-66) and The Master (1968-85). Though an interesting assortment, this sort of sectioning works better in a book -- where you can go back and peruse again some of the facts and/or photos -- than on film, where you're stuck with whatever you can immediately remember. Instead, it is the cogent interviews with their well-chosen statements that impress and remain.

Among the interviewees are the likes of Simon Callow (whose ongoing biography of Welles was most likely a major source of information for the filmmaker), actress Jeanne Moreau, film critic Elvis Mitchell, directors Julie Taymor (shown below) and Robert Wise,

film editor Walter Murch, actor/director Paul Mazursky along with many other smart and caring folk who fill us in on their experience with Welles. (The fact that many of those interviewed are now deceased would indicate that Workman has been preparing this movie for quite some time.)

We get much more of Welles' work than we learn of his personal life and/or personality (fitting for an artist of this magnitude). Although we do get a succulent slice now and then: "He was the only person I knew who had absolutely no empathetic skills," notes one old friend, who clearly appreciated the guy but also saw him plain. Later in the film, when some-one makes a remark that seems to contradict the above statement, Workman cuts back to this woman, who says nothing but rolls her eyes, seemingly in protest. (The filmmaker is not above eliding moments that were maybe not meant to follow each other, in order to make a point.)

We do gets some of Welles' family and romantic life included here -- from his distant mom to women the likes of Rita Hayworth and Geraldine Fitzgerald, with whom Welles is said to have had yet another child -- unacknowledged as the spawn of Orson, if I understood the film correctly, by either parent.

Yet it's the work, above all else, that comes through so strongly. The movie will have you hoping to finally see Chimes at Midnight, in which Welles played Falstaff, once again. (Did we greatly misjudge that one at the time of its original release?) As well as his Macbeth, Othello, and even The Lady From Shanghai -- which remains forever wondrous and silly, priceless and misbegotten.

More than anything else (there is really not that much that's new here), Magician is a genuine and highly entertaining appreciation of Welles, the movie-maker, if not so much the man. For its wealth of archival material alone, strung together with artistry and wit, it is simply unmissable.

From Cohen Media Group and running a swift 94 minutes, the documen-tary opens this Wednesday, December 10, in New York City at the Lincoln Plaza Cinema, and in Los Angeles at the Laemmle's Royal.

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American documentaries, Chuck Workman, film history, MAGICIAN: THE ASTONISHING LIFE AND WORK OF ORSON WELLES, Orson Welles, triple threats,

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