As a striking example of how unusual and—­from the standpoint of what may be artificially arranged—­seemingly impossible scenes may be used in photoplays, consider the following—­and then avoid the introduction of such scenes unless you know absolutely just how your effect may be obtained.

The Vitagraph release, “A Wasted Sacrifice,"[25] more fully described in the next chapter, contained a scene in which a young Indian woman, stepping upon a rattlesnake, was bitten, and died.  One scene showed her walking along, with the papoose on her back, all unsuspecting of the danger that threatened.  Then came a close-up showing the rattler coiled with head raised.  The next full-sized scene showed the woman just about to step upon the snake concealed in the grass.  In the second close-up which followed, showing only the snake and the woman’s moccasined feet, the reptile struck with startling swiftness and savageness.  The whole effect was thrilling in the extreme—­and we do not doubt that more than one young writer was tempted to write a story with a similar scene.  But how often would a producer be able to obtain such an effect?  It seems obvious that the scene was in stock and the play built around it, but the truth is that the scene was specially made.  The snake was caught, and its poison extracted, and then the scenes were taken.  In the close-up scene the snake was inside an enclosure stretched on the ground.  The first close-up showed the snake, coiled.  In the second, the girl was in the enclosure with the snake.  But the close-up did not show the enclosure, of course.  And rattlesnakes are not readily obtainable “props”!

[Footnote 25:  The synopsis of this photoplay is given in Chapter VIII.]

4.  Animal Actors

Another mistake frequently made by the beginner is in writing stories that require the assistance of trick animals.  We know one motion-picture actor who, at the time when he was on the extra list of a well-known Chicago company, wrote to a New York producer that he would furnish the working scenarios for two or three plays in which his trick dog could work provided that he himself were allowed to direct the scenes in which the animal took part.  He was told to go on, and carried out his part of the contract as offered.  The result was several very exceptional pictures in which his dog’s clever work was featured.  But how many writers are prepared not only to write the script but also to furnish the dog and direct its acting?  It is better to leave the writing of such stories to some member of the company owning the trick animal.