The Great Train Robbery

For most of entertainment history, the only way audiences could see a story brought to life was on the stage. Plays were written to deal with some of the difficulties of such productions; namely the time and break in continuity necessary to change a setting. In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, innovative directors saw the possibilities for more fluid, realistic action and storytelling and played on audiences' imaginations in an entirely different way: motion pictures.

In 1903, moving pictures were in their infancy. One of the early "movies" which solidified this new form of entertainment was Edwin S. Porter's The Great Train Robbery, an 11 minute silent Western portraying bandits robbing a rail car only to be chased down and killed by a sheriff's posse. At the first viewing, this film seems rather amateurish to modern audiences. The movements are jerky and exaggerated, the camera is stationary, and it hardly seems groundbreaking. But it was.  Among other techniques, The Great Train Robbery was the first to pioneer a visual trick we take for granted: cross-cutting, which alternates between scenes to depict action taking place in two locations simultaneously. 

To understand the significance of this movie, one has to remember that audiences who saw this had never before seen anything moving on a screen (except, perhaps, hand shadow puppets!).  Stories were depicted in one of three ways: the written word, stationary pictures or artistic renderings, and onstage by live actors.  People who watched this film had likely never before seen any motion that was not done by real people in real time.  I can understand this to an extent; I cannot internalize it.

The film begins in a railroad telegraph office, where two bandits break in and order the operator to stop the train and give the engineer some orders.  After the train starts again, the operator is knocked unconscious and tied up.  The train continues on to the water tank where it stops to take on water, and as it starts up four bandits board it unnoticed.  (Throughout the movie, a rather incongrous soundtrack plays.  It sounds more like the track for a bear cub chasing butterflies through a meadow than a heist movie, and upon further research, I learned the movie originally had no backing music.)

They head for the express car.  Hearing them coming, the messenger locks a trunk, throws a key out the open door, and hides in order to defend himself.  It is useless, as he is shot, a death that seems almost funny to modern audiences as he stretches his arms upward and twirls halfway around before (carefully) falling lifeless.   Not finding the key on his body, the robbers blow up the trunk.  Through this scene, the camera is stationary but movement is perceived, not only by changing scenery through the train door, but the rocking of the car.

The next shot is probably the most thrilling and brutal.  In a fight atop a moving car, the bandits grab and beat a man, continue to pummel him long after he stops resisting, and throw his body from the train car.  It is obvious to us that the flying object is a dummy, but it is still strikingly callous.  The bandits then stop the train and rob the passengers.  One attempts to escape and is shot, perishing in the same melodramatic style as the messenger.  The robbers re-board the now-uncoupled locomotive and order the engineer to take them farther up the track, then stop the engine and escape into the woods where they mount their horses (the original getaway car!) and ride away.

Meanwhile, the telegraph operator comes to and manages to tap out a message with his chin before collapsing again.  A little girl enters and attempts to revive him, cutting his bonds, shaking him and eventually throwing a glass of water in his face.  Hers is the best acting in the film, even in this short scene her timing and talent are obvious.   The freed operator then runs to a dance hall where he summons the sheriff who mounts a posse to chase down the robbers.  The film ends with another gun battle, in which all four bandits are killed and the loot is reclaimed by the law.

Thrilling and wondrous as this must have been to viewers, the final shot prompted the most startled reaction: one of the bandits appears, looks in the camera, aims his gun and fires repeatedly.  Audiences reportedly believed they were about to be shot and took cover or fled.  Some apparently drew guns and fired back at the screen.

It's easy for us to laugh at their naivete, but difficult to imagine that they had never seen anything like this.  The human imagination is powerful and fills in gaps in our sensory experiences.  I remember watching my first IMAX movie at the Cosmosphere and an announcer telling us that should we become dizzy or nauseous, to close our eyes.  Indeed, I got a little queasy as I "rode" in a helicopter above the Great Barrier Reef, but the instant my eyelids dropped, it all went away.  I'm sure someday 3D films will become the norm, and future audiences will be amused at our tendency to duck from objects flying our way.