pjbooks Chapter 58 is officially released!
Chapter 58 is officially released!
Before we knew it, July 24th arrived, the day "Waden Lake" was released.
Unlike later generations, when movies were shown with roadshows and interviews before release, this era was quite different.
In 1927 Hollywood, distributing a few flyers or publishing a few articles in the newspaper was considered a sign of effort.
As for a premiere or anything like that, there's no such thing at the moment.
In fact, according to the original historical pattern, even the Oscars would not be awarded until two years later.
That's right, the Oscars were born in the same year the economic crisis broke out.
Whenever a country suffers misfortune, the entertainment industry experiences a surge of activity; this has been true throughout history and across the world.
Around 6 p.m., before it was completely dark, the large white cloth had already been erected in Tom Flynn's dockyard.
It was called a screen, but it was actually just a piece of rough canvas hanging down from two wooden poles, with the edges slightly bulging in the sea breeze.
In front of the screen was a Vita projector, and next to it was a gasoline generator, chugging along and occasionally emitting a puff of blue smoke.
The number of people coming to see the movie was sparse, clearly not as high as expected.
There were about a hundred people scattered around the freight yard, mostly workers who had come from nearby docks and factories, wearing sweat-stained work pants, some of whom were carrying lunch boxes.
Several Italian women with children sat on small stools in the front row, chatting excitedly about everyday matters.
A few young Black men were standing in the back row. They had come from Roxbury and were holding nine-cent bills in their hands with bright eyes.
Just like in China during the 1980s and 90s, Americans today also have a natural enthusiasm for watching movies.
If they hear that there are cheap movies to watch, many people are still willing to walk ten kilometers to check it out.
However, despite the large number of people in front of her, the owner of the box office movie was not very happy.
"Is that all the people?" Jia stood on the steps by the freight yard, covering her face, her voice muffled.
She wore a white dress today, and her hair was neatly combed. She had originally planned to show her face to the audience, but given the current situation, there was no need for her to even show her face.
She looked up, her gaze sweeping over the sparse crowd, and mentally estimated: at most, less than two hundred people.
With such a small number of people, it might be lively, but it's far from a major fire or even a chance to make a fortune.
A ticket costs nine cents, so even if the theater is packed, it's less than twenty dollars.
Even if each of the twenty venues costs this much, it wouldn't amount to more than four hundred dollars.
The film cost 65,000 yuan to make – not counting post-production promotion.
Even if all twenty venues were filled, with nine hundred people per show and nine cents per ticket, the total income for a night would only be a little over 1,600 US dollars.
How many nights can the open-air screenings last? A week? Two weeks?
Once everyone who wanted to see it had seen it, the box office would plummet.
No matter how you calculate it, this debt can never be reconciled.
"John, Catherine, your sister has really lost out this time," Jia sighed.
Standing next to her were Johnny Jr. and Catherine.
John F. Kennedy Jr. was wearing a dark blue suit with a red bow tie, and his hair was slicked back, as if he were going to attend some important ceremony.
Catherine, dressed in a white lace dress, held a rag doll in her hand, looking around curiously at everything.
"Sister, there's no need to worry. Just leave it to your husband," Little Kennedy said to Gia with a smile, his tone carrying a certainty beyond his years.
Jia was taken aback.
In the past, whenever young Kennedy called her "brother-in-law" at this time, she would correct him and make him call her "Mr. Luther".
After all, she herself hadn't even figured out her relationship with Luther, so how could this little guy be in charge of calling her that? But she didn't object today.
Catherine, however, didn't care about any of that. She tugged at Jia's skirt, looked up, and asked, "Sister, are there really people who can talk in movies?"
"Um."
"What did they say?"
"You'll find out soon enough," Jia replied irritably.
Catherine pouted, then ran off with her doll in her arms.
At the other end of the pier, several reporters were gathered on a set of steps, chatting idly.
These reporters came from several Boston newspapers—The Boston Globe, The Boston Herald, The Boston American—and even a couple of entertainment reporters who came from New York.
Their sense of smell was more acute than that of wild dogs; as soon as they heard that someone in Boston was going to show a sound movie, they immediately flocked over.
"To be honest, I'm not optimistic about the box office performance of this movie." A middle-aged reporter wearing a baseball cap lit a cigarette and took a deep drag.
"Why?" a young reporter next to me asked.
"Even the big Hollywood studios haven't done this, how dare they?"
"That's true." The young reporter nodded. "The big film companies should take the lead in this kind of thing; this really is outrageous."
"Never mind that much," another chubby reporter interjected, scribbling something in a notebook. "Maybe it's just a publicity stunt today, maybe these sounds were even staged on-site. We'll see."
As they chatted, their eyes kept glancing at the strange projector and the white screen on the dock.
As dusk fell, the gas lamps were lit, their dim yellow light casting a golden glow on the curtain, as if gilding the white cloth.
At the other end of the steps, Luther stood next to the projector, whispering something to Reynolds.
Reynolds looked grim. He'd been in publishing for so many years, and this was the first time he'd encountered something like this; it was just strange.
"Mr. Luther," Reynolds lowered his voice, "should we give those reporters a heads-up beforehand? Offer them something to make them go easy on us?"
Luther shook his head: "No need, how they write it is their business, I don't care."
Reynolds opened his mouth as if to say something, but ultimately swallowed it back.
Luther's gaze swept over the sparse crowd.
To be honest, he had expected there would be fewer people.
A silent love story wasn't particularly outstanding in the market of 1927, let alone a sound film—audiences didn't even have that concept, so why would they pay to watch it?
Even so, he wasn't in a hurry at all, because he was confident.
At exactly seven o'clock, it finally got completely dark.
The gas lamps hanging on the dock were extinguished one by one, leaving only the small lamp in front of the screen still lit.
The gasoline generator sputtered a few times, then a worker pulled a switch and it shut off.
A man in a tuxedo walked onto the makeshift wooden platform, holding a tin megaphone. He cleared his throat and shouted a few times to the audience:
"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the screening of Box Office Film Company's first sound film—'Walden'!"
Sparse applause.
"Today, you will witness a miracle—a movie that can talk, sing, and cry!"
A worker in the audience shouted, "Stop blowing! Just play it!"
The crowd laughed, but the host wasn't annoyed. He chuckled twice, then waved his hand dismissively:
"The screening has begun!"
As soon as he finished speaking, the projector started turning, and the film slid between the gears, making a clicking sound.
A beam of light pierced through the night and shone on the screen in front of me.
Then the screen lit up.
The first thing you see is the logo of the Film Booking Offices of America—a simple shield with the letters "FBO" on it and the smaller text below: "Film Booking Offices of America." It was designed by Joseph Sr.; it's not particularly beautiful, but its simplicity is its strength.
The screen then gradually darkened, only to light up again a few seconds later.
At this moment, a turquoise lake appeared on the screen, shimmering in the sunlight.
In the distance are rolling hills, and closer by are meadows on the shore, with flowers swaying gently in the wind.
The audience quieted down, their eyes fixed on the white cloth in front of them.
The camera zoomed in, and finally a girl came into view.
This is Alice; after being dressed up, she is even more beautiful than in real life.
At that moment, she sat on a chair by the lake, holding a book in her hands, her long brown hair draped over her shoulders, gently blowing in the wind.
Sunlight streamed through her profile, outlining a bright silhouette.
She remained undisturbed, only occasionally glancing up at the lakeside and distant mountains before continuing to read.
Seeing this, some viewers couldn't stand it, thinking it was just so-so.
"What the hell!"
"It's just so-so!"
"Romance movie, so cliché!"
"I could watch three hundred movies like that a year!"
This is not hard to understand. Audiences in this era have seen a lot of films, and they are already tired of this kind of formula.
Just then, a young man walked over from a distance.
He was wearing a white shirt and looked every bit the gentleman. As soon as he arrived at the lakeside, he was immediately attracted to the girl.
Perhaps he had never seen a girl like this before, and he couldn't help but want to get closer.
Five steps, three steps, one step.
Finally, he stopped very close to the female lead.
On the screen, his handsome features were crystal clear, captivating many female viewers.
At that moment, everyone on the entire dock held their breath.
It wasn't because of nervousness, but because everyone realized one thing: the characters in the movie might start speaking.
Sure enough, the young man took a deep breath and mustered his courage.
Then, he finally uttered the first line of dialogue in the history of human cinema.
"Hello, ma'am."
The sound wasn't loud, but it came through the screen clearly and reached everyone's ears.
That wasn't some tin horn, nor was it artificially synthesized; it was the most authentic sound coming from a human throat, appearing along with the visuals.
The entire dock fell silent the next moment, and an Italian woman screamed wildly, "My God! He really can talk!"
Before he finished speaking, the entire dock erupted in noise.
"They spoke! They really spoke!"
"My God, did I hear that right?! The movie actually talked?!"
"Play it again! Play it again!"