George Melies was born into a wealthy family of shoe manufacturers on December 8, 1861. Being of above average intelligence, his interests were varied. He was especially fond of delving into the fine arts, puppetry and stage design. He completed military service as a corporal in the French infantry and enrolled in the Ecole de Beaux Arts. His father had other plans for him and compelled him to work for a short time as a mechanic at the footwear plant. This mechanical training, later combined with his fine arts training, was beneficial to his later work as a creative film artist. In 1884 he formally continued his arts studies in London, causing a disagreement with his father. At this time another important phase of his development blossomed - an interest in stage magic. Among the popular magicians of the day that he observed were Maskelyne and Devant. As a boy, Melies would often attend performances at the famous Theatre Robert-Houdin in Paris. He would attentively observe the show techniques and magical wonders of the famed magician of whom this theater was named. Cut off from any support from a disappointed family he made his living working in a large retail store in Paris. Eventually he put his newly developed expertise as a conjurer to work professionally by publicly performing magic. Having a talent for drawing caricatures, he also contributed cartoons to a satirical publication named La Griffe under the pseudonym of George Smile. He also wrote poetry. In due time, his father retired and left the family business to be run by George’s brother Gaston. When asked to do so, George reluctantly joined him.
1888 was a pivotal year. The now decaying Theatre Robert-Houdin, almost a Parisian landmark, was put up for sale. The famous magician’s son’s widow was making the offer. Selling his interest in the footwear business to Gaston, Melies made the purchase—a purchase he felt he could not pass up. With a strong determination to restore it to its former glory as a true theatre de magique, he made some alterations, retained the theater’s name and reopened it. Now, under his auspices the Theatre Robert-Houdin became a grand showcase for prestidigitation, combined with singing and dancing. All elements blended together well, embellished with flamboyant showmanship. The theatre proved to be a good investment, becoming popular with Parisian nightlife. Always on the lookout for any innovation with which to enhance the mystical qualities of the show he added magic lantern showings. Melies essentially took the illusion potential of the projected image several steps further than such earlier ‘showmen’ as Athanasius Kircher in the 1600s and Entienne Gaspard, with his Phantasmagoria, in the late 1700s. However, by the later 1800s the technology of the production and projection of transparencies became even more sophisticated and consequently more commonplace. Reportedly, Melies’ entertainment novelty wore thin and even the more gullible of the audiences became unimpressed. A chance meeting during a storefront presentation of a brand-new wonder device was the next and potentially the most important happening in the conjurer’s life.
In December of 1895, Melies was one of the many interested patrons attending the premier showing of Louis and Augustus Lumiere’s Cinematographe in the Salon Indien of the Grand Café of Paris. Here were the most technologically advanced magic lantern images in history being shown anywhere on the planet, images that virtually came to life as they moved on a screen. Even though the program consisted of typical Lumiere fare, focusing on the mechanics of their device rather than the subject matter, the magician immediately saw a more advanced concept for it. He took particular note of the audiences’ reactions to a train arriving at the Gare de Lyon and a boy playing a trick on a gardener. The very nature of the second subject’s comic action diverted the viewers’ attention from the physical means of the projecting device to the human interest of the interaction between the boy and the man on the screen. With impressions ranging from greatly to mildly amused, the audience filed out of the café. The Lumieres readied for their next show. Melies, filled with possibilities of the magical potential of the Cinematographe, stayed behind to talk to the talented entrepreneurs. He explained to them who he was, what he was and that he greatly desired to purchase one of their devices. 10,000 francs was offered (previously, Thomas’ offer of 20,000 francs and Lallemand’s offer of 50,000 francs were both rejected). The Lumieres’ reason for refusing to sell is perhaps the most incorrect prediction of the future of the Cinema of all time. They explained that Melies shouldn’t waste his time or money on one because the Cinematographe will remain nothing more than a scientific curiosity, with no commercial potential at all. Le Grande Magician felt differently. He was determined to possess one of these Cinematographes. Eventually the Lumieres would later put their device on sale, but Melies’ need was more immediate.
Undaunted, Melies utilized one of his many talents and rendered an accurate sketch of the framework: gears, pulleys and other essential workings of the Cinematographe as he saw it in front of him. He learned of the existence of another man, Robert William Paul (1869-1943) of London, England, who was also experimenting with the synthesis of projected movement. His particular innovation was called the Bioscope, a name that many other devices of varying similarities were christened. Doing business through his distributor, David Devant (himself a magician), Paul was more than glad to provide Melies with a Bioscope as well as a few filmstrips produced by himself and Edison’s group in the USA. The 35mm film gauge (the Edison standard) differed from the Lumiere’s Cinematographe 80mm gauge, but functioned just as well. Guided by his sketches of the Lumiere device and utilizing his training as a mechanic, Melies fashioned a working machine that was tailored to his own needs. On property he owned in the Paris suburb of Montreuil he set up a studio exclusively for the production of these short films. This was two years after the world’s first building, designed and constructed expressly for the making of motion pictures (named the Black Maria), was built for Thomas Edison in West Orange, New Jersey. In time he enclosed it all in a glasshouse-type structure. What emerged was the first studio of any kind for the making of films in Europe. Around the same time, but definitely shortly after, a similar production facility was built by Otto Messter in Berlin, Germany. By the early days of 1896 Melies was well into motion picture production.
A true entrepreneur, Melies would assume multiple functions in all of his productions. These functions included producer, director, writer, performer, camera operator, set designer and creator of visual effects. His original conception for the Cinematographe was to record his own, and his associate performers,’ magic acts on film. They would then be projected, interspersed between the live acts on stage, thus truly enhancing the magical quality of his performances. The Theatre Robert-Houdin now became a progressive ‘state of the art’ entertainment center. These innovations were met with approval by both audiences and critics. Similar, more high tech devices and concepts are used in live stage performances to this day. Often, he could be glimpsed among the cast of characters of his films. He was on his way to becoming an industry within himself; inventing, reinventing, defining and honing his craft. Remembering what the Lumieres had prophesized, Melies was determined to prove them wrong. He was likewise determined to fully explore and develop the motion picture’s potential. His first films on record were UN PORTIE DE CARTES (PLAYING CARDS) and SÉANCE DE PRESTIDIGITATION (CONJURING). The earliest surviving Melies film is UN NUIT TERRIBLE (ONE TERRIBLE NIGHT), a 50 second blackout depicting a hapless hotel guest menaced by gigantic cockroaches. A small company for the production and eventual distribution of his films was established: Star Films.
Being fascinated, to the point of obsession, with tales of the fantastique, Melies decided one day in October 1896 to commit one to film. His subsequent production of LE MANOIR DU DIABLE is truly the first narrative film totally conceived, scripted, produced, directed, edited and released as such. It is consequently the first film with any sort of a plotline actually directed by Melies. The running time was but a few minutes (75 meters). The entire story is presented from a single vantage point in one continuous take, like on a stage. LE MANOIR DU DIABLE, however, innovatively contained a rudimentary beginning, middle and end. In Star Films’ catalogue, this film is given three sequential numbers: 78-79-80. Presumably, three slightly different versions were offered. Like many other films in Melies’ output, this film (with minor alterations) was remade on other occasions. The main character, the Devil, was to make many repeat appearances throughout the bulk of Melies output. Often, Le Grande Magician reserved this particular on-screen role for himself. Naturally, being a tale of the fantastique, the story had to have a magical quality. The effects sequences in this early period were usually accomplished as they were physically performed on a stage, techniques Melies was well trained in. Now they were to be embellished with photographic effects. Similar techniques had been used regularly by still photographers and wasn’t unknown to Melies, or any other early cinema auteur. In recent years a film from just after this time, Alice Guy-Blache’s LA FEE AUX CHOUX (THE CABBAGE FAIRY) has been touted as the first narrative film with a director credit. With inaccurate copyrights of the day as well as hazy recollections, it’s sure that the Melies film was indeed the first. Other Star Films based on the fantastique; popular fairy tales and legends, followed. Another first from this year, 1896, was his use of stop-motion photography with ESCAMOTAGE D’UNE DAME CHEZ ROBERT-HOUDIN.
By 1897, Melies (as well as his audience) was already beginning to get bored with what he was committing to celluloid. This was inevitable, but out of it spawned ‘le grand revelation.’ One day he thought to take his Cinematographe out into the bustling streets of Paris. As the result of an inevitable mechanical ‘accident,’ Melies is to discover yet another magical concept of the Cinematographe. The Cinematographe lens was focused on the traffic moving past the Paris Opera House. The crank was turned manually, opening and closing the shutter, causing the passage of film past the gate and exposing images one frame at a time. People were walking, going about their business while all sorts of vehicles were moving in all different directions…completely oblivious of the magician and his camera. Such fare had been the norm for the Lumiere Brothers’ showings. Suddenly the camera jammed and stopped. The image-making ceased, albeit temporarily. After several minutes the problem was resolved, cranking resumed and the capturing of shadows continued. After several more minutes the reel was finished. Melies detached his camera, closed the legs of the tripod and headed back to his studio/workshop in Montreuil to develop and print this short sequence. He believed that all he captured on film were the shadows of a mere few minutes of daily late 19th Century Parisian life. When he previewed the finished product, something quite extraordinary was evident. Like an unwanted child of destiny, a powerful cinematic entity came into being purely by accident: the motion picture jump-cut.
Up until the time that his camera jammed, an omnibus had moved to the space directly in front of the lens. During the time that it took to clear the passage of the film gate, the omnibus had moved away and a hearse had moved into that same space directly in front of the lens. At that moment – almost precisely – Melies resumed shooting as the hearse continued on its way. Later, on the screen in the projection room, the omnibus appeared to instantaneously change into the hearse. Surely other occupants of the frame jumped about at the same instant, destroying any sort of a smooth transition. This effect, although mildly startling, was definitely crude, yet such a concept had infinite potential. The notion was firmly implanted in the creative matrix of his mind: not only could the Cinematographe be used to record feats of magic, but magic could also be created exclusively within the entity of the camera itself. Conceivably, it is not outside of the realm of possibility that Melies was not truly the first to accidentally stumble upon the jump-cut or in-camera superimpositions. Taking into consideration the state of the machinery that was being developed and utilized by the Lumieres, RW Paul, WKL Dickson, Sklandowsky, William Friese-Greene, George Demeny and other contemporaries in other parts of the world, previous cameramen surely to have had experienced similar photomechanical incidents. Yet, it took someone like Melies to utilize such an occurrence as a creative beginning and expand upon it. Cinematography is an illusion in itself. This jump-cut discovery made possible another element of being able to control, build upon, subtract from and in many ways alter this illusion. Now something truly fantastic was being created. This would prove to be a virtual quantum leap forward.
Melies also pioneered the premier usage of any sort of multiple exposures for the purpose of showing a single performer on the screen twice, within the same frame as a ‘double’ or even a ‘ghostly image.’ For the cinema’s premier ghostly image of LA CAVERN MAUDITE (THE CAVE OF THE DEMONS)(1898) the evil inhabitants of the cave were filmed against a black backdrop, so that the background was not exposed, then the film was rewound and the cave setting filmed. This created the images of ‘ghosts.’ The overall effect was enhanced by the usage of painstaking hand coloring. In UN HOMME DE TETE (THE FOUR TROUBLESOME HEADS) (1898) what he named ‘duplex photography’ was first employed. Here was shown a magician (Melies) removing his head three times and tossing them into the air above where they stayed, suspended. Here, also for the first time on the screen, were combined usages of ‘ghostly images,’ multiple exposures, and so on. An on-screen effect was experimented with, perfected to a degree and eventually used in combination with other effects. This went on continuously. Thus were the beginnings of motion picture special effects photography.
Le Grande Melies was morphing into his new life’s calling as director (or what would later be termed mise en scene) of short story films with an exuberant gusto. These early story films generated an interest, with both journalists and the public, whenever they were shown. Each new production had to be more magical than the previous one. By the end of 1896 he had turned out no fewer than 75 titles, each averaging about 20 meters in length. In 1897 he produced and directed another 53 titles. The Theatre Robert-Houdin was now remodeled exclusively for the showing of motion pictures. Also that year he renovated the studio he had built in Montreuil by adding the innovative element of artificial light. What resulted was Europe’s first motion picture production facility to utilize artificial light. This was a distinct improvement over having to plan and work around the movement of the sun. He now set about designing and shooting ‘historic reconstructions,’ as well as ‘expanding his cinematic repertoire to include dramatic adaptations from literature and the stage.’ The first film made by Melies totally utilizing artificial light was PAULUS CHANTANT (1897) in five parts. However, cinematic technical advancement was happening ‘out of sync’ with the public’s varied and often changing tastes.
What a valuable resource it would be if the complete product of Melies’ output were to become available to the researcher! One could spend days, albeit a professional lifetime, studying the genesis of each camera innovation. This ongoing study could accurately trace the evolution of making ‘the real’ on the screen appear ‘fantastic,’ or even ‘surreal.’ This concept is deeply rooted in the magician’s art. Melies the magician melded with Melies the showman and evolved into Melies the cinema auteur. With Star Films, production was stepped up. More money was spent on elaborate productions, accenting the fantastique. His catalogue of 1900 boasted a 12-scene JEANNE D’ARC and claimed inclusion of no less than 500 extras. By 1902, with the worldwide success of LE VOYAGE DANS LA LUNE, it became quite clear that his adept ‘flair for the fantastique’ firmly combined with the ‘do not take it all too seriously’ element. This became his indelibly imprinted style. He is the first true cinema artist to possess a style of any sort. This seminal slice of cinema history can easily be regarded as ‘The Era of Melies.’
The cinema’s premier venture into science fiction was Melies’ THE ASTRONOMER’S DREAM (vt, LA LUNE A UN METRE) (1898). This remarkable film, for its time, depicted a single setting of an astronomer gazing into an ultra powerful telescope. Intercut with this scene are supposed visions of beings and landscapes on other planets. The scientist then falls asleep and dreams of a ‘man from the moon’ visiting him by sneaking into an open window. Frame by frame hand coloring was utilized here, as was done with select earlier productions. His fascination with heavenly bodies and imagined space travel continued. This led to two versions of LE VOYAGE DANS LA LUNE (A TRIP TO THE MOON); the first being produced in 1900. Melies felt that more could be exploited with the material and produced a second - more elaborate - version. Following essentially the same storyline, copies of both versions exist. In production in May of 1902 and officially released in August of the same year, it is this second version of LE VOYAGE DANS LA LUNE that has proven to be the most important and best remembered of Melies’ works.
The narrative of A TRIP TO THE MOON was loosely based on elements of both Jules Verne’s From the Earth to the Moon and HG Welles’ The First Men IN the Moon. Both were popular writers whose works were familiar to many. The novels and Melies film appeared in an era long before the terms Science Fiction or Sci-Fi even existed. Verne, who very well may have seen Melies’ early films before his death in 1905, authored what were popularly known as ‘Romantic Fantasies.’ Welles writing career overlapped Verne’s and continued to flourish into an era that recognized the entity of Science Fiction. With the publication of the premier issue of Amazing Stories in April of 1926, editor Hugo Gernsbeck first coined the phrase Scientifiction, a contraction of the two words Scientific and Fiction. Melies innovative approach to A TRIP TO THE MOON is what is so important to the development of the narrative film. Instead of taking a hard approach and compelling his viewers to accept as reality what they were viewing on the screen, he did something creatively different. He treated it all as a fantastic comedy. Rather than opting for a literal retelling of a condensed conglomeration of both novels, he chose to make it a satire of the genre. Therein lies its place in the history of cinema. Such was the genius of George Melies.
The elements of the Verne story include the giant bullet-shaped projectile, large enough for men to travel inside, and the firing to the moon from a huge cannon. Verne was not aware of any other source of power that could achieve such a colossal action. Scientifically, of course, such an action could never be. If living beings got in to a giant projectile and were shot out of a cannon with enough velocity to reach the moon, they would leave the muzzle of the cannon as a blob of jelly on the projectile’s floor. The Victorian astronauts of From the Earth to the Moon ended in an orbit around the moon and never made it to the surface. Added to the giant cannon and projectile plot elements was the appearance of the moon-dwelling Selenites from The First Men IN the Moon. The space travelers of Welles’story reached their destination via a completely different method; a gravity repelling chemically coated vehicle. However, neither scientific accuracy nor faithful adaptation of an author’s work was important to Melies. These two factions exist to this day. What was important was entertainment. Critical writings (such as they were) of the time did not comment on the fact that A TRIP TO THE MOON lacked any sort of scientific accuracy. Instead, all complimented it on its entertainment value. The Cinema of the Fantastique was born.
The story consists of 30 tableaus: 1-Congress of the Astronomy Club. 2-The plans for the trip explained by Professor Barberfouillis (Melies). 3-The enormous factory, the construction of the projectile. 4-Casting of the cannon. 5-The scientists embark. 6-Loading the cannon, aided by a line of chorus girls from the Chatelet. 7-The cannon fires. 8-The moon gets nearer. 9-The rocket falls into the moon’s eye. 10-The rocket on the moon, the Earth light. 11-The plain covered with craters. 12-The dream of ‘stars.’ 13-The snowstorm, the first sight of the Selenites (acrobats from the Follies Bergere). 14- Descent into a crater. 15-The grotto with giant mushrooms. 16-The fight with the Selenites. 17-Taken prisoner. 18-The King of the Moon. 19-The escape. 20-The pursuit. 21-The departure in the rocket (by falling off of a cliff), a Selenite stays attached to the projectile. 22-The rocket falling vertically. 23-The rocket falls into the ocean. 24-Submerged. 25-The return to land. 26-Celebration. 27-Declaration of the heroes. 28-March past. 29-The erection of a commemorative statue. 30-The exhibition of the Selenite. The running time was 845 feet, approximately 12 – 15 minutes (depending upon projection speed).
The production cost was 10,000 francs. Film history was achieved as this heralded the costliest production of a film up until this time. It set a record that stood for several years. At a time when money spent on the production of films, story or otherwise, was provided by the few larger corporations set up for such a purpose, Melies, with his Star Films, was financing his own ventures. Other showmen of the day commented that the film was too long and too expensive, hence a total waste of time and money. Surely, they thought, he could never get a return on his investment. Melies, naturally, thought differently.
Premiere showings of LA VOYAGE DANS LA LUNE were offered gratis. A print was loaned to a fair currently in operation in the Invalides and screened in a special set up. At first, the public was hesitant to view it, even for free. The general contention was that, ‘...it must be some sort of trick since no one has ever really been to the Moon.’ Yet after showings to the first ‘adventuresome souls’ to view it, word of mouth spread and many were queuing to see what was to become a unique media experience. All were enthralled. Surely no one was actually to the Moon and back, yet all somehow were magically transported, Cinematically. Subsequent screenings, to paying audiences, brought him universal fame. For distribution, copies of the film were sold outright for 1.5 francs per meter. Hand tinted copies were offered at double the price. Tons of promotional material appeared, much being sent to the USA. Screenings were arranged for American audiences as many prints were shipped overseas. These American audiences were just as enthralled as their European counterpoints. Such were the beginnings of the true mystique of the Cinema…courtesy of George Melies.
Unfortunately, at this time much pirating was happening. ‘Bootlegged’ as well as truncated versions were being shown under different titles. This practice, something that always seems to come with (and even be a byproduct) of something popular prompted Melies to take action. He established a branch of his company in New York, with his brother Gaston in charge, and began to insert an identifiable plaque in every scene of his subsequent films. Melies magical cinematic voyage to Earth’s nearest astronomical body became something of more considerable significance in the history of the Cinema. Its global success established the foundations for the international preeminence of French films until the First World War. More than this, it established the appeal of films with ‘staged’ scenes over the more mundane fare offered to early filmgoers since the days of the Lumiere Brothers. As was to be expected, it took others to copy what this amazing artisan had pioneered and yet develop it further. Many imitations and imitators followed, in Europe and in the US. It was an unfortunate inevitability, but the cinema was ultimately moving out of - and beyond - the ‘Era of Melies.’
Because of this wanton purloining of his work, Melies was compelled to make the voyage to the United States. Joining his brother Gaston he wanted a first hand account. One American producer/distributor who led the pack of cinema pirates was Sigmund ‘Pop’ Lubin (1851-1923) in Philadelphia. Author Fred J Balshover in the book One Reel a Week tells a story of how he was employed by Lubin expressly for the purpose of obscuring the identifying marks in the individual frames of illegally duped imported films. The year was 1905 and an unscrupulous stranger was in the market for bootleg films:
‘In my two years with Lubin, there is one incident I don’t think I’ll ever forget. He (Lubin) asked me to screen some pictures for a prospective buyer who didn’t disclose his identity but said he was in the market to buy some films. As we sold to anyone who had the cash, Lubin hustled the customer into a small screening room where I was waiting to grind the projector, which was set up without a booth. After showing a few of the pictures made by Lubin without a sale, he had me run some dupes. Among them was A TRIP TO THE MOON, one of Melies best pictures. Practice had made me quite an expert at blocking out the trademarks, and the job on this picture was so good it was hard for our customer to believe his eyes. Suddenly he jumped up from his chair, shot his arm out in front of the beam of light from the projector, and shouted, “Stop the machine.” Startled, I stopped grinding and turned on the light. Lubin stared at him wondering what was wrong. We found out soon enough when the prospective buyer shouted, “You want me to buy that film?” Lubin wanted to know why not. “I,” the man bellowed thumping his chest, “I made that picture. I am George Melies from Paris.” The man, quite naturally, was in a wild rage. Lubin glared at him and, pointing to me, brazenly began telling Melies what a hard time I had had blocking out the trademark. Lubin’s defiant attitude stunned Melies, and he stood there speechless. Lubin seemed to consider the incident a joke, and I was dumbfounded when he went out laughing. I didn’t see the humor of the situation, as Melies was in such a rage he could have become physically violent, but he soon stamped out of the room. After that, whenever I was asked to run dupes for prospective buyers I was always a bit fearful.’
Lubin was far from the only one who was engaging in such a practice. Melies, likewise, was far from the only early cinema auteur being victimized in such a manner.
In many volumes of the history and stories of the genres of the cinema many additional cinematic firsts are credited to Melies. Using the fantastique as a springboard, other elements became part of these early works. In 1896 the era of the ‘blue movie’ made it’s first appearance with his LES INDISCRETS (THE PEEPING TOMS). The cinema’s premier appearance of nudity, male and female, was part of his APRES LE BAL (1897). He won a wide following with such titles as EN CABINET PARTICULAR (A PRIVATE DINNER), L’INDISCRET AUX BANS DE MER (PEEPING TOM AT THE SEASIDE) and LA MODELE IRASCIBLE (AN IRRITABLE MODEL) (all 1897). The Warwick Trading Company distributed these films in England. In their catalogue they were described as ‘welcome at any smoking concert or stag party.’ Melies main rival in this area was Eugene Pirou who set up production in the late 1890s chiefly for the purpose of producing blue movies. Pirou’s films were assuredly erotic but did not touch upon the entity of the fantastique. However, Melies was not in the business to continue producing ‘blue movies.’
Other firsts, dubious and well catalogued, occurred in his productions. On-screen firsts such as: appearance of a ‘living skeleton,’ execution by beheading, death by being burned at the stake, interaction between large (or normal sized) characters with miniature (or normal sized) characters, unique and creative usage of color via hand applications as well as the already established practices of tinting and toning. Combinations of still photograph effects and stage effects were employed, again as firsts. The screen’s first vampire was manifested in THE DEVIL’S CASTLE (1896). The first use of time-lapse photography appeared as part of CARREFOUR DE L’OPERA (1897). The list goes on. The utilizing of two separate performers, as well as settings, facing and interacting with each other as ‘mirror images’ were employed in MONSEUR LE BARON/THE HALLUCINATIONS OF BARON MUNCHHAUSEN (1911). A hollow frame was built for the make believe mirror. A duplicate, yet mirror-imaged, set was built for the other side of the ‘reflection’ and set in its proper setting. The illusion achieved was of a performer facing his reflection at such a straight-on angle without the camera equipment used to record the sequence also being viewed. The famous ‘mirror scene’ in the Marx Brothers’ DUCK SOUP (1933) was done this way, although purely for comic effect. In more recent times, a sequence for THE TERMINATOR 2: JUDGEMENT DAY (1992) was done with this method. Although it was excised from the final release version, the sequence, and how it was achieved, is highlighted in the documentary about the making of the film. Other illusions created with distorted sets as well as forced perspective were also pioneered by Melies. Variations of these simple techniques are yet being used in contemporary films.
Melies had attained and maintained a creative peak, becoming the Cinema’s premier auteur. Subsequently he was never to artistically grow further or change with the times. No set of rules or textbooks existed for Melies to go by. All cinematic tricks that appeared in his works were invented and honed solely by him. His prolific years ranged from 1896 to 1913, with his most creative year being around 1905. He maintained that level until the release of his final films, LE CHAVALIER DES NEIGES and LE VOYAGE DE LA FAMILLE BOURICHON, both of 1913. In all, around 800 magical works were committed to celluloid. Other sources put the total output of Melies productions anywhere from 500 to 1500 titles. It is virtually impossible to get an accurate and comprehensive count of his tremendous amount of his output. Much has been destroyed, pirated and lost in one way or the other. The 800-title estimate remains reasonable. Consequently, most of this known output has survived merely as titles in catalogues with brief explanations suggesting threads of plot and what sort of cinematic conjuring they would contain. These truly unique and magical photoplays ran in length from filmstrips of a few seconds to carefully conceived ‘moving tableaus’ lasting for up to twenty minutes. By 1911 the market for his brand of films was drying up.
The fortune he had amassed was evaporating. Pathe, now distributing his product, was heavily loaning him money. His production output dwindled and then ceased. By 1915 much change was happening with contemporary society, as well as with global politics. Europe was on the brink of a world war. Melies was essentially a product of the 19th Century who carried over his aspirations and artistic talents into the 20th Century. With the cinema, he found a new way of continuing the unique brand of art and entertainment that he had practiced and honed throughout his youth. Since virtually no one else could approach what he was accomplishing in the century’s first two decades, he reigned supreme. Others were beginning to create fantastic cinematic works of art that would be more sophisticated and technically accomplished than Melies’ products. His final true elaborate fantastique production was LA CONQUETE DU POLE from 1912. Although possessing a steadier and clearer image, it was no more advanced then his LA VOYAGE DANS LA LUNE from ten years previously. What was phenomenal to audiences in 1902 was becoming passé. His production activities came to a halt because of additional and more immediate reasons, France was arming for war. The government was seizing materials needed for the Army. Melies’ films and negatives were appropriated for their celluloid content. This celluloid was to be used for the heels of soldiers’ boots. In an irony of ironies, a man who was born into a family of wealthy shoe manufacturers was to have a substantial amount of his artistic endeavors reshaped into military boot heels. One could almost say that his father, who disapproved of his not becoming part of the family business, would have felt a certain sense of ‘I told you so.’ But, this is pure conjecture. Melies was beyond the age for military service and his particular skill for magic, showmanship and creating fantastic cinematic works of art were of little use to the war effort.
He was forced to sell his estate, losing his Theatre Robert-Houdin. By the end of 1915 he converted his studio in Montreuil into a variety theater. Here he tried to continue his old on-stage magic and illusions. In 1923 he was declared bankrupt. In addition, this year the Theatre Robert-Houdin was demolished. In a TV interview in the 1960s with Melies’ granddaughter, Madelyn Maltec Melies, she related the story of his final days in his studio in Montreuil. He gathered what shreds and remnants he yet had of his former glory. Included were negatives, special prints of films, props, written documents, costumes and anything else that physically was part of his cinematic milieu. He did not have the funds to somehow crate up what remained and ship to where it all could be saved and preserved. Since at the time no film archives, museums or collectors existed who would have gladly accepted this valuable Melies memorabilia, he felt that destroying it was the only path to take. A large pile was made in the center of his studio and set on fire. Abandoning home and studio, he departed with a bundle of whatever possessions he could carry. The following year he was given an appointment as a stage manager of a workers’ theater in the mine region of the Saar.
By 1926, with a global motion picture industry thriving and on the brink of the sound revolution, he was a dejected and forgotten widower. He chanced upon one of his former performers, Jeanne d’Alcy (born Charlotte Faes, 1865-1956), operating a small toy concession in the Gare de Montparnasse in Paris. They married and operated the concession together. In 1928, 15 years after he made his final film, someone recognized him at the concession. This led to a rediscovery and recognition of his massive early contributions to the art of the Cinema. In 1931 he was awarded the Legion of Honor medal and given a rent-free apartment. There he and his wife lived out the rest of their days. Much of his work resurfaced. Archives began actively unearthing, identifying, restoring and preserving what could be found of his work. Chief among these enthusiasts was Henri Langlois with his Cinemateque Francaise. He died, not totally forgotten, in 1938. His tombstone in Pere LaChaise Cemetery, Paris, France bears a bust of him.
Much of his work has been made available and distributed through educational media outlets. Many Science Fiction film festivals have begun their programs with screenings of A TRIP TO THE MOON. Filmmaker and enthusiast Georges Franju paid homage to him with a short film, LE GRAND MELIES in 1952. Melies’ son Andre essayed the role of his innovative father. His 1902 film A TRIP TO THE MOON was used as the prologue for Mike Todd’s 1956 film AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 DAYS. In 1959 Czech filmmaker Karel Zeman made a feature film copying the general style (as well as the essence) of Melies titled AN INVENTION FOR DESTRUCTION (vt, THE FABULOUS WORLD OF JULES VERNE). Many contemporary cinema special effects artists have voiced much praise for the influence of his art in their work.
As long as cinema artists continue to produce films of a fantastic nature, the name and contributions of Georges Melies, the world’s premier Cinema auteur, will be remembered.
