The Art of the Moving Picture

In Short

This book serves as the first serious manifesto for the art of cinema, written at a time when the medium was still gaining its footing in the American consciousness. It classifies films into distinct genres—such as "action," "crowd splendor," and "fairy splendor"—to argue that movies are a unique visual language, comparable to painting and architecture. By positioning the film as a democratic "new art," the author challenges artists, architects, and institutions of learning to embrace the medium, ultimately arguing that the cinema has the potential to elevate the American spirit and replace the saloon as a site of communal reflection.

The Story

The argument begins by establishing the photoplay as a legitimate form of art, one that demands a new vocabulary for critics and creators alike. The author posits that the moving picture is a modern development of the ancient hieroglyphic system—a way of communicating complex truths through pure, wordless imagery. This premise unfolds into a comprehensive taxonomy of cinematic types, starting with the "Action Film," which the author compares to the physical energy found in classical bronze statuary. He then moves through the "Intimate Photoplay," exemplified by the subtle, expressive acting of Mary Pickford, whom he compares to a figure from a Botticelli painting.

As the discussion expands, the focus shifts to the "Crowd Picture," which he identifies as the most significant development for a democratic society. Through the lens of D.W. Griffith’s work, the author explores how the screen can capture the rhythmic, wave-like power of masses of people, even while critiquing the moral failings of specific narratives. This leads to a profound consideration of "Religious Splendor," where the author argues that the film’s ability to visualize ritual—the robes, the cathedrals, the procession—possesses a sanctity that can deeply move the contemporary spectator.

The middle section of the book transitions from critical theory into an architectural and civic vision. Here, the author calls upon American architects to act as crusaders, transforming the country’s cities into "Permanent World's Fairs." He argues that if city planners and artists collaborate with filmmakers, the cinema could help visualize a more beautiful, coherent version of American life, turning urban centers into glorious bazaars of culture.

In the final portion, the author moves away from rigid dogmatism to offer personal reflections on the future of the medium. He discusses the role of the orchestra and the audience, suggesting that the perfect viewing experience might eventually do away with intrusive musical accompaniments in favor of a silent, focused contemplation of the images. He concludes with a prophetic call for a new generation of "wizard-prophets" to take up the camera. He challenges them to move beyond the scientific, mechanical origins of the kinetoscope and treat their work as a sacred trust, aiming for a future where American cinema stands alongside the great legends of antiquity, providing a mirror in which the nation can view its own potential for beauty and spiritual transformation.

How It Unfolds

The promise of a new language The author begins by asserting that cinema is not merely a commercial product but a vital, new art form that requires the attention of universities and museums. He introduces the metaphor of the hieroglyphic, suggesting that the most powerful films are those that rely on imagery rather than printed text.

Classifying the photoplay The work systematically categorizes films into genres such as "Action," "Intimate," and "Splendor" pictures. Each category is grounded in references to existing art forms like classical sculpture or Renaissance painting to provide a critical framework for evaluation.

The power of the crowd A significant portion is dedicated to the study of mob movements and crowd scenes on screen. The author analyzes how film can capture the collective joy or anger of a nation, serving as a mirror for the public.

Civic and architectural integration The narrative shifts from the screen to the street, proposing that the film industry and architects should collaborate to redesign American cities. This vision aims to use public art and cinematic planning to foster a more unified and poetic national identity.

Prophecy and the future of the craft The final movement discards the earlier, more dogmatic tone in favor of personal speculation. It concludes with an invitation to future filmmakers to treat their medium as a spiritual, transformative tool capable of shaping the destiny of the American people.

The People

The author, while acting as the primary guide and critic, centers his analysis on key figures who define the medium's potential. D.W. Griffith stands as the "king-figure" of the movement, praised for his technical mastery and ability to handle massed groups of people, even while the author remains critical of his narrative choices in works like The Birth of a Nation. Mary Pickford is positioned as the ideal "intimate" actor, a figure of such spiritual and aesthetic purity that she transcends her status as a mere movie star, becoming a modern muse. Thomas Edison is acknowledged for the technical invention of the kinetoscope, but the author carefully distinguishes between the scientist who provides the tool and the "prophet-wizard" who must ultimately use it to create genuine art. Finally, the "crowd" itself is a character—the diverse, often unrefined American public that, through the influence of the film, is slowly being transformed from a scattered mass of individuals into a thoughtful, unified citizenry.

In Its Own Voice

In describing the unique, silent power of the screen, the author notes:

One of the implications of this chapter and the one preceding is that the fewer words printed on the screen the better, and that the ideal film has no words printed on it at all, but is one unbroken sheet of photography.

Reflecting on the transformative experience of watching an actor on screen, he writes:

Why do the people love Mary? Because of a certain aspect of her face in her highest mood.

Regarding the spiritual potential of the medium, the author observes:

As long as the photoplays are in the hands of men like Edison they are mere voodooism.

What It's Really About

The central argument is that cinema is the defining art form of the modern era, capable of fulfilling the role that mythology and cathedrals played in earlier civilizations. The book questions how a young, culturally diverse nation like America can construct a shared, visual identity. It posits that if the cinema is treated with the same seriousness as architecture or sculpture, it can act as a catalyst for a "transfiguration" of the public consciousness. Beneath the discussion of film genres lies a deeper plea for national purpose: the author argues that by visualizing a "beautiful" and "spiritual" future, the photoplay can guide the American people toward a higher, more cohesive state of being.

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in the history of media will find this book an essential, if idiosyncratic, starting point. It provides a fascinating look at a moment when the cinema was not yet a settled industry but a wide-open field of intellectual and artistic experimentation. Those who appreciate a lyrical, slightly eccentric prose style will enjoy the author's blend of cultural criticism and visionary mysticism.

However, a modern reader must be prepared for the book's period limitations. The author writes from a specific 1920s American perspective, and his references—ranging from specific silent films long since lost to the cultural ether to outdated social attitudes—can be challenging. The text contains frank, often problematic, assessments of racial and social issues that reflect the biases of the author's time. Despite these difficulties, the book remains a powerful testament to the optimism of early cinema. It captures a rare moment of "beginnings," where the author truly believed that a new technology could be steered toward the common good. To read it is to encounter the raw, unpolished belief that art—even the art of flickering shadows on a wall—can fundamentally change the world for the better.