The Great Train Robbery Was Not the First Narrative Film
Note: This is the twenty-third in a series of historical/critical essays examining the best in film from each year. Essentially, I am watching films from the beginning of cinematic history that interest me and/or hold some critical or cultural impact. My personal, living list of favorites is being created at Mubi, showcasing five films per year. All this being explained, what follows is an examination of my third favorite 1903 film, THE GREAT TRAIN ROBBERY, directed by Edwin S. Porter.
THE GREAT TRAIN ROBBERY (1903) was not the first narrative film. It was not the first American narrative film. It was not the first film to shoot on location, nor was it the first film to feature a medium close up or close up shot. Nevertheless, all of these feats, and more, are attributed to THE GREAT TRAIN ROBBERY. Why?
Well, generally, there is probably just some confusion or ignorance about what film was doing before 1903, and more understandably, there are discussions surrounding THE GREAT TRAIN ROBBERY that cite its combined innovations as evidence of the above feats being truly pulled off in a recognizable film language. Even still, I was bewildered to find so many online resources and people attributing so many misleading firsts to THE GREAT TRAIN ROBBERY, whether accidentally or idealistically. So let’s dispel some of the claims surrounding THE GREAT TRAIN ROBBERY, and examine what exactly it did to render it such a fantastic film.
Let’s start with the assertion that THE GREAT TRAIN ROBBERY is the first narrative film. The term “narrative” is pretty vague, as it just refers to the construction of a story rather than “actuality” or documentary-style depiction of everyday life and events, at least when it comes to describing film. Even still, calling THE GREAT TRAIN ROBBERY the first narrative film is ignoring at least five solid years of non-actuality film from the likes of many European filmmakers, and even some American directors like Edwin S. Porter himself. As near as we can tell, the first narrative film is actually female film pioneer Alice Guy-Blaché’s THE CABBAGE FAIRY (1896), or maybe the Lumière brothers’ THE WATERED WATERER (purportedly 1895), and they and many others would make many more “narrative” films in the intervening years.
So it’s quite clear THE GREAT TRAIN ROBBERY is not literally the first narrative film, nor is it even the first American one, even through a more technical lens. The assertion that THE GREAT TRAIN ROBBERY’s advanced editing techniques (we’ll talk about them later) created, outside of the stagebound tradition, an entire film language that we still recognize today, making it the first (important is implied here) narrative film, does not take into account British film pioneer James Williamson’s editing showcases like FIRE! (1901) or STOP THIEF! (1901). Even Porter’s LIFE OF AN AMERICAN FIREMAN, released earlier in 1903, clearly owes something to that pair of Williamson’s films.
While THE GREAT TRAIN ROBBERY was shot on location (in New Jersey, not Wyoming) in addition to Edison’s New York Studios, it wasn’t the first film to use natural locales and lighting to create a sense of realism. I mean, the earliest actualities were the purest examples of “shooting on location”; the Lumière brothers’ TRAIN PULLING INTO A STATION (1895) was just a product of the two heading down to a La Ciotat train station with their camera. Narrative filmmakers, although less often than in the actuality genre, had also dabbled in telling their stories outside of the controlled environment of studios. Again, Williamson, with FIRE! (1901) or even earlier effort ATTACK ON A CHINA MISSION (1900), could be more properly cited as the progenitor of many of the accolades bestowed upon THE GREAT TRAIN ROBBERY. In regards to on-location shooting, those two movies were filmed at an abandoned house in Hove, England.
As for the film’s final, admittedly amazing non-sequitur final shot (also placed at the beginning in certain showings) in which Justus D. Barnes, who played the gang leader, fires into the camera at a medium close up or close up shot, well, it wasn’t the first time a camera had gotten that close to an actor. Can you guess who did it before? Yes, that’s right, Williamson. His film THE BIG SWALLOW, a 1901 favorite of mine, featured an incredibly clever and amusing close up shot. Williamson’s colleague and friend, George Albert Smith, really did it even earlier with his 1900 film AS SEEN THROUGH A TELESCOPE; a lot of the stuff I’ve attributed to Williamson in place of Porter and THE GREAT TRAIN ROBBERY could probably even traced back to Smith, who was pulling off a lot of then-advanced editing and camera techniques slightly before, simultaneously, or slightly after Williamson. The timeline is a little off there, and the two were likely feeding off each other.
In any event, I think the point is thoroughly illustrated that THE GREAT TRAIN ROBBERY did not really do many of the firsts that are attributed to it. But it did do them all together incredibly successfully, as in it established commercial viability for American films in a pre-nickelodeon era like no other film before it. And it did so by pulling together a wide array of film techniques and putting them to screen with a universally thrilling backdrop: the Wild West.
So, let’s be clear: I really like THE GREAT TRAIN ROBBERY. I think it’s one of the most important films of all time. I wouldn’t be writing about it if I didn’t. But I think it’s important to put history in its proper context, and there’s a lot of misinformation out there about what Porter’s 1903 milestone did. That being said, let’s dispense with what THE GREAT TRAIN ROBBERY did or didn’t do first, and look at what it did really well.
It’s important to remember that when THE GREAT TRAIN ROBBERY was made and released, the “Wild West” wasn’t a reference to a time period. It was a very real part of an ever expanding country, and the news coming out of the crazy region shocked, appalled, and titillated audiences to no end. You actually probably could say THE GREAT TRAIN ROBBERY effectively started the Western genre in film, contemporary to the historical events themselves. The movie was inspired, and named after, an 1896 stage play, as well as real hold-ups and criminal behavior that were running rampant in the West at the time. A 1900 robbery conducted by Butch Cassidy and his gang (yes, that Butch Cassidy) is said to be the specific reference point for the plot of the film, in particular the uncoupling of the train and the blowing up of the safe scenes.
The firepower, if you’ll pardon the word play, of using true events, and ones that received incredible attention and interest at the time, was not lost on Thomas Edison, for whom Porter had already been working for a number of years. The movie was advertised as a “faithful” recreation of the kind of action-packed crimes being committed out west. This is not insignificant; filmmakers and distributors had already realized the power of true stories and adaptations to put butts in seats, but THE GREAT TRAIN ROBBERY was a targeted attempt to capitalize on subject matter that was being discussed in every kind of social setting. At the onset, it was poised to attract more attention than a film like LIFE OF AN AMERICAN FIREMAN, which depicted relatively ordinary events, regardless of who or what pulled off certain film techniques first.
This poise allowed THE GREAT TRAIN ROBBERY’s incredible execution to shine out into popular consciousness and film lore. The film opens in a studio set-up, proceeding linearly like any other stagebound film of the time. A gang breaks into a telegraph office, forces the operator to stop a train, then knocks him out and ties him up. This is essentially where the conventionality of the film ends. The film introduces concepts of composite editing, in which continuity is implied and understood rather than visualized linearly, as it steps outside the bounds of a set and shows the gang creeping aboard the stopped train from a water tower.
They then kill a guard, a show of violence only to be followed by more ruthless killing that makes you wonder why they didn’t kill the telegram operator in the first for a reason other than plot necessities, and blow up and loot the safe. A battle atop the train and a brutal rock bashing to the head foreshadows the brutality of future film violence, and the gunmen stop the train. A scene in which all of the passengers exit the train and are relieved of some prize possessions under duress of a few aimed guns stretches overly long, a sign of Porter’s weakness to show too much of an unnecessary scene; the boring hold-up is only enlightened by the panic stricken bolting of a passenger and his subsequent felling by a casual shot from a member of the gang. They then uncouple the train engine and ride off into the sunset…at least until they quickly abandon the train to, a truly revolutionary pan reveals to the audience, leap onto their waiting horses.
Meanwhile, and I cannot understate the importance of this meanwhile, the telegram operator revives and attempts to call for help. This is a very early example of cross cutting, which shows two scenes linearly but implies or indicates that they are happening simultaneously. It’s something we take for granted today, but films’ events were generally shown in linear succession, and did not “bend” time quite like THE GREAT TRAIN ROBBERY did. From there, another overly long, somewhat strange comic relief scene in which a group of men are shooting at the feet of a stranger in a dance hall is interrupted by the telegraph operator, freed and revived by his daughter in the previous scene. They form a posse, overtake the gang, and slaughter them, in no uncertain terms, in the most action-packed sequence film had seen to date. It may look primitive and reserved today, but the camera’s movement alongside the galloping horses and the ferocity of the fight hadn’t been seen before in film, and indeed, action had not been rendered so viscerally.
The success of THE GREAT TRAIN ROBBERY would launch the popularity of the Western, not only in film, and secure serious cash for Edison and Co. The film is probably the first American masterpiece, and exhibited Porter’s ability to integrate and adapt disparate film techniques to tremendous effect. Ultimately, it indicated a greater life and greater heights to be reached for film, and granted it more legitimacy as a burgeoning art form and commercial industry, an important integration that had to be made at the time. It could probably be served as a reminder even today. And as much as I take umbrage with the erroneous firsts, my corrections are made only with the understanding that THE GREAT TRAIN ROBBERY is significant and great even if it didn’t do everything first. It transcends film history relic status, a testament to its execution, and remains an entertaining experience today.
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