The Shutter

Bugs

By Amel

1 SUPPOSE it all started whei an American doctor invited ui to see his collection of homi movies. I see now that we shoul( have feigned illness and stayed a home —it would have saved us i lot of money. Still, it was inevit able that, sooner or later, we woul( see somebody’s home movies, a there are many enthusiasts in Pag( Pago.

The films were of the doctor’ own making, and were in coloui For three hours, we sat attentiv and entranced while his slow, eas; drawl gave humorous commentar; on each sequence. By the time w went home, Tom was a convert ti amateur movies.

But somebody in the family ha to think of the bawbees, so whe: he started talking of buying th most expensive 8 m.m. movi camera on the market, I said “No! loudly and firmly (as I always do] while he said nothing (as h usually does).

Two months later, he mentione the subject again; and once mor I indicated that I was not in favou of the idea. Whereupon he calml unwrapped the camera, which ha arrived that morning, by airma: ... I swooned —and when I re gained consciousness, .1 found tha he was unwrapping another parcf which contained a ducky little thin called a light meter—absolu?el essential to good movie-making.

You aim it at the light, press button, and if it registers above on High, you turn the trident t Low, and if it registers below 1 o.

Low, you stamp on it, throw it i: the sea and take movies withou it.

With camera, light meter an films (a mere 5 dollars apiece),] reflected, rather naively, that h should have everything he needet “But ” I begged, “For goodnes: sake, make every foot count, c we’ll be paupers!”

Joyfully, Tom went out and too movies—the water-cart waterin the road: Fita Fitas on parade ships sailing on the Harbour Samoans dancing—then rushed hi first precious film off to Honolulu When it returned, and he showe it through a friend’s projector, h was nervously critical of his firs effort.

“My hand shakes,” he said. need a tripod.”

I did some quick mental aritli met’c. “Drink less beer,” I advisee bluntly.

It was as if I had not spoker

s went on thinking aloud. “You ; that under-exposed bit there, d that over-exposed bit there? 511. they should be eliminated. I ist have an editing-viewer, and splicer. I must also get a titling r and a screen, and I simply must ve a projector.” ‘Must?” I asked. “Must? What’s this ‘must’ stuff? May I re nd you that we also must have id and clothing, and a little ih to keep the wolf from the Dr.”

What wolf?” was the absent nded reply. “Take a look at s catalogue ... it says that I i buy a projector for only a few ndred bucks . . .”

Okay!” I yelled. “If you get it projector, I’ll send to Sears a dozen dresses!”

Go ahead,” he said calmly, ike a look at this tripod, only mty . . .” it was no use. I lapsed. I chevied my fingernails. i faced the fact that I was rried to a shutterbug.

Ve toured the island, making vies of this and that. Tom jnd off the footage (at 10 cents bot) while I trotted along duti ly v*ith the tripod, the light ter. the camera case and a lot fond wifely criticism, laving featured in some of the is I now understand why movie rs demand so much money. The ne is worth all they ask and re. Especially when the director lies, insults and criticises you.

Du’re walking too fast. Now i are too slow. You look knock eed. Don’t grin—smile. Sit vn. Sit up. Go back and do it tin. Who d’you think you are? iy La Marr?”

'he house is cluttered up with vie equipment. I am continu -7 tripping over the tripod and screen. The splicer sits astride lureau. The titling set is on top a bunk. Processed films may be nd amongst the shirts. The pro tor and the editing viewer need cupboard to themselves, while camera and the light meter ng on a coat-hanger in the :drobe.

Jut I bear it all cheerfully be [se, I must confess, I too am convert to this interesting, ex

isive, fascinating hobby.

Ve now invite friends to our •me movie” sessions, and as watch the colourful pictures un -1 the question of finance sn’t seem to matter. For what, sr all, are a few miserable lars, compared with the awful of seeing oneself on the silver sen —opening and closing one’s uth like a stranded codfish?

Ir. and Mrs. John Ratard, of ito. New Hebrides, recently ived in Sydney for two months iday.