The Great War wrecked the European film market, allowing the US to become the dominant film-making nation, and it has remained so to this day. Pathé of France, for a time, was the largest producer of films, and continued to be successful during the war due to its American subsidiary. British filmmakers, however, advanced the art form the most during the early nineteen-naughts (Georges Méliès and Edwin S. Porter were, more or less, national anomalies), reaching something of a national peak with "Rescued by Rover." Cecil Hepworth managed the most prominent British film company of the period, and they managed to stay successful during the war, before being outdone in the 1920s.
From what I've read in "The Oxford History of World Cinema," Hepworth was outdone partially because the editing in his films became incoherent (fades being used where cuts should be and vise-versa). Rather odd considering that editing is part of what makes "Rescued by Rover" a landmark in film history. Hepworth and director Lewin Fitzhamon wisely use simple cuts in this rescue picture. "Rescued by Rover" was a great commercial success; so much so (again, according to the afore cited source), that Hepworth had it remade twice to supply enough prints (presumably because the negatives wore out). I watched one of the remakes. (I'll relay details to the alternate versions section of this website.) Hepworth sold 395 prints, which was very good for the era (Chanan, "Early Cinema").
The story of "Rescued by Rover" is in the early film tradition of temperance and bourgeois fear of the poor; an alcoholic vagrant abducts a baby from a neglectful nurse, so a cute dog must rescue the child. After the dog gets the aid of a man, the man uses a boat to cross an inlet. I'm not sure the man had to use the boat when two bridges are visible within the frame. I guess it's part of the absurdity and lingering of the film. A dog is the rescuer, and the camera sits around patiently for the action to proceed, which, of course, is usual for the period. That the film doesn't do anything Griffith-like to hurry up with the suspense doesn't bother me--it's a short film, after all.
The continuity of the pace is the remarkable thing. Cuts for smooth transitions, panning to keep action within frame, a match cut to a closer look in the final scene, in addition to the similarity of indoor and outdoor lighting, make for a fluent film. In contrast with the lengthy rescue shots, the first and final ones aren't long enough. There's one or two jump cuts, too, or it could be just flickers. The worst problem, however, is the missing walls. It's probably feckless to mention it; not until filmmakers like Orson Welles came about would interior spatial dimensions be explored.
(Note: This is one of four films that I've commented on because they're landmarks of early narrative development in film history. The others are "As Seen Through a Telescope," "Le Voyage dans la lune" and "The Great Train Robbery".)
