Carmencita

This is the first movie in what quickly became one of the most popular genres in the earliest years of motion pictures. Many of Edison's earliest Kinetoscope films featured popular dancers, the best known probably being Annabelle (Whitford) Moore. But "Carmencita" was the first such feature and, as best as anyone has been able to determine, the dancer herself also became the first woman to appear in an American-made movie.

The dance routine itself is similar in style and quality to most of the other movies of its kind and era. The completely dark background makes "Carmencita" herself the full focus of attention. Her appeal is said to have been based as much on her energy and fervor as on her actual skill in dancing, and even with the limitations of 1890s cinematography, it's easy to tell that she is enthusiastic about what she is doing. Her stage routine was probably even livelier.

It's not hard to guess why this kind of movie was so popular in its time. This and similar features could provide something worth seeing within the very limited running time of the earliest movies. Some of the later movies of popular dancers display more film-making experience, but "Carmencita" got the genre off to a lively start.

"Carmencita" was not only one of the first vaudeville acts Edison filmed for his Kinetoscope ("Sandow No. 1" was the very first), it also appears to contain the earliest appearance of a woman in an American film. Of course, this did not make her the first known woman to appear in motion pictures period; don't forget, Louis le Prince had shot the first celluloid film as early as 1888, and that short contained two women. (Although if Edison had completely succeeded in proving his company to have invented the first motion pictures, he no doubt would have attempted to erase that landmark from history altogether and given himself the credit). Not only that, it also began a new genre in the Edison studios: the famous 'dance' genre, one of the biggest things the company is remembered for today.

Like the various boxing movies created from 1891-1895, the different dancers Edison hired to perform in his studio also became quite popular and frequently filmed. There was Annabelle Moore, the well-known serpentine dancer (who deserves a genre of films herself considering she did at least three different acts for the studio). Fatima the muscle dancer (don't be fooled, she was actually a belly-dancer) also falls in this genre. And don't forget Amy Muller, who specialized in dancing on her toes, and the Sarache Sisters with their imperial Japanese Dance. Even the Indian dances recorded by Edison in 1894 could count as being part of the 'dance' genre. (I could go on). In this case, the dancer of the title who started it all (real name Carmen Dauset Moreno) is shown to be performing a routine she had been practicing since February 1890 (funnily enough the year Edison began experimenting with motion pictures) at Koster and Bial's Music Hall, New York City. Involved in the choreography are twirls, kicks, spins, and at the end, a bow. Lasting at only 21 or so seconds, the film here presumably documents an excerpt instead of the entire thing, which would have run on much longer.

Finally, there's one more thing that this film is important for: it was one of the earliest films that began discussions of film censorship. With a dancer who constantly shows her ankles and legs, how could anyone not object? And that's not to say it was a shocker the Edison Co. produced such naughty material for the first time; violence and sex would sadly enough become a common trend among the company. The first such film to cause people to raise their eyebrows was probably the aforementioned "Sandow No. 1", which featured plenty of skin and was no doubt a temptation to women. Continuations of these naughty film elements include the "Cockfight" films, the said boxing films, further entries to the dance genre, and the notorious "The May-Irwin Kiss" of 1896.

Objectively, there's nothing really WRONG with this film. It sets out to do something extremely simple, and it achieves that goal flawlessly, but that goal isn't really compelling unless one accounts for the film's age. It is said that this isn't only one of the first films ever made, but also one of the earliest films to feature a female "star" I suppose. I'm not sure how true this claim is, but it's not very hard for me to believe. The actress featured in this film is rather charming and dances in a vivid and exuberant manner, making this film be one of slight excitement thanks to the wild, cheerful movements made. It'definitely be really boring if it were an hour, but films of such a length were unheard of back in this day, so dwelling on such hypothetical situations is quite pointless. All in all, this is a pretty enjoyable way to spend less than a minute of your time and is recommended for fans of film in general as it is short and enjoyable enough to intrigue almost anyone.

In Carmencita, we get the story of a dance, and that's all. It's a great thing that the first woman who was ever photographed on celluloid was seen doing what she loves, doing it relatively well (I can't judge how the dancing was by 1894 standards, but she never appears to slip up), and is not being exploited for the sake of it. Here is a MOTION PICTURE, so here's motion and here's a picture of it. Simple. Awesome. I hope women seeing it today are empowered by it. Or if they want to scream "Patriarchy" and be mad that it's not showing a woman doing something that isn't meant to only appeal to men I understand. But it is splendid and exciting to see, especially in the not-quite 24 frame per second film speed it has been preserved at, and I think it's amazing to watch past the film history of it.

PS: on IMDb this is title url 0000001

Here's a perfect example of the pitfalls of writing about films: especially films from the earliest days of the cinema. The other IMDb'ers who have posted reviews of Carmencita's performance for Thomas Edison's Kinetograph camera are apparently reviewing footage from Edison Motion Picture #28, which has been reissued on DVD as part of "Edison: The Invention of the Movies". Well, I am likewise reviewing Carmencita's performance for Edison's Kinetograph. However, the performance I saw (and which I'm reviewing) was a different performance by the same dancer, filmed on the same occasion -- the second week of March 1894 -- but photographed on a different negative and not included in the DVD.

I saw this film (the one I'm reviewing, mind) in October 2006 at the Cinema Muto festival in Sacile, Italy. The print screened at Sacile was retrieved from the National Fairground Archive in Sheffield, England. (WKL Dickson, who shot many films for Edison, was an Englishman; he shipped prints of many of his Edison films to Britain.) When the Sheffield print was found, it was at first assumed to be one more copy of the existing Carmencita footage (the one on the DVD). However, after restoration, it was discovered that this was a 'lost' movie which no living person knew had ever existed in the first place: a completely different take of Carmencita's performance, differing significantly from the 'known' version. Since Edison's catalogue lists only one version, this 'lost' film has been provisionally titled "Carmencita #2" and catalogued as EMP 28.1.

This is certainly not a 'belly dance', despite a previous IMDb'er's comment. Carmencita's performance here is virtually identical to the one in the DVD version, with one interesting difference: in the version found at Sheffield and screened at Sacile (the one I saw), the señorita concludes her performance by curtseying to the camera (or to its operator?) and offering a moue.

Frame-by-frame comparisons make it clear that these are two separate 'takes': two completely different pieces of footage of the same dancer giving similar but not identical performances. I'd be keen to learn which one was shot first. Carmencita's acknowledgment in the Sheffield version might imply that this was the conclusion of her performance, therefore the final take. Or perhaps this was her first take, and Dickson may have felt that Carmencita's gesture -- appropriate enough for a live audience watching a stage performance -- was inappropriate for a movie, and he required her to do a retake. Barring authorisation for a trip yesterwards to March 1894 (grease up the time-portal!), it's unlikely that anyone will ever know which version was shot first.

On its own merits as an historic artefact, I'll rate "Carmencita #2" 6 points out of 10 ... plus one point extra (7 total) because this film and its twin sister -- placed side by side -- serve as a caution to those who would review old-time movies, or who would criticise other reviewers' film scholarship: sometimes the version which you saw, and the version which I saw, really are NOT the same movie!