ears ago, kids who patronized a certain Buster Brown store in New York could put a coin in an antique nickelodeon, turn the crank, and watch old black-and-white shorts featuring guys in funny suits clowning around. The images were grainy and small, and the film jumped up and down, like a visual hiccup. But it was still thrilling, this view into the past.
Today, films of similar quality are providing a glimpse of the future. And they don't cost even a cent.
We're talking about film on line, the uncelebrated but inevitable revolution in new media. The recording industry has been twisting itself in knots about on-line music, yet there has been less of an uproar in the film industry. High-quality music files, after all, can be easily downloaded on any personal computer, raising the fear of piracy. But a pirate wouldn't peddle serious films (as opposed to pornography) in cyberspace - at least not yet. Film takes up too much computer memory, and the quality is similar to the old nickelodeons. There's only so much time you can peer at a screen the size of a credit card before you get terminal squint disease.
But the technology is getting better, and it won't be long before films are made on ordinary desktop computers and then marketed, distributed, and exhibited on line. ''Wherever audio goes, video follows,'' says filmmaker Lance Weiler. ''It's just a matter of time.''
And Weiler should know. Three years ago, he and fellow filmmaker Stefan Avalos had an idea for a feature. Rich in vision, yet short on cash, they decided to produce the entire film using equipment you can buy at your ordinary electronics store. Total budget: $900. ''Typically, it's been an elitist occupation,'' Weiler says. ''You had to know the right people, you had to raise the money, and then you had to compromise your vision.''
The duo finished the psychological thriller, ''The Last Broadcast,'' early last year; in October, they became the first filmmakers to distribute their film entirely via satellite, beaming it into five theaters nationwide, including one in Providence. It was featured last week in a digital exhibition at the 52d Cannes Film Festival.
''If you want to make a film, you can just do it,'' says Jonathan Sarno, a New York director who started the WebCinema listserv for independent filmmakers. ''It's more like writing a novel or a poem. You don't have to be good at going to country clubs or have a trust fund or a rich uncle.''
And if everyone is making films - rich uncles or not - then it only makes sense that they're going to be shown on line. Sites that feature short films pop up every week. Like much of the free music offered online, many of these short films are glorified home movies. But some of them show promise, and, squint disease aside, there's something appealing about seeing raw talent stream across a computer screen. It's like being back in the days of the nickelodeon, waiting for the big discovery.
Has the next Orson Welles emerged in cyberspace? Not yet, but it's sure to happen. Already, filmmakers are showing their short films on such sites as www.dfilm.com, www.atomfilms.com, and www.iFilm
.net. These sites are a godsend for young independent filmmakers like Nisha Ganatra, a New York University graduate who is currently showing her award-winning short ''Junky Punky Girlz'' on iFilm. A girlfriend flick about cultural identity, ''Junky Punky'' has received raves from on-line viewers. ''The Net is a great way to tap into a new audience,'' says Ganatra. ''You want it to be seen by as many people as possible.''
A few weeks ago, iFilm presented the world premiere of ''Dead Broke,'' a thriller starring Paul Sorvino and Tony Roberts, on its Web site; at the same time, it broadcast the movie over the Internet to a digital projector at the Tribeca Film Center in New York. It was the first time a film premiered both on line and in a theater, but it won't be the last. The folks at iFilm are doing it again on June 16, with the premiere of Rob Nilsson's ''Chalk,'' a film about the homeless in California.
Granted, the debut of ''Dead Broke'' was a bit of a chore to watch on line; the technology is still too primitive for feature-length films. ''It's still early, but it is safe to say that the revolution has begun,'' says iFilm founder Rodger Raderman. ''And it's only going to grow from here.''
