Century Film Project

Celebrating the movies our ancestors loved

Tag: 1901

Pan-American Exposition by Night (1901)

This short actuality from Edison takes advantage of technology to show off the technological advances of the new century. As with many of the documentary films of the day, it gave an audience a chance to see a spectacle most people would otherwise only have read about or seen in still images.

pan-american-exposition-by-nightThe movie consists of two shots, edited together more or less seamlessly to appear as a single movement. As the movie opens, we see a large pavilion and some other exotic buildings in the background in what is clearly daytime. The camera pans to the left, revealing more structures until it reaches a large tower. Suddenly, the image changes to the same tower lit up brilliantly by night, with floodlights moving across the ground. The camera continues its pan after the edit, showing how buildings that seem to mirror those we saw in the first shot look with their electric lights shining during the night.

This movie combines two of Thomas Edison’s inventions – the light bulb and the motion picture – into a single spectacle celebrating the technology of the twentieth century and Edison’s contributions to it. Of course, neither device was really a sole responsibility of the “wizard of Menlo Park,” but the concept of Edison as the inventor of these technologies was part of the branding campaign of the Edison Company. In The Emergence of Cinema, Charles Musser tells us that in order to accomplish the smooth, lengthy pan we see in this movie it was necessary to develop a new mechanism for the tripod. I wonder if it wasn’t also necessary to develop a new film stock in order to pick up the electric lights, since nearly all films were shot in daylight up to this point. Admittedly, it wouldn’t be possible to shoot actors under these lights with the film stock we see here – everything that isn’t a light bulb appears as a pitch black space, except for the areas directly under the floodlights, which are dimly visible. The other interesting piece is the edit from day into night, with the camera in exactly the same position and continuing the movement, giving the illusion that time itself has been manipulated by the filmmakers. This is an early and creative use of editing at a time when most films consisted of a single shot. The Pan-American Exposition took place in Buffalo, New York, in 1901, and was the subject of a large number of Edison films. It is the event President William McKinley was attending at the time of his assassination.

Director: Edwin S. Porter

Camera: James H. White

Run Time: 1 Min

You can watch it for free: here.

Blue Beard (1901)

Alternate Title: Barbe-bleue

This short by Georges Méliès is one of the longest things he did in 1901 and also one of the most serious subjects he handled. The story of a man who routinely murders his wives is a classic part of the horror genre, and fits neatly into my October exploration of its history.

blue-beardBy this point in time, Méliès and other filmmakers were beginning to stitch separate scenes together to create longer narratives. Méliès had already done something like this when he created the reenactment of “The Dreyfus Affair” in a series of single-scenes. However, those movies were sold separately, while this is billed as a single item in the Star Films Catalog, meaning that it would have been sold to exhibitors already edited together in sequence.

blue-beard1The movie begins with the “Betrothal of Bluebeard,” which shows a group of nobles in a set built to resemble a palace. There are many young women present. Suddenly, a man with a large beard and a haughty manner (Georges Méliès) appears, but the women reject him when he kneels before each in turn. He then has servants bring out cardboard props representing large sums of money, but this does nothing to change the women’s minds. They are more impressed when he displays a necklace, and the father of one of the ladies forces her to accept, although she (Jeanne d’Alcy) shows obvious reluctance.

blue-beard2The next scene is “Preparing the Wedding Feast.” We see the marriage party cross through a kitchen set, at which many cooks are hard at work. There is a procession of cardboard cut-out props showing elaborately prepared boars, steaks, desserts, etc. At the end, one of the cooks is bumped and falls into the stew pot. Another cook tries to fish him out, but only pulls out his clothes. Then there is a brief “Wedding Feast” scene at which the nobles sit down and eat in celebration in a sumptuous dining hall. It is not clear whether they are served the stew with the dissolved cook in it.

blue-beard3Next is the scene “Bluebeard departs on a journey.” Bluebeard displays the keys to his castle to his new bride and gestures that she is free to go to any room she likes. Then, he produces a large key separate from the set, and indicates the one door we can see on the castle set. He forbids her to enter this room, and gives her the key, perhaps as a test of her honor. Once Bluebeard leaves, the young woman shows an interest in entering the forbidden room, but she resists. Then an imp or devil appears (I believe that this is also Méliès in costume), and entices her until she opens the door. The next scene takes place in the “Forbidden Chamber.” At first, the room is gloomy and dungeon-like, and there are seven sack-like objects dimly visible in the background. The bride crosses the room and opens the window, revealing the corpses of Bluebeard’s previous seven wives, all hanging from ropes at the back of the room. The bride is shocked, and drops the key on the floor. The key grows to tremendous proportions, apparently to show us that it is now stained with blood, and when it returns to normal size, the bride attempts to clean it off. The imp dances about in this scene as well. The next scene is titled “A Troubled Dream,” and it shows the bride lying in her bed while visions dance above her as in-camera effects. She awakes upon having a vision of Bluebeard impaling her with a sword.

blue-beard4In “Bluebeard’s Discovery and Condemnation,” the bride is caught when Bluebeard returns home and sees the blood on the key, and he flies into a rage. This scene is staged on a courtyard set, the only set used twice in this movie. The bride flees stage right into a tower door. Bluebeard pursues her and we see the top of the tower as a set for “Looking in the Tower for Fatima.” There is another woman present (possibly intended to represent a Guardian Angel). Bluebeard seizes his wife and drags her back downstairs. The scene “At the Place of Execution” takes place back in the courtyard, as does the scene “Arrival of the Deliverers,” making them appear to be a single scene with two parts (and then a third): at first, Bluebeard threatens and rages at his bride, and then, just as he is about to slay her, a group of noblemen break through the gate (actually, it looks like paper) and fight Bluebeard, finally running him through with a sword and pinning him to the wall. He continues to struggle while they reassure the bride and the imp reappears to dance around the stage. Then the sword is removed, cuing the “Death of Bluebeard,” in which he tries to rise and fight again, but finally falls to the ground. Then, there is a short “Apotheosis: The Eight Wives over Bluebeard’s Body.,” in which we see the women in a happy afterlife, with Bluebeard sprawled before them.

Bluebeard, as depicted by Gustav Doré in 1862

Bluebeard, as depicted by Gustav Doré in 1862

Bluebeard is a traditional figure in French folk tales, and there were several operas written about him in the 19th and early 20th centuries. This doesn’t seem to draw on any of them, however, although it probably draws on a 1697 story version written by Charles Perrault. Audiences in 1901 (especially in France) would be familiar enough with the story that it was possible to make this movie with no Intertitles, although in fact it was probably accompanied by live narration, at least when shown at the Robert Houdin Theater. I have had to fill in some details from reading about the narrative – it didn’t all make sense to me when I watched it cold. In particular, I didn’t understand the part about the expanding key, which I think Méliès was using as a kind of close-up, to make sure we saw the key and what had happened to it, but to a modern viewer it just looks like an anomalous magic trick. It’s also strange that the catalog breaks a single scene in the courtyard into three separate titles.

At any rate, this is quite possibly the most genuinely horrific work we’ve seen from Méliès, even granting that it retains his sense of playfulness (especially in the character of the imp) and fantasy. The implications of the story are quite grim, and even the bit with the cook dissolving into the stew works as sort of a black comedy joke, establishing the low value of human life in Bluebeard’s castle.  Bluebeard writhing on the sword is also fairly grotesque for the time. This is also the most complex movie I’ve seen from Méliès at this early date, although we are just one year away from his masterpiece “A Trip to the Moon.” That movie is just a little over two minutes longer than this one, but involved more elaborate sets and special effects, and a somewhat larger cast as well.

Director: Georges Méliès

Camera: Unknown

Starring: Georges Méliès, Jeanne d’Alcy, Bluette Bernon

Run Time: 10 Min, 15 secs

You can watch it for free: here.

Extraordinary Illusions (1901)

Alternate Title: Dislocation Mystérieuse

This short trick film from Georges Méliès deals with magical dismemberment, animated body parts, and the danger of one’s own body parts going into revolt. Of course, it’s all handled in a light-hearted fun way that keeps with Méliès’s child-friendly spirit, but I’m still including it with my history of horror as a movie that may have inspired darker visions at a later date.

extraordinary-illusionsA man dressed as Pierrot walks onto a proscenium-style set painted to represent a cave, with a few stools set at a distance from one another. He sits on the middle stool, then looks over to see a bottle of wine to stage left. He reaches for it, but, as it is too far, he detaches his arm, which now floats over to the bottle and picks it up, floating back across the stage to re-join his shoulder. He then sends his other arm to retrieve the glass sitting on the other stool, and pours himself a glass of wine. Next, he takes out a pipe and puts it in his mouth, but the candle is on the second stool, so this time he detaches his head and it floats over to light the pipe from the candle. Now, he tries to cross his legs, but they are uncomfortable, so one detaches itself and floats to the right stool, the other to the left. His legless torso now drops painfully to the ground. He gets his rebellious legs to reattach themselves, and then does a dance which culminates in his complete dismemberment as all of his limbs and his head detach themselves from the torso, with all six pieces dancing on their own. Finally, the body is rejoined, and he takes off his own head and sits on it before bowing, tucking the head under his arm, and exiting the stage.

The original Star Films catalog refers to this as “one of the best and most mysterious films ever produced,” which seems to justify the sense that it might count as a horror film. It claims that “there [is] not the slightest doubt that they are genuine living limbs,” although for the final dance, most of the limbs do look like props on strings, except for the head. Nevertheless, a lot of work went into making these effects in-camera and getting the timing and positions right must have been quite difficult. Imdb claims that this movie stars Méliès himself, but I’m not certain – the Pierrot figure doesn’t have his signature beard, and I feel like he moves a bit differently from Méliès. At any rate, whether or not it is “absolutely unique” as the catalog claims, it is a fun example of what Méliès learned to do in a few short years as a filmmaker.

Director: Georges Méliès

Camera: Unknown

Starring: Unknown, possibly Georges Méliès

Run Time: 1 Min, 30 secs

You can watch it for free: here.

The Brahmin and the Butterfly (1901)

Alternate Title: La Chrysalide et le Papillion d’or

This short from Georges Méliès involves giant insects and magical transformations, two frequently-recurring themes in his work. I include it in my “history of horror,” in part because of an ending that seems to suggest that a man has lost his humanity.

brahmin1A bearded man in a turban walks onto a set decorated to appear as a tropical forest or jungle. He brings out a large barrel-shaped object and attaches it to wires, then produces a flute and begins to play. An enormous worm-like creature (no doubt a caterpillar, but without any visible legs) craws onto the stage in answer to his summons. He kisses it affectionately, then puts it into the hanging object, which we now perceive is a giant cocoon. After a moment, the lid comes off and a woman with antennae and butterfly wings is pulled out on wires, appearing to fly. She stands on his hand for a moment, then flutters to the ground. The man pursues her as she dances about, and throws a blanket over her head, causing her to stop moving. Two other women now approach and remove the blanket, revealing that the butterfly has now transformed fully into a woman. The man falls on his knees before her, but she spurns him, finally putting her foot on his neck. This causes him to turn into a caterpillar, and he crawls after her when she departs with the women.

The appearance of the gigantic worm already had me thinking about including this movie in the run for October, but it was when the “Brahmin” was turned into a worm himself that I was really sold. The worm is cute, really, not frightening, but the idea of a human becoming one is creepy nonetheless. In this case, it seems as though the Brahmin has lost himself due to his powerful attraction to the butterfly-woman, and goes from being a powerful magician to a crawling worm for love. This movie was apparently based on a stage act by a fellow magician, Buatier de Kolta, which may have appeared on the stage at the Robert-Houdin Theater before Méliès filmed it and screened it there. A “Brahmin” is a Hindu priest, but I would imagine that Méliès was using the term for added exoticism, not out of a genuine interest in reincarnation. Still, one could argue that this Brahmin falls back into the wheel of Karma and misses out on enlightenment because of his attachment to the butterfly and inability to rise above human passions.

Director: Georges Méliès

Camera: Unknown

Starring: Georges Méliès

Run Time: 2 Min

You can watch it for free: here.

What Happened on Twenty Third Street, New York City (1901)

This short comedy is a wonderful location shoot of my home town, allowing a window into the past by showing a city street on an average day at the turn of the century. It also repeats some of the tropes of gender and voyeurism that we’ve grown accustomed to in Edison movies.

what-happened-at-23rdWe see a busy city street, looking directly down the street from the edge of the sidewalk. Crowds of people pass by in all directions. There are electric streetcars and many horse-drawn vehicles in the street, but no motorized vehicles are in evidence. A boy in a cap stands to the left of the frame, staring directly at the camera, and one man, who crosses in front of it suddenly steps back as if he were told to get out of the shot, but for the most part people act naturally, as if the camera were not there. A number of people jaywalk by crossing the street in the middle, not far from the camera’s position. A couple, quite distant at the beginning of the film, approach it slowly through the running time. Finally, when they are just close enough to be centered in the shot, they step over a grate in the sidewalk and the woman’s dress is blown up around her ankles, rising almost to her knees before she grabs it and demurely holds it down and steps off the grate. She looks embarrassed at first, but suddenly bursts into hearty laughter at the end.

New York's Flatiron Building

New York’s Flatiron Building

Before I get into analyzing this film, I want to talk about an odd piece of Americana. A fascinating architectural structure, known as the Flatiron Building, is located at Twenty Third Street and Fifth Avenue in New York. This building, because of its odd shape, famously channels a great deal of wind onto the nearby sidewalks. Supposedly, a certain class of New York male began to congregate there to observe women’s dresses blown up by the wind, because it offered a rare sight of female legs. The story goes that the phrase “23 Skidoo” comes from these men being regularly rousted by policemen on patrol. This may all be more or less legend, but this movie adds some credence to the idea that Twenty Third Street was associated with opportunities for voyeurism and exhibitionism, and offers its audience a safe opportunity to engage in it. What really stands out to us today is the wonderful location shooting, and the chance to see fashions, architecture, and vehicles of a previous century in excellent detail and under more or less documentary conditions. Nearly all of the men are wearing straw hats and neckties, and most of the women do wear long, heavy dresses that conceal their bodies from view. One interesting question it raises is whether the “star” of this movie was played by a woman or a man in drag, as was the case with many Edison pictures. Imdb credits a female actor, but the Library of Congress does not specify. Either way, she definitely breaks character at the end when she bursts into laughter, I think because of some comment a passerby has made. Of course, she would have been in on the joke from the beginning, so her apparent embarrassment is an act, whatever her gender identity may have been.

Director: Edwin S. Porter possibly with George S. Fleming

Camera: Unknown, possible Edwin S. Porter or George S. Fleming

Starring: A.C. Abadie and Florence Georgie

Run Time: 1 Min, 30 secs

You can watch it for free: here.

Photographing a Country Couple (1901)

This is another short comedy from Edison that uses still photography as the set up for a simple joke. In doing so, it seems to comment on the nature of “looking” and voyeurism.

photographing-a-country-coupleWe see an outdoor location, apparently in a park. There is a bench to the right side of the screen. A man carrying a camera and wearing a straw hat walks toward the camera, and the “couple” enters from the left. They are an unkempt man in overalls and a young girl in a summer dress.  The cameraman convinces them to pose for a photograph, and they arrange themselves on the bench while he sets up his tripod to the left. While he is preparing, the man gets up and peers into the lens of the camera. The photographer tells him to sit down, he’s ready now, but the man insists on looking through the viewfinder himself. The cameraman goes to the bench, and sits next to the girl while he looks. A boy runs up and ties the man’s legs to the tripod legs, and while he is doing this, the cameraman becomes increasingly affectionate with the girl, who protests at first, but then seems to acquiesce to his attentions. Now, the man tries to approach the bench, but the camera “walks” with him, and the scene ends after a few steps.

Judging from imdb’s report of the original Edison catalog entry for this movie, the punchline is missing from the surviving print. According to it, the man behind the camera “makes a wild dash for the photographer, but falls to the ground on top of the camera, smashing it to pieces. The scene ends with the lovers and Reuben all mixed up in a confused mess upon the ground.” Reuben, incidentally, is the generic name for the “rube” character in many early Edison comedies, despite the fact that he was played by different actors in each one. Quite honestly, until I read that description, I wasn’t sure what was supposed to be going on with the kid and “Reuben” walking toward the bench with the tripod. Possibly seeing the ending would have helped. The way I read it, however, was also interesting. It seemed to me as if “Reuben” became so fascinated with looking at the scene through the camera that he lost interest in participating in the dalliance with the girl, and that his approach was meant to signal his desire for a better view as the cameraman kissed his girl. There is still an element of this, since the film audience is also invited in to voyeuristically enjoy the cuckolding of our rube character before his eyes, and to enjoy the transgressive sexuality of the cameraman, without experiencing the consequences of that act. This may not have been the intention, but it is an interesting effect of the film today.

Director: Unknown

Camera: Unknown

Starring: Unknown

Run Time: 1 Min

You can watch it for free: here (no music).

High Diving Scene (1901)

This short from Edison is no big deal today, but it’s interesting because of its use of a simple technical advance that was pretty rare at the time. Unfortunately, we have no information about the crew on this film.

high-diving-sceneWe see a tall ramp, positioned to the right of the frame. A nearby telephone pole gives us a sense of scale – this is a very high ramp (at least two stories tall). After a bit of anticipation, we see a male figure at the top of the screen, and suddenly the camera tilts slightly downward, so we can see the large tub of water he will land in. He swooshes down the ramp on a bicycle, flying off the bike at the bottom of the ramp and soaring through the air to splash down into the tub. The camera now pans left, so that we can see the platform where he climbs out to give a bow.

The really exciting part of this movie is the camera movement. I’m not certain that this is the earliest example we’ve seen of a combined tilt and pan, but it’s definitely been pretty rare up to now. In fact, most of the early Lumière “panoramas” (from which we get the word “pan”) are actually tracking shots, taken from railroad cars, wagons, or elevators. Actually being able to pivot the camera on its tripod while shooting was a pretty major innovation; I wouldn’t be at all surprised to learn that it happened before 1901, but we do have a very early use of it here. What’s especially interesting is how the anonymous camera operator has carefully anticipated the subject’s movement and kept him in frame. Presumably there was no rehearsal, so this is a good example of documentary or newsreel technique.  My final observation is that the daredevil in this movie made me think of Douglas Fairbanks, not in terms of his facial appearance (the camera is too far back to see his face), but in terms of his body language. Particularly the flourish he gives at the end when he bows came across to me as very Fairbanks-ian.

Director: Unknown

Camera: Unknown

Starring: Unknown

Run Time: 45 secs

You can watch it for free: here (no music).

Another Job for the Undertaker (1901)

This early short from Edison Studios is another early comedy from Edwin S. Porter, but it draws heavily from another of the icons of early film: Georges Méliès. It’s something of a remake, or maybe a parody, of his movie, “The Bewitched Inn,” only with a surprise punchline at the end.

another-job-for-the-undertakerWe see a set dressed as a hotel room with a sign reading “Don’t Blow Out the Gas.” A man is shown into the room by a boy in a bellhop’s uniform, but instead of caging for a tip, the boy does a somersault. Partway through the stunt, he vanishes! The man looks confused, but he begins arranging his hat and coat and umbrella, each of which disappears when he puts it down. He takes off his boots and they proceed to walk away from him, disappearing when he tries to grab them. He finishes preparing for bed and climbs in. Suddenly the film cuts to an image of a hearse in a funeral procession.

In traditional film histories, Porter is often given credit for “inventing” parallel editing. Whether that’s strictly true or not, he definitely was among the early experimenters in creating meaning by juxtaposing film of different scenes, and the ending of this film appears to be one of the earliest examples. If the imdb version of the Edison Catalog entry for this film is accurate, the audience is to understand that he has blown out the gas and thereby caused his death. It’s a fairly clunky edit, and ending, but that’s to be expected in an early experiment. Otherwise, the movie closely parallels its apparent source, “The Bewitched Inn,” except that the effects aren’t as good and the physical performance is less amusing. I still think it might be a kind of spoof, in that Porter seems to be using the audience’s expectations that it will follow the same storyline as a deliberate misdirection to make the ending more effective. It’s worth noting that Méliès himself remade this movie repeatedly, including in the 1903 film “The Inn Where No Man Rests,” and that many of his trick films dealt with much the same theme of a person in a room having objects suddenly disappear or appear. In the early days of cinema everyone remade each other’s successful movies, so it’s not really fair to accuse Edison or Porter of being unoriginal, but this doesn’t quite stand up to Méliès’s version.

Director: Edwin S. Porter (possibly with George S. Fleming)

Camera: Unknown, possibly Edwin S. Porter or George S. Fleming

Starring: Unknown

Run Time: 1 Min

You can watch it for free: here (no music).

Old Maid Having Her Picture Taken (1901)

This is an early comedy short from Edwin S. Porter, who would become the chief director for Edison Studios in the early twentieth century and the creator of the famous “Great Train Robbery” just a few years later. While this is a far less sophisticated film, it remains interesting as a stage in the development of American film and its celebrated director.

old-maid-having-her-picture-takenWe see a proscenium-style view of the interior of a photographer’s studio, with photo samples on the wall, a full-length mirror, a chair for portraits, and a camera to one side. A woman with a pinched face speaks to the photographer, who leaves her alone after a few seconds. She turns to look at the samples, and the display suddenly crashes to the floor. She then looks and the clock, and its hands suddenly spin crazily before it also comes crashing down. Then she checks her look in the mirror, which seems fine until she holds her fan up to her chin, and then it shatters. The photographer returns to see the destruction, and hastens the woman into the chair, perhaps hoping to avoid further chaos. He poses her, and she once again raises the fan to her chin. Suddenly she is flung back and a moment later a puff of smoke emerges from the camera, which has exploded because of her ugliness.

There are a number of interesting points about this movie. In “The Emergence of Cinema,” Charles Musser reveals that the old maid is actually Gilbert Saroni, a “professional female impersonator,” apparently a vaudeville actor who specialized in ugly women. It’s a reminder of both the fact that early film was largely a male-dominated world and also that camp humor is older than Gay Liberation, though arguably its meaning is different in such a world. On the subject of both gender and sexuality, the Edison catalog ends its description with the line, “The picture finishes up with the old maid tipping back in her chair and losing her balance, displaying a large quantity of fancy lace goods. A sure winner.” This once again emphasizes the degree to which Edison was comfortable appealing to “vulgar” interests in its movies and ad campaigns. The movie is shot in a very typical style for the period, with a single shot from a single angle, with exits and entrances (by the photographer, at least), and a series of effects occurring for real in front of the camera. No camera trickery here: this could have been performed on a stage just as it appears. A final observation is the problematic timing of the explosion: the old maid observably reacts before the camera has exploded, but it never occurred to Porter to do a re-take.

Director: Edwin S. Porter and George S. Fleming

Camera: Unknown, possibly Edwin S. Porter or George S. Fleming

Starring: Gilbert Saroni (or “Sarony”)

Run Time: 1 Min, 20 secs

You can watch it for free: here (no music).

Star Theatre (1901)

Alternate Title: Demolishing and Building up the Star Theatre

This short from Biograph is a good early example of time-lapse photography and probably fascinated audiences of the day. While we’ve seen the technique often enough now, it’s still interesting to watch and think about its place in history.

Star TheatreThe camera appears to be stationed on the third or fourth floor of a building in New York. It faces an intersection, with a building prominently labeled as “Star Theatre.” At first, the camera runs at normal speed, and we see people walking along, streetcars driving by, etc. Then, the time-lapse begins and everything seems to be moving very quickly. At first, the building seems unchanged, but if you watch the windows, you can see it being gutted of interior materials. After a time, the roof comes off, and we see workers, almost like busy ants, swarming over the building and razing it bit by bit. Occasionally, you can glimpse one of them hitting the walls with a large hammer, but for the most part they blip by too fast to be distinguished. Soon, in place of the building is a large vacant lot. The camera again slows down to normal speed and we see people passing the space where once the Star Theatre stood.

Star Theatre1The Star Theatre was a pretty important location for live theater in New York for many years. It stood at 13th and Broadway from 1861 to 1901 and was involved in the first rise of what we today think of as “Broadway theater.” The center of the theater district, however, began moving north in the 1880s and by 1901, the owner had decided to relocate to 30th Street. Hence, this demolition of the old building, then known among locals as “the old Star Theatre” to distinguish it from the new one. As it happens, the American Mutoscope and Biograph Company was located at 11 East 14th Street, not at all far from 13th and Broadway. No doubt, the director, F.S. Armitage, saw an opportunity for a movie of local and probably national interest in the demolition of a beloved old landmark. He could have simply shot it a piece at a time, but he was smart enough to think of setting up the camera in a spot where it wouldn’t be disturbed (quite possibly the roof of the Biograph building” and taking a few frames a day over the 30 day demolition period. The result is very good. I found myself wondering whether the people flitting by on the street bemoaned the loss of their long-standing landmark, or whether people worried less about that sort of historic preservation in those days.

Director: F.S. Armitage

Camera: F.S. Armitage

Starring: Unknown

Run Time: 2 Min

You can watch it for free: here.