On 10 July 1916 Brigadier-General Charteris wrote to the War Office:
I have the honour to inform you that 8,000 feet of cinema film illustrating the present British offensive has been taken by the official operators … The films have been sent for development and the preparation of a print. The print, it is anticipated, will be ready in a few days and will then be arranged into sections with appropriate titles, by the officer in charge of the operators, who will go to London for the purpose. It is hoped that the War Office will arrange for the issue of some sections of the films at the earliest possible date, superseding the films which the Topical War Film Committee have in hand for weekly issue. Sections aggregated to at least 2,000 feet should be issued at once. These films should be most useful for propaganda in neutral countries and especially in the United States of America.1
Charteris's letter clearly shows the initial thinking which was to produce a series of newsreels, differing from the previous ones only in length and perhaps quality.
The editing of the film and the uncertainty of Malins’ part in it has been alluded to earlier. The film was viewed in negative on 12 July and it was presumably at that point that editing began. This job was assigned to Charles Urban, who was known in the film industry both for the speed of his editing and for his habit of smoking a cigar while working with inflammable nitrate film. He claimed that the cigar helped him to think. Urban also asserted that he was responsible for the proposal that the Somme footage should be issued as a 5,000 foot feature film rather than in shorter parts. Brooke Wilkinson remembered that after the showing on 12 July ‘the committee generally agreed that it would be calamitous if they were issued in short sections’. As this arrangement was not compatible with the original agreement there were a number of meetings with the War Office before they were persuaded.2 On 19 July Lord Newton announced that Faunthorpe had the required 5,000 feet and that the captions were being put in prior to the edited print being taken to GHQ for censorship and probable issue about 1 August. The same day Newton had written to the British Ambassador in Paris, Lord Bertie, briefing him on progress and suggesting the film should be shown in France as soon as possible.3 On 31 July, however, Charteris was informed by the Foreign Office that the film would not be ready until the next week. It had been shown at the GHQ theatre in Montreuil to an audience including Sir Henry Rawlinson, who had commanded 4 Army on the Somme. Despite his reservations about the showing of dead soldiers there was little cutting and the delay was to do with alterations to the captions which had to be ‘reprinted, rephotographed and reinserted’, a process that might account for the muddled numbering of some captions in the existing running order. The altered print was viewed by Faunthorpe on 31 July. By 5 August there were fifteen positive copies in existence and more were being produced as fast as possible.4
The film was shown to David Lloyd George on 2 August 1916 and there was a limited trade showing on the evening of Monday, 7 August 1916 in Jury's showrooms, only a few hours after the film had been finally approved. Impressions were favourable from the start: ‘we can never remember in all our long experience, to have seen any picture which, for power of appeal and intense gripping interest, comes within measurable distance of this wonderful kinematographic record’.5 The reviewer urged every member of the trade to attend the special show the following Thursday. This was the first major exhibition and was at Distin Maddick's Scala Theatre in Fitzroy Square in London at 11.30pm on 10 August. This performance, which was presented by William Jury, included the reading of a stirring address by David Lloyd George, a special booklet and a half hour wait in sweltering heat for the film to start. It was described by the Bioscope as ‘one of the most distinguished functions of the kind yet held in connection with the cinematograph industry’ and was attended by members of the General Staff among others.6 The Times of the following day reported that ‘in years to come, when historians wish to know the conditions under which the great offensive was launched, they will only have to send for these films and a complete idea of the situation will be revealed before their eyes’. The correspondent also expressed the hope that copies would be preserved in the national archives.7
The film opened in London on 21 August 1916 and was exhibited initially in thirtyfour cinemas. According to Joseph Brooke Wilkinson, The Battle of the Somme was a phenomenal success: ‘On the evening of its release in London, I went with Jury and Malins to some of the cinemas where the film was being shown. When we arrived at the Finsbury Park Rink, we realised how great the success of the film was going to be. We had some difficulty in getting into the cinema, the excitement and enthusiasm was tremendous.’8
The reception of The Battle of the Somme and its success as a propaganda weapon are beyond the scope of this study and have been explored by other authors. Our aim has been to look at the film as an historical document and we have demonstrated that much of the footage can be fixed in time and space using a variety of techniques, some of which have not been previously applied to the study of documentary film. Although fragments are often used out of context as ‘stock’ footage, The Battle of the Somme is in fact a record of individuals with names and histories. All of them are now dead but their pain, fear, courage and humanity live on in these grey images and are perhaps more real because we now know who some of them were, when they were filmed, what they were saying and what happened to them. It is certain that the surviving print is not identical to the one seen by the audience in August 1916 but we have been able to make an important contribution to recovering some of the missing footage. The bravery and skill of the two cameramen, Geoffrey Malins and ‘Mac’ McDowell, have been obscured over the years by the accusations of faking. After careful study of the evidence it is certain that a very small proportion of the film can be said truly to have been faked, and we are able to say where and how this was done even if we cannot exactly fix when. It was done for technical reasons rather than as part of any cynical and sinister attempt to mislead the British public about the scale of losses on the first day of the battle. Another contentious element that we have dealt with is the assertion that Malins deliberately included much of his own footage rather than use McDowell's. Again we argue against deliberate manipulation and suggest that poor record-keeping and confusion offer a more likely explanation. Our analysis indicates that both cameramen contributed about the same amount of footage to the finished film. Geoffrey Malins is certainly a controversial figure in the history of British film making and, by virtue of having left a fuller record of his activities, has tended to occupy centre stage in previous studies of The Battle of the Somme. We hope that our examination of McDowell's filming has redressed the balance somewhat and restored his reputation as a combat cameraman.
Finally, to return to our original purpose, which was to treat the film as history rather than as propaganda; what we can see on the screen is the first true test of Britain's citizen army. Although none of the men in the film knew it, and many of them did not live to see it, victory was two-and-a-half years away. The Battle of the Somme is a fitting reminder of the horrors of war and stands as a fine memorial to the bravery, humour and determination of those who in 1916 had only just set out on that long, long trail.