moving things whatsoever, their combined effect is the opposite of restfulness.
Returning now to the subject of balance in separate scenes, we may consider depth, the third dimension of a cinema subject. This dimension is usually far greater than either the height or the breadth of that space which the camera measures off for us. And it is interesting to see what problems the cinema composer has in relating motions in the third dimension to those in the other dimensions of the picture. He often finds it hard, for instance, to compensate in the background for the movements in the foreground, without destroying the dramatic emphasis. The usual trouble in the movies is that, when the dramatic interest is in the foreground, the motions in the background nevertheless draw so much of our attention to that region that the picture becomes too heavy in the rear; while, on the other hand, if the dramatic interest is in the background, the motions in the foreground nevertheless become so heavy that the front of the picture falls into our faces.
These are common faults; yet they may be avoided by foresight and ingenuity. In the "Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse," Rex Ingram reveals a sure sense of proportion in his control of the marching soldiers. If you turn to the "still" of a village scene from this photoplay, facing page 133, you will get a suggestion of the equilibrium which is obtained for a time, at least, between the motions in various regions of the picture.
Let us say that the foreground of that scene extends from the camera to the cavalryman, that the middle ground is that area which is occupied by the build-
