It has recently been reported that the first filmed Western was ‘Kidnapping by Indians,’ an 1899 short shot just outside Blackburn, England (The Times, 1 November 2019). Classically the status of first Western has been allocated to the 1903 silent film ‘The Great Train Robbery,’ written, produced, and directed by Edwin S Porter. It is this latter movie that I’d like to consider.

‘The Great Train Robbery’ begins with bandits breaking into a telegraph office and forcing the operator to stop the train. Once on board, the villains steal the passengers’ valuables, and cash from the security box, killing a guard, a fireman and a fleeing traveller in the process. They transfer to their horses, and disappear into the woods. The telegraph operator escapes and, interrupting a dance, raises the alarm. A posse catches up with the bandits while they are splitting the loot. They are all shot.

Lasting only 12 minutes, ‘The Great Train Robbery’ was one of the first films to use cross-cutting to show what was happening at the same time in different locations.

At the very end, in a short additional sequence, the leader of the bandits, played by Justus D Barnes, looks directly into the camera. He sports a spotted neckerchief and a flamboyant moustache, and his hat is pushed back over his head. He also carries a six-shooter, which he fires repeatedly point-blank at the audience.

It’s quite a startling moment.

This scene is sometimes cited as the first instance of cinema ‘breaking the fourth wall.’

The fourth wall was originally a theatrical convention: an imaginary barrier separating the actors from the audience. While the audience can see through it, the actors behave as if they cannot, remaining absorbed in the drama.

Since the earliest theatre, playwrights have chosen occasionally to break the fourth wall by having their characters step forward to address the audience directly - as in Greek tragedy, Shakespearean soliloquies or pantomime. Bertolt Brecht lit the theatre with bright lights to encourage the public to acknowledge that they were watching artifice rather than reality. He also had his actors play multiple roles and rearrange the set in full view. Some dramatists have gone further and scripted their characters discussing the play as a play, or considering the nature of their characterisation. Pirandello’s ‘Six Characters in Search of an Author’ explores such themes, as does Laura Wade’s ‘The Watsons’ (which will play at the Harold Pinter Theatre, London from 8 May).

Breaking the fourth wall suggests that author, actors and audience are all complicit in the theatrical deception. We know that you know... It can be disarming. It shakes the audience out of our passivity, and prompts us to engage, to participate, to lean in and take notice.

As a device it is perhaps most familiar to us from movies like ‘Alfie’, ‘Annie Hall’ and ‘Amelie’; and from TV shows like ‘House of Cards’ and ‘The Office.’ Of course latterly we’ve had ‘Fleabag’s’ side-eye.

‘What is that? That thing that you’re doing?’

Taken aback by the impact of this technique in a film from 1903, I was prompted to wonder what would be its equivalent in the world of commercial communication.

We’re accustomed of course to brand spokespeople addressing viewers directly in advertising. This is so commonplace as to be mundane. But just occasionally a campaign steps out of the conventional mode of salesmanship and acknowledges the fact that it is advertising; that we the viewers know what’s going on; that we understand the transaction.

I’m reminded of Molson’s subversive ad from the late ‘80s:

‘Jim Dunk says ‘don’t drink it.’’

Or the classic VW 1996 ‘affordability’ campaign:

’We are withholding a Volkswagen ’surprisingly ordinary prices’ ad until we receive confirmation that a Volkswagen Polo L does indeed cost £7990.’

More recently KFC has drawn attention to the shortcomings of its own fries:

‘Dear KFC. No one likes your fries. Yours sincerely. The Entire World.’

These ads assume that we know that we’re looking at commercial communication, that we appreciate the process. They’re post-modern perhaps. And they have the ability to stop us in our tracks; to make us think. We have to do some work to decode them.

Of course, making ads about ads can be a risky business. It can come across as narcissistic and self-regarding, as oblique and indirect. But used strategically, with wit and insight, breaking the fourth wall disrupts the inertia of conventional advertising. It creates impact and intrigue, collusion and compulsion.

As Bertolt Brecht observed:

'Art is not a mirror held up to reality, but a hammer with which to shape it.'

'Robbin' people with a six-gun,
I fought the law and the law won.
I fought the law and the law won.
I lost my girl and I lost my fun,
I fought the law and the law won.
I fought the law and the law won.’

The Clash, ‘I Fought the Law’ (S Curtis)

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