From Ancient Epics to AR: The Evolution of Storytelling Across Mediums

 

In 1858, French physicist Joseph-Charles d’Almeida discovered that by shining light through two lanterns—one fitted with a red filter and the other with green—through images on glass slides, he could project a composite anaglyphic image onto a theater screen. Audiences wearing colored glasses could then view a three-dimensional image from any seat.

Although d’Almeida was primarily an academic and not a promoter, his concept did not gain public attention until the 1890s when it was adopted by Alfred Molteni, a French optician and proprietor of a leading theater lighting manufacturer. Molteni enhanced d’Almeida's design by developing a single projector equipped with two colored lenses, which he named the biunial magic lantern. His 3-D slide shows captivated Parisian crowds, marking a significant advancement in the quest for immersive entertainment. Molteni's fusion of stereography with theatrical elements offered audiences a mesmerizing artificial reality, setting the stage for even more sophisticated technologies as the new century dawned.

In 1858, French physicist Joseph-Charles d’Almeida pioneered a significant advancement in visual entertainment. He discovered that by using two lanterns, one equipped with a red filter and the other with a green one, he could project colored light through images painted on glass slides to create an anaglyphic picture on a theater screen. This method allowed audiences wearing colored glasses to see a three-dimensional image, providing a uniform depth perception experience from any seat in the house.

Though d’Almeida was primarily an academic, his invention laid the groundwork for future public entertainment. It wasn't until the 1890s that this technique caught the public's eye, thanks to Alfred Molteni, a French optician and the owner of a leading theater lighting company. Molteni innovated further by integrating the two colored lenses into a single projector, which he termed a biunial magic lantern. This device streamlined the process and made 3-D slide shows a popular spectacle among Parisian theater-goers.

Molteni's magic lantern shows marked a pivotal moment in the quest for immersive entertainment. By merging stereographic techniques with theatrical flair, he created compelling artificial realities that captivated audiences. As the 20th century dawned, these early experiments set the stage for more sophisticated technologies that would continue to evolve and captivate the human imagination.

It started with the force of a locomotive—quite literally, as the Lumière brothers demonstrated. In 1895, these French innovators captivated audiences with their Cinématographe, an ingenious device that not only captured images on perforated film but also projected them onto a theater screen as "motion pictures." Their initial public screenings featured a series of brief films showcasing mundane activities such as workers exiting a factory, a man wrestling with a horse, and parents feeding their infant. Despite the simplicity of these scenes, they mesmerized the viewers.

One of the most renowned Lumière shorts, Arrival of a Train at La Ciotat, presented a straightforward fifty-second scene of a steam locomotive thundering toward the audience as it entered the station. This film famously (though perhaps exaggeratedly) sent spectators scrambling out of the theater, terrified of being overrun by the oncoming train.

This novelty rapidly shifted public interest from panoramas and magic lantern shows to the dynamic allure of moving pictures. By 1896, the opening of the world's first dedicated movie theater in Edisonia Hall saw overwhelming demand, with operations running thirteen hours a day to accommodate the constant influx of patrons. In its inaugural year, this modest seventy-two-seat venue hosted 200,000 visitors.

The craze for stereoscopy had been significant, but the fervor for moving pictures reached a fever pitch. By 1908, over 8,000 movie theaters had sprung up across the United States. A 1910 report in World’s Work magazine noted 12,000 theaters nationwide, with daily attendances by 5 million Americans—approximately 5% of the U.S. population at that time, or one in every twenty people. The magazine described scenes where police were needed to manage the crowds eager to delve into the cinematic splendor for just five cents a showing.

In the opulent movie palaces and modest nickelodeon theaters alike, early filmgoers experienced what could be described as a rudimentary form of virtual reality. Although these initial films were silent and black-and-white, their photographic realism and fluid motion convincingly carried viewers away from their everyday lives to exotic locales—be it ancient Egypt, the moon's surface, or a Wild West shootout. The impact was so profound that when a gunslinger in The Great Train Robbery aimed and fired at the screen, audiences shrieked in terror, momentarily forgetting they were watching a film.

Of course moving pictures were still just flat two-dimensional images. The directing style mirrored theatrical staging, with films often resembling a play scene where a stationary camera captured actors in front of painted backdrops. To enhance the viewer's experience and overcome this flatness, filmmakers began experimenting with camera work, moving beyond static shots to create a sense of depth, a key element that has helped cinema become such a pervasive medium.

Every new medium tends to borrow from its predecessors, a concept Jay David Bolter and Richard Grusin term "remediation." For example, Augmented Reality (AR) remediates cinema by taking its foundational visual elements and extending them into interactive, three-dimensional spaces. The challenge with remediation is that new mediums often initially mimic the older ones they are evolving from, focusing more on replicated attributes rather than exploring novel features.

To truly innovate within a new medium, we need to look beyond merely duplicating past formats. The evolution of literature provides a useful analogy; just as narrative techniques have grown from simple storytelling into complex literary forms, AR can evolve by leveraging and transforming the cinematic techniques into unique, immersive experiences that push the boundaries of how we interact with digital content.

The journey of storytelling as a medium began long before recorded history, around 8000 BCE, at places like the Bhimbetka rock shelters in India and on the island of Sulawesi in Indonesia. Here, early storytellers began to transform their oral traditions into visual forms like painting, sculpture, and dance. They developed unique styles to convey the tone of spoken word visually and invented what we now understand as narrative focus. This allowed them to emphasize certain elements of their stories, much like a camera lens focuses on specific subjects while relegating others to the background.

Writing emerged as a new visual medium over five thousand years ago, with the invention of forms like Sumerian cuneiform on clay tablets, Egyptian hieroglyphs on stone, Chinese oracle bone script on cloth, and Mesoamerican logographs on wood. These ancient authors adopted the artistic tools of style and focus from painters, creating the first literary narrators—literally "written" storytellers.

While the original artifacts and the names of these pioneering narrators have largely been lost to history, their revolutionary impact is undeniable. They laid the groundwork for increasingly complex literary creations. Today, this tradition continues beyond the pages of books to dramatic expressions in modern media, such as films and television shows. For instance, epic movies like Ridley Scott's Gladiator and television dramas like Peyton Place are contemporary iterations of storytelling forms that have roots stretching back to the oral and written traditions of ancient civilizations.

In the realm of entertainment, a world shaped by storytellers opens up a myriad of possibilities. VR entertainment, much like its cinematic counterpart, spans a diverse spectrum—from music videos and documentaries to feature films, animated shorts, and immersive 3D IMAX experiences. VR promises to extend this variety even further, offering experiences not just from the comfort of home but also through arcade-like settings. One example is The Void in Utah, a VR entertainment center that combines real-world environments with haptic feedback to create social VR experiences. Here, visitors can explore ancient tombs, combat sci-fi aliens, or engage in ghostbusting.

Reflecting on VR's origins at the 1990 Conference on Cyberspace in Austin, Texas, it’s evident that early VR pioneers saw it as a new medium for storytelling. Terms like "cyberspace" were debated, with broad interpretations that included virtual worlds and extensive digital networks. Visionaries like architect Marcos Novak described cyberspace as “poetry inhabited,” and artist Nicole Stenger viewed it as a transformative force. Philosopher Michael Heim discussed the “erotic ontology of cyberspace,” expanding the term in a philosophical sense, while conference organizer Michael Benedikt emphasized VR's ability to transport us to other worlds, underscoring its spiritual and artistic potential.

This historical perspective brings us to a critical question about AR: “Does the technology drive the storytelling, or does storytelling drive the technology?” The evolution of AR suggests a balance of both. Initially, technology was the primary driver, but the current trend emphasizes design informed by compelling storytelling. This 'wet clay' period in AR's development is akin to the early days of literature, offering us the chance to shape the technology by integrating the kinds of stories we want to tell and thus influencing the future of AR storytelling.