On 26 September 1923, a lunch was held at the Hotel Victoria for ‘the members of the Livingstone film expedition to Central Africa’ (The Times, 26 September 1923, 6). The lunch was attended by 46 people, including two members of parliament and 15 clergymen, and was presided over by Lord Burnham, the proprietor of the Daily Telegraph. Dean Rapp and Charles W. Weber stated that the lunch was intended to ‘solicit moral and financial support’ for the expedition and film, which would cost ‘about £12,000’. Amongst the many religious organisations that contributed funds were the London Missionary Society, which gave £200 in exchange for the right to show the film in Glasgow for several days, while thirteen businesses also provided supplies and equipment (Rapp and Weber, 1989, 4).

The Times wrote, before the expedition even departed, that ‘the forthcoming film should be worthy of exhibition in the churches and schools’, while Lord Burnham argued that the ‘cinema was now regarded as the continuation school of the world’s knowledge’. The film was thus presented as a pedagogical tool and as a religious lesson even before production had begun (The Times, 26 September 1923, 6, and 27 September 1923, 8). Sir Frederick Lugard, the imperial theorist, predicted that such a film ‘would fire the imagination of youth as nothing else can do’, instilling traditional imperial values and patriotism. W. G. Ormsby-Gore, Under Secretary of State for the Colonies, presented the film as ‘the urgent cry of the Colonial Office… for men of the right stamp to come forward and administer these vast territories’. Clergy viewed the film as ‘propaganda’ for missionary societies, with one churchman stating that he could ‘conceive of nothing more likely to generate Missionary enthusiasm than this film’ (Rapp and Weber, 1989, 4,5). Upon the film’s release, the film’s press book published a lengthy list of quotations from leading figures within imperial politics, history and literature – such as Sir Rider Haggard – and in particular from prominent religious men. For example, the Bishop of London was quoted as saying ‘I thoroughly believe that these films will be more effective than any sermons we have ever preached in our lives’.

The expedition left England on 26 October 1923 and returned from Zanzibar just over a year later. According to the film’s press book, the expedition travelled about 25,000 miles in this time, ‘of which 1,200 were on foot’. An account of the trip, written by Henry Walton, who played Stanley, was published in 1925.

Footage from the expedition was used not only in Livingstone – the narrative of which was based predominantly on the writings of Livingstone and Stanley and the classic Victorian biography of Livingstone by W.G. Blaikie – but also in Adventure. This documentary of African fauna, and wildlife, with a ‘thorough description of Zanzibar’, was accompanied by Wetherell’s ‘personal commentary’ during its run at the Philharmonic Hall in London in May 1925 (The Times, 23 May 1925, 9). Livingstone was also re-cut and re-released on a number of occasions. Later in 1925 the film was cut by a third, while explanatory maps and the concluding sequences at Westminster Abbey were added – as suggested in Kinematograph Weekly’s original review. It was again re-edited at the end of 1927 and now presented as a serial in six parts – an indication, Bioscope suggested, of the film’s ‘remarkable popularity’ – before a sound version was produced in 1931 (Bioscope, 10 November 1927, 50; Rapp and Weber, 1989, 15). The shortened version viewed here was available for hire from the Religious Film Society during the 1930s, and Sight and Sound noted the exhibition of this version in churches in the mid-1930s (Sight and Sound, Spring 1934, 25).

In January 1925, The Times reported another luncheon at the Hotel Victoria, which this time preceded a private exhibition of Livingstone at the Albert Hall. Again, prominent figures attended, including Ormsby-Gore, who contrasted Livingstone with the American ‘criminal’ films that were doing ‘incalculable harm’ wherever shown and ‘especially in India’, and Lord Riddell, who praised the ‘great educational value’ of the film (The Times, 29 January 1925, 10). Bioscope recognised potential commercial problems in presenting the film in such terms. ‘It was a mistake’, the magazine argued, ‘to give the first performance at the Albert Hall at what appeared to be a semi-religious gathering of an unusually depressing character. The film is far from being mere religious propaganda, but its fine entertainment qualities will have to be brought out by means of expert showmanship if it is to score the success it deserves’ (Bioscope, 5 February 1925, 38).

Historian Andrew Roberts argued that while the film was ‘well received in missionary circles’ it was a ‘commercial flop’, yet contemporary sources present the film as a popular success (Roberts, 1987, 200). Posters in England exclaimed ‘Livingstone will be shown in every City, Town and Village in Great Britain!’ and a subsequent report claimed that the film – which was initially distributed by Butchers – had been booked in up to 1,500 theatres in England and realised its cost ‘several times over’ (Gleaner, 21 June 1926, 13). More recently, Rapp and Weber have commented on its successful northern release in the autumn of 1925, when posters were displayed in every school in Leeds, and its ‘equally successful release in the South during the winter and spring of 1926’ (Rapp and Weber, 1989, 13).

Certainly the reported success of the film, as emphasised by the British film press, endorsed a popular discourse that promoted the development of a distinctly British film industry, ready to challenge its dominant American rival. Indeed, a common theme amongst the reviews was the emphasis on the film’s British credentials – ‘it is a triumph for the British Kinema industry’, ‘the most remarkable film ever made as a result of British industry’, and ‘a unique British production which everyone should see’ (‘Livingstone Press Book’). The film’s marketing and the discourses surrounding its release positioned Lvingstone as virtually representative of this re-emerging British film industry.

When Livingstone failed to secure American distribution in May 1926, Wetherell and the British press suggested that this was symptomatic of this transatlantic film rivalry. A British report, reprinted in the Jamaican press, stated that ‘America’s cinema industry… has astonished public opinion in America and made itself ridiculous by refusing to accept another British film “Livingstone”, one of the most popular subjects ever produced on the ground that “Livingstone was not an American citizen”’. Wetherell claimed that the American film buyers were ignorant and unaware of Livingstone, concluding bitterly that ‘Darkest Africa is nothing to darkest New York where the film buyers are’ (Gleaner, 21 June 1926, 13). The film’s distribution and exhibition was instead dependent on the American churches – who ‘will see that it reaches their public in all the big centres’ – at least until an unsuccessful one-week run in New York in 1929. Arrangements were made with United Artists in 1925 to exhibit the film across Europe, but Wetherell published a lengthy report in Bioscope in August 1926 noting the extreme difficulties he faced in exhibiting the film in South Africa (Bioscope, 28 May 1925, 31). Wetherell argued that despite some successful screenings – most notably at the Cape Town Town Hall in September 1925 and to African audiences in Blantyre, Nyasaland – the African Film Trust ‘controls practically every cinema from the Cape to Nairobi’. Wetherell concluded that British films could only challenge their foreign counterparts ‘if the African and other dominion markets were really thrown open to British films’ (Bioscope, 19 August 1926, 22; The Times, 5 October 1926, 10). His claims were strongly rejected by African Films Limited, but the dialogue highlighted the growing importance placed on British film as a means of representing and promoting a British imperial identity.