# Grass (film)

* related portals: Documentary film, Silent film.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Commons category, Wikidata item.
A 1925 documentary film that follows a branch of the Bakhtiari tribe in Persia, and considered one of the earliest ethnographic documentary films. It was selected for preservation in the United States National Film Registry by the Library of Congress.
Cast and Crew :
| Cast ||
| Role | Actor |
| Self | Merian C. Cooper |
| Self | Ernest B. Schoedsack |
| Self | Marguerite Harrison |
| Self | Haidar Khan |
| Crew ||
| Distributor | Paramount Pictures, Netflix |
| Director | Merian C. Cooper (d. 1973), Ernest B. Schoedsack (d. 1979) |
| Producer | Merian C. Cooper, Ernest B. Schoedsack |
| Screenwriter | Terry Ramsaye (d. 1954) |
| Cinematographer | Merian C. Cooper |
| Composer | Hugo Riesenfeld (d. 1939) |
| Based on available information, the latest crew member that is relevant to international copyright laws died in 1979, meaning that this film may be in the public domain in countries and jurisdictions with 44 years p.m.a. or less, as well as in the United States. ||
Adolph Zukor and Jesse L. Lasky ~ present ~ GRASS A Nation's Battle for Life
A Paramount Picture Copyright MCMCCV by Famous Players Lasky Corp. All Rights Reserved.
Recorded for the screen by MERIAN C. COOPER and ERNEST B. SCHOEDSACK with MARGUERITE HARRISON
Edited and Titles by Terry Ramsays and Richard P. Carver Passed by the National Board of Review.
¶ Long the sages have told us how our forefathers, the Aryans of old, rose remote in Asia and began conquest of earth, moving ever in the path of the Sun.
¶ We are the travelers who still face to the westward.
¶ Back in the East behind us are the secrets of our own past, and a tradition of our brothers still living in the cradle of the race——a long since Forgotten People.
(You will only see the man on the screen now, for during the migration they were behind the cameras.)
Merian C. Cooper
Ernest Schoedsack
Marguerite Harrison
Eastward through the hills of Asia Minor our journey begins…
∘ CONSTANTINOPLE ∘ ANGORA
PERSIA
ARABIA
The caravan route out of Angora, worn by the passing feet of centuries, leads us on the mystery.
Thirty days on end——over bleak plains, from village to village.
"Hey kids! Loockee!"
Another month passes out on the Salt Desert of Anatolia.
And often we would run into——
——blinding desert sandstorms.
On one such night, as the storm increases——out of the darkness loomed a welcome Caravenserai, the desert traveller's refuge.
Safe within the walls of an old courtyard.
At ease by their fire, the camel drivers tell tales of the desert——and stories of the Forgotten People, whom none has seen.
As the embers die.
Dawn reveals our refuge——
"Gosh——it's another day!"
"Morning, pup."
Breakfast offers ekmek, unleavened bread that was old when Scripture was writ.
"A little feller has to look out for himself——"
"Thanks!"
Sunup.
"It's tough for a feller to be a magician's pup!"
"But a feller can show up a trick, anyway."
Weeks later——leaving wagons and roads behind us, we head off into the Taurus Mountains.
A sentinel fortress, grim ruin of a thousand years, now the abode of wild hunters.
Where men rely upon their hunting skill for food!
Tracks!
Camouflage!
He does not hunt for sport——he kills for food.
Just a speck against the sky on the brow of the cliff——
A hundred and fifty pounds of wild goat.
Flint and steel——where matches are an undreamed luxury.
Goat's meat!
As the morrow breaks over the mountains.
But we must push on to an unknown land where lives a Forgotten People.
And here our trail joins the great caravan route. East—East—always East.
Camels in the snow!
And out of the Mountains.
Out across the barren infinity of Arabia.
The one sign of man's law from Bagdad to Nedjd.
Desert Policemen!
The desert patrol protects peaceful tribesmen from the marauding Bedouins.
Here a hundred men patrol a territory larger than Arizona.
Off duty——just like every police station in the world.
Mohammed, in command——
——shows us how they spend a slow day——
——by turning out the guard.
And that evening, the policemen's ball.
So for months we traveled——met with many strange peoples——endured many hardships—
But going ahead, we were turning the pages backwards——on and on further back into the centuries——
Till we reached the first Chapter, arrived at the very beginning——
∘ CONSTANTINOPLE ∘ ANGORA
PERSIA
The ⊗ FORGOTTEN PEOPLE
ARABIA
We know them by the ancient life of tent and tribe and herd, the life of three thousand years ago.
Some of their children are white and fair before they are tanned by the sun of Arabistan.
Dinner time!
Dinner time for everybody!
Haidar Khan
Lufta
Affairs of large moment are on the mind of Haidar.
"The grass withers. The blight of sun and drought is upon us and our herds hunger…"
"There is no green thing and the flocks will die, and after them the women, the children and the men."
As the day wanes, Haidar calls his headmen together.
"Gather the flocks and herds——the grass is almost gone."
"Our way is to the East——to the far valley of Iran, where the meadows are rich with plenty."
"Dance now, for tomorrow we go."
Haidar can out-do them all——be it shooting, fighting, swimming or——
When we went to sleep we were surrounded by tents, but when we awoke——
Everyone working——even Haidar, the Chief.
Lufta is proud to be trusted with the Kalyan, his father's council pipe.
Haidar with Lufta——off to command the Quest for Grass!
A thousand camps are gathering… gathering… gathering.
All the fifty thousand of the Bakhtyari must go the way of Haidar——all on the way to grass.
These are not packs on the women's backs——but heavy covered wooden cradles——with a baby in every cradle!
If you're one of the really smart set…
… you carry your baby on an Arab horse…
All the world's afoot—— On the move to Grass!
The tramp of fifty thousand feet!
The thunder of half million hoofs!
For days they journey over rugged hills, camping in the valleys—until one morning before them roars a deep and treacherous torrent…
The mighty river Karun!
Not a bridge, not a boat——and the fifty thousand are coming!
How would you cross this river——taking your home and family with you?
Even the pioneers of the Covered Wagon days never thought of this——
With goat skin floats——
After punctures are plugged——
Animals, cradles, everything——all must cross the river.
Horses, cows, sheep, donkeys and men swim——but if a goat can he won't.
B-A-A-A-B-A-A-A-B-A-A-A!
All aboard!
The first Leviathan sails.
Always room for one more——if it's a goat.
"YO ALI!"
——their ancient battle cry.
Glacial water, white with rock dust, cold with the chill of mountain ice.
Watch that middle donkey!
They tie the calf to the raft, hoping the cow will follow.
Mama, anxious but cautious, lingers.
A hard man, this Chief Haidar——and like father, like son.
From half a dozen points——Haidar and his men…
"YO ALI!"
Talk about Rapids!
"YO ALI!"
Cries of the drowning!
Swirling down to death.
Just in time.
While the river takes its toll of life, the first swimmers land.
For six days and nights more, an endless, desperate, battling mob were crossing the River Karun——they were crossing at every point——crossing at every moment——day and night——crossing——
A week later, as night approaches, Haidar and Lufta——
——see before them a hundred and fifty miles of rugged, unmapped mountains.
On the way where there is no way.
"The riding kid" is with us.
Week after week filled with toil and danger——yet the tribes struggle on.
At length they make the night's camp at the foot of a precipice——
——and morning finds them stopped by two thousand feet of sheer rock wall.
Impossible to climb!
Impossible?
No! Starvation lies behind and ahead lie Grass and Life. We must go on!
High on the cliff——where even a goat can barely find foothold.
A girl with a live calf on her back!——She struggles on hour after hour——you can see her in the center of the picture.
Beyond the cliff and the next night's camp, Haidar and Lufta lead on into the snow mountain country.
The snow mountain's first line of defense…
They pour a swirling torrent down their snow-clads slopes across the path of the oncoming tribes.
This water's cold!
Any way to get there, even a cow will do.
Baby's first bath.
With skirts in the freezing water, the women struggle gamely on.
"YO ALI!"
"Ride 'em, kid!"
"Everywhere that Mary went——"
On and on come the fifty thousand.
And now, at last, the tribes come face to face with the most dreaded enemy of all——
——fierce old Zardeh Kuh, twelve thousand feet of defiance in rock and snow and ice.
Haidar and his volunteers cast aside their shoes of flimsy cotton——useless as bedroom slippers in a blizzard.
They must go barefoot into the snow to break trail.
On come the tribes!
The fight begins in earnest!
There's courage in the pipes.
A mule knows where to be sick.
Barefoot! Barefoot through the snow!
"Wallah Billah! Get on, Oh, Mother of Satan!"
"YO ALI!"
Haidar leads bravely on.
Five hours on——struggling up and up, always up.
The "riding kid" is still with us.
No quarter to women and children!
They must go on or die!
Like flies against the vertical mountain-side clings the desperate horde.
Zardeh Kuh's last rampart, two thousand feet of ice and stone, straight up.
Night and day they come, fighting up and up endlessly.
But slowly the top of Zardeh Kuh grows nearer…
Nearer.
At last the great moment——the battle with fate is won——
Zardeh Kuh is conquered!
"YO ALI!"
Lufta——in the vanguard——surveys a world of victory.
With frozen, bleeding feet and pain-wracked bodies … stumbling down … down … the other side.
Cradle laden mothers of men … staggering and falling…
Hope quickens the step.
Hurry, hurry on——the valley of promise beckons.
"YO ALI!"
The snow is left behind.
The conquered foe.
The have fought and attained their goal——they have fought a valiant fight.
The have reached the Promised Land——the Land of "Milk and Honey"——
The Tents of Haidar are up again!
¶ Now all that is left of this epic struggle are memories——and the last document witnessed by Major Robert Imbrie, the American Consul, who shortly after met his death in the streets of Teheran.
(Arabic characters)
Sworn to before me by Amir Jang, Prince of
the Baktyari at Teheran this 28th day of June, 1924
Robert W. Imbrie Vice Consul of the United States
M. C. Cooper, E. B. Schoedsack and M. E. Harrison are the first foreigners to have crossed the Zardeh Kuh pass and the first to have made the forty-eight day migration with the tribes.
Signed  Haidar Khan
Chief of the Baba Achmadi  Tribe of the Baktyari
Amir Jang  Prince of the Baktyari
 Sworn to before me by Amir Jang, Prince of the
The End
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
Copyright law abroad tends to consider the following people authors of a film:
* The principal director
* The screenwriter, and/or other writers of dialogue
* The composer/lyricist (if the film is accompanied by sound)
* The cinematographer
* By extension, the authors of any works that may serve as the basis for a film's plot
The longest-living of these authors died in 1979, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 44 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse