Did a Scottish film 'beat Hollywood to the punch' as the first ever talkie?

"Wait a minute. You ain't heard nothing yet."

That promise, spoken by Al Jolson in the 1927 film The Jazz Singer, made movie history.

The first recorded dialogue on film, Jolson's eight well-chosen words marked the birth of the "talkies", delivered by one of the biggest stars on Earth.

The moment has long been celebrated in popular culture - most memorably in the 1952 film Singin' in the Rain - and there are plans for a variety of events to mark the centenary next year.

But what if those words weren't the first?

Researcher Marc David Jacobs has uncovered evidence that the first-ever talking feature film was Scottish.

And it was screened in Edinburgh - a whole year before Jolson's voice hit the cinemas.

Graham Moffat was a Glaswegian playwright who wrote plays for his touring company. In 1925 he decided to turn his debut play, Till the Bells Ring, into a film.

He approached a London-based company called De Forest Phonofilm, which had patented a system which allowed synchronised audio to be recorded directly onto film.

The early quality was poor, and it was mostly used to record short performances such as vaudeville or music hall acts.

But the Moffats had a much more ambitious plan in mind.

They wanted the entire company involved in a 45-minute feature film with synchronised sound and dialogue throughout.

The cast of six included his wife Margaret - a noted actress and one of the first suffragettes to be arrested in Scotland - and his daughter, Winnifred Moffat.

There was even a role for their dog.

A year later, they screened the film, first at a disastrous private demonstration which was marred by faulty equipment.

And then on 11 October in Poole's Synod Hall in Edinburgh, where it was billed as "a super talking picture of Victorian Scottish life".

Jacobs said: "Silent movie audiences would have been used to walking in and out, or leaving halfway through so people had to be warned not to come in in the middle of the film and disturb everyone.

"They had to be told not to talk themselves, just as if they were at an actual play.

"And people do, and it's amazing.

"You can see in the reviews, even the sort of people who are professionally being paid to watch these films, there's a sense of wonder."

The film ran for a week, with the Scotsman reporting "the movement and sound are perfectly synchronised and after the listener becomes accustomed to the phenomenon of screen figures appearing to talk and the ear attunes itself to the sounds there is no difficulty in catching the spoken words."

The paper also commended Graham Moffat's "true Scottish humour" and was so impressed with the offering it sent a reporter back for a second screening.

The film was clearly well-marketed and caught the attention of the press.

So why has it fallen into obscurity in the history of sound on film?

According to Jacobs, the film was acquired by an unscrupulous exhibitor who re-released it in 1933 as a brand-new film.

Moffat sued and won his case in 1935, after which all copies of the feature were returned to him. But the film was apparently never shown again.

He died in Cape Town in December 1951, never having made another.

One of his plays - Bunty Pulls the Strings - became a huge hit on Broadway, but his landmark contribution to cinema has never been recognised or celebrated.

And the film itself? Jacobs believes the only surviving copy of Till the Bells Ring is in the BFI National Archive in Hertfordshire.

It has not been shown privately or publicly since being acquired by the BFI more than 50 years ago.

He hopes the print can be examined and restored and a search undertaken for any other surviving material.

And he feels that would see the Moffats and their film get the credit they are due.

"I was amazed to discover the unbelievable story of the Scottish family production that beat Hollywood to the punch," he said.

"But I was even more astonished by the complete lack of interest in it.

"It was as if it was impossible to believe that a major piece of world cinema could have come out of a tiny London studio, hired by a canny Glaswegian playwright.

"But it did. And nearly a century after it was last seen, the time has finally come for the world to recognise Graham and Maggie Moffat's world-beating achievement."

And the first words ever spoken in the world's first talking feature?

The heroine, Aggie, says: "Still anither mornin' and never a word or a sign o' him. Eh, me! The sun's gettin' through, so we'll be wearin' oor braws to the kirk the day."

To be fair, Al probably had the better line.