Louis Feuillade came to cinema sideways — a wine merchant's son from the Midi, a cavalry volunteer, then a Paris journalist — and stayed to become the most productive director who ever lived. Hired at Gaumont as a scenarist in 1905, he was running the studio's entire artistic output within two years, and over two decades he directed on the order of seven hundred films of every kind the market asked for: comedies, melodramas, biblical epics, a celebrated series of child-star pictures.
What history kept is the crime serials. Fantômas (1913–14) put Marcel Allain and Pierre Souvestre's master criminal on screen and made the modern city itself look guilty; Les Vampires (1915–16) did it at seven hours' length with a gang, a journalist, and Musidora's Irma Vep; Judex (1916) answered the censors by inventing the caped avenger. Shot fast, on real streets, with a camera that simply watches, they achieved by economy what the avant-garde spent the next decade pursuing on purpose — the marvelous photographed as if it were ordinary. The surrealists noticed, and said so for the rest of their lives.
He never stopped working — he died at Nice in 1925, mid-career, at fifty-two — and never considered himself an artist. Posterity has overruled him on the second point.