Cinematography

Great point, Lindsay. For DPs and post people it means our work can finally sit right next to the projects, so producers see who is behind the look. Curious to see how crew attachments will show up in the Marketplace.

That sounds amazing, Luis Taveras. I have to admit I haven’t seen IN THE MOOD FOR LOVE yet, but the way you describe it has me wanting to watch it. Do you ever use that sequence as a reference when you’re grading your own projects?

Ashley, yes, a lot! Whenever a scene needs to feel lonely or full of longing, I go back to that sequence to study how they keep the reds rich without clipping and the skin alive against all that green. You're going to love it when you watch it!

Thanks for the bonus points, Ashley! Slow West is a fantastic watch—the way it builds atmospheric tension and visual storytelling is incredibly inspiring. I hope you enjoy it and I would love to hear your thoughts on it later!

The frame I keep coming back to is from the bombed village sequence in 1917 -- Blake mid-stride, the sky erupting behind him, his face caught between two competing light sources as the world literally explodes around him. What makes it work is that every light in that frame is motivated and performing at the same time. Deakins and his team built a custom rig to simulate the chaos of fire and explosion in real time, so the light is not describing the danger -- it is the danger. The craft disappears completely into the feeling.

It is the shot I wish I had designed because it solves an impossible problem -- how do you light chaos without taming it -- and the answer turns out to be that you do not control it at all. You choreograph it just enough to serve the story and then let it breathe.

And honestly, that discipline runs through every single frame of that film. The continuous take format meant there was no edit to save a weak image. Deakins had to design for a moving, evolving picture where every frame had to transition seamlessly into the next while standing completely on its own. That is a different and more demanding kind of visual thinking, and it shows in every shot.

I've noticed that there was a shot that I used when I wanted to make a shot look interesting, when the action actually wasn't very interesting. I mostly used this on commercial projects and it's a shot that I call the Michael Bay shot. It's kind of either a push-in and tilt-up shot or a side move and pan the opposite way while the subject in the frame either turns around lifting an object into view or the subject lifting up into frame while turning. Remember those Bad Boys shots where the guys get out of the car, well kind of like that.

Why I use this shot in sometimes, because it looks good, on commercial work your limited when and what you can shoot and a lot of the things that you're shooting are just boring subjects and you have to make it at least visually interesting and you're not going to reinvent the wheel.

So excited for this class to begin on Wednesday!

2 Spots remain:)

Only 2 spots! Let’s make it a full house. I can’t wait to meet you all!

See everyone tomorrow!

Make sure to get your questionnaire emailed to James!

Getting onto a set and seeing how all of this work and magic happens is a great learning experience. Being a background extra is probably the simplest way to achieve this. Just don’t list it on your resume.

The scene you’re referring to in 1917 was brilliantly lit and the concept so simple, a constant barrage of flares. Having to worry about the “one shot” look is enough to deal with, making at least one element simple but effective stood out in the final product. The movie of Jersey Boys when they’re finding their sound under a single street lamp springs to mind!

Great topic, Rakesh. Mine has to be the candlelit interiors in Barry Lyndon: one source, faces falling off into darkness, and it still feels completely natural. From the grading side, single-source scenes are a gift: the direction and contrast ratio are already built into the image, so color can focus on mood instead of rebuilding light that was never there.

Great point, Lindsay. From the grading suite you can feel the difference too: a scene with fewer, well-chosen setups is easier to make cohesive, because each angle has a reason and its own light. Heavily over-covered scenes usually mean matching a dozen angles shot at slightly different times of day, and the grade ends up fixing continuity instead of building mood. A confident long take often gives color more room to tell the story.

This is an interesting topic, especially when you dive into the history of aspect ratios, and realise that aspect ratios were never fixed, in the sense that there was no one aspect ratio. It was the wild wild west in the 20's and 30's until cinemas got frustrated and lobbied for a standard which became 16:9 and 2.39:1 and those ratios were chosen because that average met most cinema screen requirements.

When TV came out with its 4:3 ratio, cinema delivered movies had to be modified to fit, because 4:3 was the standard for TV. Today, phones are giving us 1:1, 2:1 and 9:16 as the average screen most people are using on a daily basis.

So, your question is very relevant.

Thank you, Lindsay. You understood exactly what I was trying to say. I’m not arguing against the director’s original frame — I’m arguing for giving the director more control over how that work reaches different screens. If we already accept different sound mixes for different environments, I don’t see why a filmmaker-approved visual master should automatically be considered a compromise. The question of cost and workflow is probably the biggest obstacle, but I think that is exactly where the discussion becomes interesting.

Exactly, Kevin. That history is one of the reasons I started thinking about this. aspect ratios have always evolved alongside technology and viewing habits. I don’t think cinema should abandon wide formats at all — I just wonder whether the next evolution could be multiple filmmaker-approved compositions for the same film, depending on where it is being watched. thanks for adding that historical perspective.

Not heresy at all, Muzafar. We already do this with color: a theatrical P3 grade, an HDR master and a Rec.709 trim for TVs and phones, each one approved by the director so the intent survives on every screen. A creatively reframed master is the same idea applied to composition. The key, like you say, is that the original team does it shot by shot, never an algorithm.

Exactly, Luis. That’s the comparison I was trying to make. If we already accept director-approved masters for color, HDR and different display environments, then composition may eventually deserve the same treatment. Not replacing the theatrical frame, but preserving the filmmaker’s intent when the viewing format changes. And yes — shot by shot, by the creative team, never an automatic crop.

Great breakdown, Lindsay. The seven LUT iterations with Tom Poole is the part I'd underline. When the show LUT is locked in prep and travels through dailies and VFX, the final grade becomes refining a look everyone has been living with for months instead of reinventing it. And the virtual shots inherit the same contrast and color from day one, which is a big part of why they cut in with the practical photography as one film.

This really resonates. So much of this business is built on trust, and you can tell pretty quickly when someone is genuinely interested in you and your work versus simply trying to get something from you.

I also love the idea of doing your homework as a form of respect. Taking the time to understand someone’s work gives you a much better starting point for a real relationship, whether you’re a cinematographer meeting a director, a writer meeting a producer, or anyone trying to build a creative team. Curiosity goes a lot further than a hard sell.

Couldn't agree more, Lindsay. It's the same in the grading suite: before the first session with a director I watch their previous work and ask about the films that shaped the look they have in mind. Those questions do more than any LUT, and they turn a technical service into a real creative relationship. Curiosity is the best way to earn the next project.

Thanks Mike Boas. That distinction actually gets right to the problem I’m working through.

In this case, the impossible geography is completely normal to the people who live there. There isn't really an audience-surrogate character arriving and telling us that something is extraordinary. If a road crosses terrain that shouldn't physically connect, or part of the landscape behaves in a way our physics says it cannot, the people using that road have used it their entire lives.

That’s why I’m leaning toward your second approach. Shoot it plainly. No visual announcement, no sudden change in lens language, no camera reaction telling the audience what to feel. Ideally they understand the geography first, trust it, and only gradually realise that something about it should be impossible.

Your Avatar comparison is useful because I think the difference for me is removing Jake from that equation. What happens if everybody in the scene treats the floating mountains as completely mundane?

That’s really the visual problem I’m trying to solve.

I suppose it’s more like Star Wars then. The environments are rarely commented on, they just exist.

Lucas didn’t want to dwell on alien vistas. Even if we’re looking at a twin sunset for a while, it’s because Luke is feeling longing, not awe.

Christopher Hannon What kind of audience experience are you aiming for: wonder, awe, unease, disbelief, dread, or a sense that the impossible is completely normal? And what type of Fantasy?

Dwayne Williams, honestly, a mixture depending on the moment.

I want wonder and awe, but also that slight sense of unease when the audience sees something extraordinary and the characters barely react because, to them, it is completely normal.

That is a big part of the visual language I want for Echoes. Sometimes the impossible is just sitting in the background while people carry on with their lives.

As far as the type of fantasy, I would describe it as grounded historical fantasy. The starting point is: what if the people later remembered as the Norse gods actually existed as a civilization before they became mythology?

The fantasy is absolutely there. I just want the people inside that world to treat it like home.

I'd keep the grammar too, and the same goes for color. If the grade suddenly turns cold or desaturated when reality breaks, it tells the audience "fantasy" before the story does. What works better in my experience is to hold the established palette and let the impossible thing obey the same light, then, if anything, drift a few points in contrast or temperature over the following scenes, so the audience feels something is off before they can name it. Arrival and Children of Men handle that beautifully.

Awesome topic. Guy Ritchie gets creative with slow motion. You’re 100% right that it can really help with the story.

A few that immediately come to mind for me:

Bonnie and Clyde -- the ending is probably one of the most famous uses of slow motion ever, and it makes the violence feel tragic and almost surreal, not just graphic.

Raging Bull -- Scorsese uses slow motion brilliantly in the fight sequences, especially to put you inside Jake’s subjective experience rather than just photograph a boxing match.

The Wild Bunch -- Peckinpah’s use of slow motion during the final shootout completely changed the grammar of screen violence and has been imitated endlessly since.

In the Mood for Love -- one of my all time favorite movies, and almost the opposite use of slow motion from the others: Wong Kar-wai uses the device to create longing, intimacy and a sense of time slipping away. It’s incredibly emotional.

And The Hurt Locker opening, with the explosion rendered in extreme slow motion, is another one I love because it lets you experience the physical force of the blast in a way real-time photography couldn’t.

Great topic, Rakesh. I grade a lot of music videos where high frame rate is everywhere, and the shots that work are always the ones landing on an emotional beat, not just a cool move. For me In the Mood for Love is the reference: Wong Kar-wai and Christopher Doyle slow down exactly the moments the characters can't say out loud. And slow motion is unforgiving in post, every flicker, noise pattern and skin detail is on display for twice as long, so it needs extra care in the grade.