Cinematography

It’s been a couple of weeks since I last checked in on this series, and for good reason. Between a busy holiday season and being deep in post, the work has been quietly moving forward.

I finally had a full editorial brief with the director on The Shape of Kindness, and we’re now into the next draft of the cut. We’re close to picture lock. Close enough that the conversations have shifted from “what is this?” to “what does this want to be?”

That shift matters.

At this stage, the director asked for two things that signal trust and alignment more than control:

– A temp score to help guide emotional pacing

– An editorial LUT for directional purposes, not polish

Neither is about locking choices. Both are about creating a shared language.

This is the part of the process where, in the past, I would’ve tried to solve everything myself. Recut the scene. Push the image harder than it needed to be. Over-control instead of listening. But working with a director and producer I trust has changed how I show up here.

The temp score isn’t there to dictate feeling. It’s there to test it.

The LUT isn’t about final color. It’s about reminding everyone what the image was reaching for in the first place.

What I’m learning in this phase is that collaboration doesn’t mean stepping back. It means stepping in with clarity, then letting others respond. The cut starts talking back. The film starts telling you what it needs.

And honestly, that’s both comforting and uncomfortable.

But this is what scaling up looks like. This is what moving from holding every lever to sharing intention actually feels like. The work gets quieter. The conversations get more precise. The trust gets real.

Next stop: picture lock, score, color, and sound. The finish line is in sight, and for the first time, I’m letting the film lead the way.

If you’ve been here before, I’d love to hear it.

What’s the moment in post where a project finally starts to feel like itself to you?

We’ve got a great Ask Me Anything happening January 7–8 with Anna Henry, and I wanted to flag it for anyone developing or collaborating on episodic work.

Anna brings 20+ years of experience as a TV development exec (CBS, ABC, Nickelodeon), producer, and script consultant. She also teaches on Stage 32, including the Stage 32 x Netflix initiative focused on creating content for the global marketplace.

This AMA is a chance to ask real, practical questions about:

Writing a strong pilot

-Series and pilot structure

-Character and world building

-Pitching for television

-The current TV landscape

Whether you’re writing, producing, directing, or shooting episodic work, understanding how a pilot is built makes you a stronger collaborator on set.

The AMA runs 1/7–1/8, and her next lab on writing a historical or period pilot kicks off this weekend as well.

Check it out here: https://www.stage32.com/lounge/screenwriting/Ask-Me-Anything-AMA-1-7-to-...

If you’re developing a series or planning to shoot one this year, this is worth your time.

I’ve been offline for the past two weeks due to some personal things.

But I felt a strong need to share this here — not to promote myself, but to connect.

I want to reach people who feel the same deep passion for 35mm film and the character it brings to storytelling.

About half a year ago, I made the decision to fully commit to becoming a professional singer and actor. I’ve been taking singing classes for over a year now, and my voice has truly started to develop. One afternoon at work, out of pure curiosity, I started researching something in ChatGPT:

What kind of cameras were used for music videos in the early 2000s — especially dance-pop artists I loved

The answer started with ENG cameras like the Canon XL2 or XL H1. But I didn’t stop there. I went deeper. I looked into behind-the-scenes footage of artists like Britney Spears, The Pussycat Dolls, and Alesha Dixon — and that’s when I saw it:

35mm film cameras like the Arriflex 435, Panavision systems, and real physical film stock.

At the same time, I realized something else: many of my favorite movies from the 2000s were also shot on actual 35mm film. That’s when it clicked.

That’s why films looked like films.

That’s why they had character, texture, soul.

What strikes me today is that this era seems to have almost forgotten real film. What I loved so much about the 90s and 2000s was the balance — analog and digital working together as one. A balance between virtual and physical reality.

Today, everything has to be fast. Instant. Digital. 4K, 8K, ultra-sharp.

But what happened to taking time?

Art needs time.

Time to develop.

Time to rehearse.

Time to practice.

Sometimes I wake up and barely recognize the modern world. Everyone seems focused on social media, ultra-high definition, and instant output — but where did patience go? Where did craftsmanship go? Where did physical art go?

There is absolutely nothing wrong with digital technology.

But where is the balance between digital and physical?

That’s why I’m writing this.

I want to connect with people worldwide who feel this too — filmmakers, cinematographers, creatives who still love or work with physical 35mm film, cinema cameras, and older lenses from the 90s and 2000s. People who miss character on screen. People who believe images don’t need to be cold and perfect to be powerful.

Let’s bring something beautiful back — something the world hasn’t lost completely, but may have forgotten. Something worth passing on to the next generations.

If this resonates with you, let’s connect.

Let’s talk.

Let’s share knowledge, passion, and vision.

Because the world could use more character on screen — even if it takes more time, more effort, and more love in post.

For upcoming music video projects, I’m especially looking to connect with people who still shoot or have access to physical 35mm film cameras and vintage lenses — and who feel excited about creating something meaningful together.

Much love to you all.

I’ve been thinking about stock footage lately, and I’m torn between two realities: Stock is objectively useful. - VS - Stock is also the cinematic equivalent of ordering fries instead of learning how to cook.

On one hand: deadlines, budgets, travel logistics, weather, permits, “this location now costs your entire film” and all the usual reasons we reach for the easy button.

On the other: there’s something mildly tragic about being a cinematographer and not… cinematographing.

So I’m curious where you all land:

When do you buy stock, and when do you go shoot it yourself?

Is it purely a budget/time decision?

Do you feel like stock footage ever cheapens the project (even when it’s technically “good”)?

Or is the real skill knowing when to stop being precious and just grab what works?

And here’s the spicy one:

Is anyone here shooting stock footage “on spec” with the intention of selling it?

If so…

What subjects actually sell (aerials, timelapses, lifestyle, industrial, nature, weird specific transitions of hands doing things)?

Is it a decent side-income or more like “I made $37 this month and now I can afford half a lens cap”?

What marketplaces are worth it, and which ones feel like donating your soul to an algorithm?

I’d love to hear how you’re navigating it, especially if you’ve got a rule of thumb like:

“If it’s story-critical, I shoot it. If it’s connective tissue, I buy it.”

Or if you think that’s delusional and everything is connective tissue now.

Fire away. I'm a grownup (or fake it reasonably well); I can take it.

Hi everyone!

I’m Andre — a creator with a deep passion for the 90s and early 00s filmmaking workflow. I love everything about that era: the texture, the discipline, the imperfect beauty, the entire hands-on process.

I’m currently looking to connect and network with people who still own, use, or have access to 35mm film cameras and 90s/00s lenses, especially anyone experienced with that old-school workflow.

I’m working on a low budget, but I’m absolutely willing to work hard, assist, learn, and put in the time to be part of projects that use these materials. My long-term goal is to collaborate with a filmmaker who’s creating a project using real film and vintage lenses.

I also plan to shoot a music video on 35mm film combined with a 2000s-era camera lens, and then scan the project to 1080×720 to keep that authentic early-2000s look.

So my questions to the community:

– Who here still works with 35mm and vintage 90s/00s lenses?

– Do you know anyone who still uses that workflow?

– And would anyone be open to networking or collaborating?

Thanks so much — I’d love to connect with anyone who’s keeping that era alive.

Andre

Hey Cinematography Lounge,

I wanted to share a really useful video that breaks down how color choices shape tone in ways we often feel before we consciously notice.

Watch here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-mtHYSQZkUY

The core idea is simple but powerful: filmmakers have three main color tools that work together to create a cohesive emotional world:

1) Production design

Sets, props, and wardrobe establish the palette “in front of the camera.” The video highlights how this can reinforce story and character, whether it’s heat and tension amplified through warm environments, or emotional distance supported by cooler, modern interiors. It also calls out wardrobe as a budget-friendly way to control palette since it dominates so much screen space.

2) Lighting

Color temperature (and sometimes bold RGB choices) changes how those production colors read emotionally. Warm light can feel romantic or nostalgic, neutral can feel clinical, and cooler tones can feel detached or lonely. The video also points out how more extreme palettes can support heightened internal states, while neutral lighting can keep things grounded and realistic.

3) Color grading

The grade can’t fully reinvent what was captured, but it can refine, unify, and nudge the palette. The video uses examples like applying a tint to make a world feel “off,” or pushing saturation and contrast to the edge for intensity. It also mentions building different LUT “looks” based on photochemical processes, then applying them selectively depending on the emotional beat of a scene.

The reminder I loved most: color isn’t just what we see, it’s what we feel. When it’s intentional, it quietly deepens the story without calling attention to itself.

When you’re planning a project, what do you lock first, production design palette, lighting approach, or the grade target? And what’s one film you think nails its palette perfectly?

F1® The Movie goes behind the scenes of the making of the film partnering with FORMULA 1 teams and drivers like Lewis Hamilton. See how the movie was filmed alongside the FORMULA 1 season, all the cameos of real owners and drivers, and stars like Brad Pitt and Javier Bardem interacting with the racers. Scenes were filmed on real race courses with real cars and fans. See how it all came together!

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DiwM41x1QNE)

https://www.indiewire.com/gallery/best-tv-cinematography-2025-2/

Go behind the scenes of Ballad of a Small Player with Oscar award-winning Director of Photography James Friend, ASC, BSC as he breaks down the many challenges and opportunities of shooting in and around Macau casinos for the Netflix dark comedy.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9fRQiB_qVJA)

Cinematographer Robbie Ryan BSC ISC breaks down the visual language of Bugonia, his latest collaboration with director Yorgos Lanthimos—from shooting in VistaVision to embracing long lenses, mechanical constraints, and an evolving on-set process.

Ryan explores how format shapes intimacy, why limitations can sharpen creative intent, and how trusting performance over preconception helped define the film’s distinctive aesthetic. From camera mechanics and optics to lighting choices grounded in location, Bugonia is a reminder that cinematography is as much about restraint and observation as it is about precision.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4fX7HsKxTIA)