https://www.mediafactory.org.au/ryan-rosenberg/2018/04/09/notes-on-the-sven-nyqvist-reading/

https://www.mediafactory.org.au/ryan-rosenberg/2018/04/13/film-light-week-6-reflection/

https://www.mediafactory.org.au/ryan-rosenberg/2018/04/16/film-light-research-assignment/

https://www.mediafactory.org.au/ryan-rosenberg/2018/04/19/film-light-week-7-reflection/

https://www.mediafactory.org.au/ryan-rosenberg/2018/04/20/film-light-research-assignment-la-collectionneuse/

https://www.mediafactory.org.au/ryan-rosenberg/2018/04/22/film-light-week-8-pitch/

https://www.mediafactory.org.au/ryan-rosenberg/2018/04/25/film-light-week-8-pitch-reflection/

https://www.mediafactory.org.au/ryan-rosenberg/2018/04/25/film-light-research-project-claires-knee/

“The presence of the lake and the mountains is stronger in color than in black and white. It is a film I couldn’t imagine in black and white. The color green seems to me essential in that film…This film would have no value to me in black and white.” – Eric Rohmer on Claire’s Knee

It’s a good thing Rohmer has Almendros as his cinematographer here, because he makes the greens and blues truly pop. Rohmer’s tale of desire is played out against the backdrop of the exquisite Lake Annecy, which Almendros, as a pro, knows how to capture. It would have been easy to treat the lake as a purely ostentatious landscape, shooting it like a clip from Getaway, but Almendros first and foremost uses the locale as a way of enhancing the films mood and atmosphere.

In true signature Almendros style, the character’s are backlit by the sun (perhaps with the help of some bounce boards). Bodies are often shot from the waist up, and when in the shade, there really isn’t any noticeable key light. The shadow takes up the whole of their faces, but isn’t a distraction and detail is still evident.

 

Unfortunately Adelle was sick, so Kerry, Andrew and I had to present with that in the back of our minds. I think the pitch itself was kind of an exercise in all 3 of us figuring out what we were trying to do. Fundamentally it was about each creating something, but talking aloud and pitching naturally provided a different perspective over our purpose.

What that is exactly, I am still not entirely sure. It’s really about narrowing down to something cohesive between us. I think the same location idea is good, and since the pitch we have agreed that a window must be involved. In theory these are limitations, but I think some kind of parameter is valuable.

Robin liked how we said we will each be behind the camera for our individual works. Deep down, total control is something that I think we each desire. Mistakes may and possibly will be made, and we will be responsible for them. It’s kind of liberating, and the way in which aspects are refined will be crucial.

The other project I found totally fascinating was the group who are adapting a scene from Camus’ The Stranger. I recently discovered that Visconti did an adaptation with Mastroianni as Meursault and Anna Karina as Marie – I need to get around to watching it. It will be interesting to see what direction the group take and it raises some questions; how faithful will they be to the text, how will they light it, where will they shoot it, how long will each shot go for? I am looking forward to the end product.

My pitch to my fellow group members (in our Google Doc):

I think for the project to be ‘iterative’, the ‘rules’ or ‘parameters’ should be focussed on location. A practice that Kerry and I developed last year was to meet at a specific location once or twice a week from about Week 7/8 until the end of the semester. In the beginning it was about finding the shots by experimenting with the space, and as each visit went on it was about refining the shots that we felt most strongly about. This could be a useful practice; to avoid time wasting we probably don’t need to do as much improvisation, but using the same location could develop our work, and give each of us a chance to create a body of work (which felt like a priority for all of us). We could find a script, and each shoot the same scene (at the same location), rotating roles so each member has a chance to shoot the material how they want it (in terms of questions of lighting, blocking and camera placement, etc).

If we were to follow through with this idea, this week should be solely dedicated to planning the remaining weeks out.

Maybe the work that we aim for could be something like:

• 1 shot focussed on using natural light sources
• 1 shot focussed on using artificial light sources
• 1 shot in colour
• 1 shot in black in white

Was super disappointed that I missed this along with Perceval as a double feature at cinematheque last year (Rohmer’s Period Films Season), in what was honestly a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to watch them back-to-back, on the giant ACMI screen, in glorious 35mm. It is the biggest regret of my cinema-going life. I was on the train on the way there and just as I arrived at Flinders St, I had bad stomach pain and went home. I should have stuck it out. Watching this on on DVD was clearly not going to be as extraordinary, but it was nonetheless a true cinematic spectacle.

Almendros shoots this with little camera movement; each frame, long in length and controlled in purpose, giving the film a sense of realism as we watch the kinetic motions of the actors. It’s pure cinema. I’m not that familiar with paintings of the Romantic era, but I know that each frame could substitute as a work.

A majority of the scenes (indoor and out) are warmly lit. The film is minimalist in style which suits Almendros’ sensibility of simple lighting setups. Large indoor spaces often rely on sunlight, while outside characters are typically backlit. Practical lights are used, most notably in one early scene at night with a large ensemble moving (I think due to Russian soldiers?) under some sort of large outdoor archway.

Despite this film being noticeably different to other Rohmer/Almendros collaborations (in terms of pacing, framing and style), it’s hard to comment on how/if/why The Marquise Of O represents a shift for the two compared to Rohmer’s Moral Tale films (as I have only seen Claire’s Knee). I need to watch more, perhaps this wasn’t the best film to start with!

Class 1
Myself and Aria were selected to act in a lighting exercise. As I was unable to see the monitor, the points raised by Robin and the class about lighting were often left to my imagination. Robin demanded that the class physically move behind the camera to see what was going on, a valuable point that he has made a few times this semester. It wasn’t until Wednesday’s class that I saw the footage, and each aspect came out quite nicely.

Class 2
Paul gave us a chance to formulate groups and work out how we would approach the rest of the semester. Kerry, Andrew, Adelle and I joined a group out of our shared desire to each create something.

We all have short film ideas and though about this an opportunity to make them. However, the more we talked about it, the less it sounded like a good idea. We have settled on each creating *something* – it could be a shot, a series of shots, a short film, but the main focus is the lighting choices rather than some kind of broad idea or theme. In my opinion, we need to narrow down towards a common set of principles or parameters. To be continued.

“Almendros was an artist of deep integrity, who believed the most beautiful light was natural light…he will always be remembered as a cinematographer of absolute truth…a true master of light” – Rustin Thompson on Nestor Almendros in ‘MovieMaker Magazine’, #29, July 1998

I have watched 2 films that Nestor Almendros has shot, Rohmer’s Claire’s Knee (1970) and Malick’s Days Of Heaven (1978). For the last few years, I have referred to them as “the most beautiful films I’ve ever seen” – and I didn’t even realise they were shot by the same cinematographer until recently.

From what I have gathered, Almendros would approach each shoot with a desire to keep things simple. When shooting outside, he would often use one motivated light source, which was usually the sun. When inside, his lighting decisions were guided by how he thought the sun would light the room. Mirrors were often used to bounce sunlight, while practical light sources such as a candles and lamps were also used. Judging by his methods, Almendros wanted as much control as possible over exposure, which may be a simple thing to say, but the point I’m trying to make is that he has an undeniable belief in his method.

“I believe that what is functional is beautiful, that functional light is beautiful light. I try to make sure that my light is logical rather than aesthetic. In a natural set, I use what light there is, reinforcing it when necessary. In a studio set I imagine that the sun is shining from a certain point outside and I decide how the light would come through the windows. The rest is easy.”

I’m interested in the frequent collaboration between a director and a cinematographer. Besides Rohmer, Almendros worked on several films with Truffaut and some with Robert Benton. It’s a shame Malick didn’t make another film for 20 years (and by that time Nestor had passed) as they could have made some really incredible work in that period.

Class 1
Monday’s class was hectic as a lot was simultaneously going on. New knowledge was introduced, crew members were constantly toying under Robin’s direction, and the frame on the monitor was changing quite frequently. It was a bit hard to keep up with it all.

As I wasn’t assigned a role, I played a more passive role as audience member. I struggle to understand things when I’m not in control and doing them, and I feel I would have got a lot out of the day if I were helping in the camera or lighting department.

It was not a useless class though – I found great beauty in what was being achieved, and if nothing else, the peg ‘trick’ (not to demean) was a real eye-opener and something that I will use in future work.

Class 2
The ‘final’ project is always something that’s on my mind, and Wednesday’s class was the first time we discussed it as a unit. I liked how we each had an opportunity to share what we wanted to do with the remaining weeks, rather than having something fixed (even though I’m sure it would have been interesting and useful). I talked about my desire to create something personal – obviously involving other people but the content itself would be my creation. I am always thinking this way, though this time the feeling is stronger due to my frustration with the wider Media program, and how (I think) I don’t have a lot to show in terms of work. Looking back, this is probably not the best reason for creating something. I was surprised with how many people wanted to shoot some generic script, or replicate an existing film scene. I see the value, but I feel it’s something we have done and we should be more focussed on developing our own aesthetic, and how lighting works within that frame.

There was a wonderful period in my life 3 years ago where I had access to all of the Criterion films through a streaming service (sadly, this service no longer exists). It was here that I was first exposed to Truffaut, Rohmer, and in the spirit of selecting random European directors, Bergman. I watched two of his films – Wild Strawberries (I was drunk on whiskey at 1AM, it was spectacular), and a week or so later, Dreams, one of his lesser known works. Looking back, I have no idea why I didn’t watch more of his work. His sensibility greatly resonated with me. You could also see his influence in Woody Allen’s films, most notably Interiors which along with Husbands and Wives are, in my opinion, his best films.

The above thoughts occurred during and after the Sven Nyqvist reading, which, ultimately, I found to be totally fascinating. Nyqvist didn’t shoot either of the Bergman films I have seen, but this reading was a reminder to see how they collaborated with one another.

What I most admire about Nyqvist and Bergman is that they totally lack the pretension or the over-intellectualism that (some) filmmakers and theorists like to indulge in. Their love for cinema comes from a pure, emotional state.

“My parents were missionaries in the Congo and one of my very early memories is of looking at images from Africa captured on a wind-up film camera.  They showed African men building a church with my father, and the captivated me.  Later, when my parents returned to Africa, I was sent to live with my aunt and she gave me my first stills camera.  Apart from photography, I also loved sport as a boy.  When I was 16, I worked as a newspaper delivery boy in order to earn the money to buy a Keystone 8mm camera, which I could use to film the athletes in slow motion during a  competition in order to understand a new high-jump technique being used by American athletes to improve their scores.  That experience got me interested in shooting film, but my parents didn’t want me to go into the cinema because, to them, it was sinful.”

A year ago I bought a book about Ingmar Bergman’s Wild Strawberries, which is essentially the script and photography. It begins with a chapter ‘Bergman discusses film-making’ where he, like Nyqvist, details his initial cinematic discoveries.

“My association with film goes back to the world of childhood. My grandmother had a very large old apartment in Uppsala. I used to sit under the dining room table there, “listening” to the sunshine that came in through the gigantic window. The bells of the cathedral went ding dong, and the sunlight moved about and “sounded” in a special way. One day, when winter was giving way to spring and I was 5 years old, a piano was being played in the next apartment. It played waltzes, nothing but waltzes. On the wall hung a large picture of Venice. As the sunlight moved across the picture, the water in the canal began to flow, the pigeons flew up from the square, gesticulating people were engaged in inaudible conversation. Bells sounded, not from Uppsala Cathedral, but from the picture itself. And the piano music also came from that remarkable picture of Venice.”

I can see why they worked together…