Introduction
Yesterday, I wrote about how turning your video project
into a film project is a mindset. In order for your video to move into the
category of film, you have to invest the majority of your effort in
pre-production and story. The film is made long before the first day of
shooting.
Today is the first post in what will be a weekly series
of film breakdowns. I’ll pick a clip from a movie, or corporate video and break
it down into a couple bite sized chunks that you can consume and incorporate
into your next project.
If you haven’t had a chance to see many foreign films,
brace yourselves for this coming clip. Most commercial American movies have an
incredibly fast paced editing rhythm. The following scene from Béla Tarr’s Werckmeister Harmonies occurs over the
course of one long take. In order to pull up the English subtitles, you have to
manually activate them by selecting the CC button in the lower right hand
corner of the player and then selecting English subs.
Take a look at the scene:
The Breakdown
Béla Tarr is an extremely intentional director. His
famously long shots are planned well in advance and he is able to see the movie
in his head before it ever hits the silver emulsion of 35mm black and white
film (and yes, despite films decline in popularity, Tarr continues to shoot on
it). And that is what separates the directors of great films from the masses—the
ability to take a strong personal vision and bring it to life on film.
The reason I picked this scene as the first film
breakdown Friday is to show an incredibly intricate scene so that I can talk
about storyboarding. Sure, anyone could set up a camera and have it run for
eight and a half minutes but what makes Tarr’s scene from Werckmeister so powerful is the interaction between the camera and
the scene itself. The camera is not a passive observer. It is an active
participant in this scene subtly attuning the audience to the emotional tone of
the moment.
I want to break down the scene into smaller chunks to show
how the camera works to tell the story. There is a short bit of the beginning
that this Youtube link is missing that gives a sense of the space before
Valuska’s entrance. But as Valuska enters the bar, his movement opens up the
frame from a tight shot of him and one of the drunks to a very wide shot of the
entire empty bar. He now has a stage on which to perform his opening
philosophical and astronomical monologue.
The next shift occurs as he corrals the barflies into
position as the sun, earth and moon. The camera like our attention moves in to
focus on Valuska and his model solar system. The proximity of the camera to our
speaker gives us a sense of connection and safety as he twirls these drunken men
around in circles. But the revelation of an eclipse results in yet another
shift.
To the ancients, an eclipse was a terrifying event—day turning
to night. With no scientific explanation for them, they determined that it was
a bad portent. At first the camera moves in to a close up to reveal Valuska’s thoughts
as he expounds upon the darkness of the eclipse, but as he proclaims the
complete silence that arrives, the musical score enters and the camera begins
to pull back. This move is the most powerful of the scene as the meditative
silence of Valuska, the haunting beauty of the solo piano and the wide,
high-angle shot all work in harmony to convey a sense of loneliness that the
darkness brings.
But the eclipse cannot last forever. As the moon moves
away and once again reveals the bright warmth of the sun, the camera too
returns to its position of safe proximity. As it settles, all the men of the
bar take up the waltz and for the first time in the scene, Valuska leaves the
frame granting full autonomy to his drunken solar system.
In the closing moments, the bartender urges everyone to
go home and the floor clears resulting in an almost cavernous emptiness. Valuska
walks through the void and as he leaves, tells the bartender that “it’s still
not over.”
Takeaways
Two of the key takeaways from this scene are (a) in order
to execute a complicated choreographed scene, you have to plan everything in
advance and (b) use the camera’s positioning and framing to enhance the meaning
of your shot.
(a) The amount of planning that must have gone into
filming this scene was immense. I’m willing to bet that the actors all
rehearsed their movements many times. The cinematographer and gaffer watched
those rehearsals like hawks and developed their lighting plot accordingly. But
before anyone even set foot in that bar, Béla Tarr mapped that scene out in his
head and put the major moments down on paper in storyboard form.
When planning to shoot your corporate film, make sure to
take the time to think out every shot and how it will all interact together in
the final product.
(b) The camera can be a powerful ally. The framing and
composition of your shots will have a large impact of how the audience reacts
to the image. Close up shots bring the audience close to your subject and allow
them to see minute emotions. Wider shots give more of a sense of the setting. The
size of the subject compared to the setting can convey a number of different
things. The small figure of Valuska in the bar during the eclipse gives a
profound sense of loneliness whereas the more crowded and closer view of the
spinning barflies is safer and more comforting. Pay attention as well to the
angle of the camera. A straight on eye-level shot is most common but if you
move the camera along the vertical axis, you can elicit different responses. A
low-angle shot where the camera looks up on an individual typically connotes
power and the opposite high-angle shot connotes weakness.
As with any “rule” in film, everything is dependent upon
specific circumstances at hand. But the way to ensure you are striking a chord
with the audience is to know why you are implementing any technique. So long as
you have a well-thought out reason for your actions, the audience will realize there
is meaning even if they can’t specifically pinpoint what it is.
