MMJ V – Page 4 – COHORT FIVE

Slow motion in Upstate Purgatory

Upstate Purgatory (2016) from Lee Phillips on Vimeo.

The 19-minute documentary Upstate Purgatory uses a noticeable amount of slow motion as Lee Phillips tells the story of four inmates in the Albany County Jail in New York. According make to ShortoftheWeek, Phillips made this documentary using footage that didn’t the cut in a much larger, two-part series that first aired in Britain.

I’m choosing to write about slow motion because as a new student to documentaries, I noticed that Phillips used a lot of the effect to tell the inmate stories. I’ve mostly thought of slow motion as a way to see detail in something that moves too fast for the naked eye, such as a bullet leaving its gun or a large explosion as a hero slowly walks away in a Hollywood movie.

In Upstate Purgatory, using slow motion with a voice-over the images made me feel, in most cases, as if I was inside the mind of the inmate. My case for this argument begins at the 5:41 mark as the viewer listens to Lorenzo, a gang member who admits to killing people.

Screen grab from Lee Phillip's Upstate Purgatory. — Screen grab from Lee Phillip’s Upstate Purgatory.

The beginning of the sequences begins with positive motion in the frame as Phillips pushes the camera toward a gated jail door with a deputy behind. The deputy unlocks the door in slow motion and opens it toward the camera. Meanwhile, the camera moves around the door and toward the deputy’s hand.

It almost feels dreamlike as you begin hear Lorenzo’s voice. The inmate describes what he feels as he smells blood and the rush he feels. Phillips cuts to an interview scene with a medium shot of Lorenzo left of the center screen.

The lighting creates a deep shadow on the camera side of his face, and I believe there may be a light pointed toward the wall behind him. Phillips uses a narrow depth of field to blur the background. It’s the only shot played with a normal speed.

Phillips then cuts to a tight shot of Lorenzo’s face, though you can tell it’s a different background because he’s shirtless.

In slow motion, he appears to be spinning slowly with a blank gaze into nothing, occasionally staring directly into the camera. You can tell he’s spinning by the occasional moving shadow on the wall behind him.

The slow motion made me almost believe that’s the face he made while killing the other human being. It’s chilling every time I watch.

The viewer hears him describe a conversation he had with a dying man. Phillips cuts back to the interview shot where you see Lorenzo, who says he remembers telling his victim to “Just let it go. I’ve over man. Just let it go. ”

He cuts back to a super tight shot of Lorenzo’s eyes, a tattooed tear drop under his left eye while he describes the body turning into a shell. Great detail.

He cuts back and says he can tell when he takes away a soul. “And then that’s it.”

Another cut to a tight shot of Lorenzo’s fingers intertwined on his lap for a few seconds before cutting back to the interview shot. The killer attempts to justify to the viewer that he never hurt anyone that wasn’t trying to hurt him or who wasn’t in the “lifestyle.”

Without Missing a Beat

Mass Appeal’s web series “Rhythm Roulette” plays like a game show for hip hop producers. The premise is that an accomplished producer wanders their favorite record shop blindfolded and, sight unseen, picks three records. They then take those records home and look for samples, chop them up, and make a beat. There have been wildly successful producers on the show (e.g., Black Milk, Just Blaze, El-P), a producer who only samples from video games, and even the masked MF Doom. As a huge fan of sample-based music, I love this show. And one of my favorite episodes features 9th Wonder who has worked with Jay-Z, Destiny’s Child, Talib Kweli, J. Cole, and many others.

This episode, like almost all episodes of “Rhythm Roulette”, very neatly compresses the time it takes to make a beat. Producers sit in the studio for hours dropping the needle on record after record looking for the perfect sample. Even after a producer finds that sample, they play it fast, then slow, then backwards to find exactly how to sample it. Kelsey Smith, who edited this episode and a number of others, does a great job of using only what is necessary to show the process of making a beat. She uses matched cuts to make the session move smoothly. Her blatant use of jump cuts, however, reminds us that it takes time to make a beat.

At 5:01, for example, she shows 9th Wonder listening to the Jermaine Jackson record. Jackson sings, “Have I told you that I’ll love you forever?” Wonder finds something he likes in the sample and, without showing the process of recording and slicing the sample, Smith jump cuts to Wonder tapping his sampler with the word “forever” playing over and over again. She then jump cuts to him quickly tapping a single note. This is followed by yet another jump cut to Wonder bouncing his head up and down to a breakbeat. It looks at first like he’s tapping the drums on his sampler just out of frame. But Smith is actually showing him warming up to tap the Jackson samples over the drums that he has already made. The jump cut goes almost entirely unnoticed but still shows how much time it takes to put a simple loop together.

While the jump cuts show that some time has passed between the different stages of making a beat, they also give us a glimpse into the thought process of a producer. At 8:51, Wonder drops the needle on a track, speeds the record all the way up, and then Smith cuts to him listening to the track. She jump cuts to him playing bass notes on his sampler and then both the sample and the notes are audible. Hip hop beats are often made in pieces with random cutaways and noises woven throughout the final product. By showing this disjunctive process, Smith is staying true to the art of beatmaking while allowing us to see it happen quickly.

Anatomy of A Scene-Moonlight

I love these “Anatomy of a Scene” pieces from the New York Times movie section. Although I highlighted one already in my previous post, “Anatomy of a Scene: The Revenant,” I wanted to share and comment on this one too because I actually was hoping to do a post on this film related to music, and the ability the music has to editorialize a story, or be “emotional fascism.” Unfortunately, because it’s so new there aren’t very many isolated clips available yet, but take a look at the trailer or listen to this interview with director, Barry Jenkins and Vice media. “Director Barry Jenkins on creating empathy through his film Moonlight.” Skip ahead to 7:22.

http://www.nytimes.com/2016/11/24/movies/barry-jenkins-narrates-a-scene-from-moonlight.html

I like this scene because there is something very spiritual about water, about the ocean, and I like the immersive experience I have as a viewer because the lens is in the water. Deeper still, in listening to Jenkins, and finding out that the child actor Alex Hibbert can’t swim and is actually learning in the process of this scene, it resonates with me in a way it may not to non-African American viewers. There’s something I can’t quite articulate but it’s something to do with watching these two Black males together in the Atlantic Ocean, the body of water that carried so many to the shores of America, and took so many lives, the Middle Passage. Watching the young boy learn to swim really does hint at some element of survival on a deeper level. It’s tragic, and beautiful, and hopeful at the same time… It is as, Jenkins says, “a baptism” and I feel the “spiritual transference” he is talking about.

In terms of the visual language, what struck me right away was the use of the water, and cutting on the action of the water to make less jolting jump cuts, and to transition match cuts more easily too. If you look closely there are a number of examples; one of the most easy to spot happens at 00:45. It’s a match cut. There’s a jump cut at about 1:05, and it’s cut perfectly on the point where the water crests the lens.

I’ll be seeing Moonlight in full this weekend at Cinema 21. I’m looking forward to watching the rest of the film with a keen eye.

Tell Me Where You Are Josh

“The film is made in the editing room. The shooting of the film is about shopping, almost. It’s like going to get all the ingredients together, and you’ve got to make sure before you leave the store that you got all the ingredients. And then you take those ingredients and you can make a good cake – or not.”

-Philip Seymour Hoffman

You had to know I was going to do a post about The Blair Witch Project (1999). It’s my favorite movie and it’s a good blend of fiction and non-fiction storytelling. In nearly every scene, Daniel Myrick and Eduardo Sánchez (the film’s directors and editors) make compelling editing decisions. They had over twenty hours of raw footage and they managed to cut it down to 81 minutes.

I do have to offer a brief defense of this post. The Blair Witch Project is, of course, fiction. But it’s important to note that Myrick and Sánchez gave their actors very loose scripts and geographic locations to reach every day–and then proceeded to hide in the woods and (actually) scare the hell out of them. It was, essentially, a completely fictitious, mostly unethical documentary. After filming, the directors then had four different types of material to sift through. Here’s the list:

Video from a Hi-8 camera
Film from a 16mm camera
Audio from the Hi-8 camera
Audio from a DAT machine

They had to make very deliberate decisions about how to put all of these types of media together. The way that they chose to do it disorients the viewer while, at the same time, gives us clues about the locations of each character. Take the final scene of the film, for example, in which Heather and Michael are looking for their lost friend Josh:

Heather has the 16mm (black and white), and Michael has the Hi-8 (color with audio). They no longer have the DAT machine so all audio comes from the Hi-8. That is to say: all sound is being recorded by Michael. This scene starts off quietly because Heather (who is being loud) is holding the 16mm with no audio. She can only be heard when she gets closer to Michael. She asks, “Mike where are you?” and, as if to remind us that we can only hear through Michael’s ears, Michael says, “I’m right here!” Throughout this entire scene we get two visual representations of space while only getting one auditory perspective.

Myrick and Sánchez create this dissonance just in time for Josh, who has been missing for a few days, to call out to his friends from a distance. (Unless, of course you don’t believe that that is really Josh!) Michael says, “I hear him. I hear him. I’m going upstairs,” because sound is the only way that Michael, Heather, and the audience can figure out where the characters are in relation to each other.

But it’s the next part of the scene that is probably the most skillfully crafted sixty seconds of the film. In the attic, Michael believes he hears Josh in the basement and runs to find him faster than Heather can follow. Myrick and Sánchez cut back and forth between the Hi-8’s video and the 16mm’s film, but they are still forced to only use the Hi-8’s audio. So, without wide or establishing shots, the directors are able to give us a sense of increasing distance between Heather and Michael. They do this by showing that her screams get quieter and quieter as Michael bolts to the basement while she slowly moves down the stairs, paralyzed with fear.

After Michael’s camera is knocked out of his hands (thereby no longer providing useable video), we can only see through the 16mm and we can only hear through the Hi-8. We don’t need to know the exact layout of the house to know how close Heather is getting to what we know will be her death. Her voice gets louder and clearer as she descends the stairs, rounds the corner, and is overtaken by the Blair Witch.

The late Philip Seymour Hoffman said that films are, “made in the editing room.” There are few films for which this is more true than The Blair Witch Project. (Turner p. 30) Even though Myrick and Sánchez had a somewhat clear idea of what they wanted their film to be, they left almost all of the camera work to chance. It was their decision to carve a compelling narrative out of the footage that makes this film work. Because, in the end, the directors did have the final say over what images and what sounds came through, and they were able to mold that material into a kind of film that had never existed before and has yet to be duplicated.

Work cited:

Turner, Peter. The Blair Witch Project. Leighton, Buzzard: Auteur, 2014. Print.

Powerful, Strong, and Beautiful

“Powerful, Strong, and Beautiful” is an interview driven feature story about painter Aramis Hamer. KEXP and several non-profit Seattle art funds commissioned Hamer to create a mural on the Seattle Center campus. The mural was more than 130 feet long and 8 feet tall. The video uses a mix of sit-down interview, interactive interview, and dialogue.

I really like the opening sequence

The first few frames show The Seattle Times branding over a closeup of Hamer’s hands picking up a respiratory mask.

In the next three seconds we see a series of three jump-cuts showing Hamer putting on the mask. This is cut to a minimalist soundtrack of just a few notes going up and down a scale. The music helps to seam together the action and allows the jump-cuts to be less jarring.

The next cut in the sequence is to a medium shot of Hamer’s arm shaking a can of spray paint. We hear the clean sound of the can rattling. Then a jump-cut to a close-up of the hand spraying and we hear the hiss of the can shooting out color. The hiss of the can is continuous but the video match-cuts to the same action from low-angle medium shot while crossing the axis 180 degrees. This is followed by a close up of paint being stirred in a can, and then a rack of three spray paint cans. Then a medium shot of Hamer assessing her work. That’s when we see a lower-third graphic revealing her name.

Hamer is cropped at the shoulders and her face only takes up about one third of the screen. However, The attention is drawn to her because of her expression, and the fact that the image is exposed for skin which blows out the background. This removes some detail in the background, but still illustrates the relationship between the artist and her work.

I think the intro works for two reasons. First, the action in the sequence is immediately recognizable. Hamer picks up a mask, puts it on. Shakes up a can of spray paint, sprays it. Reacts to her work. The mind is quick to fill in the missing pieces and easily follows the action. Second, the audio is smooth, not choppy. The music, although simple, provides a soundscape that unifies the visual cuts. The use of natural sound was deliberate. It fades in and out in an unobtrusive way.

At :26 there is an exceptional use of slow motion and shallow depth of field. There is a close up on Hamer’s hand as it brushes nearer and farther away from the camera through the shallow depth of field. Painting requires repetitive motion which is fairly easy to sequence.

At 2:20. there is a sequence of closeups of the wall that highlights the painting’s color and texture.

The piece resolves itself with a soundbyte of Hamer reflecting on how working on art helps fulfill her life.

This video takes full advantage of the saturated colors in Hamer’s work. The close ups of the rich acrylic paints lend themselves to emotional content of the story. However, I decided that the organization of the interview segments is what makes the piece to be so successful. The soundbytes explore the relationship between the artist and her work. The vocals sound very rich although there is some room noise and audio hiss. The music helps unify the visuals. Natural sound only used selectively. However, when natural sound was used, it supported the story and enhanced the visuals.

Composing the In-Group | Defending the In-Group

While set design is often the obvious choice for establishing geographic space in film, using shallow depth of field and careful blocking can also show the viewer where one space ends and the other begins.

In this scene from his 2012 film The Master, Paul Thomas Anderson uses meticulously placed characters and a shallow depth of field to separate the in-group of the Cause’s meeting from an inquisitive intruder. The scene begins after the woman in blue regains consciousness after going through “processing”–a hypnosis-like interview–with Lancaster Dodd (Philip Seymour Hoffman). As Dodd debriefs her on her experience, the camera has an extremely shallow depth-of-field and focuses primarily on the two characters. Furthermore, every other character is either out-of-focus or partially obscured by out-of-focus objects. At 0:18, for instance, even though there are two other people on the couch with the woman, one is partially covered up by red clothing, and the other is behind the arm of a couch and a bouquet of flowers. At this stage in the conversation, Dodd and the woman are the two main points of focus. Anderson blocks his characters and places his cameras to force us to focus on them while being aware of the space they are establishing.

Anderson reveals the intruder at 0:27. He is obscured by Dodd’s shoulder. Even though he is in focus, we do not feel that he is in the group to which we should be paying attention. He says, “excuse me,” and the scene immediately cuts to the perfectly in-focus shot of Dodd thereby closing the intruder out. At 0:37, we see the intruder again–this time over Dodd’s right shoulder. Anderson is establishing that Dodd’s shoulders mark the edge of the group and the edge of the space. Anderson almost lets the intruder in at 0:57 when he says “excuse me” again. Dodd moves his blurry left shoulder and, just as the intruder is about to be completely unobscured, the scene cuts back to the in-focus shot of Dodd.

At 1:23, Dodd finally acknowledges the intruder and nearly moves out of frame to include him into the in-group’s discussion, but an out-of-focus lamp and Dodd’s wife’s shoulder still stand in his way. The camera almost assumes the intruder’s point-of-view and shows that, in fact, Dodd’s shoulder is the edge of the space. The out-of-focus couch and Dodd’s awkward posture show that the Cause’s conversation begins and ends with him.

After a few minutes of arguing, Dodd stands up to fully engage the intruder. At 3:11, Dodd’s wife’s blurry head moves out of frame and leaves nothing standing the intruder’s way. When the scene cuts back to Dodd, his wife’s out-of-focus head obscures part of his body thereby protecting him from outsiders.

At 4:57, Freddie Quell (Joaquin Phoenix) throws food at the intruder from behind the out-of-focus couch. He is the first and only character to physically move from the in-group to the out-group. This proves to be a central theme in this film.

Bread Makes Man

If someone assigned me a story about a ninety year old man making bread and mailing it to his kids, my day would be ruined. My next question is “how do I get out of this story?” When it comes to news sense, I have what is colloquially referred to as a lizard brain. I like stories that are immediately emotive or conflict driven. That being said, it’s good for me to watch a video essay like The Boston Globe’s “The Staff of Life and Love” so I can be reminded that even simple stories still have impact.

Writer Yvonne Abraham and videographer Scott LaPierre, through expert storytelling, reveal what the piece is really about. The story is about family, tradition, a man in the twilight of his life maintaining a personal connection in spite of geographic separation. This is an interview driven piece that profiles Sheldon Kriegel, a man who makes Challah, a traditional Jewish bread, then mails it to his children and grandchildren every week.

The video uses close-ups extensively. LaPierre starts with an close-up on Kriegel’s eyes as he is making the bread. Then it cuts to a photograph of Kriegel as a younger man. It’s a visual metaphor that, in the first few seconds, already ties the present to the past.

The sequence is repeated by showing Kriegel’s son as a child and and then as an adult at 00:26.

The next few shots show detail that adds interest to the story.

LaPierre uses close-up shots of Kriegel’s expressions as he makes the bread. I feel that the short focal distance to the subject augments the emotional closeness the viewer experiences. I appreciate the shallow depth present in several compositions. On the one hand it keeps the focus on the subject – literally. It also lends a cinematic quality to the piece.

Having Kriegel be silent as he makes the bread was a good choice. If I shot this piece, I would have been tempted to do an interactive interview with Kriegel, perhaps prompting him explain his feelings as he made the bread. However, I think it works better with the interview dubbed in later. Also, it allows the editor to move forward in the baking process without sequencing interactive soundbytes. In relation to the story, I think Kriegel’s silence relates that he is isolated from his family. Furthermore, it makes it appear as if Kriegel is making the food for his relatives rather than the photographer who is filming, or the viewer who is watching. Kriegel doesn’t actually look at the camera until 2:35.

I appreciate that this video is in black-and-white. Novice photographers sometimes overuse black-and-white as a shortcut to elevate the their projects. I say that just because someone desaturates a clip, doesn’t mean it belongs in a museum. In my opinion, black-and-white works best when it abstracts a subject, especially when that subject is mundane. It allows the viewer to re-engage with a setting by simplifying subjects to light, shadow, and texture. Large format art photographer Joel Sternfeld is quoted as saying, “Looking at a black and white photograph, you are already looking at a strange world.” Kriegel’s kitchen is a great opportunity for abstraction. Furthermore, Kriegel’s world is bathed in soft light, with highlight, midtones, and darks balanced delicately.

I appreciate that there is no music in the video. I think it would have distracted viewers from Kiegel’s aged voice. The, for the most part the sound cuts with the video. Natural sound elements sometimes punctuate Kiegel’s soundbytes such at the egg cracking at 00:45.

The close-ups and detail shots allow the editor to compress time. The visuals cut easily between action while avoiding jump-cuts by utilizing close-ups extensively.

Watching this video reminds me that journalists can assemble words and pictures from the most domestic setting into a meaningful narrative. It just requires a little more thought and a few deliberate choices to communicate the heart of the story to the viewer.

Gritty Realism with Joshua Z Weinstein

Earlier this term, I found and fell in love with the Holocaust Survivor Band video on NYT’s Op-Doc and blogged about it. The casting, poetic cinematography, and humor won me over. This video inspired me to explore more work by filmmaker Joshua Z Weinstein.

Josh is known for a style that combines gritty realism with a sense of humor and emotion. For a preview of his aesthetic, check out his reel.

screen-shot-2016-11-22-at-7-16-49-pm — Joshua Z Weinstein Cinematography Reel.

Weinstein lives in New York, and has a long list of credits and accolades to his name as an award-winning cinematographer and director. He has worked across the fields of advertising and journalism; and has created branded content, shorts, feature length documentaries, and is currently working on his all Yiddish directorial fiction debut.

After viewing a number of his films, it’s clear to me that Josh is successful in building trust and relationships with his characters in order to bring out deeply intimate and honest moments.

Spider Drove a Taxi, another NYT’s Op-Doc, blends a charismatic narrator, vintage stills, and beautiful cinematography. My favorite sequence is a montage of video portraits from 1:22 – 1:54, which includes the use of side and rearview mirrors for different perspectives.

Video portrait sequence — Part of video portrait sequence.

I Beat Mike Tyson is a 13 minute documentary about an Irish boxer who beat Mike Tyson in 2005 and then disappeared. Weinstein searched him out to tell his story, and created a stripped down, raw, realistic, and relatable multimedia story. You don’t need to know a thing about boxing to be touched by this piece.

Boxer Kevin McBride showing that he's outgrown his shorts. — Boxer Kevin McBride showing that his stomach has outgrown his shorts.

I reached out to Josh and he generously responded with some insights and advice. I particularly appreciate his thoughts on world music and travel as being an integral part of the research and discovery process.

“I think the idea is to imitate what you love and through imitating you create your own voice. Make simple goals and follow through with them. Making mistakes happens all the time, learn from them and move on. I have started multiple films and thrown them away, its ok. Not every story should be a film, remember a film is a film for a reason. Take photos, listen to world music, and travel, this is the best research you have as a filmmaker.”

Weinstein is an Alumni of Boston University College of Communication Film department and the CPB/PBS Producers Academy at WGBH. He has lectured on film at many universities. Maybe we could persuade him to visit us on the West Coast one day.

From a 2012 Interview with Filmmaker magazine, where Weinstein answered questions about his film Drivers Wanted, I leave you with this sage advice:

“One of the golden rules of documentary is nothing good happens during the daytime.”

You can see more of Josh’s work at weinsteinfilm.com.

Things I Carry Into the World: an Interview with DOP

Things I Carry Into The World is a visual story based on a poem written by Cynthia Manick. Started as a Kickstarter project earlier this year, it was brought to life by New York based directors Pat Heywood and Jamil McGinnis together with the producer Claire Mc Girr and DOP Frances Chen. Creators describe the video as “a motion poem exploring the personalities, burdens and dreams of four teenagers in New York City through their own artistic expression.”

The opening scene (0:00-0:28) of nature features poems by four other poets (Esther Aloba, Nkosi Nkululeko, Makayla Posley, and Trace Depass). As their voices overlap, images crossfade as well.

From 0:39 to 0:42 we can see 5 different shots being cut together very fast. This together with audio effects creates tension and gives the viewer glimpse of a setting – New York city.

0:44 – positive motion within the frame: we are introduced to the first character. 0:46 – as we hear light switch sound, colored shot becomes black and white: flashbacks of the first two characters.

0:59 – fast jump cut sequence made with creative purpose. It works perfectly together with audio effects – old camera sounds. 1:18, 2:26 – other jump cut sequences.

1:00-1:06 – interesting shot: camera moves from portrait shot to the sky, tracking the sun.

2:18-2:50 – beautiful sequence edited to music.

The filmmakers use close portraits and details to make the story more personal.

The video creators also use fast cuts of detail shots (1:25-1:27, 1:44-1:47) as a cinematic effect to show locations and contribute to the look and feel of the neighborhoods.

I think, “Things I carry into the world” is an important piece of art we should pay attention to. First of all, it is a nice example of artistic collaboration. And secondly, it carries a great message: “Today, it is more important than ever to walk in the shoes of individuals that come from different backgrounds. Those are the avenues that help knock down racial barriers, social injustices, and aim for more unified world,” stated it’s authors.

Overall, the idea of adapting poetry to film and using poems as scripts sounds alluring to me: skillful and thoughtful visual storytelling along with poetry can offer the audience layers of meaning.

I reached out to video’s DOP, Frances Chen, LA-based cinematographer and filmmaker, and asked her some questions via email:

Initially, “Things I Carry Into The World” started as a Kickstarter project, and your team consisted of 4 people. I assume, your team began working on the video this year sometime in mid June?

TICITW really started when Motion Poem reached out to Pat and Jamil. They started the kickstarter to fund the project.

I joined the project a little bit later. I assume Pat, Jamil and Claire started sometime in May and then went through the process to look for a DP. But yes, I jumped onboard sometime in June.

How many people were involved in filmmaking?

Besides the four of us, we had steadicam ops, 1st AC, DIT, one person to help me out with G&E and couple PAs. Pat and Jamil wanted to keep the shoot intimate and on the smaller side.

How much time did you spend on this project including preparation, filming and postproduction?

The moment I jumped on board we started pre-producing, which consisted of sharing references, building a visual language and setting up goals that we wanted to achieve. We filmed the piece over two weekends. We had two principal photography days and two B-roll days where it was just the four of us running around the city.

I had to fly back to LA after the shoot. Jamil and Pat took care of post.

What camera and lenses did you use?

We shot on the Alexa Mini with Leica R primes that was rehoused.

How does it feel like to work in a team with two directors? Did you have any difficulties working with each other (different vision, approaches etc.)?

I have never worked with two directors before. I had my concerns. But after the first face-to-face meeting (I was in LA till two weeks before the shoot) I realized that Pat and Jamil’s minds are really connected. They’ve talked so much that they are almost always on the same page. Even when they were not, it was a very healthy process of communication and bouncing ideas off each other.

I still have fond memories of working on this project because there was a lot of respect for what each of us does. We really talked it out and found the best thing to do for the project.

How much networking is important in our field?

It is very important. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a job because I submitted my reel or resume. It’s always through mutual friends or people introducing me to other people.

I personally hate networking or just the word itself. I have a friend who calls it “making a genuine connection.” I think if you really try to talk to someone and understand where they are coming from and where they are going (rather than just what they can do for you or hire you) you form a real bond that will lead to opportunities.

And returning to the video: there are four characters in different settings. How did you choose settings for each? How important are they?

Pat and Jamil found four young poets through Urban Words. They wanted to extend Cynthia’s poem to these young poets’ experiences and their work. Through their poems and conversations with them, Pat and Jamil came up with the settings.

The settings are very important since there is no dialogue. In a sense, they speak for the piece as much as the poem itself.

Besides examining how each of our four poets channels their burdens through creative work you also wanted this video to be “a love letter to New York City.” How did you plan to achieve this goal? Do you think that the city has become your “fifth character”?

I think it goes back to the settings speaking for the piece. The city is the fifth character that four poets interact with differently. Everyone who lives in New York has a love/hate relationship with the city. It’s charming at times but it can also be brutal. We wanted to show an accurate representation of the tough parts of living in the city but we also cut in b-roll that shows you the quotidian beautify that the city has to offer. Those are the two-sides of city we are trying to present.

I love the way this video is edited. There are many cinematic techniques used in this video: extreme closeups, jump cuts and fast sequences that work great together with audio effects, transitions to black and white. Tell me about post production process and how those techniques helped to tell those stories?

That’s all Pat and Jamil. The film is composed of four little films. Within those smaller films, the structures are really clear. Pat and Jamil really worked some magic in the editing room. When I saw the first cut it really blew me away.

What DPs do you look up to, if any?

There are so many DPs I love and for completely different reasons! No one tells one story the same way!

Personally, I love Bradford Young, Kasper Tuxen and Natasha Braier and all for different reasons. I also look up to Reed Morano, ASC. She is very vocal about women in film and I appreciate how she once said that she does not want to be hired just because she is a female cinematographer. I think all female cinematographers feel the same way. We have pride in our art as much or more than our gender.

There is a short video “For Cindy” on your vimeo page: a beautiful story told with only 6 shots. It has character, problem, tension and a hint on resolution. How did you come up with that idea? Was it challenging to film that story?

Oh wow, that’s the first film I’ve ever directed. It was my intermediate project at NYU. The link you saw is actually just a teaser. I have never gotten around to finishing the piece but I really should.

It was inspired by Cindy Sherman’s “Untitled Film Stills” series. The photos are connected by the subject which is Sherman. I wrote a narrative that links the photos up. The narrative is about day to day judgments we face. I told my team that it’s not just about the male gaze but really it’s every person’s gaze.

Do you have any particular advice for beginning cinematographers?

I think perseverance is the keyword to becoming a cinematographer. It’s a tough career; it is demanding both mentally and physically.

Really cultivate what your artistry is about and know your strengths. Like I said, no one will tell the same story the same way as you.

2+2=5

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EHAuGA7gqFU

“2+2=5” is an Iranian fictional short film set in a classroom where a teacher insists that 2+2=5. The first shot of the video starts with the title on a blackboard and dollies to behind the students.

I really like this project for two main reasons: It’s shot completely in one small room, and the angles used in the close-ups really help juxtapose the power imbalance between the teacher and student.

The first thing you notice when the teacher enters the room is that he’s presented from the student’s perspectives, and that seems to carry throughout the piece. It makes him seem superior, and lends the character power by being looked up at.

After the teacher enters, he stands quietly and the broadcast system squeals on and the Head Master informs the students that there have been changes in the school. When the radio turned on the camera dolly’ed forward and refocused on the speaker, but still from the student’s perspective.

In contrast, whenever the student’s faces were shown, they were being looked down on, simulating the teachers perspective. Aside from the first establishing shot, the rest of the video goes back and fourth between the teachers and students. Even when a student stood up to the teacher’s lesson in defiance, he was never shown looking up.

It could also be argued that the angles are due to the age and size of the subjects, but this piece makes a fairly poignant statement about monolithic power.