Film Stills

Robert Bresson's A Man Escaped: "To fight. To fight the walls, to fight myself, to fight the door."

A Man Escaped, directed by Robert Bresson, screenplay by Robert Bresson, cinematography by Léonce-Henri Burel, and edit Raymond Lamy.

When asked about the importance of Robert Bresson, Andrei Tarkovsky answered, “There are many reasons I consider Bresson a unique phenomenon in the world of film. Indeed, Bresson is one of the artists who has shown that cinema is an artistic discipline on the same level as the classic artistic disciplines such as poetry, literature, painting, and music. The second reason I admire Bresson is personal. It is the significance of his work for me—the vision of the world that it expresses. This vision of the world is expressed in an ascetic way, almost laconic, lapidary I would say. Very few artists succeed in this. Every serious artist strives for simplicity, but only a few manage to achieve it. Bresson is one of the few who has succeeded. The third reason is the inexhaustibility of Bresson’s artistic form. That is, one is compelled to consider his artistic form as life, nature itself. In that sense, I find him very close to the oriental artistic concept of Zen: depth within narrowly defined limits. Working with these forms, Bresson attempts in his films not to be symbolic; he tries to create a form as inexhaustible as nature, life itself.”

All true artists fight to convey the best path of expression within their art forms. Andrei Tarkovsky admired Robert Bresson because they shared a similar spirit when it came to filmmaking, a passion for shedding light on cinema as an art form with its own language and manner of engaging and creating profound experiences for audiences. Like Tarkovsky, Bresson epitomizes the authentic artist whose self-determination brings forth unparalleled art. He follows his vision, intuition, and own set of rules for filmmaking: he follows his own quest as an artist of cinema. His simplification or in other words purification of film elements is directed to reveal cinema not as a canvas for popular and commercial moviemaking but as a unique art form that generates unique experiences. The art and the cinematic experience together are the all-in-all. He himself expressed it as, “It’s not a question of understanding, it’s a question of feeling.” Direct yourself toward the experience to be felt by the audience, and the feeling will generate meaning.

The films of Bresson are also manifestations of the insight that you the artist are your greatest asset. One needs only to visit these Koan-like statements found in his Notes on the Cinematograph to become aware of the essence of the artist. “Metteur en scène or director. The point is not to direct someone, but to direct oneself.“ “Don't think of your film apart from the resources you have made for yourself.“ “Make visible what, without you, might never have been seen.” You are your greatest tool, your greatest resource.

Iradj Azimi on Robert Bresson: "He was a rebel, and he remained a rebel."

Iradj Azimi speaking on Robert Bresson in The Essence of Forms shares a similar sentiment to Andrei Tarkovsky: “Robert Bresson is for me an example of a real and genuine filmmaker. He obeys only certain higher, objective laws of Art…Bresson is the only person who remained himself and survived all the pressures brought by fame.”

Andrei Tarkovsky's Mirror: "Everything will be alright."

Mirror, directed by Andrei Tarkovsky, screenplay by Andrei Tarkovsky and Aleksandr Misharin, cinematography by Georgi Rerberg, music by Eduard Artemev, and edit by Lyudmila Feyginova.

“Before defining art—or any concept—we must answer a far broader question: what’s the meaning of man’s life on Earth? Maybe we are here to enhance ourselves spiritually. If our life tends to this spiritual enrichment, then art is a means to get there. This, of course, in accordance with my definition of life. Art should help man in this process.” Art should help mankind in this process that Tarkovsky describes as spiritual enrichment. One of the gifts of art is its ability to present meaning to our experience of life. That is to say, art should help mankind rise toward the actualization of our best selves. As Tarkovsky writes in Sculpting in Time, “Art is a meta-language, with the help of which people try to communicate with one another; to impart information about themselves and assimilate the experience of others. Again, this has not to do with practical advantage but with realizing the idea of love, the meaning of which is in sacrifice: the very antithesis of pragmatism.”

Jean-Pierre Melville's Le Samouraï: "I never lose. Not really."

Le Samouraï, directed by Jean-Pierre Melville, screenplay by Jean-Pierre Melville and Georges Pellegrin, cinematography by Henri Decaë, music by François de Roubaix, and edit by Monique Bonnot and Yolande Maurette.

Highlighting the importance of Jean-Pierre Melville in film history, the book World Film Directors shares: “Long respected as an important forebear of the Nouvelle Vague, Melville has been recognized increasingly as a master in his own right, and as a director almost unique in his ability to show ‘that the cinema, for all its technical complications, can still be an extremely personal art.’” Alain Delon, the star of Melville’s masterpiece Le Samouraï, offers a similar impression on the impact of the director to the art of cinema: “He’s the greatest director I’ve had the good fortune, pleasure, and honor to work with up to this point. It’d take too long to explain. He’s wonderful. He knows more about cinema than anyone. He’s the greatest director I know, the greatest cameraman, the best at framing and lighting, the best at everything. He’s a living encyclopedia of cinema.” There is a lot of inspiration to absorb from a filmmaker like Jean-Pierre Melville.

As Melville himself put it, “You must be madly in love with cinema to create films. You also need a huge cinematic baggage.” Your awareness of film history, of the technical aspects of filmmaking, of film language, and of your cinematic style are vital to great filmmaking. Determination is another quality that emerges from that mad love for cinema. After serving in World War II, Melville applied to join the union in the French film industry and was rejected. Determined, he opened his own studio and began writing and directing his films. Later, he lost his studio to a fire, only to successfully come out of such a devastation through the need to continue making films. Obstacles always surface for the filmmaker, however, it is how one faces those obstacles that counts.

Quoting the opening line of Le Samouraï, Rui Nogueira, the author of Melville on Melville, said to Jean-Pierre Melville, “’There is no greater solitude than that of the Samurai, unless perhaps it be that of the tiger in the jungle’ might apply equally well to your situation as an independent filmmaker outside the industry.” Melville answered, “Absolutely.” A great and unique inspiration for all pursuing filmmaking, Jean-Pierre Melville shows us the importance of being true to and enriching oneself.

Andrei Tarkovsky's Solaris: "But love is a feeling we can experience but never explain."

Solaris, directed by Andrei Tarkovsky, screenplay by Andrei Tarkovsky and Fridrikh Gorenshteyn, cinematography by Vadim Yusov, music by Eduard Artemev, and edit by Lyudmila Feyginova and Nina Marcus.

The key to great filmmaking is how you utilize your cinematic style to absorb the audience into a unique experience that can only be created through the art of cinema. Harmonizing specificity of vision and economy of meaning results in great filmmaking, that is to say your artistic voice plus finely-tuned decision-making in details through a mastery of film language equals a mindful use of your cinematic style. All great films encapsulate the filmmaker’s struggle to express him or herself within the confines of production and his or her feelings of what is and what is not meaningful to the film and the path to implementing what is in the most mindful way to the storytelling of the film.

In Sculpting in Time, Andrei Tarkovsky shares a striking thought on cinema relevant to this philosophy on great filmmaking: “I love cinema. There is still a lot that I don't know: what I am going to work on, what I shall do later, how everything will turn out, whether my work will actually correspond to the principles to which I now adhere, to the system of working hypotheses I put forward. There are too many temptations on every side: stereotypes, preconceptions, commonplaces, artistic ideas other than one's own. And really it's so easy to shoot a scene beautifully, for effect, for acclaim...But you only have to take one step in that direction and you are lost. Cinema should be a means of exploring the most complex problems of our time, as vital as those which for centuries have been the subject of literature, music and painting. It is only a question of searching, each time searching out afresh the path, the channel, to be followed by cinema. I am convinced that for any one of us our filmmaking will turn out to be a fruitless and hopeless affair if we fail to grasp precisely and unequivocally the specific character of cinema, and if we fail to find in ourselves our own key to it.”

Victor Erice's The Spirit of the Beehive: "Yet if I could answer just one of these questions—what eternity is, for example—I wouldn't care if they called me mad."

The Spirit of the Beehive, directed by Victor Erice, screenplay by Victor Erice, Angel Fernández Santos, and Francisco J. Querejeta, cinematography by Luis Cuadrado, music by Luis de Pablo, and edit by Pablo G. del Amo.

“I try to achieve the beauty of truth. I always took as my motto what Robert Bresson said: ‘You don’t have to make images that are beautiful. You have to make images that are necessary.’” By invoking Robert Bresson’s philosophy on filmmaking, Victor Erice highlights the idea that the right choices in the right details is the key to creating the beauty of truth in cinema. Akira Kurosawa also alluded to this and referred to it as cinematic beauty, a beauty that is only obtainable through the efficient and effective use of film language, that when well-expressed produces a deep experience for the audience, and which is the very thing that inspires a filmmaker to create a film in the first place. For Erice, “Cinema may have no alternative other than to fall back on itself so that it may, once it has assumed its solitude, affirm itself in its dignity: a dignity conferred onto it by virtue of being the last of the artistic languages invented by man.” As an art form all to itself, cinema possesses its own unique artistic language, and it is by utilizing—making efficient and effective use of—this film language that Erice accomplishes the beauty of truth in his timeless films like The Spirit of the Beehive. Great films engage audiences with cinematic beauty through specificity of vision and economy of meaning. A great film results in cinematic beauty through the artist’s unique honing of a film to its essential poetry.

Victor Erice's The Spirit of the Beehive

The Spirit of the Beehive, directed by Victor Erice, screenplay by Victor Erice, Angel Fernández Santos, and Francisco J. Querejeta, cinematography by Luis Cuadrado, music by Luis de Pablo, and edit by Pablo G. del Amo.

Wake up and see reality.

Céline Sciamma's Portrait of a Lady on Fire

Portrait of a Lady on Fire, directed by Céline Sciamma, screenplay by Céline Sciamma, cinematography by Claire Mathon, music by Jean-Baptiste de Laubier and Arthur Simonini, and edit by Julien Lacheray.

Not everything is fleeting. Some feelings are deep.

Martin Scorsese's Taxi Driver: "A sense of some place to go."

Taxi Driver, directed by Martin Scorsese, screenplay by Paul Schrader, cinematography by Michael Chapman, music by Bernard Herrmann, and edit by Tom Rolf and Melvin Shapiro.

“I think it is good if a young person wants to express themselves and take a video camera and go out. They’re going to find that they have to frame the image, and in framing the image, they’re going to find that they have to interpret what they want to say to an audience. And how do you point the audience’s eye to look where you want them to look and to get the point, the emotional, psychological point that you want to get across to them. They’re going to have to make that decision. The real making of the filmmaker is when they look through that viewfinder to tell the story, and I don’t mean just telling a story, you know, boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl. No, I mean a story could be rain hitting a tree, leaves. That could be your story, you know, but how?” Martin Scorsese’s “how” conveys the understanding that the art of cinema has its own language and vocabulary, and it is through the mastery of its grammar that a filmmaker truly creates a work of art.

The foundation of a great film is not so much what story you are telling but how you tell your story, how you express your film, how through your decision in details you engage and impact your audience with ideas, action, and emotions to authentically communicate your cinematic vision. Scorsese says it perfectly when he states, “As King Vidor said, ‘The cinema is the greatest means of expression ever invented, but it is an illusion more powerful than any other, and should therefore be in the hands of the magicians and the wizards who could bring it to life.’”

Bong Joon-ho's Parasite: "With no plan, nothing can go wrong."

Parasite, directed by Bong Joon-ho, screenplay by Bong Joon-ho and Han Jin-won, cinematography by Hong Kyung-pyo, music by Jeong Jae-il, and edit by Yang Jin-mo.

Speaking on Parasite, Bong Joon-ho shares a fundamental insight on the ability of art to communicate to world audiences: “When directing the movie, I tried to express a sentiment specific to the Korean culture, and I thought that…it was full of Koreanness if seen from an outsider’s perspective, but upon screening the film after completion, all the responses from different audiences were pretty much the same, which made me realize that the topic was universal, in fact. Essentially, we all live in the same country…called Capitalism, which may explain the universality of their responses.” Timeless art confirms a valuable quality in artistic expression: what is most personal is most universal. The deeper the artist is in his or her specificity of vision, the more deeply rooted he or she is in the universal. Personal experiences resonate in universal feelings. Therefore, as a filmmaker, always be true to you, and what stems from that will be experienced as authentic by your audience.

Film Technique: The Mirror Shot in Andrei Tarkovsky's Mirror

Mirror, directed by Andrei Tarkovsky, screenplay by Andrei Tarkovsky and Aleksandr Misharin, cinematography by Georgi Rerberg, music by Eduard Artemev, and edit by Lyudmila Feyginova.

"Mirrors are the essence of movies." When we reflect on Andrei Tarkovsky's poetic direction of film language, we can not help but think Tarkovsky would agree with Nicolas Roeg's statement on the use of mirrors in filmmaking. The mirror shot carries the essence of the frame within a frame technique and the feel of the mise-en-abyme, as in the metaphysical meaning manifested by the story within a story technique found in literature and that translates into the visual arts to great effect. Call to mind Gabriel Garcia Marquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude in literature. In painting, think of Las Meninas by Diego Velázquez. In cinema, consider Orson Welles' Citizen Kane and The Lady from Shanghai. The mirror is an impactful tool for artistic expression. In the hands of a filmmaker who emphasizes the effective use of film language, the mirror furthers visual, emotional, and psychological depth, and in the hands of a filmmaker like Andrei Tarkovsky, it furthers poetic depth, as seen in his masterpiece Mirror. The mirror shot is a shot of intimacy that allows a narrative to connect with an audience in terms of contemplation, discovery, desire, identity, memory, persona and truth, and much more.

Akira Kurosawa's Seven Samurai: "By Protecting Others, You Save Yourself."

Seven Samurai, directed by Akira Kurosawa, screenplay by Akira Kurosawa, Shinobu Hashimoto, and Hideo Oguni, cinematography by Asakazu Nakai, music by Fumio Hayasaka, and edit by Akira Kurosawa.

A constant and engaging quality of Akira Kurosawa's films is their presentation of a humanist gaze in a cinematic narrative. For Kurosawa, "The backbone of a good film is the filmmaker’s humane character. If we are not honest to ourselves, we will never be able to make decent films…A person, who is able to make good films, knows how to find his or her way into the viewer’s heart." Emphasizing the individual and collective value and agency of human beings and a concern for humankind's relation to the world, Kurosawa champions characters who show love toward humanity and who use their faculties and abilities to advance human welfare. As he shares, "The characters in my films try to live honestly and make the most of their lot in life. I believe you must live honestly and develop your abilities to the fullest. People who do this are the real heroes." This philosophy is felt in the memorable words of the wise and honorable Kambei Shimada from Seven Samurai, "By protecting others, you save yourself. If you only think of yourself, you'll only destroy yourself."

Jim Jarmusch's The Limits of Control: "From a Dream or a Film."

The Limits of Control, directed by Jim Jarmusch, screenplay by Jim Jarmusch, cinematography by Christopher Doyle, music by Boris, and edit by Jay Rabinowitz.

In one of his golden rules to filmmaking, Jim Jarmusch shares, “Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is nonexistent. And don’t bother concealing your thievery—celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: ‘It’s not where you take things from—it’s where you take them to.’”

This scene from The Limits of Control perfectly exemplifies Jarmusch’s insight on authenticity versus originality in art. Rather than copying a scene from Andrei Tarkovsky’s Stalker, he obliquely touches upon it through the poetic use of dialogue. Many greats artists have shared similar views to Jarmusch’s golden rule of taking the inspiring and transforming it to something uniquely yours. Poet T.S. Eliot wrote, “Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal; bad poets deface what they take, and good poets make it into something better, or at least something different. The good poet welds his theft into a whole of feeling which is unique, utterly different from that from which it was torn; the bad poet throws it into something which has no cohesion. A good poet will usually borrow from authors remote in time, or alien in language, or diverse in interest.” Over time, we find artists echoing Eliot’s words, from Igor Stravinsky’s “Lesser artists borrow; great artists steal,” to Pablo Picasso’s “Good artists copy; great artists steal,” to Jim Jarmusch’s Golden Rules to Filmmaking. Nevertheless, the essence of the message remains the same. What resonates with inspiration, absorb it. What fuels your imagination, take in. Nourish your creativity, and cultivate your unique artistic voice.

Film Technique: Chiaroscuro in David Lynch's Mulholland Drive

Mulholland Drive, directed by David Lynch, screenplay by David Lynch, cinematography by Peter Deming, music by Angelo Badalamenti, and edit by Mary Sweeney.

Chiaroscuro translates to "light-dark" (chiaro: light or clear; oscuro: dark or obscure). In visual art, the term means the use of deep variations in and subtle gradations of light and shadow to create three-dimensional volume on a flat surface. The painter Caravaggio is well-known for his effective use of chiaroscuro through his blending of high contrast and a single focused light source. Where the light focuses your attention on his subjects and storytelling, the deep contrast intensifies the drama of his scenes. Other painters who used chiaroscuro are Leonardo da Vinci, Artemisia Gentileschi, Rembrandt, Johannes Vermeer, and Francisco Goya.

In film, the chiaroscuro technique can enrich a film's visual narrative and emotional depth. When we consider German Expressionism and Film Noir—for example, F.W. Murnau's Nosferatu and Orson Welles' Touch of Evil, respectively—we see how the technique creates specific moods and engages us into the atmosphere and drama of a scene. Time-travel to Francis Ford Coppola's The Godfather and David Lynch's Mulholland Drive, we realize the chiaroscuro technique is a timeless tool for filmmakers and cinematic storytelling. David Lynch especially utilizes the technique to great effect. By emphasizing the interplay of light and shadow, Lynch interjects a sense of mystery into his films while at the same time heightening our sense of reality in his visual narratives.

Andrei Tarkovsky's Mirror: "I Love You."

Mirror, directed by Andrei Tarkovsky, screenplay by Andrei Tarkovsky and Aleksandr Misharin, cinematography by Georgi Rerberg, music by Eduard Artemev, and edit by Lyudmila Feyginova.

“Why do I so frequently include a levitation scene, a body rising up? Simply because the scene has a great power. This way things can be created that are more cinematic, more photogenic. When I imagine a person suspended in mid-air, it pleases me. I find myself filled with emotion. If some fool asks me why in my last film people float up in the air, I would say: ‘It’s magic.’ If the same question came from someone with a more acute intelligence and poetic sensibility, I would respond that for these characters love was not the same thing as it was for the author of Betty Blue. For me, love is the supreme manifestation of mutual understanding, and this can not be represented by the sexual act. Everybody says that if there is no ‘love’ in a film, it is because of censorship. In reality it is not ‘love’ that’s shown on screen but the sexual act. The sexual act is for everyone, for every couple, something unique. When it is put into films, it’s the opposite.” Love for Tarkovsky brings meaning to our human existence. The act of love in his films go beyond the sexual act, and hence, he restrains from depicting the physicality of the sex scene and utilizes levitation scenes as poetic expressions of love. True lovemaking is levitating. True love defies gravity.

Robert Bresson’s Au Hasard Balthazar: "Action Painting."

Au Hasard Balthazar, directed by Robert Bresson, screenplay by Robert Bresson, cinematography by Ghislain Cloquet, music by Jean Wiener, and edit by Raymond Lamy.

"Perhaps the idea came to me plastically because I am a painter. A donkey’s head seems to me something admirable. The plasticity, no doubt." Painting greatly inspired Robert Bresson, and his cinematic style is informed by his early years as a painter. Bresson admits that he "wanted to make a portrait" with Au Hasard Balthazar, and in this scene from his masterpiece, we get a window into how he feels about the art of cinema through the art of painting. In filmmaking, Bresson executes action painting, that is putting a cinematic world into movement, by emphasizing his paintbrush, that is his cinematic style. In the films of Bresson, the experience of the film itself becomes the art which calls back the hand that brought it into existence.