Dark, as the door opens and a bellhop puts on the light and precedes Hecky into the room. He takes the key from the door and hands it to Hecky, who gives him a very generous tip. The bellhop thanks him and leaves. Hecky takes off his jacket and carefully hangs it up. He goes into the bathroom and return with a glass of water, which he places on the night table next to the bed. He takes several vials of pills from his pockets and empties the pills on to the table. He looks at them and arranges them neatly in a row. Then he starts taking them, one after the other, washing them down with water. When he has finished, he lies down on the bed. After a moment, he sits up and takes off his shoes, then lies down again in his stockinged feet. He looks up at the ceiling, eyes open. Then he turns on his side. He draws his legs up. His eyes close. All his problems begin slowly to slip away. Dissolve to…… Page 107 from the first draft of the script registered with the WGA.
The Front
As you read, the intention of the scene quickly became apparent. At some point, Martin Ritt, the film’s director decided that there was a better way to present the scene, a way to communicate without exposition, without explanation – indeed a way to leave an indelible mark on the minds of the audience.
This title sequence from Silence of the Lambs was not written as part of the original screenplay. As you watch, think about what is revealed about the character of Clarice Starling. Who is she? Where is she? Notice that what we learn is not through exposition, but rather by watching her in action.
In this introduction to Stacey Keach’s character in Fat City, the camera moves, motivated by Keach. What does he want? As his search begins, what do we learn? Notice what is featured in each frame, notice what is important, and how all that is necessary, is featured, but not in a heavy handed way, not through exposition, but through the motivated action of the character pursuing what he wants.
We open on a close up as Gong Li chooses her fate, unsure of what the future will bring. As she enters her new home, we are introduced to the labarynth into which she loses herself. We come to understand her strength and her resolve. The symetrical compositions trap her as she winds her way deeper and deeper toward her fate. We are filled with questions. They are her questions. The answers are criptic, but the action is clear. We are intrigued, as she is wondering what it all means. When she asks a question it is not immediately answered – nor is the answer explained. We are left wondering, as is she – the story unfolds for us as it does for her. In staying ahead of us, it holds our interest.
All the while, the light and compositions reveal a beautiful, mysterious and alluring world.
The opening sequence is comprised of fragments, pieces of a puzzle that we assemble in our minds. What do they add up to? How do they draw us in? What do we know? What do we think? Notice the lack of exposition, instead we are drawn in by the action and we draw our own conclusions.
The Godfather opens in darkness with Bonasera asking for help from Don Corleone. The light, and more specifically the shadows define Don Vito Corleone. When Marlon Brando stands, what does he want? Why does he move at that moment? Watch carefully and you will find that his character motivates the technical choices. The craft is indeed in service to the material. Eventually the two men reach an accord. At the moment when they make their pact, James Caan’s character, Sonny, is in the background, between the two men foreshadowing the fulfillment of the promise made at the moment. About 100 minutes later in the movie, Sonny is gunned down at a tollbooth; and Don Corleone calls on the undertaker, Bonasera, to repay the favor.
The trcsitions in an out of flashbacks seemlessly draw us in so that we engage with the action and participate in the drama that unfolds.
The camera is motivated by Robert Duval’s character; when he moves, the frame adjusts. He brings the camera to Sonny. He brings the camera to Michael. When Duval sits, the camera tilts down, reframing and changing our attention to Michael. The frame rests on Michael until the moment when it starts to dolly in toward him. This time it’s movement is not motivated by onscreen movement, but rather it is motivated by our desire to lean in close, to hear what Michael has to say. The timing is perfect, it is what we (the audience) need, when we need it. Notice the shots when Michael turn to address Duval, at the end of the scene, the final shot is closer and lower – Michael looms large as he rises to the challenge of leading his family in his father’s footsteps.
Cinematographer's Portal 