When Birdman was released last year, the art of the "single take film" was brought back into the spotlight. Alfred Hitchcock was (of course) the pioneer for this technique, with his 1948 release of his film Rope. Birdman was also shot in a similar manner, but took advantage of digital masking techniques in addition to using natural transitions. There is an absolutely incredible video describing every cut here:
When I heard about Victoria, a German film that also was done with one take, I knew I had to see it. First going into Birdman, I had little idea what to look for as I'd never seen anything of the like. Going into Victoria, however, I was prepared with my newfound eye for match cutting and transitions. I loved the film, and I walked out not only satisfied with an amazing story, but also knowing that I had identified several of the cuts that they had used.
When I was researching it afterward, however, I found out that they used NO CUTS. That's right, one hundred percent done in one take. It only took them 3 attempts to make an entire movie using mostly natural lighting and their few locations. Knowing now it now makes sense why the story seemed to drag at points - there was no way that improved dialogue would have the pacing expected of a feature script.
Absolutely amazing job, I highly recommend you see this film when it is released.
Make no mistake, guys: I'm excited for The Revenant. It's got everything that I need in a movie right now, including camera work by my boy Emmanuel Lubezki, lots of people running around in bear-skin clothing, actual BEARS, and Leonardo DiCaprio in another intense role that he probably won't win an Oscar for, even though he completely deserves it. It's got Tom Hardy. It's got action, revenge, old-timey guns. I mean hell, it's got this trailer.
But it's also got Alejandro Inarritu. And yes, oddly enough, that might just be a bad thing.
Inarritu got a lot of recognition really quickly earlier this year when his little film "Birdman" won best original screenplay, best director, and best film at the 2015 Oscars. It was also, coincidentally, one of my favorite films of the years. Accolades aside, though (because let's be honest, awards mean nothing in the scheme of things) it was a really impressive film, both technically and in terms of the performances strangled out of its actors. The cinematography was just delightful to watch, and no other movie has made me said "woah, yeah, ok, Emma Stone can really act." It was great.
Fast forward one year and here we are, with another Inarritu film garnering buzz just as awards season lumbers towards us. This one is based on "actual events," and centers around the fur trapper Hugh Glass (played by DiCaprio) after he is mauled by a bear, robbed by his friends, and left to die. You had me at "actual events."
One of the big selling points for the movie, for film nerds at least, is that the whole thing has reportedly been shot using only natural lighting. A second look at the trailer shows that this just might be the case. Lubezki has also been utilizing more of the long takes that he so enjoyed in Birdman and Children of Men, so combined with the lighting, this movie seems like it was probably an ungodly pain in the ass to make... And that's the problem.
Reports from the set have literally called it "a living hell." And who could blame them. If even half of the stories coming off the set of the Revenant are to be believed, then it's time Inarritu stops, takes a deep breath, looks at himself in a mirror and says "what the fuck is the point of it all." The full report from the Hollywood Reporter is right here in all it's glory, but reports include: asking actors to go without hats and glove in -40 degree weather because it was supposed to be autumn in the film, dragging a naked character along the ground with debatable safety precautions, and cutting holes in the necks of wetsuits so that characters in water looked like were actually submerged.
A lot of blame has been thrown around, but it ultimately comes back to Inarritu and producer Jim Skotchdopole. Other issues with the film included scheduling dates (Hardy was forced to drop out of Suicide Six due to an elongated Revenant schedule), weather problems, and miscommunication. All of this leads me to ask: ultimately, at what cost are you willing to make a good movie? Right now, I'm sacrificing sleep and possible good grades in other classes so that I can do an extra bit of location scouting. I'm kind of sick, but whatever, I'll deal with it. But if we're to believe some of these reports, the crew of the Revenant were more than just a little uncomfortable or chilly: they were potentially in danger.
I've said this in past blog posts too, but I'll say it again; it's so incredibly important to put things in perspective. Yes, the Revenant may revolutionize the way movies are shot, and yes, maybe it'll end up being my absolute favorite film of the year. Maybe of all time. Maybe it'll finally get Leo that Oscar. But you can never forget, through it all, the things that really matter. Nobody in the film industry benefits from reports like these. Art is great, yeah, but never outstay your welcome.
Long takes (or oners, or long shots, or whatever you feel like calling them) have been talked about endlessly among film buffs, film students, and really anybody that gives a shit about the aesthetics of film. If you know what a long take is, chances are you've got a favorite, whether it's Goodfellas or Gravity or Children of Men or Birdman or Episode 4 of the first (and only, as far as I'm concerned) season of True Detective. I'm pretty positive I even wrote a blog post last year around the time Birdman came out, fanboying over how sexy and cool the long take is, as a shot. By this point, just pointing them out is nothing new, though. They're there, they're good, and I won't talk about them any more.
While these shots should be praised for their creativity, determination, and, sure, length, I've recently gotten more interested in when it's acceptable to use one, and for what purpose. You might have seen this video about how Spielberg uses long takes in a far more subtle way than most directors; it's part of the really great Youtube channel "Every frame a painting," and it really dissects ways you can use a long shot to your advantage without calling attention to it. In particular, I think it's fascinating how you can essentially take a long shot and break it down into three or four basic shots: the Raiders of the Lost Ark scene stands out to me the most in that regard, with a wide, mid, close, and insert shot all being incorporated into a single take. It moves the scene along, keeps things interesting, and like the guy said, almost definitely saved time on set.
What's the point of this though? Why not just do a scene four times and cover all your bases? This is just me conjecturing here, but I think every shot should elicit some kind of emotion from your audience. Don't just go about shooting everything willy-nilly: have a purpose. If a character feels isolated and alone, back that camera way up and make her look small. If someone is claustrophobic, slap that macro lens on and get in real tight. Make a powerful character more prominent in a shot than a weaker character, and switch this if their roles are reversed. All of these will, even if only subconsciously, help an audience to better understand whatever emotion you're trying to play up.
So what emotion does a long take elicit? In short, all of these things, all at once. I know I said I wouldn't bring up Birdman again, but I lied, so deal with it. Birdman is filmed to make it appear as if the entire movie was all done in one take, using really clever transitions to cover up the cuts. It's about theatre and theatre actors, and throughout the film, you can't help but feel like you're watching a stage production instead of movie, mostly due to fluidity and lack of cuts. One of the intentions of this is to (probably) just let the actors take over and control the screen. This works, but only to a certain extent: the lack of cuts can sometimes be distracting, e.g. "oh, did they cut there? I think they cut there. But wait ok maybe not."
This guy.
This brings us back to the subtlety of the Spielberg long take: it's long enough to let the actors act uninhibited from cuts and various camera angles, while still being short enough to not draw attention to itself. The "Every frame a painting" guy calls it "robust," and I think that's the perfect word for it. It's simple, gets a strong point across, and can free up time on set. Ideally, we'll find some way to incorporate it into our film this semester, and if we do it right, you might not even notice it.
Also, here's another great article about the evolution of long takes, both subtle and not-so subtle. Looking at you, Lubezki.
*No Spoilers, I will just go over the way this film was shot
Birdman was shot in a way where the entire movie felt like it was one long shot as well as one take. After seeing all the Nominations and Awards this film is getting I decided to watch it for the first time over the weekend. I have never watched anything like this before! I am amazed by the amount of preparation and practice it must have taken to pull this off so well.
Here is a scene from the movie so you can get a feel of how this was shot in an unorthodox way.
After doing research about how this movie was filmed I was surprised to find out that they shot the film within thirty days. They shot in portions of seven to fifteen minutes.
Here are quotes by Star Michael Keaton that shows how in sync the cast and crew had to be for this film to work:
"Anything—a misremembered line, an extra step taken, a camera operator stumbling on a stair or veering off course or out of focus—could blow a take, rendering the first several minutes unusable even if they had been perfect. You had to be word-perfect, you had to be off script, and you literally had to count your paces down to the number of steps you needed to take before turning a corner," "Everyone would apologize perfunctorily if they messed up ... mostly because we were aware of how hard it was on the camera operators, and the camera operators didn't want to screw up because of us."
Unfortunately the Director Alejandro González Iñárritu & DP Emmanuel Lubezki didn't give away too much about how they shot this movie so fluidly, but did mention they used quick "Pan" shots as their cuts.
There are long shots in film and then there are really long shots in film. I've always been fascinated by filmmakers that try to compose their film of only a few shots or even one. It's hard enough to try to put a film together but it's on another level trying to do everything in one take. Imagine making a film with over 10 minute takes and on minute 9 an actor screws up his line, now that film is now completely wasted. In Hitchcock's 1948 film Rope the director tried to create a film with only 11 shots, at the time this was a crazy notion and even crazier for a Hollywood film.
Andy Warhol and filmmaker Jonas Mekas' film Empire took the next step in 1964 when they created this 485 minute experimental film. Using 16mm film allowed the duo to now have up to 33 minute takes rather than being further restricted by 35mm film.
With the invention of the digital medium all the restriction were lifted, there was no longer a need to unload and re-load film and now the one take film could be created. Timecode, Russian Ark, PVC-1 and La casa muda are all feature length films that were shot in one take. It's something truly special to see how these films work and just thinking about making a film like this makes my brain hurt.
But the long takes don't stop there! Birdman staring Michael Keaton has just been released in four theaters and much like Rope the film only consists of a few takes but looks as if there are none. So there it is kids, take risks, fail and then take some more cause you never know what can happen.
A lot of friends and family at home always used to ask me "What got you interested in radio and television?" or "Why are you a TVR major." Some people think it started in high school radio, others when I was honing my craft at a tiny bench in Brandywine Little League. It certainly wasn't the hours I spent speaking into a tape recorder in front of the television.
I haven't told a whole lot of people this, but I owe everything to Black Entertainment Television (BET.) I never had a ton of friends growing up in an inner city elementary school. I always heard the other kids talking about some new music video they saw on 106 and Park. One afternoon, in an attempt to be cool, I decided to switch over to Channel 33 to see what all the fuss was about.
Rather then pay attention to what everyone in my school thought was good music, I was completely blown away by the editing and choreography of the hip hop music videos. It got to a point where I was addicted. There are a few in particular that specifically blew my mind, which I posted below.
I personally think music videos are the hardest thing in media to produce. Most of them have a lot of quick cuts. The singers often have to double as actors, mouthing the words of the song at the exact pace it was recorded. Hip hop videos are especially tough, as there is often a lot of fast talking and interesting lighting techniques. I realize now that most of them aren't very well made and have obvious flaws, but I thank the BET channel for helping me choose a career path.
Here are my top five favorites from that era:
5. Tha Block is Hot- Lil Wayne featuring Juvenile and B.G. (1999)
4. Back That Azz Up- Juvenile featuring Mannie Fresh and Lil Wayne (1999)
3. Neva Eva- Trillville featuring Lil Scrappy and Lil Jon (2003)
A lot of blame has been thrown around, but it ultimately comes back to Inarritu and producer Jim Skotchdopole. Other issues with the film included scheduling dates (Hardy was forced to drop out of Suicide Six due to an elongated Revenant schedule), weather problems, and miscommunication. All of this leads me to ask: ultimately, at what cost are you willing to make a good movie? Right now, I'm sacrificing sleep and possible good grades in other classes so that I can do an extra bit of location scouting. I'm kind of sick, but whatever, I'll deal with it. But if we're to believe some of these reports, the crew of the Revenant were more than just a little uncomfortable or chilly: they were potentially in danger.
What's the point of this though? Why not just do a scene four times and cover all your bases? This is just me conjecturing here, but I think every shot should elicit some kind of emotion from your audience. Don't just go about shooting everything willy-nilly: have a purpose. If a character feels isolated and alone, back that camera way up and make her look small. If someone is claustrophobic, slap that macro lens on and get in real tight. Make a powerful character more prominent in a shot than a weaker character, and switch this if their roles are reversed. All of these will, even if only subconsciously, help an audience to better understand whatever emotion you're trying to play up. 
So what emotion does a long take elicit? In short, all of these things, all at once. I know I said I wouldn't bring up Birdman again, but I lied, so deal with it. Birdman is filmed to make it appear as if the entire movie was all done in one take, using really clever transitions to cover up the cuts. It's about theatre and theatre actors, and throughout the film, you can't help but feel like you're watching a stage production instead of movie, mostly due to fluidity and lack of cuts. One of the intentions of this is to (probably) just let the actors take over and control the screen. This works, but only to a certain extent: the lack of cuts can sometimes be distracting, e.g. "oh, did they cut there? I think they cut there. But wait ok maybe not." 
