Cinematography

Spherical for me, nine times out of ten.

Anamorphic can be gorgeous when the story actually wants that swagger. But too often it’s just “look, Mom, we rented character.” Then you’re babysitting smeary edges, odd stretching, and that little focus-breath “yank” that screams lens instead of moment.

If I’m framing 2.39, I’d rather crop a clean spherical image and keep the geometry honest. With the right glass it feels like an extension of your eyes, not a filter shouting over the actors.

If you’re Team Anamorphic, what’s the project where it truly earned its keep? And if you’re Team Spherical, what’s your go-to set for wide work?

Roger Deakins, BSC, ASC

Luc Besson

That's really tough, Anthony McBride! Dean Cundey.

Arthur Albert - "Better Call Saul" (first season) is my fave DP/cinematog.

Must-watch interview, Pat Alexander! Thanks for sharing it. The cinematography in Lioness is incredible! I didn't know different DPs worked on a show. I thought it was one DP like with a movie. I don't even notice that there are different DPs when I watch or binge watch a show.

Hi, Lindsay Thompson. I think vertical storytelling is an incredible opportunity and here to stay! I prefer writing and watching horizontal movies and shows, but I’m outlining my first micro-drama.

When I first started shooting, I didn’t understand focal length in any theoretical way. I wasn’t thinking about numbers or charts. I just felt that something was “off” sometimes in a shot. I would step a little closer… or move slightly back… and suddenly the entire feeling would change. As if the scene itself was choosing the distance from which it wanted to be told.

Wide lenses taught me early on that proximity isn’t free. When you place a wide lens close to an actor’s face, you are literally entering their personal space. The performance shifts, the breath becomes audible, even the slightest tremble in the eye turns into an event. But it’s also a ruthless lens; it reveals details without mercy, sometimes exposing what was better left hidden.

For me, 35mm or 50mm became a kind of comfort zone. They resemble the way I see the world with my own eyes. They neither exaggerate the drama nor dilute it. They give the scene a simple honesty and allow emotion to breathe without forcing it. Maybe that’s why so many directors return to them when they want to stay close to truth rather than spectacle.

As for long lenses, I discovered their power in moments of tension. It’s not just that they compress the background; they create psychological distance. There’s a feeling of watching from afar, like witnesses who cannot intervene. A subtle coldness, a quiet pressure, a sense that something is approaching without fully revealing itself. That sensation doesn’t come from performance alone, but from the lens itself.

I often gravitate toward 35mm because it gives me freedom to move with the actors and offers natural depth without exaggeration. But it’s not a fixed rule. I’ve learned not to cling to a single lens, because sometimes a scene requires something I don’t personally prefer. Choosing a lens isn’t just about taste; it’s a responsibility toward the moment.

I remember once we shot a confrontation scene with a longer lens. Technically, everything looked beautiful—clean and balanced—but the scene felt cold. I didn’t feel the friction between the characters. We switched to a wider lens and stepped in just a bit. Suddenly everything shifted. There was real tension, a slight messiness, an unpolished energy… exactly what the scene had been missing.

When I plan a shot, I begin with the feeling I want, then return to reality. Space, lighting, camera movement—all of these impose their limits. Sometimes the lens that feels emotionally right doesn’t work practically, and that’s where the balance between intention and possibility begins.

In the end, focal length isn’t about numbers; it’s about position. It’s the decision that determines where the audience stands: inside the moment or outside it. Close to a trembling breath… or at a distance, watching in silence. And that decision, despite its apparent simplicity, can completely change the meaning of a scene.

By the way, dear Professor Ashley Renee, I’ve sent you a private message and would truly appreciate it if you had a moment to take a look. Please accept my apologies if I’ve caused any inconvenience, and I hope I haven’t disturbed you.

This is such a great way to frame it. Focal length really is emotional language long before it’s a technical choice.

I love the idea that the audience isn’t just looking through a camera, they’re inheriting a point of view. A small shift in focal length can quietly change whether we feel invited into a moment, held at arm’s length, or watching from a place of unease. That emotional shift often happens even when the audience can’t articulate why.

I’ve definitely had moments where swapping lenses instantly changed the scene’s temperature — same blocking, same light, totally different feeling. It’s a good reminder that lens choice isn’t just about coverage or convenience; it’s one of the first storytelling decisions we make.

Morgan Aitken I love that you framed it as practical first, emotional second, because the reality is the math is always there. Sensor size, open gate, crop flexibility, blocking constraints, focus discipline… all of that is quietly shaping the emotional result whether we acknowledge it or not.

Mohamed Kenkou Your observation about wide lenses being “ruthless” is so true. They don’t just capture a face, they interrogate it. They amplify breath, micro-movements, hesitation. And like you said, that level of intimacy isn’t neutral.

And thank you for your kind words. I’ll look for your message when I have a moment.

Lindsay Thompson You’re also absolutely right about how invisible the shift can be. Most viewers won’t say, “Ah yes, that 85mm is creating psychological distance,” but they feel it. They feel invited in. Or kept out. Or slightly unsettled. That quiet emotional recalibration is where the craft really lives.

This is a Q close to my heart, and own experience. I've done a tonne of underwater shooting and literally drool over UW drones and ROV's. Of course, drooling is about all I can do, because budget invariably doesn't cover the cool toys. It invariably comes down to donning the dive kit, and getting wet with a cam in a UW housing. Usually a GoPro (heavy sigh). So, what does one do with Jacque Cousteau taste on a GoPro budget, other than go overboard with a sports-cam or iPhone in a ziplock?

I have found that boat-sticks, (aluminium poles) with a GoPro on the end work great from either the boat, the tender, or a kayak; especially around marina sharks crazed on fish-guts from idiots who clean their catch at the dock. I have also Jerry-rigged a sled at times, made from dive weights, and a fin to stabilise the sled while dragging it through the water (essentially trolling) with a GoPro either from the surface while snorkelling or from a kayak.

I've gotten some good footage, hidden amongst miles of useless footage, with my poor-man's tech. I've also found that marine-life is less likely to spook into oblivion from an inert cam on a stick, or sled, than from a diver making an ungodly racket with their SCUBA kit.

Pro tip: Don't drag your cam-sled any deeper than you can dive. This applies to UW drones too! Believe me, I know this all too well.

thanks Morgan Aitken. have not been on the platform for a while but am just trying to work out the shoot for the extra footage now. Will try the go pro tricks and probably go for a dive as you say. thanks again for taking the time to answer

Great ideas, Rich Terdoslavich! I don't have final say about lighting, but thinking about lighting helps me visualize and write scripts.

Thank you, everyone.

Thanks, Maurice! Just a few ideas to write about. There’s more to write about and if I had more time, would go more into details. Will probably do that in the near future. Lighting, along with design/composition/framing and color palette/b&w aesthetic are all key parts of visual staling with a great script and sound design/editing too.

You're welcome, Rich Terdoslavich. Great. Looking forward to the posts!

I love this perspective. Looking back at early work can be humbling, but it’s also one of the clearest ways to see growth. Bad photos aren’t failures; they’re proof you’re practicing and paying attention.

That idea of following curiosity really resonates, too. Shooting what you genuinely love keeps the process honest, and repetition builds an instinct you can’t shortcut. Whether it’s surf, faces, light, or textures, that personal pull is usually where the strongest work comes from.

For me, it’s the same balance: showing up consistently, experimenting without judgment, and letting taste evolve faster than ego. Growth shows up quietly, then all at once when you compare where you started to where you are now.

Thank you Lindsay for your thoughtful reply!

I love this so much. It really is just about showing up for yourself again and again...even when the work feels messy or imperfect. That’s where the real growth happens.

If anything, I think having passion for photographing what you truly love, showing up consistently, and allowing yourself to experiment without judgment is the truest gift you can give yourself as a creative.

Your point about instinct being built through repetition really resonated with me. It’s wild how much clearer the journey feels when you look back and see how far you’ve come!

The cinematography, lighting, and sets in Frankenstein are incredible, Pat Alexander! The cinematography, lighting, and sets in all the Guillermo del Toro films I've seen are phenomenal! Mimic scared me growing up, and those three things are part of the reason that movie is so scary.

Fantastic idea, Michael Fitzer! ShotDeck is incredible! I've used some of the images for a pitch deck.