Subjective and tour de force camera movements

[miless]

How was the bowling ball point-of-view shot in the Coen's, The Big Lebowski achieved? I have always been impressed by that shot, but I saw the film last week and it really got me wondering how they did it. Any factual info on this, brothers?

They attached a camera to a remote control car (they probably used one of those ultra-light/compact 35mm cameras from Arri, or something) and followed the ball (I seem to remember seeing footage of this)

[Nothing]

How was the bowling ball point-of-view shot in the Coen's, The Big Lebowski achieved? I have always been impressed by that shot, but I saw the film last week and it really got me wondering how they did it. Any factual info on this, brothers?

They attached a camera to a remote control car (they probably used one of those ultra-light/compact 35mm cameras from Arri, or something) and followed the ball (I seem to remember seeing footage of this)

The Arri 235 wasn't around in 1997 - it's not that small, either.

[miless]

How was the bowling ball point-of-view shot in the Coen's, The Big Lebowski achieved? I have always been impressed by that shot, but I saw the film last week and it really got me wondering how they did it. Any factual info on this, brothers?

They attached a camera to a remote control car (they probably used one of those ultra-light/compact 35mm cameras from Arri, or something) and followed the ball (I seem to remember seeing footage of this)

The Arri 235 wasn't around in 1997 - it's not that small, either.

okay, then maybe it wasn't the Arri 235, which I never mentioned, (they did have other "lightweight" cameras then, however)... But I am positive that they attached a camera to a remote control car (probably specifically made for a camera) to follow the bowling ball.

[Poncho Punch]

You're thinking of a different shot. The one previously mentioned is from a fantasy sequence, looking out one of the holes on the bowling ball.

[LionelHutz]

Don't know if this is related,but this website just posted a list of some of the long tracking shots.

Some choices are obvious,other debatable..but it's nice to see "Werckmeister Harmonies" making the list.

[zedz]

Another one just came to me. It's about as low-tech and simple as you can get, but in its context it comes out of nowhere and hits you in the gut.

It's at the very end of Pialat's La Gueule ouverte. . .

A wee postscript to this. This very shot is quoted at the end of Joachim Lafosse's tremendous Private Property, which is itself one big Pialat tribute. When I encounter a film as good as this, I realise that originality is overrated. Any fans of Isabelle Huppert need to see it: it's surely joined the shortlist of her greatest performances. And Jeremie Renier (The Promise, The Child, Le Pont des Arts) goes to a new level opposite her.

The shot in question is a close cousin of the glorious opening shot of Demy's Bai des anges, mentioned earlier in this thread, but it's much more potent in a narrative context, where the intrinsic exhilaration is more troubling.

Sticking with the Demy, I'd like to celebrate the film's sublime penultimate shot. It's not a moving shot, but it's a brilliantly cubist treatment of cinematic motion. Jeanne Moreau runs towards the camera, but she's out of shot, and all we see are fragments of her run reflected from left to right in the mirrored columns that fill the frame: flash, flash, flash, flash, flash, then suddenly Jeanne herself enters frame left. Cut.

[patrick]

I'm extremely partial to the camera moves in the bar scene at the beginning of Werckmeister Harmonies (I hope I'm remembering them correctly, it's been a little while since I've seen the film).

I love the opening shot of Boogie Nights, it's obviously cribbed from the Scorsese playbook, but Anderson really kicked it up a notch by setting up his entire movie in three minutes with no cuts.

I caught the beginning of the Big Lebowski on TV the other day, no matter how sick I get of people quoting lines from that movie the opening sequence always kills me. It's always seemed like some sort of off-the-wall counterpoint to the overdramatic opening of Spike Lee's He Got Game to me. However, if you want crazy camera action from the Coens, Raising Arizona obviously has it in spades - they directed that thing like a fucking Tex Avery cartoon.

The shot from The Protector/Tom yum goon mentioned in that list is incredible, it's pretty clunky in spots but it's possibly the most audacious shot ever attempted in an action movie.

[Michael]

The shot in question is a close cousin of the glorious opening shot of Demy's Bai des anges, mentioned earlier in this thread, but it's much more potent in a narrative context, where the intrinsic exhilaration is more troubling.

Sticking with the Demy, I'd like to celebrate the film's sublime penultimate shot. It's not a moving shot, but it's a brilliantly cubist treatment of cinematic motion. Jeanne Moreau runs towards the camera, but she's out of shot, and all we see are fragments of her run reflected from left to right in the mirrored columns that fill the frame: flash, flash, flash, flash, flash, then suddenly Jeanne herself enters frame left. Cut.

Lola and Bai des anges (Bay of Angels) are the most wondrous couple. I always find myself longing to watch them back to back every now and then. Their plots may be thin (but I no longer watch movies for the plot) but every single shot of those films is downright perfect - all perfectly realized, felt and constructed. And that's also to be said the same thing about Demy's wife's Cleo From 5 to 7.

[lazier than a toad]

I saw the Naruse silents "Apart from You" and "Nightly Dreams" (both 1933) the other night and thought, although perhaps not tour de force, his subjective camera movements (usually rocket zooms) were very striking. As was their repetition. The first time I saw it I was really taken by suprise. And I thought both films were great too.

[zedz]

I saw the Naruse silents "Apart from You" and "Nightly Dreams" (both 1933) the other night and thought, although perhaps not tour de force, his subjective camera movements (usually rocket zooms) were very striking.

I haven't seen these films (not through lack of interest!), but given their date, I assume these are rocket tracks rather than zooms, which would just make them even more impressive.

[devlinnn]

A recent viewing of Mulholland Dr. reminded me of quite possibly my favourite shot in all of Lynch's work - just after the girls catch the cab to go to Silencio. An empty, drenched in blue, street. We are left there for a little-too-long, with the wind, the dread. Then suddenly, we are pulled against our wishes, into dreams...

[lazier than a toad]

I saw the Naruse silents "Apart from You" and "Nightly Dreams" (both 1933) the other night and thought, although perhaps not tour de force, his subjective camera movements (usually rocket zooms) were very striking.

I haven't seen these films (not through lack of interest!), but given their date, I assume these are rocket tracks rather than zooms, which would just make them even more impressive.

Katie Russel described them as zooms in an lecture given at the BFI Southbank last week and I was just using her terminology without thinking of the technology involved. Out of interest how would you tell the difference of technique looking at the end product?

Also Naruse employed the same technique on some intertitles in the final sequence of "Nightly Dreams" as the woman screams "Coward!" and such at her husband. It was the first time I have seen that, and it also made an impression. Again, brilliant films.

[Michael]

A recent viewing of Mulholland Dr. reminded me of quite possibly my favourite shot in all of Lynch's work - just after the girls catch the cab to go to Silencio. An empty, drenched in blue, street. We are left there for a little-too-long, with the wind, the dread. Then suddenly, we are pulled against our wishes, into dreams...

A magnificent shot indeed! That can be said the same for every shot of Mulholland Dr. There's a particular one that sticks to my mind and it never escapes since I first saw the film. The shot trailing up the backyard stairs behind the director's house where Camille leads Betty up the stairs holding hands. How smoothly the camera waltzes up the stairs. Seductive and painful at the same time. Pay close attention to Betty's face as she beams up when Camille takes her hand. Camille's sexy legs floating up the stairs through the dark backyard foliage, we know why Betty couldn't let her go because we couldn't either.

[Michael]

Pesonally I hate the effect and it's one of the things that DOES NOT work for me in Vertigo.

Then you'd probably hate Bava. His movies are zoom porn.

[colinr0380]

The shot trailing up the backyard stairs behind the director's house where Camille leads Betty up the stairs holding hands. How smoothly the camera waltzes up the stairs. Seductive and painful at the same time. Pay close attention to Betty's face as she beams up when Camille takes her hand. Camille's sexy legs floating up the stairs through the dark backyard foliage, we know why Betty couldn't let her go because we couldn't either.

That was probably the shot that did a lot to move me from just thinking it was a great film to probably Lynch's very best! It gets even more powerful on repeat viewings when we know of the horrible party scene to follow. That little walk between the car and the party seems designed to show us the moment Betty/Diane probably would like to have lived in forever. Excited about where Camille is taking her, which reminds us of the 'let's solve a mystery' fun section of the beginning of the film.

It seems to show how much Diane is enamoured by Camille - the Betty earlier on is driving the mystery plot in a similar way to Camille leading Betty here and seems to have been Diane trying to mould herself into a similar strong, confident character. Diane is able to allow herself to be directed by Camille, and for a brief moment everything is perfect, but that wonder and anticipation (and trust) is destroyed once they end up at the generic debauched Hollywood pool party! We need that moment of intense happiness to show how deeply destroyed Diane is (even if it could be seen as an overreaction to the too high and unrealistic expectations she has placed on other people), and what depths she falls to once her illusions are shattered (even to the extent of creating a meta-illusion re-examining all the same issues through different, idealised characters, that again has to go through its own dissolution before the end finally comes for Diane?)

It could also stand for we the audience being led through the world by the filmmaker, which might explain why we identify so strongly with Diane while never really knowing Camille's feelings or intentions.

All that in a couple of short shots without dialogue.

There was a great but brief thread on the subject of hotzooms or whatever/zoomsout and in /pans in and out at a_film_by about three months ago. Surely any "search" button would find links there. I recall the consensus split between King Vidor and someone else.

Pesonally I hate the effect and it's one of the things that DOES NOT work for me in Vertigo.

Are you talking about the zoom in-pull out technique when Scotty is hanging from the roof at the beginning of the film? That technique was also the use in the cafe scene in Goodfellas and on Roy Schieder as he sees the shark for the first time on the beach in Jaws. I'll try to think of others.

[zedz]

Katie Russel described them as zooms in an lecture given at the BFI Southbank last week and I was just using her terminology without thinking of the technology involved. Out of interest how would you tell the difference of technique looking at the end product?

Perspective. If the camera is tracking / dollying in to the subject, it's moving through three dimensional space and any objects between the camera's original position and the subject will move in relation to the subject and camera, so the final composition will not be an enlargement of a detail from the original composition, but a new composition, captured from a different position. The zoom lens offers an optical magnification from the original position, so if, for example, there's a large pot plant between the camera and the subject, it will still be there when you zoom in; with a track or dolly, the camera would move past the pot plant.

The differences in perspective between the two approaches are what creates the space-twisting effect of the track-zoom. By simultaneously tracking and zooming out (or vice versa) you're merging two very different (and only notionally complementary) visual transformations of the same physical space.

I'm with David on the dubious virtues of the track-zoom. It's such a gimmicky, artificial technique that it has very limited application, and it became a cliche after very few uses. And the zoom lens itself is a dangerous tool that's seldom used well. Warhol randomised it to startling effect in The Velvet Underground and Nico, but there's not much more you could do in that direction. Altman is the only director I can think of who consistently makes intelligent, creative use of it, and with him it's an intrinsic part of his entire aesthetic (multi-track sound, communal improvisation).

While we're talking about zooms and tour-de-force camera movements, I'd like to raise a glass to the virtual zoom, best represented by the Eames' Powers of Ten. There was another short film that did something similar, an early computer-assisted piece, that zoomed in on a famous painting (the Mona Lisa, I think) to find another famous painting concealed in its grain, and so on and so on.

[patrick]

Speaking of Bava, how could I forget the awesome 360 pan in Black Sunday?

[HerrSchreck]

There was a great but brief thread on the subject of hotzooms or whatever/zoomsout and in /pans in and out at a_film_by about three months ago. Surely any "search" button would find links there. I recall the consensus split between King Vidor and someone else.

Pesonally I hate the effect and it's one of the things that DOES NOT work for me in Vertigo.

I think a worse example of this gimmick in an otherwise fabulous film, is the opening of Melville's SAMOURAI. At least in VERTIGO the in-outing signifies a mental state that is the flagship (title) state of the film. In SAMOURAI the picture merely blobs about around the edges & fish-eyed center... because... Jef is a schizo (according to Melville)???

[dave41n]

I would include in this exploration of the "unchained camera" the enchanting camera work in the swamp sequence in SUNRISE. I don't see it mentioned anywhere in this thread, though there have been references to other Murnau films (could be wrong though). The dexterity of the camera as it follows The Man through the pasture and to the meeting ground is absolutely mesmerizing. It's balletic movement reaches its peak as The Man approaches the camera -- gracefully avoiding contact with him in what feels like a pirouette, the camera pans left and continues tracking through foliage to find the City Girl waiting. This camera work makes my head spin every time. It is a movement that takes one back to Annabelle Whitford Moore's beautiful Butterfly Dance and its serpentine motion. The Man has not arrived yet and we wait with her for what seems like forever. The camera isn't really oriented with anyone in particular in this sequence, but it isn't totally objective either. It isn't the objective, omniscient camera. It is curious, exploratory, and untypical, ready to run off at any moment. It exemplifies the poetics (forgive the cliché) of Murnau's cinema.

Later in the sequence, there is another shot that has a similar effect on the spectator. It is the tracking shot inspecting the footprints left in the mud by the City Girl. Again, it is the curious camera, a camera that acts like an unknowing shadow.

[HerrSchreck]

Agreed, and the really interesting thing here is that most of the movements are performed basically as written in Carl Mayer's script. Those movements are every bit as much Mayer's as they were Murnau's. So many of the German silent flagships-- the subjective roving camera, a film entirely without intertitles, the kammerspeils, not to mention the legitimate expressionism of Caligari-- spring from one man.

Hence his own Filmmaker's thread. (Not that anyone else wants to talk about him).

[Michael]

Speaking of Bava, how could I forget the awesome 360 pan in Black Sunday?

Oh yes. I just finished watching it for the 20th time. Still amazing. What about that shot blowing us from a girl milking a cow to the barn window framing the outside storm.

Every single shot of every single Bava film makes me drop my knees and weep in awe.

[Michael]

Not tour de force but... Moonstruck, a favorite of mine for nostalgic reasons, ends with a tracking shot pulling away from the family toasting and the dogs eating, sweeping past old family photos. I've always loved that shot. How many Hollywood comedies end as beautifully, lyrically and thoughtfully as this.

[Kinsayder]

One of the most virtuosic shots in Renoir is the 360-degree pan in Le Crime de M. Lange. Rotating and descending on its axis in the centre of a courtyard where most of the film is set, the camera follows René Lefèvre through the first-floor windows, down the staircase and outside. The camera then continues to rotate, against Levèvre's direction of motion, taking in the whole of the courtyard before recapturing Levèvre and his victim at the climactic moment of the "crime". The spiral, contrary motion is both thrilling and disorienting; there is a dizzying sense of expectation as we wait for the camera to "catch up".

André Bazin, in his book on Renoir, provides this sketch of the shot (the dotted line is Levèvre, the dashes represent the camera movement):

[Wittsdream]

Firstly, this topic definitely echoes Raymond Durgnat's long-held opinion that the best cinema comes in sequences. I agree wholeheartedly.

I've been thinking about this for some time, and I would have to nominate Hitchcock's Vertigo and Tarkovsky's Stalker as containing the two most beautiful camera movements ever committed to celluloid.

At the beginning of Vertigo, we are introduced (from Stewart's POV) to the character of Madeleine (Novak) as she enters Ernie's Restaurant. The camera begins on Stewart, seated at the bar, and slowly tracks backwards and pans across the red velvet clad walls of the restaurant, then begins an even slower track in on Madeleine, seated at a table (wearing an intense jade-colored dress). The shot only lasts for 45 seconds, but with Bernard Herrmann's seductive score, it is the most evocative execution of mise-en-scene in a film that probably contains the most hypnotic tracking shots in Hitchcock's entire career.

The second sequence would be that amazing tracking shot (among many great ones) in Tarkovsky's Stalker that takes place shortly after Stalker and his fellow travelers (writer & scientist) lie down to rest (at the beginning of part two). The narration of Stalker's wife chimes in about the great earthquake, how the sun turned black, and Eduard Artemyev's ethereal flute score hypnotizes you with its beauty, as Tarkovsky's ever-creeping camera bears witness to the artifacts of this world's haunted past: gold, religious icons, weapons, industrial technology, all submerged beneath a sepia-tinted pond aglow in humanity's destructive powers. The single take begins on Stalker's face, and ends on his hand, contravening the space-time continuum.

Two breathtaking sequences from somewhat disparate cinema talents; Hitchcock, the great stitcher of scenes, and Tarkovsky, the poet of the seamless, long brush stroke.