American cinematographer (Jan-Dec 1957)

represent which is beyond the scope of the sculptor — land¬ scapes, scenes of battle and the color of flowers. On the other hand the sculptor can in one piece of work create what the painter can never portray — an infinite number of aspects of the same subject and a representation of the subject unbounded by the frame of a canvas. It is this frame which limits the expression of the painter. When great artists turn from a canvas to a wall, from a wall to a dome — are they not breaking away from the confines of their small canvases and are they not showing that, no more than the sculptor, will they forever be caged by a rectangle of wood? And do we, their audience, chide them for doing so, or complain that their pictures are painted in only two dimensions? Any more, do we chide the sculptor for carving in a monotone; for not painting the lips of his statue red? If, then, we accept both sculpture and painting as satisfying media for artistic representation, shall we not be equally understanding in assessing the merits of the cinematographer, when by varying his technique he succeeds in giving us different displays of the same idea? And when he grows tired of the restraint afforded by the frame to give himself a larger canvas; when he seeks to envelop and lose himself in it? Now let us turn to a closer view of this stretching process. In Fig. 1, the artist is at A and the subject is at S. FF define the limits of the field of view as contained bv the canvas. J Fig. 2 shows the picture: f f f f is the frame. OWING TO the wider angle of view, proportionately slower and shorter movements of the camera in panning, tracking, etc., is required to maintain the same sense of dynamism as at present. Tests have shown that movement with a wide-screen camera, such as the VistaVision camera being used here to film a scene for “The Ten Commandments,” should be reduced to two-thirds of what would have been required with the same lens used on a standard 35mm camera. The picture will be judged by a great many people, who will find fault with this and that and (in particular) with the composition. One will say the picture is the wrong shape; another will say the arrangement of the subjectmatter is unbalanced; a third will say it should be tilted slightly, for dynamic reasons. Can we blame the artist if he throws away the frame and turns sculptor? Then at least his work will be judged on its own merits and not in relation to an artificial boundary which he desires no more than does his audience. So it is with the cinematographer. When once he has become the master of his medium he fights his limitations to broaden his field — widen the screen, heighten the screen, surround himself by screen — try, in short, to forget the screen and experience freedom of space and perspective. Now the painter is no longer envious of the sculptor. With as large a canvas as he wants to carry his picture he can do everything necessary to portray reality — as seen from one point in space. The sculptor scores here. He can portray his subject from every point in space. “Walk around it!” he says, “Move freely and look from all sides. How much more is here than on a canvas!” “Wait!” says the painter, turned cinematographer. “I will match you there! I will photograph my subject with a moving camera and in this way I will carry my audience around my subject; not a few people, but hundreds of them! Nor shall we waste time, for I will plan the movements carefully so that they will see just what I want them to see in the telling of my story.” Here then is the cinematographer, master of his screen, with the appeal of the painter and the mobility of the sculptor. He may call it Cinerama; he may call it WideScreen presentation — CinemaScope — VistaVision. It is for us now to analyze what he has done so that we may emulate him for our own satisfaction, and for the satisfaction of our audience. All graphic art is the result of an association between the artist and his subject. Necessarily separated by space, the artist must first appreciate the subject and then portray it. The beginning of this process is illustrated in Fig. 3. If a sculptor, the artist conceives the portrayal in some form congruent with his conception of the subject. If a painter, he conceives the reproduction as the intersection, by the plane of his canvas, of his lines of sight with the subject (see Fig. 4). Fig. 4 provides us with a practical construction for line in a picture. Geometrically it has the same construction as (Continued on Next Page) American Cinematocrapher July, 1957 443