100 Best Cinematography Films
100 Best Cinematography Films
100 Best Cinematography Films
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BEST 100
1. The New World - Malick, Lubezki
6. Baraka - Fricke
Each morning in Africa when the sun comes up, each Lion
knows that if it can't out run the slowest antelope it will end up
starving to death. Each antelope knows that if it can't out run
the fastest Lion it won't see the next morning.
a list that doesn’t include such worthy names as Remi Adefarasin (The House of Mirth), Nelson Yu Lik-
wai (all five of Jia Zhang-ke’s features), Stuart Dryburgh (The Piano), John Toll (The Thin Red Line), Peter
Deming (Mulholland Drive), Peter Suschitzky (Spider), Edward Lachman (Far from Heaven), or Büttner.
Such unthinkable exclusion is telling of the wealth of talent currently working behind the camera on film
sets from Hong Kong to Los Angeles.
Peter Andrews does not exist. It’s a pseudonym employed by Steven Soderbergh, who has lensed every
film he’s helmed from Traffic on (he also edits his own work under the name “Mary Ann Bernard”—who
knows why). This raises an altogether different query than the one I mentioned in the introduction to
this piece. That is, has Soderbergh developed into a better director of photography than of movies in
general? Example A: Solaris’s cool, metallic space veneer and moodily oversaturated flashback
sequences. Example B: Full Frontal. Case closed?
Unlike many of my peers, I’m not a fan of Gus Van Sant’s recent (unambiguously Béla Tarr-aping)
output. However, the best thing, without a doubt, about Van Sant’s Loneliness (or whatever you want to
call it) Trilogy is Savides’s exquisite camerawork. Even if Elephant’s tragic high school kids frequently
resemble over-fetishized runway models, there’s still no question that the man knows how to sustain
some of the world’s smoothest tracking shots. Hell, his perfectly modulated balance of Michael Haneke-
style long shots and revealing close-ups almost redeemed the otherwise useless Last Days.
Lubezki is a rare talent, but one you can’t necessarily trust with just any filmmaker. His candy-coated
compositions only added, for example, to the kitsch factor of the recent live-action adaptation of Dr.
Seuss’s The Cat in the Hat. Partnered with reputable aesthetes like Tim Burton or Terrence Malick, on
the other hand, he’s top-tier all the way. Burton’s Sleepy Hollow is virtually all surface, but—you decide
about 15 minutes in—that doesn’t matter a bit because it looks so damn good. His masterly use of
natural light as an expressive force is best exemplified by Malick’s The New World, which wouldn’t pack
nearly the same end-of-innocence punch without Lubezki’s expertise. (Bonus points for having shot this
breathtaking scene.)
He’s worked side-by-side with some of France’s finest contemporary filmmakers—Olivier Assayas,
Arnaud Desplechin, Patrice Chereau. Too easy, you say? Like Kobe winning three NBA championships—
with Shaq. Not so fast: Gautier also shot Walter Salles’s staggeringly vapid Che Guevara biopic, The
Motorcycle Diaries, and if you manage to stay awake throughout (no simple feat, granted), it’s clear that
his landscape work there is as stunning as anything in Esther Kahn or Those Who Love Me Can Take the
Train.
Coen brothers movies always look different and always look great, from Fargo’s snowbound visuals (the
color white has seldom been put to such effective use—seriously) to the rich, smoky black and white of
the noir homage The Man Who Wasn’t There. For this, a generous portion of the credit should go to
Roger Deakins, who’s shot all of their movies since Barton Fink. But that’s not the end of his case.
Deakins also shot Scorsese’s Kundun, bathing the story of the Dalai Lama in deep, radiant hues of yellow
and red, and Sam Mendes’s Jarhead, where he managed to do for sand what Fargo did for snow.
Kaminski won his first Academy Award for his haunting work on Schindler’s List, a daunting exercise in
matching frenzied action with devastating stillness. Spielberg has smartly stuck with him ever since
(though—fun fact—ex-wife and fellow member of Oscar’s Class of ’93 Holly Hunter didn’t). Kaminski’s
crowning achievement as a cinematographer may be one in the same with Spielberg’s masterpiece: A.I.,
hands-down the most visually sumptuous sci-fi film ever made. The harrowing demolition sequence is
proof of Kaminski’s technically fluent, first-rate craftsmanship. The iconic underwater shot of Haley Joel
Osment’s David and the blue fairy statue solidifies his reputation as a visionary artist in his own right.
Speaking of fruitful director/DP partnerships, Michael Mann and Dion Beebe are—two films in—the duo
du jour in American cinema. Collateral, with its luminous fluorescent glow and striking DV urgency,
captures L.A. as indelibly (and perhaps definitively) as Gordon Willis did New York in Woody Allen’s
Manhattan. Miami Vice is the hypnotically stylish apotheosis of Mann’s designer oeuvre, and he would
never have achieved it without Beebe’s singular lens. Who knows? There might be actual substance in
there somewhere, but that sure as heck ain’t the reason it gets my vote as the best Hollywood movie so
far this year.
Whether credited as Mark Li Ping-bing, Mark Lee Ping-bin, Mark Ping-bin Lee, Mark Lee, or Pingbin Li,
this is definitely a guy you want shooting your movie. Hou Hsiao-hsien swears by him, and for good
reason. The trio of vignettes in Three Times might have played as mere back-catalogue rehashes without
Ping-bing’s camera guiding Hou’s signature concerns in fascinating new directions. Where the turn-of-
the-century brothel in 1998’s Flowers of Shanghai is adorned in bold shades of orange, yellow, and gold,
the “Time for Freedom” chapter of Three Times (again set in a turn-of-the-century brothel) is defined by
compositions in blue, green, and violet, beautifully underscoring the painful longing of Hou’s characters.
Aside from Hou, Ping-bing has also lent his painterly touch to Tran An Hung’s The Vertical Ray of the Run
and Tian Zhuangzhuang’s Springtime in a Small Town.
To be perfectly honest with you, my choice for #1 here wasn’t terribly difficult. It was basically just a
matter of deduction. Who, over the past decade-plus, has made the most consistently gorgeous-looking
movies? Wong Kar-wai, right? No question. Well, as mentioned above, Wong and Doyle are inseparable
to the point that it’s reasonable to wonder where one ends and the other begins. And no, as virtues go,
breathtaking, eye-popping beauty isn’t everything, but it goes an awfully long way. Think back
momentarily, and consider all the indelible moments that Wong and Doyle have brought us: the would-
be lovers riding off on the motorbike at the close of Fallen Angels, Doyle’s camera peering skyward
before the credits roll; the rhythmic series of impossibly graceful shots following Tony Leung and Maggie
Cheung through their solo motions in In the Mood for Love (shot with Ping-bing); Faye Wong’s android
drifting disaffectedly through Mr. Chow’s pulp fantasy in 2046; the three minutes and forty-two seconds
of romantic ecstasy that is their music video for DJ Shadow’s “Six Days.”
Hey, if that’s not enough for you, Doyle has also shot non-Wong films as diverse as Pen-ek
Ratanaruang’s Last Life in the Universe, Zhang Yimou’s Hero, and Phillip Noyce’s Rabbit-Proof Fence.
Dumplings, Hong Kong director Fruit Chan’s contribution to the pan-Asian triptych Three…Extremes,
would be a scathing polemic on its own. With Doyle manning the camera, it’s a striking, self-reflexive
paradox—a visually seductive critique of our image-obsessed (global) culture.