Wednesday, January 08, 2003
Goodbye, Connie
Conrad Hall, grand master of cinematography and my hero, is dead at 76.
To see any of his films is to appreciate his artistry; to imagine the field of motion picture photography without him is impossible.
The opening sequence of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, shot in faded sepia tones, immediately transports you back to 1900; the "Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head" sequence will take your breath away, even on the tenth viewing.
Who can forget the shafts of late-afternoon light coming in through the windows of the New York chess club, falling across the board where Josh Waitskin is being taught by his teacher, in Searching for Bobby Fischer? Who among us was not completely awed by the stadium sequence of American Beauty, where Lester Burnham falls in love with his daughter's best friend?
Road to Perdition, his last, was yet the best of Conrad Hall's oeuvre. Every frame is arresting, an Edward Hopper-esque vision of father and son making their way across the great American landscape. Watching it, you feel as if you're witnessing visual perfection, the apex of an elusive craft borne from years and years of practice. It is the most beautiful thing on celluloid I've ever seen. It's partly why I want to become a filmmaker.
Sam Mendes, director of both American Beauty and Road to Perdition, says he's devastated by the news. And so am I. There will be more Sam Mendes films, but none of them quite as magical as those made with Conrad Hall's hand on the camera. Part of what keeps a filmmaker or musician or writer going - his fuel, so to speak - is inspiration. And now that Conrad Hall is gone, there will doubtless be less of it.
posted 11:21 PM
Comments:
Post a Comment