Aces of the Camera — Nicholas Musuraca (1941) 🇺🇸
Aces of the Camera II: Nicholas Musuraca, A.S.C.
by Walter Blanchard
To director of photography Nicholas Musuraca, A.S.C., there must be a reason for everything. His whole approach to his work seems predicated on the eternal question, “Why am I doing this, and why am I doing it this particular way?” And to him the answer that it is because a thing is supposed to be done that way, or because it always has been done that way, is no answer at all. Before he is satisfied, he must have a practical, commonsense reason that makes direct appeal to his strong sense of logic. If, to get that reason, he has to break established traditions, or evolve new methods, he does it. But he must convince himself that whatever it is being done in the best and most sensible way possible.
This is shown very clearly in his views on lighting. To Nick’s mind, there can never be any fixed rule for lighting a given type of set or action, for each scene is a complete photodramatic entity in itself. It can never be just like any other scene. It has its individual dramatic mood and tempo; often it represents a definite season, or even a definite time of day. All of these combine to set it apart from any other scene, no matter how similar otherwise; and each must be fully considered in bringing it to the screen.
For example, he likes to point out some of the distinctions he had to make in one recent picture between the lighting treatment of scenes in very similar rooms, showing very similar action, but with one taking place at night, and the other in the daytime. It was not just a simple matter of using a low-key lighting for the night-effect, and a fuller lighting — possibly with a sunlight effect through a window — for the day shot. It meant instead a complete reversement of his entire plan of lighting. “In the day sequence,” he points out, “I built my whole lighting around what would naturally be the light-source in reality — the window. The dominant sources of lighting for both set and people were placed on that side, and placed low enough so their beams fell at angles which would at least suggest natural light coming through that window. The lighting from the opposite side — necessary of course for photography — would serve largely as filler-light, and would be softer, to hint at the natural effect of light reflected from the inside walls.
“In the night-sequence, on the other hand, my lighting would be exactly reversed. In reality, at night the main sources of light in such a room would be the reading - lamps visible in the long - shots. These would be inside the room, and as the action was played, most of them were located on the opposite side of the players from the now dark window. Therefore to produce a believable effect, the key light-sources of my shot would have to be on the opposite side from where they were in the day-effect scene. Moreover, they would throw their beams at different angles, to suggest light coming from the practical lighting fixtures which were supposed to be illuminating the room.
“Turning this night-effect into a day-effect — or vice-versa — could never be done merely by increasing the exposure values of negative or print. You might obtain the desired density that way — but you couldn’t obtain a convincing, natural effect. The audience might not know what was wrong — but they’d feel something was wrong, just the same. And they’d be distracted from the story.
“As a matter of fact, you would probably make a difference in lighting day-effect scenes in that set according to the time of day represented, for the direction of shadows, projected light-effects, and so on, would certainly be different if you wanted to represent morning, noon and evening.”
Nick is no blind adherent of the long-established cinematographic convention that heavy drama must he lit in a lowkey, comedy must be lit in a high key. and so on. That, again, must in his analysis depend upon the logic of scene, setting and action. “For example,” Musuraca points out, “a vast amount of real-life drama occurs in hospitals. And a modern hospital isn’t by any means a sombre-appearing place. Everything is light-colored and glistening: what’s more, everything is pretty well illuminated — trust these medical men to see to it that there’s enough illumination everywhere to prevent eye-strain.
“So why should we always have things sombre and gloomy when in a picture we try to portray sad or tragic action in a hospital? For that matter, one of the most poignantly tragic of all modern death-scenes — Helen Hayes’ death-scene in A Farewell To Arms — was filmed in a realistically high key throughout. Charles Lang, A.S.C., certainly deserved the Academy Award he received for that picture.
“In the same way, if there’s no logical reason for it, why should comedy always be lit in a high key? Sometimes your action may really demand low-key effects to put it over! You don’t think so —? Well, here’s an example! In making ‘Little Men,’ we had just such a scene. The scene showed George Bancroft sitting at his desk, reading; it was a night-effect. While he is engrossed with his study, Jack Oakie tiptoes in through the door, and hides behind the door — unknown to the professor — who calmly gets up and goes out, still unaware that anyone is in the room.
“Now if you had that scene lit in a high key, in traditional comedy fashion, even the most absent-minded or nearsighted old professor could hardly ignore Jack Oakie’s presence. I knew that if the scene was to be convincing, we had to make Bancroft’s ignorance of the intruder plausible and natural.
“Luckily, the period of the picture — the late 19th Century — helped me. For at that time and in the places represented, rooms were illuminated with the old-fashioned coal-oil lamps. In the long-shots of this sequence, we established two of these lamps: one a desklamp, illuminating the professor’s work; the other a lamp on a table, casting its glow of light in another portion of the room. The intervening areas I left — as they would be in life — in deep shadow. Oakie was seen entering the room; then as he hid behind the door, he was lost in the deep shadow.
“The audience could then believe that the professor would naturally fail to see him, even as they did. But — they had seen him enter; the professor hadn’t. They could enjoy the humor of the situation far better because the lighting helped them to believe the action.”
Another point upon which Musuraca feels strongly is that in many ways modern photography has become too complicated — unnecessarily complicated. “There are more than enough things that really have to be done,” he says, “to make any kind of a picture today: why should we go out of our way to add complication — and make ourselves a lot of extra work?
“For example, take the matter of lighting a set or a person. All too often we’re all of us likely to find ourselves throwing in an extra light here, and another there, simply to correct something which is a bit wrong because of the way one basic lamp is placed or adjusted. That’s a lot of unnecessary work and worry!
“If, on the other hand, that one original lamp is in its really correct place and adjustment, the others aren’t needed. Any time I find myself using a more than ordinary number of light-sources for a scene, I try to stop and think it out. Nine times out of ten I’ll find I’ve slipped up somewhere, and the extra lights are really unnecessary. If you once get the ‘feel’ of lighting-balance this way, you’ll be surprised how you’ll be able to simplify your lightings. Usually the results on the screen are better, too!
“The same thing applies to making exterior scenes. One of the commonest sources of unnecessary complication is in overdoing filtering. Just because the research scientists have evolved a range of several score filters of different colors and densities isn’t by any means a reason that we’ve got to use them — or even burden ourselves down with them! On my own part, I’ve always found that the simplest filtering is the best. Give me a good yellow filter, for mild correction effects, and a good red or red-orange one for heavier corrections, and I’ll guarantee to bring you back almost any sort of exterior effects (other than night scenes) that you’ll need in the average production.
“What filters —? That’s a matter for personal choice. Some prefer one filter, others another, according to their particular methods of working. My own choice is an Aero 1 for the lighter effects, and a G or sometimes a 23-A for heavier effects.
“And by the way — when in doubt about filtering — don’t. Nine times out of ten you’re better off that way, especially if there are people in the scene. The best example of misdirected enthusiasm for filtering is in making snow scenes. I remember a while back I was on location doing some such scenes. As we approached our first set-up, my crew came to me and asked what filter they were to use. When I told them none, they couldn’t believe me. Everyone used some sort of filter in the snow!
“But what have you really got to filter? Your snow will render as an extreme white, no matter what you do. The evergreens, trees, rocks and so on will come out good and dark. You’re going to have extreme contrast no matter what you do. Under these conditions the sky automatically will take its proper place in rendering a pleasing picture. So why filter?
“Filter to control that contrast, you say? I don’t agree. Most filters tend to increase contrast; in snow, even a Neutral Density filter will do so, for while it may hold back the snow, it will also hold back the dark areas. My experience has been that the real secret of good snow scenes is correct exposure — correct exposure for whatever part of the scene is most important to your shot. Usually it will be the people, and especially their faces. Expose for them, and the rest of the shot is likely to be all right.
“This works out in practice, too. On the occasion I mentioned, my crew couldn’t be persuaded that my decision not to use the filter was or could be correct. They were very polite about it, but I could just feel them thinking, ‘Poor old Nick — he’s a back-number!’
“So I told them to make one take filtering as they thought they should. The operative saw to it that that take was unmistakably marked ‘print’ in that day’s negative reports! He was the first man in the projection-room next day, too, when we ran the rushes.
“All went well until his shot came on. It was off-balance and unbelievably contrasty. The director hit the ceiling, and the operative wished he could sink through the floor! Immediately after, the un-filtered scenes came on — and were perfect. Since then, that gang has been a whole lot less ready to suggest using filters except where they were demonstrably necessary! Embarrassing, maybe — but it takes practical experience like that, often, to prove to all of us that while theories may be fine, the best way to do a thing is usually the simplest — and we can always find that simplest way if we reason things out looking for simplicity and logic instead of technical window-dressing!”
End.
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Stage Exit Marker
A constructive contribution to safety and convenience was made by studio policeman Bob De War of the Paramount Studio, shown above, who suggested placing an illuminated “Exit” sign above the doors of stages. Anyone who has stumbled forlornly about the dark corners of a stage, far from the bright lighting of the set and thus doubly dark, will realize the value of this simple suggestion.
Collection: American Cinematographer, February 1941
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