Overhearing the intercom at Salt Lake CityÕs airport squawk ÒWill Julie Delpy please come to the information deskÓ is a pretty sure sign that youÕve arrived at the Sundance Film Festival. If thatÕs not enough of a wake-up call, try an hour-long shuttle ride to Park City seated next to a beleaguered Hollywood agent barking into a cell phone.	If previous festivals are an accurate barometer, Sundance Õ99 was a bit quieter on the buzz front. The biggest sale was the acquisition of the popular comedy Happy, Texas by Miramax Films, for a reported total sum of $10 million. Audiences also championed the blood-curdling terrors of The Blair Witch Project (see capsule on facing page), which was one of the first flicks acquired off the auction block Ñ for a cool $1 million-plus shelled out by Artisans Entertainment. Fine Line soon followed suit, picking up the boy-meets-boy farce Trick for a mid-six -figure sum, and then grabbing Tumbleweeds, a tale of renewal among a divorcee and her daughter, for almost double that price. Meanwhile, the documentary American Movie found a home at Sony Pictures Classics for $800,000, and won 15 minutes of fame for its subject, a struggling no-budget director named Mark Borchardt.	As always, overcrowded screenings were the order of the day. At the small Holiday Village Cinema triplex, a throng of viewers nearly trampled actor Ben Affleck and others while attempting to bum-rush their way into the premiere of the Hughes BrothersÕ documentary American Pimp (which featured an in-house appearance by Rosebudd, a major domo of the ÒescortÓ set). The anarchic spectacle, which brought to mind the WhoÕs ill-fated Cincinnati concert in the mid-1970s, nearly prompted festival officials to call in Park CityÕs finest to enforce some much-needed crowd-control. Voyeurs also flocked to Sex: The Annabel Chong Story, which documents the feminist graduate student/porno starÕs infamous attempts to stretch the limits of unsafe sex.	Boosted by the resounding critical success of the Brazilian film Central Station (a Sundance Õ98 World Cinema entry), the festivalÕs international/foreign-language category boasted a number of excellent entries, including La Ciudad, a realistic black-and-white look at impoverished ŽmigrŽs struggling for survival in New York City; Run Lola Run, an ultra-energetic German entry about a woman in a 20-minute race to save her boyfriend from mobster retaliation; and Lovers of the Arctic Circle, a lyrical Spanish tale of two lifelong friendsÕ love for each other. The festivalÕs most feted film, Three Seasons (see full coverage in AC Feb. Õ99) also painted a portrait of distant shores. Vietnamese-American director Tony BuiÕs saw his poetic, three-part picture score a festival first by taking a trio of major awards: the Grand Jury Prize, the Audience Award, and Best Cinematography honors for director of photography Lisa RinzlerÕs nuanced work.	Throughout the 10-day festival, ACÕs merry band of moviegoers managed to take in close to 50 motion pictures. After careful consideration, our Sundance team opted to profile the following films, all of which offered intriguing visual styles.		  Ñ Andrew O. ThompsonThe Blair Witch Project (U.S.)Directors: Daniel Myrick and Eduardo SanchezCinematographer: Neal FredericksA primal frightfest shot on a shoestring budget, The Blair Witch Project was one of this yearÕs must-see Sundance entries. After a debut screening that generated wildly enthusiastic word-of-mouth and a distribution deal with Artisans Entertainment (which picked up Darren AronofskyÕs equally inventive ¹ (Pi) at last yearÕs festival), Blair Witch became Park CityÕs toughest ticket. Those lucky enough to score a seat were promptly treated to a truly harrowing film that does for camping trips what Psycho did for hot showers.	The taleÕs premise is deceptively simple. As the picture begins, a somber title card provides the backstory: in October of 1994, college students and budding documentarians Heather Donahue, Joshua Leonard and Michael Williams (played in the film by actors who just happen to have the same names) headed off to Burkittsville, Maryland to interview the townsfolk about the 200-year-old legend of the Blair Witch. After continuing on into the Black Hills Forest to capture footage of key historical sites for their class project, the three vanished without a trace, never to be heard from again. However, as the title card tells us, the trioÕs Hi-8 video and 16mm footage was found a year later, along with digital audiotapes and DonahueÕs journal.	What follows onscreen is a cinema vŽritŽ nightmare that documents the friendsÕ final days, as they lose their way in the woods and are subjected to an array of increasingly ominous supernatural events. The groupÕs tenuous personal bond is tested repeatedly over a series of terrifying nights, as they are tormented by eerie aural phenomena, the mysterious appearance of paranormal portents, and their own agonized imaginations.	The most remarkable aspect of The Blair Witch Project is that is manages to raise gooseflesh without ever resorting to the horror genreÕs predictably lurid clichŽs Ñ i.e. gratuitous blood and gore. According to the filmÕs co-writers and co-directors, Dan Myrick and Eduardo Sanchez, the primary goal was to avoid the literal while crafting an atmosphere of bone-chilling dread. ÒEd and I went to film school together at the University of Central Florida, and we always enjoyed psychological horror films like The Shining and The Exorcist,Ó says Myrick. ÒWe found out through brainstorming discussions that we were also both fans of the old TV series In Search Of, and creepy quasi-documentaries like The Legend of Boggy Creek. We loved those old grainy shots of the Loch Ness monster, or the shaky camerawork on Bigfoot moving through the woods, and we decided that we wanted to do a horror film that seemed 100 percent real.Ó	The duo attained that goal via decidedly unconventional strategies that were based partly on producer Greg HaleÕs training in the U.S. ArmyÕs Special Forces. Working with cinematographer Neal Fredericks (Dreamers), Myrick and Sanchez designed a Òmethod filmmakingÓ plan that would immerse the actors in the storyÕs reality. The three thespians were given a two-day crash-course on how to operate the productionÕs Hi-8 and 16mm film cameras, and then turned loose to capture their experiences in real time over eight days. During the shoot, the trio made their way to various predetermined points, encountering planted actors (and unplanted civilians) with whom they would then act out improvisational scenes based on notes passed to them by the directors and cinematographer. Once the actors entered the forests of MarylandÕs Seneca Creek State Park, they used Global Positioning System (GPS) handsets to navigate the terrain; the production team tracked the players via GPS or simply stalked them through the woods to observe their movements. Directorial notes, extra camping and film gear and food were left in milk crates marked with day-glo orange bicycle flags. Sanchez explains, ÒDan and I provided detailed outlines with all of the events that would happen to the actors on each day Ñ from eating breakfast to being chased out of their tent Ñ and the time of day when the events should take place.Ó	To push the actors even further into their roles, the production team would creep up to the perimeter of their campsite each night and harass them with frightening sounds and other morbid surprises. This gleefully sadistic exercise continued during the daytime, as the actors were required to cover more and more ground with less and less food. ÒIt was like extreme theater in the outdoors,Ó Williams attests. ÒFrom an acting standpoint, it was a great challenge, because we didnÕt have any contact with our directors. We just had to hope that performance-wise, we were going where they wanted us to go. After a few days, we were really able to turn the freedom theyÕd given us into an advantage, and take any risks that we wanted. It was an actorÕs dream, and the more we immersed ourselves in the characters, the scarier things got. At the end of each day, we would ask ourselves, ÔOkay, whatÕs going to happen to us tonight?ÕÓ	With a wry grin, Donahue adds, ÒWe always knew that we were safe, because everything was so well thought-out and planned, but it was still a freaky experience. Every time we turned around, we were hearing the cries of dead children or finding voodoo symbols hanging from the trees!Ó	The project was also a unique experience for director of photography Fredericks. Since actors Logan and Donahue shot most of the footage, Fredericks worked more as a supervising cameraman, offering the duo technical tips via written notes left in the woods. ÒAs a cinematographer, you want to have as much control over the imagery as you can, but on Blair Witch that objective became rather difficult,Ó he says. ÒWe did allow ourselves to control certain aspects of the shoot, however. For example, the 16mm night footage that Joshua shot [on KodakÕs 200 ASA 7222 black-and-white stock] was pushed two stops in the lab to give it a grainy, rough, student-film look. Also, the light we gave him to attach to the CP-16 camera was a 750-watt ENG fixture that Ed and I had previously tested to be sure that the spread would only extend a certain number of feet. We wanted the nighttime scenes to fall off into blackness so the audience would have to wonder what was out there beyond the range of the light. Most of the action was off-camera or away from the light, and everything was staged in conjunction with a variety of sound effects to create a scary atmosphere.	ÒHeather shot most of the video footage, which was designed to provide a more immediate, you-are-there feel for their day-to-day, behind-the-scenes experiences on this fictional class project. IÕve had some experience transferring video to film, so I knew that when we eventually transferred all of the footage to a 35mm print, the aesthetic qualities of the 35mm film would take some of the edge off the video, making it a bit softer and more pleasing to the eye.Ó	Though Logan did have some prior experience as a freelance photographer and videographer, he had never worked with a CP-16 before. He says that serving double duty as an actor and cameraman on Blair Witch proved to be a valuable lesson, and a physically and psychologically daunting one at that. ÒThe CP-16 is a very cumbersome camera, and we were already loaded down with backpacks and everything else. Neal had explained the aesthetic that we were going for, though, and I think that began to come through subconsciously as I shot the footage Ñ even though I was concentrating on my performance as well. As an actor, you donÕt get such an opportunity very often, and it was interesting to try to maintain that balance. The fact that we were shooting in sequence really enabled us, as an acting unit, to live in the moment. We got very tired and very hungry, and our nerves were constantly on edge. As the filmmaking process went on, there was less and less need to pretend. Everything got very raw, and I think that comes across on the screen.Ó	The filmÕs enigmatic ending leaves the ultimate fate of its characters in limbo, but those who thirst for insights are encouraged to hunt for clues on the production teamÕs website (www.haxan.com), which offers excerpts from DonahueÕs fictional diary. Assessing the pictureÕs refusal to pander to viewersÕ preconditioned reflexes, Logan concludes, ÒI think audiences have really become conditioned to seeing violence and blood onscreen. ItÕs all been done before, so it worked to our advantage to play on the psychological element and let the viewers use their imaginations to create their own vision of the Blair Witch. If you show the boogeyman, it becomes a clichŽ, and the film then falls into the same category as any other horror film ever made. ThatÕs not the kind of payoff we were looking for.Ó			       Ñ S. PizzelloThe Loss of Sexual Innocence (Great Britain)Director: Mike FiggisCinematographer: Beno”t Delhomme, AFCDirecting from his own 17-year-old script, British filmmaker Mike Figgis launched The Loss of Sexual Innocence, which offers a non-linear look at the life experiences of Nic (Julian Sands), a documentary filmmaker on assignment in the arid outpost of Tunisia. Intercut with images drawn from the Òfall from paradiseÓ myth, this $3 million film explores NicÕs recollections of his various sexual awakenings: as a boy in colonial Kenya observing his grandfatherÕs bizarre, Bible-reading ritual with a native girl clad only in lingerie; as a young teen engaging in a postpubescent tryst with his girlfriend; and as an adult holed up in a country abode, where he hopes to enjoy a weekendÕs worth of sensual delights with his wife.	The film itself is structured as a series of short and uniquely visual vignettes shot on location in TunisiaÕs Sahara Desert, northern England, and the Italian areas of Umbria and Rome. Figgis had been quite taken with the collage of lighting styles and handheld camera moves on display in Tran Anh HungÕs Cyclo (see AC Aug. Õ96), so he enlisted that filmÕs cinematographer, Frenchman Beno”t Delhomme, AFC, whose other credits include When the CatÕs Away, The Scent of Green Papaya, Artemesia and The Winslow Boy (covered in Points East, AC Feb.ÕÔ99). ÒMike loves to find symbolic colors for different sequences, and to push the meaning of some sequences with just color and lighting,Ó affirms Delhomme. ÒHe wanted lots of handheld camera Ñ no grips and no sticks. In watching Cyclo, he saw the exact style that he wanted [for Sexual Innocence], so our conversations with one another [during preproduction] went quite smoothly.Ó After trying out various stocks and exposures, Delhomme and Figgis resolved to shoot the filmÕs stranger sequences on KodakÕs 16mm reversal Ektachrome stocks, and then subject the footage to cross-processing (see ÒSoup du Jour,Ó AC Nov. Õ98).	Prior to Sexual Innocence, Delhomme had worked with cross-processing only on a commercial shoot, but that situation was somewhat different since the end result was colored on telecine. To prepare for any eventuality, he and Figgis tested the Ektachrome stocksÕ latitude by underexposing and overexposing it in one-stop increments. Aside from having to deal with reversalÕs erratic nature, issues of contrasting skin tones were also a consideration for the filmÕs ÒGarden of EdenÓ sequences. Delhomme photographed these naturally-lit daytime exteriors on both the 125 ASA 7240 and the 400 ASA 7251, in the rural areas of Umbria, Italy. ÒSince Adam was black and Eve was white, the results were fantastic,Ó says Delhomme. ÒWhen underexposing, Adam would completely disappear in the frame, while Eve was still there. While overexposing, Eve became completely transparent while Adam remained within the frame.Ó	In these trips to  ÒParadise,Ó the cross-processed results resonate with an almost painterly, glowing golden tone. ÒYou tend to have a very strong yellow element when working with cross-processing,Ó adds Delhomme. ÒI thought that this could become problematic, but Mike said, ÔI want it to be golden, almost like a Renaissance painting.Õ While grading the film, I tried to highlight its golden-reddish attributes.Ó	Despite initial trepidation, Delhomme more or less made peace with the fact that shooting on the unpredictable Ektachrome would be an exercise in perseverance. He did, however, find the use of reversal to be extremely nerve-racking in a peculiar dream sequence that evokes the surreal settings of David LynchÕs Twin Peaks and Ingmar BergmanÕs Wild Strawberries. Since this extremely contrasty fantasy would be shot in one day, Delhomme implored Figgis to let him film it on both reversal and the Vision 200T 7274. The reverie was filmed in real time in an actual theater space, which production designers Jessica Worrell and Mark Long utilized to construct a set sectioned into four pieces. The theater was already fitted with multiple 1K Par 64s and some older 2K and 5K Fresnels. Delhomme heavily gelled these fixtures in shades of red and yellow, while gaffer John Higgins operated them via a preprogrammed dimmer board that synchronized the lamps to the actorsÕ movements.	The vision starts off in a yellow hue as Nic and his wife (Johanna Torrel) lie in bed. She levitates off the mattress, which is in a vertical position, and floats by a black backdrop with a full moon (in reality, a Translight backing). Then she crosses a theater curtain to end up in a kitchen, where she begins pressing some clothes. ÒI just tried to go very harsh and natural with the type of poor kitchen lighting that you would find in old, neorealistic Italian films,Ó Delhomme says. ÒAfterwards, she opens the door and enters this [very contrasty] jazz club. At that moment, we mixed in red and yellow, and I played around with the keyboard controls. In the end, she finishes by making love to a black man on a bed [in the corner, as the musicians continue playing in the foreground]. I put the bed in complete darkness and placed the light [an ungelled 5K Fresnel] on the edge of the bed. Then at the end of the shot, [after the light is activated], this new space suddenly appears out of the dark. When youÕre dreaming, you sometimes donÕt know exactly where you are Ñ in this case, itÕs both a bedroom and a nightclub. We wanted to take that type confusion and push its limits.Ó	Among the scenes shot on standard Kodak negative stocks, Delhomme managed to satiate his fondness for combining fixtures of contrasting color temperatures, particularly during an nocturnal episode in which the adolescent Nic (Jonathan Rhys-Meyers) tries to put the make on his girlfriend, Susan (Kelly McDonald) in her parentsÕ home. ÒI didnÕt want those night scenes to be too realistic, because as teenagers, the characters are still in a hopeful stage of life,Ó Delhomme expounds. ÒI wanted to create a universe inside the house [shot on 7274] that was more poetic than normal Ñ a Ôpoetic streetlamp effect,Õ if you will. I imagine that a house like this in Newcastle [England] would have weak street lamps with a dirty sodium look. But I happen to love aquatic blue-green [a shade representative of a mercury-vapor fixture] because it reminds me of water, and it gives off the feeling that [this room] is an aquarium. Outside, I worked with 12K Arri HMIs gelled with 1Ú2 CTO and some plus-green gels; [while filming inside the living room,] I nearly went to full plus-green.	ÒSince Cyclo, IÕve become very good at mixing different color temperatures within the same shot. For [master shots of] the kitchen, I mixed HMIs coming from outside [a 2.5K and 1.2K Par, both gelled with  1Ú2  CTO and  1Ú2  plus-green] with daylight fluorescent tubes inside. When I came inside the kitchen, I also mixed the temperatures of fluorescent tubes. On Cyclo, I discovered that using full daylight tubes with a normal tungsten stock and no filter doesnÕt produce a blue as deep as youÕd imagine it to be, but it does give a very nice cold shade.Ó	As he had done on his previous picture, Leaving Las Vegas  (AC  Feb. Õ96), Figgis sought to exploit the Super 16 format. ÒFor Mike, itÕs more a matter of style than of economics,Ó explains Delhomme. ÒHe loves the texture [of Super 16 blown up to 35mm], as well as the idea of the camera being so small that you can work handheld with a zoom lens and be free [with your movements].Ó Figgis also operated B-camera himself throughout the five weeks of filming. Both cameramen utilized an Aaton XTR-Prod with a Microforce  remote as a handgrip. Their primary lenses were Canon 8-64mm and 11-165mm zooms. CanonÕs 300-600mm came into play when Figgis sought to indulge his long-lens fetish. A set of Zeiss Superspeed prime lenses were also implemented during night shooting.	To track the dream sequences in a smooth, Steadicam-like style, Delhomme had the A-camera fitted with remote focus and iris motors. The Loss of Sexual Innocence involved a lot of on-set improvisation, and in such instances Delhomme and Figgis would roam through a scene for several minutes in search of the right moment. ÒMike wanted to create choreography between the cameras,Ó the cinematographer notes. ÒI was shooting my point of view of the sequence at the same time that he was shooting his. I think he wanted to mix the two [perspectives] to get something richer. We were like two cameramen in competition on the same set, trying to give the director the best shot possible. MikeÕs position as director/cameraman allowed him to be more Ôrough,Õ especially when he wanted the film to have a documentary-type reality [as in desert scenes of Tunisian nomads decorated in flowing blue robes and indigo face paint]. Sometimes, Mike would suddenly move his camera very close to the actors, nearly casting a shadow on them, so I always kept my left eye open [during improv scenes] to check where he was, and get the best coverage. Mike wanted to shoot quickly and not have anything be too perfect Ñ it might seem perverse, but that was the rule of the film.Ó	Overall, Delhomme relished  the ability to take liberties with the laws of filmmaking during his unusual working relationship with Figgis. ÒWhen you say to yourself, ÔWell, I will use this reversal stock with all of its qualities and try to push the limits,Õ of course you become somewhat scared,Õ Delhomme admits. ÒIt was a challenge, but IÕm really glad to have done The Loss of Sexual Innocence, because it changed my perception of lighting. Mike was not obsessed with making beautiful imagery Ñ he wanted something fresh and strong, and he didnÕt care if shadows were too dark. Personally, I think that this will be one of the few times in my life that IÕll be able to do such cinematography.Ó			 Ñ A. ThompsonRabbit in the MoonDirector: Emiko OmoriCinematographers: Emiko Omori and Witt MontsIn a break with Sundance tradition, the award for Best Documentary Cinematography went to Emiko Omori for two separate competition entries, both of which were shot on video: Regret to Inform, Barbara SonnebornÕs haunting first-person account of Vietnam war widows, and OmoriÕs own film, Rabbit in the Moon, a historical survey and personal essay on the Japanese internment camps during World War II, where she and her sister (and co-producer) Chizuko Omori spent their formative years.	Like many longtime documentary cinematographers, Omori has had considerable experience working with film Ñ in fact, sheÕs been doing so since 1968, when she began her career as San FranciscoÕs first female news cameraperson. ÒI love film, but in the past few years my work has been mostly shot on video Ñ we canÕt afford film anymore,Ó says the Bay Area documentarian, adding, ÒIÕm now begrudgingly saying that video is getting pretty darn good.Ó	An upgrade in quality is certainly evident when Omori is handling the camera. Using a Sony 400A BetaSP camcorder with a Canon J14aX8.5B IRS broadcast-grade lens (8.5-120mm), she deliberately brought a filmic sensibility to both documentaries.	Omori describes herself as a ÒconservativeÓ cinematographer Ñ a comment that Sundance juror Michel Negroponte echoes in somewhat different terms: ÒOne of the things I find very interesting about the work in general is the spareness of it,Ó he says. ÒItÕs very simple and understated Ñ in a way, very Zen. It reminds me of the work of [Japanese filmmaker Yasujiro] Ozu Ñ everything is done with great care and deliberation and balance.Ó	Indeed, thereÕs no flashy photography in either Regret to Inform or Rabbit in the Moon. The cinematography in both films exudes a calm and exquisite beauty Ñ a necessary antidote, perhaps, to the emotionally wrenching stories that unfold in each film. There are slow pans across vivid green rice paddies and purple-hazed Rocky Mountain landscapes, and close-ups of telling details: a knotted hemp rope that binds an oar; Japanese script carved in a boulder; and broken dinner plates still sparkling under the sun in a desolate desert landscape. ÒThereÕs an odd kind of contradiction going on,Ó says Omori of her landscape shots. ÒYou want the film to be beautiful, yet you donÕt want it to be like a postcard. You want it to have emotional content and character.Ó	What truly distinguishes OmoriÕs cinematography is not the equipment she uses Ñ her tools are quite minimal Ñ but rather the time and care she takes in crafting shots. ÒFor me, setups for interviews are very important, and I probably drive directors crazy,Ó she admits with a laugh.Ó ÒI do spend some time looking for that ideal setup.Ó	Since both Regret to Inform and Rabbit in the Moon have long passages of voice-over recollections, Omori found slow panning shots to be stylistically appropriate. ÒMost news shows canÕt use those types of moves,Ó she notes. ÒTheyÕd have to truncate them or cut them up.Ó	On a technical level, OmoriÕs prolonged search for the proper setup was a particularly critical issue in Vietnam, where limited electricity compelled the crew to stick largely with existing light supplemented by a reflector. In the U.S., she and Rabbit co-cinematographer Witt Monts would easily spend an hour and a half poking around the subjectÕs house looking for the right spot and then lighting the scene.	In terms of illumination, the duo came to rely on Chimera lightbanks, which arrived on the market shortly after Rabbit began shooting in the early Nineties. ÒIt creates a beautiful soft light that wraps around a personÕs face,Ó says Omori, whoÕs fond of the control that the fixture allows. ÒYou can put pretty low wattages in it and get close to people, and not be afraid of blowing them out.Ó Omori tends to side-light her subjects, but in general, she notes, ÒIÕve tried to keep my contrast a little more built-up, with a greater light-to-dark ratio. However, IÕve noticed in transferring video to film that IÕm better off if IÕm not quite so extreme.Ó To lend the images in Rabbit a slightly softened quality, the filmmakers also used a light-grade Tiffen Black ProMist filter, which, according to Monts, ÒdoesnÕt jump out at you, but provides a more elegant look.Ó	The same delicate care was taken with the exterior scenes. ÒI think we spent more time on the visuals than we did collecting the interview material, which is pretty unusual on a documentary,Ó says Monts. ÒWe worked long and hard to achieve EmikoÕs vision of the way the project was going to look.Ó Within the documentary form, itÕs typical that ÒyouÕre chasing the story. YouÕre concentrating on the people and the content. In the case of Rabbit, situations arenÕt happening fast right in front of you.Ó With the luxury of time and the ability to be her own boss, Omori could experiment with a number of new tools and approaches.	Admits Omori, ÒI always had the fantasy of shooting in the great light at the beginning and end of the day, and taking a nap in the middle of the day. I finally did that on my own shoot!Ó The crew would rise at 4 a.m., shoot until 7 or 8, have breakfast, and then take a nap. At midday, theyÕd get up again, scout locations, and shoot in the late afternoon. The result is a beautiful raking light in many locations, and richly hued sunrises.	Omori also took the time to test filters while filming in the desert areas that were once the site of wartime internment camps. ÒI tried out filters that IÕd been carrying around for years and never had a chance to try,Ó says the documentarian. Though these filters could be considered basic Ñ mostly NDs and various colors Ñ they could enrich a sky, darken a foreground, or enhance a sunset. And given such poignant subject matter, slight subtleties in scenery could weigh heavily on the emotional meter.	ÒVideo has had a kind of liberating effect on me,Ó Omori admits. ÒBecause I have longer loads in the camera, I can afford to gather images; I can anticipate somethingÕs going to happen, start rolling, and wait. You donÕt feel like youÕve burned up money.Ó Besides the economic advantages, the leisurely pace of videography is one well-suited to OmoriÕs artistic aesthetic. ÒIÕm one of those people who is always looking through the camera. I collect images Ñ IÕve just done that all my life.Ó			    Ñ P. ThomsonA Slipping-Down LifeDirector: Toni KalemCinematographer: Michael BarrowSubtlety was the primary goal in the visual design of A Slipping-Down Life. The look of the film was devised by writer/director Toni Kalem and veteran cinematographer Michael Barrow, a New York-based industry veteran whose credits include the TV series The Days and Nights of Molly Dodd and HBO's Sex and the City, as well as the features Me and Veronica, Heavy, Caught, Whatever and Sunday (see Production Slate, AC Sept. Õ97). Even though it was made with a mandate eschewing fancy camera moves, eye-catching compositions and attention-grabbing colors, the film remains downright beautiful, with a gentleness that deftly underscores its moving theme of self-definition and discovery.	Drawn from Ann TylerÕs novel of the same name, A Slipping-Down Life contemplates the world of Evie Decker (Lili Taylor), a young woman who cheers up children at a local amusement park by wearing a theme park-type animal costume. EvieÕs mundane life takes an upswing one night when she hears the radio rantings of Drumstring Casey (Guy Pearce), a brooding, poet/guitarist who fancies himself a modern day Jim Morrison. Magnetized by CaseyÕs mysterious charm, Evie tracks him down to a local dive bar where he gigs with his band. In a deranged moment of self-direction designed to get the guitaristÕs attention, Evie carves his name into her forehead. Their paths cross again when CaseyÕs manager/drummer, David Elliot (John Hawks), finesses a photo shoot between the two as a publicity stunt, which results in a volatile love affair.	Director Kalem is an accomplished actress who always focuses on actors and narrative while working behind the camera; all decisions regarding the movieÕs look stem from how the camera can further the storytelling. A Slipping-Down Life  deals with the way in which Evie sees herself, and how that perception evolves over the course of the story. Thus, it seems only fitting that some of the directorÕs initial inspirations were drawn from photographer Nan GoldinÕs book IÕll Be Your Mirror. ÒThere are many mirror shots in  the film,Ó says Kalem. ÒI was very interested in what Nan Goldin did with reflections, and the idea of looking at yourself. Evie sees herself backwards, or in a distorted way, but at the end of the story, she sees herself in the right way.Ó	Cameraman Barrow, who wielded an Arriflex 535 with an Aaton 35-III for backup, followed the action with the camera rather than having the actors follow the camera. ÒBecause IÕve worked as a gaffer for so many years, IÕm the type of cinematographer who goes into a set watching the director and actors to see where they want to be,Ó he explains. ÒI donÕt try to steer people to the perfect frame Ñ my frames take on a naturalistic look, almost like a snapshot. ThereÕs a place that seems best for the camera to tell the story, and I try to work with the director to find that place.Ó	After seeing BarrowÕs work in Robert YoungÕs critically acclaimed Caught, Kalem knew that she had found a cinematographer with talent. The director also advocated a following-the-action aesthetic, and while observing Barrow at work in this manner, she began to admire his sensitivity. ÒHe knows where the emotional life of a scene is,Ó observes Kalem. ÒBesides being terrifically talented, heÕs a very sensitive person. IÕve seen women directors Ñ especially first-timers Ñ get onto sets with male cinematographers and be run roughshod over. I was wary of that happening, but Michael likes women, and he was wonderful to work with.Ó	One of the movieÕs most striking features is the kaleidoscopic palette of colors dotting its rural landscape. ÒAt the beginning of the film, I wanted a much more desaturated look in terms of the colors,Ó the director says. ÒWhen Evie cuts her forehead and sees that brilliant red blood, I saw it as the moment when color literally comes into her life Ñ she goes from black-and-white to color.Ó	While Barrow and Kalem didnÕt adhere precisely to this notion, they did use a progression of color shades to reflect the arc of the story. Many of the filmÕs loveliest shots take place in the evening, when soft pools of colored light accent the darkened ambiance, especially on the porch at the home of EvieÕs father. The interiors are similarly striking and often feature deep hues in the background. ÒAlmost every location was painted or wallpapered,Ó says Barrow, who utilized Kodak EXR 5298 for interiors and EXR 5245 for exteriors. ÒI would sometimes use a coral or tobacco filter outside to play with the colors a bit, but I had to be careful not to over-filter so IÕd have the latitude to pull back if I needed to. I tended to use Mitchell filters for close-ups, usually an A or B with an 1Ú8 ProMist for softening, as well as grads for different times of day.Ó	Of the filmÕs several night scenes, one of the most visually interesting is an argument between Casey and Evie that occurs outside a roadhouse. Camera operator David McGill caught the scene with his Steadicam, nicely emphasizing the instability and distance between the two lovers. (McGill executed all of the Steadicam work, while Barrow captured the handheld scenes.) Barrow also had a 160' Condor at his disposal for night scenes. 	Barrow was also able to cut loose with the camera during concert footage of CaseyÕs group jamming out their hard tunes in a Southern-style roadhouse shack. ÒI was wary of how badly that type of scene is usually done,Ó says Kalem. ÒMusical sequences always end up looking like MTV videos or fake clubs, but I wanted ours to as realistic as possible. We looked at a lot of concert documentaries, and talked a lot about telling the story largely from EvieÕs point of view. Then I just let Michael go. He had two cameras, sometimes three, and shot with cranes, handheld, or with the Steadicam, and the footage turned out great.Ó	Despite the extreme Texas-summer temperatures (never under 103¡F), a tight budget, and an ambitious shooting schedule spread out over 30 days, A Slipping-Down Life offers an aesthetic that gently accents its story, while still permitting the pleasure of pretty pictures.Ñ H. WillisOn the RopesDirectors: Nanette Burstein and Brett MorganCinematographer: Brett MorganWhile shooting the boxing documentary On the Ropes, Brett Morgan had to learn how to roll with the punches Ñ literally. ÒDuring sparring, I would bring the camera into the ring,Ó he recalls. ÒI got punched on a number of occasions, which I didnÕt mind. TheyÕd stop and say ÔSorry,Õ but I wanted to get that intimate feeling during the fights. Otherwise, weÕd have just been outsiders looking in.Ó	As trainees in the New Bedford-Stuyvesant Boxing Center, Morgan and co-director/co-producer Nanette Burstein were anything but outsiders. A 103-pound Òflyweight,Ó Burstein had trained for a year with coach Harry Keitt before deciding to film inside the Brooklyn neighborhood gym. On the Ropes focuses on Morgan and three fellow boxers, as each member of the latter trio face personal turning points: one is heading towards the professional leagues; another faces a jail sentence; and the third weighs the importance of school versus the street. Warmly received, the film picked up a special jury prize Ñ quite a feat for a New York University film school project. (Morgan and Burstein are not novices, however; both have worked with noted documentarian Barbara Kopple, among other pros.)	Like many documentaries presented at Sundance, Morgan shot on video. For most of the film, he employed a Sony 537A BetaSP camera outfitted with a Fujinon 10-120mm zoom lens; a few early scenes were captured on a Sony Hi-8  VX3 3-chip consumer camcorder. Morgan managed to work with just one light Ñ a 1K Lowel Rifa-Light LC88 Ñ bouncing its spread off a wall for a handful of interviews. ÒEarly on, Nanette and I made an aesthetic decision to always to try to use natural light, because as a cinematographer I feel that lighting for video looks very glossy and stagy, and we really wanted that natural ambiance,Ó Morgan explains. ÒIÕd never point [the light] directly at the subjects. I never backlit them, either, because I thought that would create too much artifice. We really wanted all of the interviews Ñ and the entire film Ñ to have a very natural feel, which we felt would give it a filmic sort of look.Ó	Morgan notes that it was especially challenging to shoot close-ups of fighters in perpetual motion, amid flurries of punches Ñ easily 850 per fight. ÒThe fighters donÕt stay in the same place for more than two or three seconds, and you have to rack-focus and zoom at the same time,Ó he notes.	Such fast and fluttering movement is also a problem in most tape-to-film transfers, but the filmmakers brought their work to Swiss Effects, a small company based in Zurich, Switzerland, that pulled off the job with minimal grain and without a trace of motion blur. Run by a group of cinematographers, the filmmaker-friendly company is constantly testing improvements in transfer techniques. In the end, On the Ropes was output onto KodakÕs 50 ASA EXR 5245 daylight stock, creating a film negative from which prints were struck. ÒCertain scenes were shot at night, and if I had shot them on film, [Swiss Effects] would have had to use EXR 5298, adding a lot of grain. You can shoot on video, keep your blacks black, blow up on 45, and have no grain whatsoever.Ó	Morgan also had to deal with the flickering fluorescent lighting characteristic of boxing venues. ÒThe gym was really difficult, because we had a mixture of tungsten, fluorescents, and daylight coming in.Ó He performed extensive camera tests to figure out the spaceÕs proper white balance. Utilizing normal balancing techniques using a white card, Morgan would end up with a troubling greenish hue. ÒA camera guy once told me this secret trick, where you can actually white-balance off the light itself,Ó he offers. ÒYou point the camera into the light, stop down to the bottom, and get the white balance off the fluorescents. That would turn the green into white light.Ó	While planning their approach to the boxing tournaments, the filmmakers turned to such classics as Rocky and Raging Bull. These films, however, only served to frustrate the pair. With its striking POV shots inside the ring, Martin ScorseseÕs Raging Bull (shot by Michael Chapman, ASC) has tremendous power, but the filmÕs action was carefully choreographed on a soundstage; having a fist fly at the lens in an uncontrolled setting is an entirely different matter.  Says Morgan. ÒYou can never create that look [in real life]. However, we could create the same type of sound.Ó The filmmakers therefore devoted a good deal of their postproduction budget to meticulous sound design: they did foley effects of every punch and grunt, of feet skimming across the ringÕs surface, and of bodies hitting the ropes.	The ideas provided by Rocky (shot by James Crabe, ASC) proved to be a total disaster, however. Having watched the film the night before a big fight, the low-budget documentary crew was psyched up Ñ and overly ambitious. ÒWe were thinking, ÔWe need 10 cameras on this shoot!ÕÓ Burstein recalls with a laugh. ÒBut we didnÕt have any money, so we said, ÔOkay, weÕll borrow all of these Hi-8 cameras and ask our friends to shoot.Ó They ended up with five cameras and a load of problems: unmatched white balance, stylistic inconsistencies, and glaring differences in resolution and grain between the Hi-8 and BetaSP footage. ÒIt was almost impossible to cut within the scene with the BetaSP,Ó says Morgan. ÒWe realized that whatever advantage we had gained by using multiple cameras was defeated by the fact this [discrepancy] would jump out at you.Ó In the end, all of the Hi-8 fight footage had to be scrapped.	As anyone whoÕs ever been in the ring knows, you canÕt win them all. But ultimately, as their Sundance award for On the Ropes proves, Morgan and Burstein finished their fight with arms aloft.			     Ñ P. ThomsonThe Terrorist (India)Director/Cinematographer: Santosh Sivan, ISCThe 1991 assassination of Indian Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi by a suicide bomber motivated director/ cameraman Santosh Sivan, ISC, to explore the mindset of an individual whose political beliefs would lead to such a ruthless and brutal act of self-sacrifice. In The Terrorist, Sivan tracks the training of Malli (Ayesh Dharkar), a 19-year-old woman on a one-way journey to obliterate a visiting dignitary. Ever since her brotherÕs death at the hands of an opposing political faction, Malli has maintained an unwavering commitment to her cause, to the point where sheÕs denied herself any sort of emotional existence. While en route to her destructive destiny, however, the purposeful yet pensive Malli begins to wonder whatÕs more important: her duty to her political group, or to herself. A favorite of the international festival circuit, this 95-minute, Tamil-language movie has been touring the global film beat, where it has earned various honors, including Best Film, Best Direction and Best Actress honors, as well as with a Jury Prize at last yearÕs Cairo International Film Festival.	A native of Chennai, India, Sivan was born into the film business: his father ran Sivan Studios and made short documentaries on video. The younger Sivan went on to study cinematography at the renowned Film and Television Institute of India. Now an accomplished cameraman, Sivan has spent much of his career shooting the highly stylized, musical melodramas that comprise much of IndiaÕs cinematic output. His expert imagery has made the cameraman a four-time winner of IndiaÕs National Award (for the features Perumthachan, Kaalapani and Iruvar, and the documentary Mohiniyattam). Sivan has also had success as a director: his 1988 short The Story of Tiblu earned a National Award, while his first feature Halo, a Hindi-language movie for children, also captured one of the coveted prizes and earned other honors at Egyptian and Canadian film festivals.	With such a full resumŽ, itÕs only natural that Sivan would try to up the ante. ÒWhen I decided to direct The Terrorist, I thought that also being its cinematographer would be a great advantage, just as if I had been its writer,Ó says Sivan, a founding/executive member of the recently established Indian Society of Cinematographers. Ò[During the shoot,] there were times when I was very much in sync with my instincts as a director, as when I was incorporating elements of nature and going ahead with particular moments when it was raining.Ó	One of SivanÕs favorite cinematographers is fellow countryman Subroto Deb, who photographed a number of pictures for esteemed Indian filmmaker Satyajit Ray. Sivan particularly appreciates the timeless beauty of DebÕs work in Charulata (The Lonely Wife), a 1964 period piece about Victorian-era India. On The Terrorist, Sivan took some cues from the paintings of Anjolie Ela Menon, but he also strove for sense of realism. Despite the fact that he shot the film on slow stocks (KodakÕs 100 ASA EXR 5248 and Vision 200T 5274), he tried to work in natural light as much as possible, and employed Òvery simple lighting equipment Ñ only a 2.5K HMI and about four small tungsten fixtures. I wanted The Terrorist to work in multiple layers, so I decided to make the film as if I were painting a picture.Ó	Given SivanÕs desire to delve into MalliÕs submerged psyche, he shot The Terrorist primarily in character-studying close-ups, using an Arri 35-III outfitted with a Zeiss 60mm T3 macro lens. ÒI thought that we should concentrate the camera primarily on her Ñ like a mind probe Ñ rather than trying to capture the grandeur of the place. I was very interested in understanding her face and treating it like a landscape. Most faces are very beautiful, if you try to see their inner beauty. I also like to use close-up lenses to enhance perspectives and give sound a different meaning Ñ if you are [focusing] on a face, for example, you can really accentuate a personÕs breathing.	ÒI also wanted to explore water in close-ups,Ó he continues. ÒIÕve always thought of a protagonistÕs mind as if it were water. [Depending on the individualÕs psychological state,] sometimes it is like a waterfall, at other times itÕs like the static surface of a pond, and sometimes it is merely a drop of liquid.Ó Water images figure prominently throughout The Terrorist: Malli and her menacing comrades tote machine guns during a drenching downpour filmed from a dutch angle; in a tranquil moment, Malli cuts an enticing figure while disrobing before a cascading waterfall; and the young revolutionary is sometimes seen crossing a reflective river in colorful panoramas. 	Maintaining this aquatic motif, many scenes boast a rich aquamarine ambiance. In one sequence, while resting at a compound, Malli hears the faint echoes of a baby crying. In search of the soundÕs source, she makes her way into an open courtyard surrounded by balustrades. The space is done up in an aquamarine tones, while hints of warm gold peep out from the surrounding roomÕs windows. ÒWe shot that sequence just after sunset, during Ômagic hour,Õ with the natural light,Ó Sivan notes. ÒIn India, there are many such houses with open courtyards at the center which are lit by direct sunlight. For the interiors, we used [uncorrected] tungsten lamps.Ó	Despite its emphasis on character, however, The Terrorist is as much a territorial journey as it is a personal one. While training to become a hardened assassin, Malli traverses the sumptuous countryside in and around Madras. At one point, she is accompanied by Lotus, a naive young boy who happens to be an expert tracker. In one particularly picturesque sequence, the pair sleep in an open patch of forest. The surrounding thicket is bathed in a greenish-blue hue, and the two travelers are lit from above by a glowing white beam of moonlight. ÒThat was totally done day-for-night,Ó Sivan reveals. ÒWe shot it at a time when the sunlight would hit only the characters, leaving the rest [of the area] in shadow. We underexposed it by one and a half stops Ñ photographing it without an 85 filter Ñ and filled up [the surrounding area] with huge white scrims [to sculpt the light].Ó	Given the filmÕs frugal $25,000 (U.S.) budget, Sivan and his crew of film students from ChennaiÕs Loyola College Visual Communications Department had to be extremely creative in designing shots. The most trying was part of the filmÕs final sequence, in which Malli wraps a garland of flowers around her targetÕs neck Ñ before a crowd of hundreds Ñ and then kneels respectfully and detonates her belt of plastic explosives. The scene is suggestive by design, so it did not require an elaborate pyrotechnics display; surprisingly, the real difficulty was in implying the herds of followers encircling the doomed politician. ÒDue to our low budget, we had to shoot the final shot Ñ in which this supposedly huge crowd had gathered Ñ with a mere 20 people. We had to portray the victim as larger than life, and also try to create the ambiance of a Ôhuge crowd.Õ We ended up making the scene look somewhat convincing by adjusting the macro lens to blur the ministerÕs image.Ó	Contemplating his work, the director/cameraman says that his greatest motivation comes from the mercurial moods of mother India herself. ÒThe best inspiration a cinematographer can get is through the self-discovery that comes with oneÕs travels,Ó he maintains. ÒWhile filming, I experience nature to a great extent, whether IÕm working during the rainy season, in the desert, or in snowfall. You have the opportunity to witness the seasonal changes, and to constantly predict the [position of] sun. Much like painters, we cinematographers are also inspired through our experiences with nature.Ó			 Ñ A. ThompsonTreasure Island (U.S.)Director/Cinematographer: Scott KingIn making his stunning black-and-white feature film debut with Treasure Island, writer/director/cinematographer Scott King turned toward the past Ñ both in his script, which ponders the slippery boundaries dividing narrative and history, and in his choice of equipment and production methods.	Set in San Francisco during World War II, Treasure Island  shadows two American naval intelligence agents as they fashion a fictitious persona for a dead body thatÕs going to be left off the Japanese coast prior to a military incursion. The process of creating this fake history entails the writing of well-crafted correspondence to the ÒmanÓ from his loved ones. While penning these letters, however, both protagonists indulge in some soul-searching that sparks a resurgence of their own repressed psyches. Memories soon lead to madness as the officers slowly scrutinize their own inner lives, as well as the macabre circumstances of this self-examination.	To re-create life during wartime, King Ñ whose previous filmmaking experience includes stints as an executive producer on the indie flicks Star Maps, Shotgun Freeway and Olympia Ñ taught himself how to reconstruct a 1940s pictorial aesthetic from a top-notch source. ÒI purchased all of the American Cinematographer magazines from 1933 to 1945,Ó he says. King also perused back issues of International Photographer, as well as John AltonÕs black-and-white lighting primer Painting With Light. Using these publications as guides, King was able to glean pertinent information about the periodÕs lenses, lighting styles, and processing methods.	KingÕs choice of camera was certainly esoteric; he employed a vintage Mitchell BNCR, a 175-pound camera owned by Paramount and now utilized mainly for television. ÒItÕs a fine camera,Ó King says. ÒIt was built in 1932 and then refitted in the 1950s by Karl Freund [ASC] when he was shooting I Love Lucy. I initially wanted to use the Mitchell because I thought I could get the old Cooke lenses, which are uncoated and make a softer image. The Cooke lenses are also not very contrasty, and since we were trying to re-create a Forties look, that was important.Ó King could not get his hands on any Cooke lenses, however, and wound up opting for Zeiss primes instead.	While the cameraÕs enormous weight might have discouraged many filmmakers, King turned into an advantage. ÒI knew that we wouldnÕt be moving the camera very much, and we didnÕt; there are 222 shots in the film, and I think we moved the camera six times. In modern movies, people move the camera a lot, and I donÕt know if itÕs always a good idea. The nice thing about the Mitchell is that if youÕre going to move the camera, you have to know why.Ó	In addition to keeping the camera still, King hewed to a few other rules with what he describes as ÒfascisticÓ intransigence. ÒWe shot the entire film at an aperture of T2, without exception,Ó he says. ÒWe only adjusted the light. I wanted [the look] to be as soft as possible, not only in terms of the contrast, but also in terms of the depth of field. When you look at old movies, itÕs surprising how little depth of field there is, and how much attention the filmmakers are paying to focus.Ó KingÕs use of extremely short depth of field allowed him to fully explore the creative possibilities of focus. ÒOne of the neat things about the film is that youÕre not always sure what the hell is going on,Ó he explains. ÒThereÕs always a part of the story itself thatÕs out of focus, a part that you just canÕt make out. To my mind, it was really fun to have the ability to focus on people where I wanted.Ó	In his aim to approximate the past, King photographed Treasure Island on KodakÕs 5222 black-and-white stock. ÒIn the old days, they were shooting at 8 ASA, and had these giant arc lights everywhere,Ó he notes. The director/cameraman tried to simulate that lighting approach with plenty of hardened ambiance.	To maintain a full tonal range in his palette, King banished shades of black and white from his sets. ÒThe images are all grayish,Ó he details. ÒBack then, cinematographers felt that if you were shooting black-and-white, it had to match the colors tonally. They were thinking in terms of pure color, so as a result, their version of black-and-white is much different than what we see today.Ó	King also deployed colored filters and fixtures to accentuate the tonalities of his monochrome emulsion. ÒIf you put someone in green light [when shooting in black-and-white], the person looks really old and tired,Ó he explains. ÒBut if you put a person in pink light, all of the tones even out Ñ the skin becomes lighter than everything else [in the frame], and you can do some amazing things. While this technique is still practiced in still photography, I think that really being aware of what color can do is a lost art.Ó In terms of filters, King employed a coral 2 indoors and a red 1 outdoors; he also endowed his imagery with a slight tint and texture by shooting through a nude silk stocking, which he special-ordered from Paris.	The result of KingÕs adherence to classic methods is quite impressive. Treasure Island sparks an uncanny connection with another era and aesthetic, reminding us why indie moviemaking is crucial to cinema history. In discussing the filmÕs gamut of inspirations, King states, ÒThere are always going to be [mainstream] movies starring Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks Ñ you canÕt compete with that, and you should not try to. But I think the role of independent film is to make something so different that people really want to see it. Why bother making it unless itÕs different?Ó			          Ñ H. Willisn