Writer Of Light

Words have lost much of their meaning in today's society. Nowhere is this more obvious than in how freely certain terms are thrown around in regular conversation. That so-so supper your co-worker had the other night? It was "great!" At the ballpark, .250 hitters are commonly hailed as "legends." In the film world, well, I don't even want to get into what passes for "superb" these days. As for our own little corner of it though, there has developed over the years a sense of dignity among cinematographers, a quality of being able to quickly and succinctly size up people and situations and call them for what they are, even if those observations go no further than the tip of the tongue. This should not be surprising. In addition to a brute sort of honesty, the job demands humility. Over a lifetime of working in the camera department, I'm yet to meet an exaggerator among the group. And this is precisely why the alarms go off when I hear superlatives thrown around with regard to a cinematographer, especially one who is still alive and enjoying the middle phase of a thriving career. The difference with Vittorio Storaro ASC, AIC is that the words really mean something. Every one of us is a craftsman to a large extent. Of all the cinematographers who have ever placed an eye to the camera, perhaps fifteen or twenty have legitimately elevated that craft into something more. Among them, Storaro's unique artistry has assured him a place on yet a higher level. It is well known that his lighting, composition and use of color have revealed new ways of thinking about the moving image. Just as interesting is the underlying philosophy that makes up the basis for so many of his choices. "Writer of Light" goes a long way toward demystifying the Storaro process. Rather than just provide a standard recitation on film stocks and T-stops, this book -- essentially a compilation of material first published in American Cinematographer Magazine -- offers something entirely different. As a group, cinematographers are generally not noted to be great explainers of what they do. This is not true of Storaro. Under the informed questioning of noted cinematography writers Ray Zone and Bob Fisher, the deconstruction of his approach to such wonderful films as "Apocalypse Now," "One From the Heart," "Little Buddha" and "Bulworth" is at once passionate, articulate and provocative. Like all people confidently perched at the top of their profession, Storaro makes his achievements seem easily found, as if they are within reach of the average person. Believe me, they are not. His line of thought, at once sophisticated and accessible, leaves you with the certainty that his life and work are inextricably joined -- and the sum of the parts is the magic we see on the screen. Obviously, for Storaro, feeling and inspiration supercede all technology. But he hardly has his head in the clouds -- or in the sand. Having delivered sterling work in every format, from Beta Cam to 6