Club Kid: The Camera as a Guest
In Jordan Firstman’s Club Kid, New York City isn’t just a setting; it’s a main character. The film follows a washed-up gay scenester who discovers he has a son, but the real star might be the party itself.
Cinematographer Adam Newport-Berra captures a vibrant, prepandemic nostalgia for city life, immersing the viewer in the energy of the moment. While not a single-take film, its style evokes the feeling of an unbroken experience. The camera seems to move through crowded rooms and bustling streets like another guest at the party, catching fragments of conversations and intimate glances. For fans of the long take, this film is a masterclass in how continuous, flowing camera movement can build a world and make an environment feel alive and breathing, transforming the audience from spectators into participants.
Hope: More is More
Sometimes the point of a long take isn't quiet contemplation but maximalist chaos. A review of the action film Hope notes that its scenes play out for as long, or even longer, than they need to. This is the kind of filmmaking that pushes comedic and action-oriented set pieces to their glorious breaking point. The film reportedly features extended car sequences and elaborate stunt work, all informed by a 'more-is-more' philosophy that also defines its humor. For students of cinematography, Hope offers a chance to see how holding on a shot, refusing to cut away, can amplify both the absurdity of a joke and the impact of an action beat. It's a study in how patience and a willingness to let a scene run its full course can be a powerful tool for visceral, high-energy storytelling.
All of a Sudden: The Patient Observer
Coming from Ryusuke Hamaguchi, the director behind the masterful Drive My Car, expectations are always high for a certain kind of patient, observant cinema. His latest, the three-hour drama All of a Sudden, is being described as a 'gloriously glacial slice of life.' This phrasing is music to the ears of long-take aficionados. Hamaguchi’s style often uses extended, uninterrupted scenes to allow audiences to sit with characters, observing their subtle shifts in mood and the unspoken dynamics between them. The power isn’t in frantic camera movement but in its stillness, creating a potent sense of realism and emotional depth. It’s a powerful reminder that a long take doesn’t need to be technically flashy to be effective; sometimes, the most profound thing a camera can do is simply watch.
A Long Winter: The Emotional Landscape
While specific reviews of its camerawork are still emerging, Andrew Haigh's A Long Winter is a must-watch for anyone interested in visual storytelling. Haigh's previous work, like All of Us Strangers, demonstrated a profound ability to translate internal, emotional states into a distinct visual language. A 'seasons-heavy drama' about a family grappling with grief suggests a film where the landscape and atmosphere will be crucial. This is fertile ground for long, meditative shots that convey the slow passage of time and the weight of memory. Cinematography fans should be watching for how Haigh and his team use duration and composition to create a psychological portrait, where the camera’s lingering gaze on a snowy field or an empty room says more than dialogue ever could. It promises to be a study in using the long take not for spectacle, but for soul.
