The Bicentennial Cinematography

It's all-star lineup of Cinematographers for 1976, with three former winners and two previous nominees - and many of them faced off against each other before.

Just the year before, in fact, Haskell Wexler's co-DP'ing of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest faced off against Robert Surtees' solo work on The Hindenburg. Both had won previously, but they both settled for bridesmaid status - John Alcott's work for Barry Lyndon went home with the Oscar. Surtees already had three to his name, and Wexler already had one. Soon to be two:

In 1973, Surtees was once again up for the award, this time for Best Picture Oscar Winner The Sting. His competition? The Sting's only real rival for the Big Prize, The Exorcist, photographed by Mr. Owen Roizman. They lost to Sven Nykvist's Cries and Whispers, which made it the second time they'd both competed and lost - in 1971, Roizman was up for the first time in his career for The French Connection, while Surtees had a two-for-one special in The Last Picture and Summer of '42. The Oscar went to Oswald Morris for Fiddler on the Roof.

Ernest Laszlo met none of these men on the battlefield when he won for Ship of Fools. And indeed, he didn't meet them the year after, either: his Fantastic Voyage work was nominated in the Color category, while Wexler's winning work for Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? won in the Black-and-White category. By the following ceremony, there was no separation, so that the black-and-white In Cold Blood competed with Surtees' work on both Doctor Dolittle and The Graduate, as well as first-time nominee Richard H. Kline for Camelot.

What I'm saying is, some categories tend to have the same names batted around. It's probably why the Class of 2016 is such a breath of fresh air - Rodrigo Prieto is the one previous nominee of the bunch, and his only other nomination was 11 years ago.

The nominees and rankings of 1976, after the jump.

Looks Like a Winner: Best Cinematography, 1971

I probably shouldn't point out that this is almost a full week late, but hey -- it's here, right?

Now we come to a difficult point of assessment: Cinematography. Many times, we grade it in terms of what looks prettiest, but this is not necessarily the best choice -- not all movies are made to be pretty. We also sometimes judge on technical wizardry or degree of difficulty -- better, perhaps, but I don't care how much of Gravity was a single take, it was a 3D film that looked flat. In the end, one must always consider what it does for the film.

And sometimes, I just go for the prettiest.

As with any category, there are certain looks, and certain genres, that tend to crop up come nomination time. If I may...

THE EARTHY ART PIECE

The film that people would describe as "painterly", yet not necessarily bold in color. It was meant quite literally for biopic Mr. Turner this year, a reflection of the titular painter's own very mustardy canvases, but also serves well for 1971's Fiddler on the Roof, which, despite its musical genre, has a quite natural, clay-like look to it. Both have phenomenal sunsets, too.

THE MONOCHROME MASTERPIECE

In the age of color film, going black-and-white seems to almost guarantee a nod (Nebraska, for God's sake). Artfully applied this year for Poland's Ida, a tale of identity, memory, morality, and the grey areas in all; also beautiful in 1971's The Last Picture Show.

THE SINGLE-TAKE WONDER

Nothing impresses like a beautifully-lit film with at least one single-take scene, one that makes our jaws drop and exclaim, "HOW?!?" This year, Birdman is getting the praise, as the entire film is comprised of several long-take scenes; in 1971, Summer of '42 the climax is filmed uninterrupted within a single room.

THE HISTORICAL EPIC FROM OL' RELIABLE

There are masters of the craft who are respected and beloved by their peers. Today, we have Roger Deakins, once again nominated (and, once again, probably unsuccessfully) for his reliably great work on the war film Unbroken. In 1971, there was Freddie Young, celebrating the last of his five nominations (three of which he won) for the Romanov bio Nicholas and Alexandra.

THE WINTRY WONDER

There is, I think, a special talent to making a frosty frame, to capturing the genuine chill of a setting. Certainly The Grand Budapest Hotel feels like winter, even indoors; so, too, does The French Connection. Neither really looks similar, and they certainly cover action differently, but at least I'm not alone in admiring icy cinematography.

Less muddle after the jump

Moving About, Looking Good: Cinematography, 1973

My marathoning the films of 1973 tells me at least one thing: Cinematography was rarely flashy back then.

Cries and Whispers cinematographer Sven Nykvist

Hello, Gorgeous: Cinematography, 1975

 The nominees for Best Cinematography are:

John Alcott for Barry Lyndon

*****

Jaw-dropping. Lit predominately with natural light and candles, John Alcott captures the period not just in flawlessly imitating the artwork of the period, as per Kubrick's vision, but in also capturing how this world must have looked before the light bulb switched on.

Conrad Hall for The Day of the Locust

****

Conrad Hall constantly invokes the guignol aspirations of this adaptation through his eerie lighting choices, often drowning the cast in pitch black, or else emphasizing the bags, wrinkles and shadows under their eyes. Spotlighting the action in certain pivotal scenes, as though it's a star on the red carpet, is a brilliant choice.

James Wong Howe for Funny Lady

**

It honestly seems too bright most of the time. A marvelously-lit train scene is to be praised, but otherwise we get flat images, whether it be a stage performance or a dressing-room scene. Disappointing.

Robert Surtees for The Hindenburg

****

I like the difference between the brightly-lit passenger area and the darker recesses of the zeppelin's skeleton well enough. But you just know this nomination comes from the final sequence, where the film stock is suddenly grainy black-and-white to match the newsreel footage of the original blimp's destruction. It's as it should be: the sequence is marvelously captured, breathtaking, and seamless.

Haskell Wexler and Bill Butler for One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

***

Solid work. His lighting emphasizes the cold sterility of the ward by day. At night, his moonlight is never too much, but just enough to cast all but the scene's focus in ignorant darkness.

------------------------------------

When only one Best Picture nominee is a lavishly-mounted period piece, you know it's going home with all the craft trophies. Maybe that's a bit expected and predictable, but it doesn't make the film any less worthy. Like its members, I give the Academy Award to:

JOHN ALCOTT

for

BARRY LYNDON