Depth Of Field: The Essential Films Of Cinematographer Vilmos Zsigmond

Vilmos Zsigmond is a name that belongs on a very short list when it comes to cinematographers whose work came to define a certain kind of film made in America during the 1960’s and 1970’s. When we think of this legendary era of filmmaking, we often think of names like Gordon Willis, Michael Chapman, Sven Nyquist, Vittorio Storaro, John Alcott, and Nestor Almendros. In this context, it is worth pondering the question: what exactly made Vilmos Zsigmond stand out from this formidable crowd?

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Vilmos Zsigmond was born in Hungary in 1930. He became interested in photography as a teen. Zsigmond was something of an autodidact; as a young man, he would essentially teach himself how to properly make use of photographic equipment. Later, Zsigmond would go on to document the Hungarian Revolution, where he would make the acquaintance of his contemporary and fellow cinematographic trailblazer László Kovács

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Zsigmond eventually fled Hungary and arrived in the United States in the late-1950s. He proceeded to settle in Los Angeles, where he began cutting his teeth on low-budget genre films, before going on to work with some of the great New Hollywood filmmakers (Altman, Spielberg, De Palma) a decade or so later.

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Zsigmond was a poet of light and shadow who was capable of deploying his incredibly singular gifts in any genre, whether it was action, sci-fi, westerns, thrillers, survival films, or period dramas. He lent his sensitive, probing eye to every project he worked on, all the way up until his final credit in 2014. Certainly, one can’t discuss the merits of films such as “McCabe and Mrs. Miller” and “Close Encounters of the Third Kind” without mentioning Zsigmond: he’s a massive reason why these classic films look as beautiful as they do. In other words, Vilmos Zsigmond is, without a doubt, one of the best to ever do it, and his influence on today’s generation of DPs is practically immeasurable.

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We’ve put together a list of Zsigmond’s definitive films, just in time for Shout Factory’s two-disc, 4K Collector’s Edition release of The Deer Hunter” UHD + Blu-Ray combo pack, which dropped on this week, courtesy of Shout Select. We hope that it inspires you to check out some of Zsigmond’s work, if, say, you haven’t gotten around to seeing the likes of “Obsession” or “The Sugarland Express” yet. As always, happy reading. 

McCabe & Mrs. Miller” (1971)
If he never did anything else, Vilmos Zsigmond could have gone to his grave knowing he shot “McCabe & Mrs. Miller,” one of the most hypnotic films of all time. Zsigmond reportedly flashed the negative of Robert Altman’s masterwork, resulting in a soft-lit, seductive anamorphic look that has countless imitators, but no equals. By making use of smoke and fog filters, Zsigmond joked that he “did everything [he] could to destroy the image.” Certainly, the Hungarian-American cinematographer found himself adapting to Altman’s unusual style of working. Zsigmond claims that Altman taught him how to properly utilize a zoom lens, and also how to enhance pans and dolly shots with overlapping dialogue, one of the director’s signature touches (when Zsigmond told Altman he didn’t understand why the characters were talking over one another, Altman told him, “Well, you’ve been in noisy bars”). Warner Bros., apparently, was not thrilled with some of Zsigmond’s more experimental tendencies, but Altman nevertheless went to bat for his cinematographer, which would result in two subsequent collaborations that are also on this list. “McCabe” didn’t just re-invigorate a perennial American genre: it helped forge the visual grammar of the modern revisionist Western.

Images” (1972)
“Images” isn’t a movie that gets a ton of love, even in die-hard Robert Altman circles and that feels dead wrong since it is one of his true gems, albeit, a little hidden. It’s a strange, overwhelmingly abstract style piece that’s difficult to classify, but less so when you think of it Altman doing a fractured and opaque Nicolas Roeg psychodrama piece. You rarely hear it compared to the director’s more iconic works, like, say, “Nashville” or “The Long Goodbye” (although it should be mentioned that “Images” was a considerable influence on Alex Ross Perry’s outstanding “Queen of Earth”). Like any Altman film, “Images” is in no rush to explain itself, and it works beautifully as a pure sensorial experience. It’s the story of a disturbed housewife living in seclusion and suffering from menacing visions, making it resonant viewing in the time of self-isolation. Plot has never mattered much to this director, and “Images” is no exception: this movie is all mood (It also features a fairly rare atonal score by the legendary composer John Williams). Even the movie’s drab domestic interiors feel unnerving as if something is slightly off. Zsigmond frequently shoots lead actress Susannah York in canted angles that emphasize the off-kilter nature of her existence, and he captures the contours of her face in some breathtaking close-ups. “Images” wasn’t as obscure at the time, after all, it did land Zsigmond a well-deserved BAFTA award, and its availability on Amazon Prime, after years of being difficult to find, helped rescue its reputation somewhat. That said, Atlman’s unsung classic is still in deeper need of acclaim and restoration, if only for further appreciation of its haunted and evocative Zsigmond-shot images. – NL 

Deliverance” (1972)
Even 48 years after its release, “Deliverance,” based on the novel by James Dickey, remains a harrowing viewing experience. John Boorman’s rattling outdoor adventure could never be described as an easy sit, but thankfully, the film is gorgeous to behold. Zsigmond’s images are rich in contrast and flushed with muted colors: his camera seems alternately entranced by and fearful of the natural landscape of the Georgia backwoods. The look of “Deliverance” is sharper and less soft than, say, Zsigmond’s collaborations with Robert Altman, and the production was, by all accounts, an extremely demanding one. The film’s canoeing sequences were shot in the Tallulah River Gorge, and the actors (Jon Voight, Ned Beatty, and Burt Reynolds) were often wading waist-deep in water or filming in what could charitably be described as inhospitable conditions. Like “The Deer Hunter,” “Deliverance” was an arduous shoot, and the crew’s struggles certainly lend the finished product a kind of rough-hewn nobility. From the notorious “squeal like a pig” scene to the dispiriting final frames, “Deliverance” remains a potent, pulpy fusion of the arthouse and the grindhouse that’s terrifying in its moral clarity. 

The Long Goodbye” (1973)
Big-screen noir would never be the same after “The Long Goodbye,” Robert Altman’s defiantly unorthodox, blissfully freewheeling adaptation of Raymond Chandler’s seminal detective yarn. Against all odds, it’s proven to be one of the more unexpectedly influential films of the last half-century: certainly, it’s hard to imagine the likes of “Inherent Vice” or “Under The Silver Lake” without it. Like every Altman picture, “The Long Goodbye” is a film of almost unimaginable atmosphere and texture. Much of this can be attributed to Vilmos Zsigmond, who reunited with Altman after they consecrated an unusual but formidable working relationship on “Images.”  Zsigmond has called “The Long Goodbye” ‘Chaplinesque’: he understood that Elliot Gould’s Philip Marlowe is a man out of time, and that a romantic, pastel-accented look would sell the doomed wistfulness of Chandler’s most famous fictional creation.  Zsigmond used flashing to control contrast in the negative of the picture, turning 1970s L.A. into a stoney, murderous playground. Zsigmond’s camera roams and rambles, much like Marlowe himself, whether it’s observing our bumbling hero as he has a one-sided conversation with his cat, or capturing a beachside confrontation through a series of dizzying reflections and arrestingly fractured images.

Scarecrow” (1973)
“Scarecrow,” directed by the great Jerry Schatzberg, is one of the most overlooked films of its era. In cult classics like “The Panic In Needle Park” and “Sweet Revenge,” Schatzberg observes the whirligig anxiety of bottom-rung hustlers in desperate circumstances, and “Scarecrow” is arguably his finest hour: it’s half digressive, European-influenced, buddy movie, half New Hollywood. Zsigmond has called “Scarecrow” “one of his better movies,” although he also admitted that the film’s bleak tone could be considered alienating for non-Schatzberg purists. Zsigmond made the most of the film’s paltry $800,000 budget; his desire was to summon an underlit, authentic aura of heightened realism. He shot the film in sequence, with no sets, plus heavy improvisation from the film’s two stars, Gene Hackman and Al Pacino. The stunner of a final scene was shot twice due to Pacino’s dissatisfaction with his own performance, which is ironic since this is easily one of the actor’s most undervalued turns. “Scarecrow” is an oft-misunderstood lowlife picaresque: even Roger Ebert dismissed Zsigmond’s work in his review, writing that the film was “so obsessed with its visual look that it suffers dramatically.” Critical misinterpretation notwithstanding, the visually rhapsodic “Scarecrow” remains an unsung masterpiece.

The Sugarland Express” (1974)
“The Sugarland Express” isn’t just one of Steven Spielberg’s more underrated early efforts – it is also the first collaboration between Zsigmond and the “Jaws” director before they reunited on a little movie you may have heard of, “Close Encounters of the Third Kind.” “Sugarland” is an action-packed “lovers-on-the-road” movie that’s elevated by Zsigmond’s remarkable artistry. Spielberg is on the record as being a fan of “McCabe & Mrs. Miller,” which was released two years prior to “Sugarland.” Spielberg allegedly sought out Zsigmond himself, humorously referring to the D.P. as “a crazy Hungarian who lights with six-foot candles.” While some of the director’s plans during principal photography must have seemed ambitious even then, all accounts point to the director and his cinematographer getting along famously. “The Sugarland Express” is also catnip for cinematography gearheads: Zsigmond and his crew made use of the Panavision R-200 for certain dolly shots, and Spielberg’s film was one of, if not the first to use the Panaflex 35mm camera. The movie’s chase scenes are fluid and gripping to the degree that one can imagine Spielberg and Vilmos stealing glances at each other between takes as if to say, “Can you believe we’re getting away with this?”

Obsession” (1976)
“Obsession” is Brian De Palma’s under-discussed entry in the subgenre of feverish Italian neo-psychodrama, a grouping that also includes the immortal “Don’t Look Now” and the recently Criterion-ized Paul Schrader curio, “The Comfort of Strangers.” “Obsession” offers its audience a steady onslaught of ravishing, lurid imagery, much of which can be attributed to Zsigmond’s one-of-a-kind eye. Zsigmond captures both the swampy humidity of 1970s New Orleans and also the forbidding Gothic beauty of Florence with his signature verisimilitude, working in tandem with composer Bernard Herrmann to bolster the dark majesty of De Palma’s early tribute to his hero, Alfred Hitchcock. Those who have seen the illuminating documentary, “De Palma,” will be able to recall that Zsigmond allegedly lost his shit on lead actor Cliff Robertson, who artificially tanned his skin as a way of compensating for his somewhat middling performance, thus making him impossible to light properly. “Obsession” is Zsigmond’s first collaboration with De Palma, and while it lands somewhere in between “Blow Out” and “Bonfire of the Vanities” in terms of its public reception, there’s no doubt that the great cinematographer’s contributions have helped to shape how De Palma’s sinister genre exercise is perceived today.

Close Encounters of the Third Kind” (1977)
Close Encounters of the Third Kind” isn’t just one of the most culturally relevant sci-fi pictures of all time: it practically invented a new kind of tentpole filmmaking, going on to cast a considerable shadow over the likes of Spielberg acolytes like J.J. Abrams and Michael Bay. Whereas some of Spielberg’s late-career efforts are more assaultive than awe-inspiring (looking at you, “Ready Player One”), there is an authentic sense of romantic grandeur in the images that Zsigmond captures in this film. Large-scale science fiction cinema was still in its analog stages when “Close Encounters” was released in November of 1977, meaning that the spectacle of Spielberg’s breakout movie feels both tactile and intoxicatingly otherworldly. Zsigmond used the massive canvas he was afforded to showcase his mastery of light: who can forget the dreamy orange luminescence that signifies an impending extraterrestrial arrival, or the monolithic glow of the Mothership itself? Zsigmond made brilliant use of deep colors and evocative shadows to underline the transfixing uncertainty of the film’s alien presence. While a contemporary sci-fi epic might say “to hell with it” and start blowing shit up, “Close Encounters” suggests a poetic ambiguity that’s all too rare in modern blockbuster filmmaking.

The Deer Hunter” (1978)
Say what you will about Michael Cimino, but the guy rarely backed down from a challenge. Neither did his “Deer Hunter” cinematographer Vilmos Zsigmond. The pair’s first collaboration is a tough film to watch, and, by all accounts, it was even tougher to make. Cimino, Zsigmond, and their crew filmed in temperate and often unwelcoming environs around the American Midwest (mainly Pennsylvania and the Ohio River Valley) before embarking on a grueling shoot in Thailand. Zsigmond shot “The Deer Hunter” on anamorphic lenses, and by his own admission, he and Cimino wanted the film’s Vietnam sequences to feel visceral, as though they could have been shot on a different stock than the rest of the film. “The Deer Hunter’s” infamous Russian roulette scene was also a bit of an ordeal, with the crew tearing down the set several times, and Zsigmond attempting a dazzling Fisher dolly shot to capture the unfolding chaos. Despite confirming Cimino’s difficult reputation, Zsigmond had undeniable, begrudging respect for his director: they appear to have shared an uncompromising work ethic, and they both clearly thrived under burdensome conditions. Forty-two years after its release, “The Deer Hunter” remains a chilling vision of innocence lost.

Heaven’s Gate” (1980)
There are a few films that helped usher in the death of the New Hollywood: Peter Bogdonavich’s Tinseltown satire “Nickelodeon,” Coppola’s gloriously messy “One From The Heart,” the caustic “The King of Comedy,” to name just a few. None of these movies hold a candle to “Heaven’s Gate,” Michael Cimino’s mind-bogglingly ambitious follow-up to his defining work, “The Deer Hunter.” “Heaven’s Gate” is remembered today as one of the most troubled productions in cinema history: the shoot went way over budget, rumors of Cimino’s domineering on-set behavior persisted throughout filming, and the final product was deemed a commercial and critical flop. However, cinephiles have begun re-evaluating “Heaven’s Gate” in recent years. Certainly, it’s one of the best-looking missed opportunities of that period. Zsigmond reportedly shot over 220 hours of raw footage, lending the resulting film a lyrical, unbridled pioneer energy. Zsigmond called Cimino “a master painter,” praising the director’s willingness to have his crew build immense sets while he filled edges of the 220-minute narrative with grain and grit. Zsigmond and Cimino created an entire world for “Heaven’s Gate,” and the result is both a cautionary tale about the cost of hubris and also a vision of uncompromising chutzpah.

Blow Out” (1981)
Many die-hard fans argue that “Blow Out” is Brian De Palma’s masterpiece: a deliciously diabolical meta-thriller about corruption, deceit, and the alluring lie of moviemaking. It is certainly the legendary director’s finest collaboration with Zsigmond by a country mile. There are countless unforgettable shots in this movie, from the opening slasher movie fake-out, the dazzling 360-degree circular dolly shot that highlights the intensity of the protagonist’s paranoia, and the grim denouement that’s lit by Fourth of July fireworks. Zsigmond worked tirelessly with a crew of assistants to bring De Palma’s politically charged thriller to life, towing a fine line between lush nighttime shots, and vivid, saturated daytime images that paint a pungent portrait of blue-collar Philadelphia. Zsigmond admitted that, for “Blow Out,” he resisted unnecessary flashing, and went for a more mellow, washed-out look; it should also be mentioned that two reels of footage from the movie’s famous parade sequence mysteriously went missing during post-production. Zsigmond lovingly captures the faces of stars John Travolta, Nancy Allen, and John Lithgow, whose expressions say what words cannot. Even today, “Blow Out” remains the ultimate De Palma experience, and Zsigmond’s influence on the look of the film cannot be overstated.

The Black Dahlia” (2006)
The Black Dahlia” is not one of Brian De Palma’s more beloved works. To be honest, we get why. The movie occasionally leans too hard into stock hard-boiled noir tropes. It contains a majorly miscalibrated performance from Aaron Eckhart. The whole thing is so sumptuous in its over-stylization that, at times, it feels like overkill. That said, if you can get on the wavelength of this decadent, unapologetically extravagant James Ellroy adaptation, “The Black Dahlia” is, dare we say, kind of enjoyable. And wouldn’t you know, we can heartily thank Mr. Zsigmond for much of why that happens to be the case. “The Black Dahlia” was condemned in some critical quarters for its over-the-top artifice, but the movie’s unapologetic proclivity towards overindulgence is actually one of the things that makes it such fun when viewed today. Zsigmond effortlessly evokes Tinseltown in the post-WWII era, envisioning seminal Los Angeles locations like Echo Park Lake and the Pantages Theater with a lethal, painterly, period-appropriate elegance. Zsigmond was nominated for a Best Cinematography Oscar for his work on “Black Dahlia”, and although the film lost to “Pan’s Labyrinth,” we’re here to argue that De Palma’s film has aged better than you probably recall.

FOLLOW-UPS
Vilmos Zsigmond lent his immaculate eye to many a worthwhile project, some of which nearly made their way onto this list. Here are some of the choice cuts that we wanted to make time for, but have instead been relegated to our “coulda-been-a-contender” category…

Mark Rydell’s overcooked but visually striking heartland drama “The River.” “Melinda and Melinda” and “You Will Meet A Tall, Dark Stranger,” two latter-day Woody Allen comedies that are splendid to look at, in spite of their half-hearted stabs at humor and outmoded gender politics. Jerry Schatzberg’s tragically under-seen crime flick, “Sweet Revenge.” George Miller’s unhinged, totally wonderful “The Witches of Eastwick.” “The Ghost in the Darkness,” in which Michael Douglas and Val Kilmer square off against some man-eating lions. “Life as a House,” a middlebrow weepie directed by legendary producer Irwin Winkler that’s redeemed from mawkish excess by the marvelous stillness of Zsigmond’s images. “The Two Jakes,” the much-maligned but somehow fascinating sequel to the granddaddy of all modern noirs, “Chinatown.” The 1982 comedy “Jinxed,” which would turn out to be the final directorial credit of ace genre auteur Don Siegel.

The ’80s cult item “Real Genius,” which saw Zsigmond working with Martha Coolidge hot off the success of “Valley Girl.” Richard Donner’s spirited Western-comedy hybrid “Maverick.” “Bonfire of the Vanities,” which surely stands as Zsigmond’s most contentious collaboration with Brian De Palma. “Red Sky at Morning,” which is filled with the cinematographer’s trademark visual wizardry. “Sliver,” a slept-on erotic thriller from the early-’90s which saw Zsigmond collaborating with Philip Noyce (“Clear And Present Danger,” “The Bone Collector”), and also infamous bad-boy screenwriter Joe Eszterhas (“Showgirls,” duh). The Peter Fonda Western “The Hired Hand,” in which Zsigmond worked with a budget of slightly less than $1,000,000 and made his definitive transition from commercials into feature films. And, finally, “Six Dance Lessons in Six Weeks”: a featherweight 2014 comedy starring Gena Rowlands that ended up being Zsigmond’s last film.