Shot of the Movie (Series)

Is it possible to capture everything that's good about a movie in a single shot?

Here's how I see it. I argue some shots are so good, they can stay with you longer than the movie, itself. They're powerful, plot-altering, and impressive, not always in their scale, but sometimes in their subtlety. And they change us, not only by giving us something to talk about well after the credits roll but also for their implications for what they have to offer for film and movies, themselves.

*Cue Pause Button*. Okay, Some context. *Cue Rewind Sound and Visual*

It would be easy for me to overwhelm the casual movie-goer with a monologue that would rival most filibusters because I am emphatically infatuated with the medium. However, I've found I can focus my admiration into a digestible bite by focusing on what I call, the "Shot of the Movie."

The Shot of the Movie

The Shot of the Movie acts like a reverse prism for me. It lets me take all of the colors (literally with color theory, and figuratively with lighting, direction, dialogue, acting, etc.), and filter it into one clear stream of light. Put simply, the Shot of the Movie is a scene (or, more often than not, a moment) where the movie does something extraordinary. So extraordinary, that it sets itself apart from the other scenes of the movie, from other movies in the genre, and even other movies in general.

These are usually moments that show innovation, are novel, show great juxtaposition, apply strong visual storytelling, or do a combination of all of the above. They may be moments initiating a visceral reaction (they usually are for me), but they may also be quiet and sneaky, because extraordinary doesn't always mean big, bright, and loud; it can be quiet, dull, and yet powerful, too.

Why not look at an example?

Wings (1927)

Let's take Wings, a silent film released by Paramount Pictures in 1927. Hold on, let's try that again. Let's take Wings, the first Academy Award winner for Best Picture. There are so many amazing shots to choose from, it's no wonder it took home the top prize in 1929.

At 144 minutes, this movie is packed with aviation footage that still looks impressive almost 100 years later. And while it's tempting to pick the introduction of the Gotha, or the shared aviation highway, or the Arc de Triomphe carriage race, or even the wide shot award ceremony, I really have no choice but to choose a shot with no planes at all.

That's right, I'm talking about the iconic Paris Night Club Tracking Shot:

While Wings displayed aerial acrobatics like no one had ever seen in film, it's the flight of the camera that truly makes this movie special.

In this scene, a camera flies through five tables of club patrons before ultimately landing at the table of our very drunk protagonist. Not only is the movement fluid and flawlessly executed, but it perfectly captures multiple additional storylines. In the span of about 20 seconds, the audience is introduced to five additional vignettes, as each table the camera passes illustrates a capsule narrative:

• Couple one is in a serious conversation.
• Couple two is exchanging money.
• Couple three is in love.
• Couple four is concerned about what they see (and who can see them).
• Couple five is definitely breaking up.

Then, by the time the camera holds steady, we realize our protagonist is anything but. The shot focuses on "Bubbles" (aka champagne), with our protagonist initially blurred in the background (who bets his vision is a little blurry, too?).

Ahead of its time, with impressive, efficient visual story telling, and leaving the viewer with a sense of awe (even nearly a century later), this shot easily steals the spot of this entry of the Shot of the Movie.

I hope you enjoy these thought pieces, and that you have the chance not only to see these films, but explore the notion of Shot of the Movie yourself. Maybe we differ on our picks. Maybe we agree. In the long run, it gets us experiencing a little piece of magic in this world and thinking critically about it.