This article originally appeared in ICG Magazine in Nov. 2002

Unconventional would be a good word to describe the career path Wally Pfister, ASC has followed. He began his career as a TV news photographer, and segued into documentaries before transitioning to narrative film. During the late 1980s and early ‘90s, Pfister worked on grip and electrical crews and lensed an array of horror flicks (e.g. The Unborn, Night Rhythms and Animal Instincts) on bare bones budgets. He was also a camera operator with Phedon Papamichael, ASC on mainstream films. His cinematography credits include such memorable telefilms as Breakfast with Einstein (1998) and Sanctuary (2001).

Pfister was nominated for an Independent Spirit Award for cinematography for Memento (2000), a counter-culture film in collaboration with director Chris Nolan. Their second film, Insomnia, earned raves this year. His other recent projects include Laurel Canyon and The Italian Job, his first mainstream studio film slated for release by Paramount Pictures in 2003.

Pfister’s grandfather was the city editor of a newspaper in Wisconsin and his father was a TV news producer who began his career with CBS-TV in Chicago in 1955. Later he worked with Huntley-Brinkley and with Peter Jennings covering political conventions, space flights and the civil rights movement.

“My dad marched with Dr. King several times,” Pfister says. “He took me to Florida for some of the space flights. I saw Apollo 8 take off and he also took me to political conventions, including the Democrats in Chicago in 1968.”

When Pfister was approximately 10 years old, a film company shot scenes for Shamus, featuring Burt Reynolds, in his neighborhood. The boy was fascinated by the crew setting up lights and cameras. Soon afterwards, he began shooting 8 mm home movies and short films. Pfister also emulated his father by shooting slides on Kodachrome film and assembling them into little shows for family and friends.

“I liked photographing people kind of on the sly with a long lens,” he says. “I tried to capture stolen moments and find humor in them. I took pictures in natural light with interesting colors and shapes. But photography wasn’t my main interest. I loved music. I played guitar in high school bands and that’s still one of my passions.”

After high school, Pfister found a job as a production assistant at a television station in Salisbury, Maryland. Within a couple of months, he borrowed a CP16 news camera and began shooting little films on weekends, including a visual essay about a Victorian house. “I did these slow, little intricate moves around the architecture of the house,” he recalls, “cut it together with music, and showed it to the production manager. They made me a cameraman. I shot very low budget PSAs for $125 a week.”

Within a few months, Pfister found a job as a cameraman for a Washington, D.C. news service, which provided film for TV stations around the country. He covered Congress and the White House as well as breaking news from 1982 through ‘85. “One of my first assignments was covering a brutal air plane crash in January 1982 that killed hundreds of people, I saw horrific images that I will never forget. I was learning about, and experiencing life at a fast pace, at a young age,” recalls Pfister.

“I was editing my own material,” he continues. “The things I learned in the cutting room became valuable later on in knowing exactly what pieces were needed to tell the story.”

He next did several projects with Frontline documentary producer Marty Koughen. “He was a great investigative journalist,” Pfister says. “My favorite documentaries are ones where the voiceovers are minimized and the stories are told with sound and pictures. Marty made great use of this.”

In 1988 Robert Altman came to Washington to direct a mini-series for HBO called Tanner ‘88. Altman was looking for a real news cameraman to play that role in his show. They hired Pfister and asked him to also shoot some B-roll. When the producers saw his work, they brought Pfister on the show as the second unit cameraman. It was the first time he was exposed to acting and dramatic material.

After that experience, Pfister enrolled at AFI. During his second year, he was nominated for an Academy Award in the short subject category for a film about a man caught up in the apartheid struggle. He drew on his documentary experience, and lit it darkly and stark, using a single light so the actor could play in and out of that source.

Janusz Kaminski, ASC had just graduated from AFI, and met Pfister that year. He saw Pfister’s film and recruited him as a grip and electrician for various projects, including a few with Papamichael.

Roger Corman gave Pfister an opportunity to shoot pickup shots and inserts for a Papamichael film. It was the first time he shot 35 mm film. After that, Pfister handled second unit for Papamichael on Body Chemistry and also on other Corman films.

Pfister shot The Unborn, his first feature, in 1991. After that, he filmed an array horror movies typically on 15-day schedules.

In 1992, Pfister lensed Sketch Artist, a Showtime movie directed by Papamichael.

“He was a very visual director,” Pfister says. “In the beginning, he would try to tell me where the lights should go, but after the first week he stood back and let me light. I got nominated for a Cable Ace award. That was one of the films that made me really respect how important the collaboration between the director and the cameraman can be.”

In 1995, Papamichael asked Pfister to operate for him on a studio picture called Unstrung Heroes. Diane Keaton was the director. “It was a really nice collaboration,” Pfister says. “I operated for him on a couple other movies, While You Were Sleeping and Phenomenon. That gave me experience on studio pictures with bigger budgets. I didn’t have to pay attention to lighting, so I concentrated on composition and movement. I felt every frame should be a still photograph. I was really hard on myself as an operator.”

In 1999, Pfister shot The Hi-Line in Montana in the dead of winter on a $300,000 budget. It got into the competition at Sundance. That’s where he met Nolan who also had a film at Slamdance. “A year or so later, Chris was looking for a cameraman for Memento and he remembered my work,” he says. “He brings a lot of soul to his films. Both Chris and his story inspired me. I discovered that both of those things are necessary for me to do my best work. I also learned that I respond to darker material. I shouldn’t have been surprised, because my music tends to be dark and ominous. I like darker content because it stirs me emotionally and allows me to play a little bit in and out of darkness and light. The story gave me ideas about using colors, tones and shadows. About 25 percent is in black and white, which allowed me to really play with contrast.

“I think we took it to the next level on Insomnia,” he continues. “It’s an incredible story where light is like a fourth character. It takes place in Alaska in the dead of summer, when you have the midnight sun. Chris is a very practical, pragmatic person. He told me to go ahead and test the boundaries and see where I wanted to go. Then, I would show him and we’d decide if it was appropriate or if it was pushing it too far.”

Pfister has an interesting commentary on the DVD about the use of light as a metaphor for the guilt that Al Pacino’s character felt. He discusses how he gave Nolan the natural look he wanted while using menacing light as a metaphor for guilt.

“The (Pacino’s) hotel room was really critical to telling that story,” Pfister says. “I worked closely with the production designer, Nathan Crowley about details like where his bed was in relationship to the window, how high the window was, how deep we were seeing outside the window, how much room we had on the stage between the set wall and the set. Those things had to be thought out and planned. I put one of the lights on a crane outside the window so I could move it within the shot in a very subtle, unperceivable fashion. Once you’ve created the environment, you have to decide where to put the camera, how to move it, and maybe you ask the actor to turn this way to find this little bit of light. I sent a shaft of light through a window so it’s natural for the actor to play with it.

“There’s another scene where Pacino’s character is looking for planted evidence. The local police officers are on their way, so he hides in the bathroom. You don’t want to tell Al Pacino how to do his job, but I told him, I’m playing with light a little bit. There’s a light coming through this window that’s eight stops over-exposed, so when you’re back in the shadows, you’ll be catching the ambient bounce in a darker light. When you move forward, you’ll be in this nuclear, bright, melting light. That’s all I said and Al knew exactly how to play it and I think he really enjoyed it. To me, that’s the peak of our artistry…when we’re collaborating closely with the performer and using light as a character. He was in the shadows, and then he leaned out to look. He was hit with that bright light and cowered back like it was a laser beam. He responded to the light.”

Laurel Canyon, written and directed by Lisa Cholodenko, focuses on a mother-son relationship. Frances McDormand plays the mother, a record producer with a 1960-ish hippie persona, who is dating a rock star 15 years younger than her. Her son is a straight-laced medical student. Before one seminal scene, McDormand said, “Wally, this is my lowest point in the movie...you have my permission—and I encourage you—to make me look as unflattering as you can.”

Pfister says, “That’s the coolest thing an actor or actress has ever said to me. I gave her really stark, hard top light and said if she looked down, it would not be flattering. I think we helped her take her character down to that rock bottom level.

“Sadly, some people think of good cinematography as a beautiful sunset or a spectacular vista,” he observes. “I believe we affect the audience in a much more subtle way. We’re manipulating them emotionally with light, darkness, colors, contrast and composition. I know the Dogme 95 theories, but I believe actors respond to light. Just look at a Rembrandt or Caraveggio painting or any of the Dutch masters, and tell me light isn’t important. The pictures have to be true to the narrative, but I like to test the boundaries and see how far I can go.”