Oh, Hannibal Lecter material: the one great love of my life. Sometimes it makes me a little uncomfortable the veritable genius that is Hannibal Lecter's character is to my heart. It would make my dad uncomfortable, too, if he weren't a forensic sciences teacher with just as much of a soft spot for deranged psychopaths as I have. Now I've made myself sound creepy. We're off to a great start.

Silence of the Lambs is a story about a FBI trainee on the hunt for a serial killer by the name of Buffalo Bill, of "IT RUBS THE LOTION ON ITS SKIN OR ELSE IT GETS THE HOSE AGAIN" fame. She is asked by her friend and mentor to go to an institution for the criminally insane and talk to the world-infamous Hannibal "The Cannibal" Lecter for help with their case.

At least, that's what Silence of the Lambs is about on the surface.
We know better, though, don't we? Because what Silence of the Lambs is about, I mean REALLY about--but maybe not so much as its sequel, Hannibal, is--is the power struggle between Hannibal Lecter and young trainee Clarice Starling. That is why I chose this film, and this scene from this film, for my analysis: because there is no topic, at least in my opinion, that better covers all the bases: the dynamic between man and woman, and dynamic between a "formerly white trash" woman and a (I use this term lightly and ignoring the whole serial killer bit) respectable gentleman, and the dynamic between a criminal, a dangerous psychopath, and, as demonstrated constantly throughout the films, one of the few "totally straight" FBI agents in the movie's universe.

(It turns into a very uncomfortable love story. I'll just say that right now. You can believe what you want but the books make it the most disturbing love story in the entire world.)

All right then, let's discuss the scene, shall we?
The infinitely interesting dynamic between Lecter and Clarice is established mostly throughout the physical spaces they occupy. Lecter is in a cage, and Clarice is free; that much is abundantly obvious from the get-go. But if you look closer, it becomes apparent that there is more going on in there. Clarice sits in the hallway occupied by nothing but a single metal fold-out chair, a manila envelope full of case information, and the dull drone of the lunatics in the other cells. The colors are warm but only as much as they are brown, and dirty, and all the walls, the floors, the ceilings are bare.

Lecter's cell is full of cold blue light and rough gray brick, but there are beautiful sketches on the walls--it is established during the scene that he drew them himself, and their skill helps to establish him as an artistic and evidently genius man--and a single desk. When it zooms in, the color of the bright in the background matches his eyes. The overhead lights make him appear exceptionally pale, as if he really has been hidden away in some dungeon for eight years.

It's interesting to note that Lecter and Clarice actually have the same color eyes (and that Lecter is SUPPOSED TO HAVE RED EYES IN THE BOOKS) but his seem more blue, and harsh, than hers, simply because he is surrounded by color that reminds us of sterility even in such a dirty place, and, maybe, even ice. Lecter is the prisoner, that's for sure, but it does not necessarily seem that he is the uncomfortable one in this situation.

This is a relatively easy to understand scene, as far as cinematography goes. It's only a conversation between two characters, after all, and neither of them necessarily moves around a lot (one of them is in a cell, you know). Shots consist mostly of medium and close-up shots of the characters speaking with one another, which is a very important decision. Hannibal Lecter is a character that moves only deliberately, and never any less casually than he is required to. From a basic keeping-the-audience-entertained standpoint, it's important that they are given something to focus on.

In this case, that thing just happens to be Lecter, glaring with malicious intent into the camera.

One of the big reasons I chose this scene plays into this idea of Clarice's power struggle with Lecter, and also her power struggle with the outside world.  Clarice is dressed in a pant-suit and a loose-fitting shirt that does not just fail to accentuate her femininity, it all but erases it. When you think about it, this is a statement that Clarice lives in the man's world of law enforcement and rather than retain her femininity in the face of so much prejudice and opposition, she chose to assimilate herself mostly into their culture.

As far as the power play between Clarice and Lecter goes, this cinematographer's choice to focus intently on the characters' expressions, as well as their use of varying distance, helps to enhance it. Clarice is very obviously uncomfortable for a number of reasons, but while Lecter is interrogating her he is also establishing his control over her.

Take this for example: at the 0:38 mark in the video, we have a medium shot of Lecter, while he taunts Clarice, asking her with no shortage of contempt just what she thinks of the serial killer she's hunting down. The camera switches to Clarice in another medium shot, who tells Lecter that "most serial killers keep trophies of their victims." The next shot is Lecter again, closer. "I didn't," he says. The zoom makes him appear larger, more intense, more demanding. The shot of Clarice, where she chokes back some uncomfortable feeling and mutters, weakly, "No, you ate them," is still the same distance. Compared to the last image we had of Lecter she appears small, even less significant. The scene goes on with Lecter physically and bluntly demanding something of Clarice, which is to put the case information in the slot so he can read it over. Through the entire shot of her submitting to his demands, we see her perform this duty over Lecter's shoulder. She is watching him. And he is never out of the shot, reminding us that he is there, and that he is the one in control, because he is the one allowed to make the demands in their relationship. Immediately after that we see Lecter thumbing through the file, leaned against the wall, while he gives a smug wink to Clarice, sat stiffly on her crappy little chair. It is very, very obvious that she has lost their game, at least for now.

This same strategy is utilized later in the scene, when she lapses in her courtesy and Lecter, who had been quiet and observant like a snake waiting to strike, finally attacks her, and Clarice has just flat out had enough of being insulted.

Because the power dynamic between the two of them has switched at least temporarily, so does the camera. Clarice's shots do not necessarily move closer, but remain steady, while Lecter's are a little bit further away than hers. To me, this signifies that while she has not gained any ground, she has also not lost any, even tough what he says is... well, frankly, pretty terrible. It should be noted that when he yanks on the slot and she flinches, we return to close-ups of Lecter.

Film editing is considered the only art unique to cinema.

What you see above is a bit of the chase scene from the end of Stanley Kubrick's The Shining. By this point in the movie (I would warn about spoilers but if you haven't seen The Shining by now you are really beyond my help) Jack Torrance has gone completely bonkers and tried to murder Wendy and Danny (and yet he still asks Wendy if she's the crazy one. Good job,  Jack.) Danny escapes out the window into a hedge maze full of snow and this is where we begin.

The editing in this scene really conveys just how confusing and dangerous the hedge maze is. Throughout the scene we cut to shots of the maze without either of the characters in the frame in order to establish the setting, highlight its monotony, and show it from the characters' points of view.

There is a lot going on in this scene, action-wise--or, I suppose, as much as any movie that isn't about explosions is going to have a lot going on--and it's spread over considerable space. What I mean by that is that Wendy is attempting to escape the hotel. She is outside the hedge maze while the other two characters are inside, and even they aren't in the same place.

Wendy is not actually introduced until halfway through the scene but the process of cutting to the different characters defines how we see the timeline of the scene, which is to say that a majority of it is happening simultaneously.

As far as Jack and Danny chasing goes, the shots that include Jack are longer than those that include Danny. I believe this is to highlight Jack's facial expressions and the considerable limp he has at that point; we need to see the character with time to absorb the details. Danny is fine, if frazzled and psychic (oh, and the part where his dad is chasing after him with an axe... can't forget that) but Jack is slowly freezing to death. In a way, the difference in shot length also sort of echoes that same dynamic.

There is one point during which Danny is close to escaping the maze, when we see Wendy running from the hotel. They are not in the shot together but we assume that they are running toward each other.

And then, of course, there's the jump cut to Jack's frozen body the next day. It is designed to startle the audience and serves its purpose well. The sudden, stark contrast between the black of the maze Jack had been wandering through and the white daytime snow only enhances the jarring cut.

The Shining is regarded as a favorite to a lot of people, so I think it goes without saying that it does a lot right. It also does this right, in my opinion. There is no point where we get lost spatially and no point where we are taken out of our immersion into the film. It is especially important for this to be a clear, well-edited scene because it is the climax; we cannot be jarred out of our immersion during the climax of a film.

In the words of Sonic the Hedgehog: That's no good!

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.

In case you haven't seen Thor (in which case you are really missing out and that makes me sad), the scene I have chosen comes at a low point in the titular character's life. He's been cast out of his home in Asgard for starting an unnecessary war, he's been stranded in the middle of New Mexico (and nobody wants that), the source of his power, the hammer Mjolnir, has been found and taken by a government agency known as S.H.I.E.L.D, his brother Loki is king since their father went into a god-coma, and Loki has some serious daddy/brother issues that lead to him, in this scene, visiting Thor, who was just captured trying to recover Mjolnir, to tell him that their father is dead and that Thor can never come home. Why? Because Loki is a terrible, terrible person.

Set Design
This set is, for all intents and purposes, an interrogation room. The walls are white. The floors are white. The rooms outside this one are white. There is a sense of sterility in it, of containment. Every piece of this room is some rectangular shape or straight line, clearly meant to box the character in. Throughout cinematic history we have been taught that government facilities, especially secret government facilities, look clean, and unfeeling, and unremarkable. That is this room to a T. It becomes more interesting when you take into consideration the context, and the interaction between the characters. This is a room meant to convey a distinct lack--of color, of inhabitants, of feeling--and in it Thor is being told that his father is dead and he can never go back home. It really helps to accentuate the callous decision Loki has made in hurting his brother the way he does, and the apathy with which he delivers on it.

Lighting
This is some really, really intense lighting. As I mentioned before, there is a sort of medical sterility about the room and the too-bright fluorescent lighting helps to emphasize that. There are the overhead lights clearly visible in multiple shots, but it's obvious that there are lights aimed at the set from the sides as well. I believe the aim was simply to create that sterile environment. I might also add that it does a considerable job of highlighting the characters' faces, which is necessary for such an emotional exchange.

Space
The use of space in this scene is really interesting. Aside from the original establishing shots to set up the parameters of the room as it relates to the characters, most of the rest of the scene is conducted in varying levels of close-ups that barely show the background space at all. It is worth noting that in the establishing shot there are no other props aside from the chair upon which Thor sits; the space is, effectively, essentially empty. It does not seem particularly large as a whole but relative to Thor, who is way taller than the average human, it seems large. It's also interesting to explore the use of camera angles to display the relationship between Thor and Loki. Loki is frequently shot from a low angle, indicating that he is the one that holds the power in the relationship, and he's also standing, and Thor is sitting.

Sometimes I think that walking into a coffee shop might be as close as I'm ever going to get to describing the feeling of entering a different dimension. Even somewhere as artsy as downtown Moscow, and even on a day like today when there's a concert going on right outside, One World Cafe is like a pocket dimension. You can't hear the wail of electric guitars or the drums or anything as soon as the door shuts behind you.

I chose the photos I chose because, to me, they exemplify the pieces of every one of these establishments that lets you know that you are in a coffee shop--not a restaurant, not an insurance office, not a fast food place.

Coffee shops have fashioned themselves such a solid and recognizable image that, honestly, the more I think about it the more impressed I am. As far as this relates to semiotics, I think a lot of the "signs" are more objects, or collections of objects, more than they're actual the actual signs littered around the place.

Probably the last thing to note about the way coffee shops work to establish their particular "scene" is that there is a certain air of controlled chaos about them. Things are not strewn randomly about the cafe but they are arranged to give the appearance of it. Each piece of clutter is carefully placed to mimic it just sort of naturally piling up over time.