I first became aware that there was such a thing as a cinematographer in the early 70s. At that time, American movies seemed to be entering into a golden age, with directors like Altman, Penn and Friedkin engaging in a new, lyrical naturalism that owed more than a little to the Nouvelle Vague.
Along with them came a new crop of cinematographers in tune with this new style, adept at photographing in minimal light, innovative in their lighting schemes. I’m thinking of Bruce Surtees (The Great Northfield Minnesota Raid, The Beguiled), Vilmos Zsigmond (McCabe & Mrs. Miller, Deliverance, The Long Goodbye) and Zsigmond’s countryman László Kovács (Easy Rider, Five Easy Pieces, Paper Moon). And though I don’t know a lot about the art and techniques of cinematography, it seems to me that the most exemplary of them all was the great Swedish cameraman Sven Nykvist.
Nykvist began in the film industry at the age of 19, working his way up to cinematographer; his first solo outing was the comedy 13 Stolar in 1945. Eight years later, he worked on his first film for Ingmar Bergman (Sawdust and Tinsel) and in 1959, he became Bergman’s sole cameraman with The Virgin Spring. Although he worked with other directors both during and after his 25-year association with the Swedish great, it’s arguably with Bergman that he did his greatest work. He took the luminescent, overcast Northern light and sculpted it like a Renaissance painter. At times, his images were all unsaturated chiaroscuro, all graduated shadow and light. At other times, they are brightly-saturated, almost festive; at others, watercolor-impressionist. In fact, Bergman and Nykvist played with light, crafting the look of their imagery according to theme and mood.
In Persona, he helped Bergman revolutionize the close-up, distilling the human face into its most pure form, resulting in tabula rasa over which the raw emotions of actresses (Liv Ullmann and Bibi Andersson) could be fully realized. In Cries and Whispers, he explores the interplay between reds and whites, creating a rich, yet at the same time stark, palette that mirrors the extreme emotions on display. Nykvist won an Oscar for his work on that film.
In later years, Nykvist worked with a number of well-known directors, including Woody Allen (Crimes and Misdemeanors), Philip Kaufman (The Unbearable Lightness of Being), Lasse Hallström (What’s Eating Gilbert Grape), and Paul Mazursky (Willie & Phil). A collaboration dear to my heart was with Andrei Tarkovsky on Offret (The Sacrifice), the director’s final film. Nykvist’s work is phenomenal: he creates a richly-textured palette that perfectly captures the film’s operatic, paranoid feel. For his work on that picture he received a special prize at Cannes.
Nykvist’s final film with Bergman was the monumental Fanny and Alexander. Viewed by Bergman as a summing up of his many themes and concerns, it likewise sums and surveys the collaboration of the long-time friends. By turns stark, lush and pastoral, it is a cinematographic tour-de-force that snagged Nykvist his second Oscar.
His last feature was film was Curtain Call, released in 1999, for Peter Yates. Diagnosed at about that time with aphasia, his career was effectively over. He died in 2006 at age 83.
Here is one of my favorite Nyquist/Bergman sequences, from Cries and Whispers. Enjoy!
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[Note: this is a contribution to the "Who We are Thankful For" blogathon over at the LAMB]


































Fantastic, fascinating tribute here by Rick Olson, for my personal favorite cinematographer of all time, who worked for my most-beloved director of all time, and a post that includes wonderful pictures and a terrific clip from a film I have adored since it’s 1972 appearance, when I was 17 years old, and was beginning my obsession with world cinema. CRIES AND WHISPERS, which I have as my #1 film of 1972, even placing ahead of THE GODFATHER, Herzog’s AGUIRRE THE WRATH OF GOD, Tarkovsky’s SOLARIS, Bunuel’s THE DISCREET CHARM OF THE BOURGEOISIE and Fosse’s CABARET is as shattering an experience I have ever experience in my life in a movie theatre. His work in Bergman’s masterpieces PERSONA was revolutionary for sure, but his cystal-clear color modulation in the film you rightly celebrate here (CRIES AND WHISPERS) is incomparable. Few films in movie history have employed color metaphorically as effectively, yet it’s quite teh textbook example of aesthetic beauty.
Think RED, the color of the soul.
Kudos to you Rick.
I’m with you on Cries and Whispers, Sam. It is emotionally devastating, it tore me up the first time I saw it (I’m embarrassed to say how short a time ago it was). I’d really hate to say, out of those films you listed, which one I liked best. God … what a great year! Tarkovsky, Bunuel, Herzog, Coppola . . . I’m glad I don’t have to choose, and glad for DVD.
Thanks, as always, for the comments.
Indeed, Rick, that is a super-difficult decision there. I know most people would go with the Coppola, though.
You have the nicest looking layout of any site on the net that I have yet seen.
Thanks, Sam. It took a bit of work, but it seems to have paid off. You’re on WordPress.com, so you might be able to do something like it . . . it’s called a magazine-style theme. It would be harder with a multi-author kind of blog like you’ve got . . .