Tony Barbieri spent the month of De

Tony Barbieri spent the month of December in a small, dark editing suite in San Francisco putting together his Sundace-bound, dedicatedly atypical first feature, One. On paper, One seems like the kind of small-scale, character-based American indie the festival is known for. The film depicts the day-to-day struggles of two boys, a failed basketball player and an ex-con, as they learn to become men. However, what sets One apart is not its plot but its hypnotic visual language. In fact, while One's storyline has its inspirational moments, anyone trying to pull a cathartic tale of uplift from this film will wind up simply surrendering to the pure poetry of Barbieri's hypnotic visaul vocabulary, a style which conveys as much meaning as the words in his screenplay.
Barbieri has created his own cinematic language, one spoken in the small gestures and evanescent facial expressions of his characters and in the lulling rhythm of stylistic tropes like five-minute rack focus shots. His camerawork is staunchly unobtrusive; it catches glimpses of characters from around a corner, 50 feet away, in dramatic moments usually covered in close-ups. The screen is often bisected by walls or tables, and we seldom see two faces in the same frame at the same time; in fact, we rarely see all of anyone or anything. Disembodied voices say the most important lines, and the camera remains painstakingly still, almost paralyzed, suggesting an inescapable box from which the characters will never escape. "The way we set it up leaves the audience waiting for something to happen, and it never does, "Barbieri says somewhat facetiously.
Of course something does happen, but Barbieri's focus on a condition rather than a series of events calls to mind the neo-realist aesthetic of Cesar Zavattini who wrote that "the ideal film would be 90 minutes of the life of a man to whom nothing happens".
It is almost possible to see Barbieri and d. p. Matthew T. Irving's storyboards in the final product, so composed are the shots and sequences. "Each shot, "Barbieri says, "is designed like a painting, and the actors move around inside it." When asked how he reconciled his neo-realist predilections with his white-knuckled grip on the film's visual schema, Barbieri admits the contradiction and laughs. "Call me a coward, but I needed to merge both worlds. I don't understand how some people can make films with no plan, especially on the kind of budget I was working on. I didn't want to screw up my chance to show what I can do, so I hedged my bets. I prepared something that was seamless, and then tried to give the illusion that it was real.

Результаты (английский) 1:

Tony Barbieri spent the month of December in a small, dark editing suite in San Francisco putting together his Sundace-bound dedicatedly atypical first feature, One. On paper, One seems like the kind of small-scale, character-based American indie the festival is well-known for. The film depicts the day-to-day struggles of two boys, a failed basketball player and an ex-con, as they learn to become men. However, what sets One apart is not its plot but its hypnotic visual language. In fact, while one's storyline has its inspirational moments, anyone trying to pull a cathartic tale of uplift from this film will wind up simply surrendering to the pure poetry of Barbieri's hypnotic visual vocabulary, a style which conveys as much meaning as the words in his screenplay.Barbieri has created his own cinematic language, the one spoken in the small gestures and evanescent facial expressions of his characters and in the rhythm of launching the stylistic tropes like five-minute rack focus shots. His camerawork is is staunchly unobtrusive; It catches glimpses of characters from around a corner, 50 feet away, in dramatic moments usually covered in close-ups. The screen is often bisected by walls or tables, and we seldom see two faces in the same frame at the same time; in fact, we rarely see all of anyone or anything. Disembodied voices say the most important lines, and the camera remains painstakingly still, almost paralyzed, more convenient by suggesting topics an inescapable box from which the characters will never escape. "The way we set it up leaves the audience waiting for something to happen, and it never does," Barbieri says somewhat facetiously.Of course something does happen, but focus on Barbieri's a condition rather than a series of events calls to mind the neo-realist aesthetic of Cesar Zavattini who wrote that "the ideal film would be 90 minutes of the life of a man to whom nothing happens."It is almost possible to see Barbieri and d. p. Matthew t. Irving's storyboards in the final product, so are the composed shots and sequences. "Each and every shot," Barbieri says, "is designed like a painting, and the actors move around inside it." When asked how he reconciled his neo-realist predilections with his white-knuckled grip on the film's visual schema, Barbieri admits the contradiction and laughs. "Call me a coward, but I needed to merge both worlds. I don't understand how some people can make films with no plan, especially on the kind of budget I was working on. I didn't want to screw up my chance to show what I can do, so I hedged my bets. I prepared something that was seamless, and then tried to give the illusion that it was real.

Результаты (английский) 2:

Tony Barbieri spent the month of December in a small, dark editing suite in San Francisco putting together his Sundace-bound, dedicatedly atypical first feature, One. On paper, One seems like the kind of small-scale, character-based American indie the festival is known for. The film depicts the day-to-day struggles of two boys, a failed basketball player and an ex-con, as they learn to become men. However, what sets One apart is not its plot but its hypnotic visual language. In fact, while One's storyline has its inspirational moments, anyone trying to pull a cathartic tale of uplift from this film will wind up simply surrendering to the pure poetry of Barbieri's hypnotic visaul vocabulary, a style which conveys as much meaning as the words in his screenplay.
Barbieri has created his own cinematic language, the one spoken in small gestures and facial expressions evanescent of his characters and in the lulling rhythm of stylistic tropes like five-minute rack focus shots. His camerawork is staunchly unobtrusive; it catches glimpses of characters from around a corner, 50 feet away, in dramatic moments usually covered in close-ups. The screen is often bisected by walls or tables, and we seldom see two faces in the same frame at the same time; in fact, we rarely see all of anyone or anything. Disembodied voices say the most important lines, and the camera remains painstakingly still, almost paralyzed, suggesting an inescapable box from which the characters will never escape. "The way we set it up leaves the audience waiting for something to happen, and it never does," Barbieri says somewhat facetiously.
Of course something does happen, but Barbieri's focus on a condition rather than a series of events calls to mind the neo -realist aesthetic of Cesar Zavattini who wrote that "the ideal film would be 90 the life of minutes of a man to whom nothing happens".
It is almost possible to see Barbieri and dp Matthew T. Irving's storyboards in the final product, so composed are the shots and sequences. "Each shot," Barbieri says, "is designed like a painting, and the actors move around inside it." When asked how he reconciled his neo-realist predilections with his white-knuckled grip on the film's visual schema, Barbieri admits the contradiction and laughs. "Call me a coward, but I needed to merge both worlds. I do not understand how some people can make films with no plan, especially on the kind of budget I was working on. I did not want to screw up my chance to show what I can do, so I hedged my bets. I prepared something that was seamless, and then tried to give the illusion that it was real.

Результаты (английский) 3:

tony barbieri spent the month of december in a small, dark editing suite in san francisco, putting together his Sundace bound, dedicatedly atypical first feature, one. on paper, one seems like the kind of small - scale, character based american indie the festival is known for. the film who the day - to - day between ireland of two boys, a failed basketball player and an ex con.as they learn to become men. however, what sets one apart is not its only but its hypnotic visual language. in fact, while one's storyline has its inspirational moments, anyone trying to pull a cathartic tale of uplift from this film will wind up a surrendering to the pure poetry of barbieri's hypnotic visaul vocabulary, a style which conveys as much meaning as the words in his screenplay.
barbieri has created his own cinematic language, the one spoken in the small evanescent nicer and facial expressions of his characters and in the lulling medicine of stylistic tropes like five minutes rack focus shots. he is always willing to help camerawork staunchly; it catches glimpses of characters from around a corner, 50 feet away, in dramatic moments is covered in close ups.the screen is often bisected by walls or tables, and we an see two faces in the same frame at the same time; in fact, we see all the other of anyone or anything. disembodied want say the most important lines, and the camera remains painstakingly still, almost paralyzed, suggesting an inescapable box from which the world will never escape."the way we set it up leaves the audience waiting for something to happen, and it never does," says barbieri and facetiously.
of course something does happen, but barbieri's focus on a condition rather than a series of events calls to mind the neo realist aesthetic of cesar Zavattini who wrote that "the this film would be 90 minutes of the life of a man to whom nothing happens."it is also possible to see barbieri and d. p. matthew t. irving's storyboards in the final product, so strategy are the shots and sequences. " each shot, "barbieri says," is designed like a painting, and the actors move around inside it. "when asked how he reconciled his neo realist predilections with his white knuckled grip on the film's visual schema.the contradiction barbieri admits and you. " call me a coward, but i needed to merge close by. i don't understand how some people can make films with no plan, but on the kind of budget i was working on. i didn't want to screw up my chance to show what i can do, so i hedged my barry artiste, op. i prepared something that was seamless, and then tried to give the illusion that it was real.