How Much is Enough? - The Case Against High Dynamic Range

 

    Lately, I have been going on a tangent about modern cinema and the technology used to create it. This is partly because I am fascinated by it, partly because I am frustrated, and mainly because the lack of interesting and worthwhile movies to see and discuss lately has encouraged me to step off the beaten path. Perhaps the most relevant reason for my recent interest in modern cinema technology is to offer a better understanding as to why many of us feel that many modern movies don't appear to "feel" the same way they once did and how we may attempt to bring that feeling back in some creative and perhaps risky ways. Although my solution will likely never be considered in any Hollywood circle or even some independent groups, it's still an idea worth sharing for general fans and aspiring filmmakers alike. 

    Today, we will discuss one of the perpetrators partially responsible for modern movies' lack of the same feeling as they once did (high dynamic range) and what could be done to restore that feeling. 

    This blog entry was inspired by a recent video on YouTube by content creator Patrick Tomasso. Much of what I plan to discuss and explain today was eloquently discussed in his video essay, "Why don't movies look like *movies* anymore?" Much of what I have to say here is directly aligned with the sentiments made in the video, and I encourage you to watch it. You will find a link to the video at the bottom of this blog entry. 

    Let's begin our discussion today. 

    For those who don't know or would appreciate a quick refresher, high dynamic range refers to the information retained with an image's brightest highlights and darkest shadows, allowing maximum detail and content within the image. 

    As my previous blog entry about color correction mentioned, this extreme detail is typically captured in-camera using a LOG profile. This picture setting produces a flat, greyish, washed-out image that retains as much information as possible to offer maximum wiggle room for color correction in post-production. 

    This feature is on almost every camera used for cinema capture. It has become the modern and coveted standard for maximum image impact and has been used in most digitally captured films. I say "most" because, despite what Hollywood executives would prefer you to believe, there have been a few high-quality feature films in the digital age captured on systems that had less dynamic range than that of most modern cinema cameras. 

    Here are a few:

Collateral (2004)

Mostly filmed on the Sony F900 

and 

Thompson Viper HD

28 Days Later (2002) 

Mostly filmed on the Canon XL-1

Pieces of April (2003)

Oscar Nominee 

Filmed on the Sony PD150

Down and Dangerous (2013) 

Filmed on the Panasonic AG-AF100

Superbad (2007)

Filmed on the Panavision Genesis HD

A Scanner Darkly (2006) 

Filmed on the Panasonic DVX100

(Rotoscoped) 

The Celebration (1998) 

Filmed on the Sony DCR-PC3

    These memorable and relevant films were captured using consumer—and professional-grade cameras, but they all had one thing in common: none had "good dynamic range," at least technically. The cameras used for these films were either consumer-level camcorders or very early efforts of high-end digital cinema cameras. Despite the lack of high dynamic range, the images produced by these devices have become some of the most memorable and influential in cinema history. They all prove that the "video look" can elevate your story and enhance your cinematic credibility. 

    My biggest problem with high dynamic range is that it renders cinematography almost mute by relegating lighting and set design to flat, interchangeable things with no tangible texture or engaging contrast. The high dynamic range in cameras encourages you to be lazy with your craft since the extra wiggle room causes one to film a scene with bland, flat, uniform lighting for maximum changes in the entire shot. 

    This is not to say that having such freedom is inherently bad; under some circumstances, having that kind of space at your disposal can be beneficial. Even so, allowing yourself to forget the intricacies of crafting light to create an engaging image to tell a coherent story is a disservice to both the image maker and the audience. What makes you think you can commit to anything if you can't commit to a distinct visual style that enhances your story? 

Ladies & gentlemen, I am TheNorm; thank you all for reading.

Why don't movies look like *movies* anymore?