The idea for this analysis came to mind when I recently saw Bergman's The Seventh Seal. While I was not quite as blown away by the film as most accolades of the film would suggest, I still found it to be an excellent movie, and could see very clearly the influence it has had on so many films that have come after it.
The one scene that I especially noticed a direct legacy in later films was a short, almost gimmicky little snippet during the medieval religious cult scene in the town--where the drums are beating loudly, people are screaming in agony as whips crack, and monks and other repenters are carrying enormous crosses on their backs. There is a short string of profile shots: Antonius, Jons, and "The Girl" (the only specific name I could find for her anywhere on the internet). The cuts between the faces are done with the beats of the drums; they are perfectly centered, with mist or smoke rising in the backgrounds, adding to each image's raw, black-and-white imagery; and each face perfectly describes what each character is feeling in the specific scene. Antonius stares onward at the happenings, in the middle of an intense existential dilemma, scrutinizing the scene and attempting to sort out what it all could mean. Jons observes with amused (yet somewhat disturbed) contempt for not only the people of the scene, but for all of humanity. And The Girl stares ahead in fear, the only one of them who truly realizes the oncoming apocalypse at such an early stage. At first glance, it seems like an empty trick thrown in for effect by Bergman. But such use of tone and the profile shot have been used countless times, seemingly originated by Bergman and his equals at this time of cinematic experimentation. For example, this technique of switching profiles to the beat of something is used pretty much verbatum in the film I'm Not There, where Todd Haynes switches between all the faces of Bob Dylan to the sound of gunshots--all in misty black-and-white photography.
What makes a profile shot so effective is that (sorry for this cliche...) every face tells a story, and it only takes a skilled actor, a good director, and a camera with the right film to turn it into a work of art. But I mean, portraits and sculpture dating back to prehistoric times make use of the nuances of the human face, from Egyptian sculptures of pharaohs, the stone heads of Easter Island, and technically even Native American tikis. Different societies and different mediums of art have used the face for various forms of expression, and it is probably one of the most common depictions in art. Look at the Mona Lisa--it's one of the most famous works of art ever created, and it is a painting of a woman's face. It's the mystery behind her expressions, her features, her true identity that makes the work so timeless and so debatable.
However, there's something about seeing the human face framed in a camera--especially on a black-and-white one--that is so beautiful and so perfect. In my mind, who cares about Joe Wright's five minute tracking shot. Hundreds of extras, thousands of dollars, all to capture a vast expanse of imagery without any empathy involved. For a well-done profile shot, all one needs an actor, a director, and a camera--nothing else. I'm not necessarily saying that a tracking shot would not be a work of art, since it is one in itself, but I feel as though such broadness cannot capture the undeniable intimacy of human emotion that is shown on any person's face. Even one's eyes, shifting crazily during a "trip" through time and space (2001: A Space Odyssey) have the ability to captivate a viewer, and give them a glimpse into a character's psyche.
Last night, while running through this topic in my head, I came up with several movies and genres that utilize the human profile extensively. The first that came to mind was the film-noir genre, with its fims' personal, close feel. Who can forget the faces of the tortured heroes of these films, driving around puffing on their ever-present cigarettes? While my knowledge of this genre is pretty limited, I know enough to recognize the faces of the classic noir heroes. Neo-noir and crime films have taken up these techniques, especially films like Pulp Fiction (and other Tarantino) and Chinatown (which is pretty much classic noir).
Another film that really sticks out in my mind is The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, with its infamous final shoot-out of only profile shots and guns. Leone had a gift for the small touches of the human face, as he also demonstrates his penchant for this in Once Upon a Time in the West. He perfectly illustrates the dirtiness and inherent wickedness in a lot of his characters through perfectly staged shots of their sweaty, grizzled faces.
Kubrick was an auteur in many ways, and one that I have especially noticed is his perfect use of a framed, still camera shot. One of my favorites occurs in Dr. Strangelove, with the shot of General Jack Ripper during one of his monologues, where the camera is beneath his face and it basically looking right up his nose at a crooked angle. Just the staging of this shot gives the viewer a perfect sense of how unhinged the man really is. It's hilarity through just good direction.
Now, I hate to stray off of my established topic, but I feel as though I can't discuss the profile shot without talking about its cinematic opposite, the subjective shot. While not nearly as popular, in the right hands, it can be nearly as effective as the human profile. David Lynch has pretty much mastered this craft, and he uses it flawlessly to create almost unbearable terror in Inland Empire. One of the most terrifying experiences I've every had while watching a movie happened when I watched Mulholland Dr. for the first time, when the man in the restaraunt is walking to face the monster in the alley--Lynch uses the man's point of view to emphasize the horror being faced. I pretty much shit my pants. Did that aspect of the film really serve much of a purpose? No, not really. But it has an undeniable finesse and effectiveness that makes it essential to the overall tone of the movie. Another film that uses the subjective point of view to enhance horror is one that I watched recently, Dreyer's Vampyr. It is a short scene in which it is used, but creates a great sense of claustrophic fear.
A couple of films that go hand-in-hand in terms of use of POV are Being John Malkovich and Diving Bell and the Butterfly. BJM flawlessly portrays being inside the head of someone else, from the sound effects to the imagery. You ARE walking around in someone else's shoes, and it's amazing. DB&tB also uses this technique of seeing the world through someone else's eyes. Schnabel meticulously recreates the feeling of being confined within one's mind, with no escape and no possible sense of escape. It is a beautiful technique used in an absolutely beautiful film, and it heightens the unending and unavoidable sadness of the film. In a convoluted way, the film also makes great use of the profile shot--from the eyes of Bauby. The lighting and camera effects used illustrate the beauty of his nurse's faces unlike anything I have ever seen, framing them in his one eye with the foggy edges. The camera examines their features as though you are Bauby, longing to reach out and touch them, but you can't and it is near torture.
For the most part, it is foreign directors that use these sort of simple shots to greatest effect--I feel as though they typically can emphasize beauty better than any American director ever could, not only through profile and POV but also through beauty of landscapes.
Now, I know I must address that nearly every movie uses these sorts of methods, and my film repertoire may not permit me to do a full elucidation on such topics. However, I have always been taken aback by the immense possibilities of film-making. As I have dreams of becoming a film-maker, I can't help but analyze such things when I watch movies, and take them to mind when imagining camera angles and writing ideas. And the things that I have always marveled at are the simple things that can be done by anyone with an idea, a camera, and subject. That's where the true beauty of film-making lies, in its simplest artistry.