This is the very first shot of The Killing
of a Sacred Deer, a 2017 film directed by Yorgos Lanthimos. This two minute opening sequence is what gives
away the entire plot of the film, as well as its main theme, and what made me realize
that there is a good reason why his films are so ___ weird. One of the most fascinating things about the
films of Yorgos Lanthimos is that they all feel synthetic. They adapt a certain strategy, whether it
be for the characters, the setting, or even the cinematography, to make everything on
screen unnatural and artificial. This baseline quality is what initially sets
the discomforting tone Lanthimos films are known for, but it also plays a role in effectively
communicating important ideas to the audience without the use of exposition. 'Do you actually believe
another day will make a difference?' 'Have you seen how ugly you are?' For instance, the characters of the Lanthimos
universe live and interact with their surroundings in an overly candid manner. They speak their minds and act out their urges
without any hesitation, and with a stilted mannerism that lessens their human-like quality. 'Okay you do have more hair than me
but not three times more' 'Me and my mom thought it'd be nice
if you came by for dinner tonight.' This is because their main purpose lies in
bringing innocence and honesty to everything on screen, facilitating contextual clarity
by eradicating alternative motives. Since a big part of what defines Lanthimos
films is their ambiguous story, this simplicity brings balance to the
otherwise complex world and prevents the audience from
unnecessarily wasting energy. In The Killing of a Sacred Deer, this character
trait is used to initially establish Doctor Steven Murphy - the main protagonist of the
film - as a godlike figure around his friends and family. He dictates what others must do, and states
personal opinions as objective truth. 'Bob, you promised me you'd get a haircut.' '...and you still haven't done it.'
'I'll get a haircut.' 'Tomorrow.' 'We should go soon.'
'Yeh. ' 'It's early.'
He's got surgery in the morning. He needs to get some sleep.' 'It's still early.'
'We've got surgery in the morning'
'Fine. Okay.' The harsh personality is rather easily accepted
and even supported by others, solidifying his status and preparing the film for the
big showdown that will happen between him and Martin, a mysterious young boy whose father
was killed during surgery by Steven, who performed the task drunk. 'Had you been drinking when you operated on his father?'
'Only a little.' 'That had nothing to do with the outcome.' 'A surgeon never kills a patient. An anesthesiologist can
kill a patient but a surgeon never can.' The instinctive and almost artificial demeanor
of the characters reflects the world of the story itself - a world of order, where everything
is prearranged and controlled. Therefore, everyone, including Steven, implicates
the existence of an unstated set of rules through their actions, moving methodically
and as a group. Subsequently, the individualistic traits of
the characters are eliminated, turning the story they tell into an objective tale of
human existence instead of a personal one. The characters are accepting and supporting
Steven’s unsensible authority only because the film stays consistent with its own rules. And because the sincerity of the characters
are maintained through this strict system, the irrational setup doesn’t stick out,
and the audience is led to buy the premise. The same thing applies for the spaces that
envelope the characters; as if displaying the inner state of the characters themselves,
the locations often lack intimacy and authenticity, characterized by bland and minimal decorations
in a large, empty space. The sterile environment visually engulfs the
people within, mystifying the setting and further dehumanizing the characters. Even when the rooms are smaller in scale and
warmer in color, they still feel fabricated and abstract, thanks to the film’s unique camera work. The camera work is what gives Yorgos Lanthimos
films their distinct color; it's what ascertains the vague sense of doom
by commanding the flow of the film world and weakening the control
the characters have over their own lives. For the mentioned establishing shots, they
exclusively use wider lenses to expand the space to a point of visual distortion, intensifying
the hollowness of the locations. Notice how many of these shots also maintain
a very high angle, often employed to better capture the scene that contains a lot of visual
information. In this case, however, the lack of visual
detail ends up accenting the desertedness, provoking fear and discomfort; basically,
they are imposing the scene, instead of informing it. High angle shots are also capable of building
tension irrespective of the setting when targeted against a person. Since they make the subject look smaller and
more exposed, they induce anxiety in the shots and insinuate vulnerability. For this reason, many of the ghost-like tracking
shots also have the camera at a higher angle, specifically for Steven, the most scrutinized
figure of this tragedy. Indeed, a big part of including wide and tall
shots is in designing a world that is governed by a higher power, a constant reminder of
our insignificance and lack of control. 'The most important thing in life is to have
good friends, not lots of friends.' 'That's what my dad used to say.' Low angle shots, on the other hand, are primarily
used to covertly hint at the superiority of certain characters - namely Martin, but to
a certain degree, Steven as well. One thing to note about low angle shots is
that they are able to produce opposing emotional effects when paired with other cinematic tricks. For example, you can combine low angle shots
with extreme close ups, dutch angle, or directional movements to generate nervousness, changing
the power shot into a defensive one, stating the character’s turmoil and instability. In The Killing of a Sacred Deer, Steven and
Martin emit different types of power: Steven, in spite of his composure, demands his authority,
while Martin exhibits it. Depending on the adjacent scenes, the context,
and the framing, the similar low angle shots of Steven and Martin constantly shift between
dominance and inferiority. Many times, this difference keeps Martin in
charge, and redraws Steven as someone who is more dogmatic than omniscient, with his
subsequent assertions only disclosing his weakness. Now, there is one specific technique used
in The Killing of a Sacred Deer that exceptionally captures this dynamic - by far my favourite
aspect of the film, and one that was shown in the beginning of this video: the zooms. Zooms are an inherently interesting technique
because at first glance, they are no different from dolly shots that physically move into
and away from a subject. But in reality, the two are completely different. The dolly ins have a lot to do with connection;
they tend to place the audience and the subject in the same space, creating intimacy and presence,
while moving the world around the target for an effective emotional linkage. Zoom ins, on the other hand, have little to
do with connection, and a lot to do with fixation. It compresses the world in on the target since
its surroundings stay in proportion, and confines the audience with the image. It’s a more claustrophobic and anxious shot
than a dolly, and a much more fitting technique for the tone of the Lanthimos universe. The zooms are everywhere in
The Killing of a Sacred Deer. Just quickly skimming through the film reveals
that there are significantly more zooms than any other visible techniques. To put things into perspective, there are
around 20 signature ghost tracking shots, 30 wide establishing shots, and 25 low angle
and 10 high angle shots that can be considered relevant to the hidden themes of the film. The zooms? There are over 60, including the opening and
the climax. Then, the question is how. How exactly are the zooms foreshadowing the
film in this scene? First is the zoom out, which can change the
context of the subject by revealing its hidden surroundings. Here, the scene begins by highlighting the
vitality and strength of the heart, only to unveil that it is on the brink of death, entirely
dependent on the hands of the surgeon. Obviously, there are many possible interpretations
of the zoom out, but given the opening scene, my preferred take is to regard it as a symbol
for vulnerability and struggle. Fittingly, the zoom in, which centralizes
the discarded gloves, speaks of the absolute authority - the almighty hands of the god
that the desperately beating heart is depending on for mercy. This hand, of course, is of
doctor Steven Murphy. The contrast between the human heart and the
garbage can generates an intriguing tension, unconsciously degrading the worth of human
life and forcing this divine intervention upon it. Steven, being both the godlike figure of his
environment and the one responsible for the demise of Martin’s father, ultimately becomes
the victim of this intervention, and the zooms in this scene are merely foreshadowing
his tragic fate. Then, the next question is, do the zooms translate
for the rest of the film? The answer is yes, but with a twist. Going back a step, this is why most of the
low angle shots involving Martin also have the camera zooming in on him to unmistakably
state that he is the glove of the story - the one in true control, and therefore,
the one above Steven. But as it is with all things, we can’t just
associate one technique with one meaning, since there are lots of variables to consider
when analyzing a given scene. For instance, many of the low angle shots
have nothing to do with power dynamics; instead, they are inserted solely to transform the
scene into something more unconventional, unstable and awkward. Even when they are used as a power shot, like
in this scene, the angle ends up reflecting the physical state of Martin more so than
his state of mind. If anything, this scene is more about Steven’s
anger and violence than Martin’s objective position; in fact, this contrast can even
be regarded as a visual twist that juxtaposes our expectations with the unmatching shot
angles - a trick often seen in Kubrick films, where the one in charge is shot from above,
and the one at a disadvantage is shot from below. In this scene, the camera zooms into Anna
standing in front of a mirror. A normal application of our theory would view
Anna suddenly as a godlike figure, but, that makes no sense. This is why we must consider
the adjacent scenes. Indeed, rewinding the film a bit reveals that
Anna has just returned from meeting Martin for the first time. The zoom in, therefore, should be viewed as
an extension of Martin’s influence than it is an objective display of Anna’s rank. Going a step further, a scene that follows
has Anna step away from the camera, with Steven in her place, receiving a phone call
from Martin. Now, the zoom feels even less like it was
intended for a specific person, but as an indication of what was to come: Martin’s
expanding influence, represented as the phone call. There are countless other fascinating examples
of zooms and other camera tricks that subtly expose the characters’ inner state and relationship
with each other, ranging from the obvious zoom in for Martin, the repeated zoom outs
for Kim, tracking shots for Steven, all the way to the slow zoom in through
framed spaces for stalking effect. Despite the exceptions and complicated procedures
for interpreting the various techniques, the reason why we can confidently identify low
angles with dominance, high angles with vulnerability, zoom-ins with divinity and zoom outs with
struggle is because the most decisive moments of the film always argue for these correlations. This two minute zoom in sequence of Martin
delivering a symbolic statement about justice while eating spaghetti is one such example. This scene is arguably one of the most significant
turning points of this film; it’s the moment Martin takes complete control and begins to
strike down on Steven’s family, and the long, gradual zoom in is what puts the final
nail in the coffin. To better drive the point home, the short
close up insertions of Anna switch from low to high angle, visually communicating her
acknowledgment of Martin’s authority by the end of the conversation, which eventually
persuades the audience to do the same. 'I don't know if what is happening is fair but...' 'it's the...the only thing I can think of
that's close to justice.' Accordingly, the last act of the film fills
itself with transitioning shots that zoom out of Steven (and his family) crying, persuading,
explaining, and struggling... ...like the beating heart. It sends a tragic message that no matter what
they do, there is only one available option - one predestined outcome - that is under
Martin’s total control. Yorgos Lanthimos isn’t my favourite director
by any means. But I do think he is one of the most misunderstood
directors out there. He doesn’t make things bizarre for no reason. He uses his peculiar cinematic universe merely
as a vehicle for philosophical explorations, urging the audience to question and doubt
the meaning of human existence, dilemmas, conditions and tragedy. The absurdities of the film world exist to
lessen the weight of the topics at hand, allowing the viewers to examine the various propositions
in a more whimsical and original angle. This is why some of his most intense sequences
come off as being equally ridiculous, because colliding antagonistic concepts with each
other tremendously helps in making a statement, in questioning, mocking, or making things
more accessible for the viewers. Every tactic that is implemented in his films,
and every choice made for his characters and the setting, all point to the idea of exploration,
not assertion. The presented weirdness
and unfairness are all part of human existence, and are more realistic
than one gives credit for. In this sense, perhaps his films are genuinely
meant to be comedic as much as it is tragic, just like our own lives. 'He caused this tragic thing to happen.
I don't understand why I should have to pay the price.' '...why my children should have to pay the price.' Narrative, symbolic, and thematic purposes
aside, the zooms are one method of sparking a conversation in The Killing of a Sacred Deer. As we’ve seen, wherever there is a zoom,
there is Martin; and wherever Martin is, is where Lanthimos resides, watching the audience,
whispering into our ears, and asking us... 'Are you ready...' '...to kill your own sacred deer?’ 'Have a good day.'
