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In The Mummy (1999), a group of adventurers accidentally awakened Imhotep, an ancient priest cursed for eternity. As he gained power, he unleashed chaos, trying to resurrect his lost love. In the end, they used an ancient book to make him mortal and defeated him just in time to escape his collapsing tomb.

The scene that stood out to me the most was probably the part where they were riding a plane while being chased by the sand imagery of Imhotep. It stood out to me because it reminded me of Sandman from Marvel.

The production aspect that stood out to me would probably be the editing since there were a lot of visual effects needed for this film. Given that this was in 1999, it was the popularization of VFX in films along with CGI.

Looking at a perspective when this was released in 1999, I think that it was well made from the story to the editing. If we look at it in a present perspective, I think that it's too cliche and overdone in some parts.

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Rashomon (1950) follows the conflicting accounts of a samurai’s murder and his wife’s assault, as told by a bandit, the wife, the deceased samurai (through a medium), and a woodcutter who secretly witnessed the event. Each story contradicts the others, highlighting how pride, guilt, and self-interest shape perception. As the characters grapple with truth and morality, the film questions whether absolute truth exists. In the end, the woodcutter’s act of kindness; taking in an abandoned baby, provides a small yet meaningful sign of hope.

The scene that stood out to me the most was when the woman rode the horse, dressed elegantly in a flowing gown and a stylish hat. The way her dress moved with the wind and how she carried herself with such grace made the moment feel striking and unforgettable.

The cinematography of this film stood out to me, especially considering it was made in the 1950s. The way it was filmed, from its striking use of natural light to its dynamic camera movements, was ahead of its time. The framing and composition added depth to the story, making each scene visually engaging and emotionally impactful. It was interesting to see how these techniques helped convey the film’s themes and heightened the sense of mystery and uncertainty.

Even though this film wasn’t exactly my cup of tea, I can still appreciate how well it was made. Its innovative cinematography, non-linear storytelling, and use of natural lighting were groundbreaking for its time. The way it played with perspective and challenged the idea of absolute truth was unique and thought-provoking. While the pacing and style may not have been to my personal taste, I can see why it left such a lasting impact on cinema and continues to be studied and admired today.

Rashomon (1950) reflects post-war Japan’s uncertainty and moral ambiguity. Its innovative cinematography and storytelling mirror societal distrust and the search for truth.

I believe the film made a major international impact due to its innovative storytelling, universal themes, and groundbreaking cinematography. Its use of multiple perspectives to explore truth and perception was revolutionary, influencing countless films and media. The themes of human nature, morality, and the subjectivity of truth resonate across cultures, making the story timeless and relevant. Additionally, Kurosawa’s masterful direction, striking visuals, and creative camera techniques set new standards in filmmaking, helping introduce Japanese cinema to the global stage. Winning the Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival further solidified its status as a cinematic masterpiece.

I think that the appeal of the 'Rashomon effect' lies in its exploration of perspective, truth, and human nature. By presenting multiple accounts of the same event, this storytelling style challenges audiences to question reliability, bias, and subjectivity. It creates intrigue and encourages deeper engagement.

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Strangers on a Train follows two strangers, Guy Haines and Bruno Anthony, who meet on a train. Bruno proposes a twisted plan: they swap murders, with Bruno killing Guy’s wife and Guy killing Bruno’s father. Guy dismisses the idea, but Bruno goes ahead and murders Guy’s wife, expecting Guy to return the favor. As Bruno’s threats escalate, Guy must clear his name and stop Bruno’s madness. The film’s tension builds through psychological manipulation, moral dilemmas, and Hitchcock’s brilliant direction, making it a gripping psychological thriller.

There's a lot of scenes stand out for their tension and visual narrative. For me, the amusement park murder scene that I will never forget is eerie and well put together, as seen through the victim's glasses.

My favorite elements of the movie are the directing and cinematography, especially the way tension and uneasiness are portrayed through close-ups, shadows, and reflections. The story is given depth by the amusement park setting, which contrasts innocence with malicious intent.

Black and white films are not my thing, but I have to say that Strangers on a Train is exceptionally well-made. The dark elements of the story are emphasized through lighting, reflections, and symbolism. The performances are outstanding and enhance the suspense in the movie, especially Robert Walker's portrayal of Bruno.

The genres of crime, thriller, and film noir are all fitted in Strangers on a Train. As a thriller, it uses tense pacing and psychological manipulation to create tension. The film's atmosphere is enhanced by Hitchcock's use of tense speech, particularly in the sequences where Bruno makes fun of Guy for their "agreement." The gloomy, shadowy cinematography, which highlights psychological struggle, makes the noir characteristics clear.

The film’s iconography fits into Thriller, Film Noir, and Crime. The lighting is effectively used to create a sense of dread through dramatic shadows and reflections, adding to the suspenseful atmosphere. The murder's reflection in the victim's glasses is one of the eerie and powerful iconic scenes. The murder scene's amusement park location emphasizes the crime and suspense elements by contrasting an innocent atmosphere with malicious intent.

Honestly speaking, no. It is because black-and-white films are not my thing, especially thriller and suspense. As much as I watch some thrillers, it's just not my cup of tea. Hitchcock’s style might be impressive, but the dated visuals and style make it hard for me to stay engaged.

I did not notice the cameo when I watched the film, but upon researching, I was able to spot it. Hitchcock appears early in the film, boarding a train while carrying a double bass.

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Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000) Film Review

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Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000) Film Review

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Ang Lee's Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000) is a martial arts epic that takes place in 18th-century Qing Dynasty China. The movie shows Li Mu Bai, a legendary swordsman, and Yu Shu Lien, a skilled warrior and his old friend. Li Mu Bai chooses to retire and leaves his mighty sword, Green Destiny, to Sir Te. But the sword is stolen by Jen Yu, the spoiled and talented daughter of a rich family, covertly trained by the vengeful Jade Fox. While Shu Lien and Li Mu Bai try to retrieve the sword, they deal with their unresolved emotions for one another. The film has stunning fight choreography and deals with themes of duty, love, honor, and freedom. Ultimately, Li Mu Bai is poisoned by Jade Fox and dies confessing his love for Shu Lien. Overcome by guilt and desiring redemption, Jen jumps off a mountain, leaving her destiny unknown.

The scene that stood out to me the most was the ending of the film, where Jen Yu jumps off the bridge. This moment was hauntingly beautiful and filled with deep emotional weight. It left me questioning her true intentions and what might have happened to her afterward. Throughout the film, Jen struggled with the conflict between her desire for freedom and the expectations placed upon her by society and her family. The scene also felt like a culmination of everything Jen had experienced throughout her journey. Her struggles with her identity, her longing for independence, and her complicated relationships with those around her all seemed to build up to that one moment.

The production aspect that impressed me most was the breathtaking fight choreography by Yuen Woo-ping. The combat scenes were more than action; they were storytelling through graceful, fluid movements. Using wire-fu techniques, characters performed impossible feats like gliding through air and balancing on bamboo trees, enhancing the film’s poetic feel. What made it even more remarkable was the dedication of Michelle Yeoh and Zhang Ziyi, who performed most of their own stunts despite limited martial arts experience. Their commitment to training allowed them to deliver elegant and precise fight scenes, adding authenticity and emotional depth to their characters’ struggles. Although stunt performers were used for particularly dangerous scenes, the actors’ dedication made the choreography feel genuine and captivating. The fight scenes weren’t just physical; they visually represented the characters’ inner conflicts, making the choreography a key element of the film’s powerful storytelling.

I think Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon was incredibly well-made. What impressed me most was how everything felt so seamless; the stunning cinematography, the beautiful score, and the breathtaking fight choreography. The combat scenes felt more like expressive dances than mere action. I also loved how the film balanced emotional storytelling with visual elegance. The characters' struggles with love, honor, and freedom felt real and captivating. The overall artistry and commitment to authenticity made the film feel timeless and powerful.

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ACT I: Setup

The film introduces us to the world of Li Mu Bai and Yu Shu Lien, two skilled warriors with unspoken feelings for each other. Li Mu Bai decides to retire and gifts his legendary sword, Green Destiny, to Sir Te for safekeeping. This act also introduces Jen Yu, a governor’s sheltered yet rebellious daughter longing for freedom from her arranged life. When Green Destiny is stolen, we quickly realize Jen is the thief, hinting at her desire for independence and power. The setup perfectly establishes the central conflict and emotional stakes.

ACT II: Confrontation

This is where the film truly shines. Jen’s theft of the sword creates tension between her and Yu Shu Lien, leading to beautifully choreographed confrontations that feel both emotional and physical. At the same time, Li Mu Bai’s pursuit of Jen reveals his desire to mentor her away from the destructive path she’s heading towards, especially since she’s been trained by the villainous Jade Fox. The relationship between Jen and Lo (her lover from the desert) adds another layer of complexity, showcasing her struggle between freedom and duty. The film builds on these conflicts with intensity and grace, especially through its fight scenes that feel like poetic expressions of the characters’ emotions.

ACT III: Resolution

The final act is heartbreaking and powerful. After a dramatic showdown, Jade Fox is killed, but not before poisoning Li Mu Bai, leading to his tragic death in Yu Shu Lien’s arms. His confession of love hits hard, making me feel the weight of all the unspoken words between them. Jen’s guilt and longing for redemption lead to her final act of leaping off the bridge, her fate left ambiguous. It’s a haunting and emotional conclusion that leaves me wondering if she found peace or liberation.

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I expected the usual war-army vibe that’s common in martial arts films; clashing clans, revenge plots, and power struggles. But this film felt so refreshing and different. Instead of focusing on large-scale battles, it told a more personal and emotional story about inner conflicts, forbidden love, and the desire for freedom. The fight scenes were breathtaking because they felt like poetry in motion rather than just action. The rooftop chase and bamboo forest fight stood out, with the choreography blending elegance and intensity so seamlessly. The film’s approach to storytelling surprised me, it was graceful, emotional, and deeply meaningful. It made me realize that martial arts films can be more than just combat; they can be artful expressions of emotion and identity.

After watching the film, my expectations were definitely exceeded. I went in thinking it would be a typical war-army-style martial arts film, but instead, I got something so much deeper and more beautiful. The focus on personal conflicts, unspoken emotions, and the pursuit of freedom made the story feel rich and meaningful. I was genuinely surprised by how graceful and poetic the fight scenes were. They weren't just about combat; they expressed the characters’ emotions and struggles in such an elegant way. The rooftop chase and bamboo forest fight scenes, in particular, felt like pure art.

A common misconception is that Li Mu Bai and Yu Shu Lien have a straightforward romantic relationship. In reality, their love is deeply felt but unspoken due to duty, honor, and loyalty to Shu Lien’s late fiancé, Meng Sizhao. This misunderstanding can lessen the emotional impact of their bond. Their relationship is defined by restraint and sacrifice, making Li Mu Bai’s dying confession far more heartbreaking and powerful. Oversimplifying their connection misses the beauty of their tragic, unfulfilled love.

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The Matrix (1999) is about Neo, a hacker who finds out that his whole life has been a lie, the world he knows is just a simulation controlled by AI. Morpheus and his team break him out, believing he’s The One who can stop the Machines. As he trains and fights, he slowly starts to understand his true power, and by the end, he fully embraces it, taking down Agent Smith in an insane final battle.

One scene that really stood out to me was the red pill/blue pill moment. Not only is it a huge turning point for Neo, but it’s also the scene that made me realize where all those red vs. blue pill memes actually came from. Another was the slow-motion bullet dodge and it’s been referenced in so many games and movies since, and it still looks cool even today.

The visuals were ahead of their time. The whole stopping bullets in mid-air thing? Still amazing. The cinematography also added so much to the storytelling, especially with the green tint separating the Matrix from the real world. The sound design really helped build that eerie, digital feel. That said, some of the CGI looks a little outdated now, but for a movie from the '90s, it holds up surprisingly well.

Overall, I think The Matrix is a masterpiece. It mixes deep ideas with stylish action in a way that still feels fresh. The film’s themes; reality, control, and free will, are just as relevant now as they were back then. Definitely a must-watch if you’re into sci-fi, action, or just cool mind-bending stories.

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Protagonist/Antagonist

Neo/Agent Smith

Neo is our main guy, the one questioning reality and eventually realizing he’s The One. His journey from being an unsure hacker to basically breaking the Matrix is what makes the movie so satisfying. On the flip side, Agent Smith is the perfect antagonist. He’s not just a typical villain, he hates being in the Matrix, even though he’s part of it, and that makes him so much more than just an obstacle for Neo. Their final fight, where Neo literally stops bullets and starts moving like the Agents, is the perfect hero vs. villain showdown.

Reason/Emotion

Morpheus/Cypher

Morpheus is all about logic and belief. He’s the one who never doubts that Neo is The One, even when everyone else thinks he’s crazy. He’s calm, focused, and always has a plan. Cypher, on the other hand, is ruled by emotion, mainly regret and selfishness. He straight-up betrays the team because he wants to believe the lie instead of facing reality. The dinner scene where he eats the steak, knowing it’s fake but enjoying it anyway? That moment sums up his character perfectly.

Sidekick/Skeptic

Trinity/Mouse

Trinity is the ultimate ride-or-die. She’s there for Neo from the start, pushing him forward and helping him believe in himself. She’s loyal, strong, and literally brings him back to life at the end. Mouse, on the other hand, is more of a skeptic. He questions things, like when he talks about how the food in the Matrix isn’t real and how taste is just a programmed experience. He’s also the one who seems the most aware that they’re living in a strange, artificial world.

Guardian/Contagonist

The Oracle/Cypher

The Oracle is the ultimate guide. She doesn’t give Neo direct answers but nudges him in the right direction, making him realize the truth for himself. The way she tells him he’s not The One (even though he is) forces him to grow and actually become the hero he needs to be. On the other hand, Cypher acts as the contagonist, throwing a wrench in the team’s plans. He’s not the main villain, but he definitely makes things worse for everyone. His betrayal costs lives, and it’s his selfish choices that nearly destroy everything.

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Dumplings was honestly horrifying, not in a jump-scare way, but in a slow, sickening kind of way. The color palette was cold, greenish tones and pale lighting that made everything feel sterile and lifeless, especially the kitchen where the dumplings were made. It looked clean, but somehow you could almost feel the rot behind the surface. I think the director did that on purpose to make the horror feel closer to real life. Everything looked normal, but it was emotionally cold and uncomfortable.

The Box was a different kind of eerie, it felt like a dream I didn’t want to be in. The colors were so pale; lots of whites and soft greys, and everything moved slowly, like I was floating through someone’s memory. The snow and wide, quiet spaces made me feel really isolated, like I was trapped in the character’s mind. The sets were minimal, almost empty, which I think showed how emotionally stuck Kyoko was. She never really moved on from her past, and the environment made that obvious without saying a word.

I think the set choices in both films were meant to make us feel what the characters were going through without needing to say it out loud. Like in Dumplings, the super modern, clean apartment and that weirdly sterile kitchen weren’t just there to look fancy, they made me feel how empty and cold Mrs. Li’s life was. Everything looked nice on the surface, but something felt really off, which matched how she was doing all these horrible things to feel beautiful again. It’s like the set was quietly screaming that something ugly was hiding underneath all that perfection.

And then in Box, the snowy, quiet landscapes and those big empty spaces, it all felt so isolating. Honestly, it gave me chills in a different way. It was like I was stuck inside Kyoko’s head, feeling her guilt and loneliness just through the setting. The way everything looked kind of dreamlike or surreal made me constantly question what was real, which I think was the whole point. It really helped tell the story without needing much dialogue at all. So yeah, the sets weren’t just backgrounds, they were part of the storytelling. They helped show us what the characters were feeling deep down.

I really think the setting choices were used super effectively in both Dumplings and Box. In Dumplings, the whole atmosphere felt so clean and polished on the outside, but it actually made everything way creepier. That apartment looked expensive and put-together, but it also felt weirdly cold and lifeless, like there was no warmth at all. It totally matched Mrs. Li’s character; everything looked perfect, but something was deeply wrong underneath. The setting made the horror feel more real because it all looked so normal. That contrast between appearance and reality really hit. And Box, that one felt like a dream in the worst (but best) way. The snowy landscapes and big, empty spaces made me feel just as alone and trapped as Kyoko did. It was quiet, slow, and kind of haunting. Even though not much was said, the setting helped me feel her emotional state. It made me uneasy in a more psychological way, like I was slowly slipping into her mind.

The costume and makeup choices really stood out in both Dumplings and Box, but in totally different ways. In Dumplings, it was Mrs. Li’s transformation that really got to me. At the start, she already looked put-together like the typical rich Asian woman, but as she kept eating the dumplings, her appearance became more “youthful”; her skin looked tighter, her makeup became sharper, and her outfits got more sleek and stylish. But instead of making her look better, it honestly made her seem more creepy and unnatural. It was like watching someone slowly lose their soul just to look young. Her outside looked better, but her eyes? Completely empty. That contrast was so eerie and effective.

In Box, the standout for me was Kyoko’s whole look, she felt almost doll-like. Her makeup was really pale, soft, and emotionless, and she wore these really modest, almost delicate clothes. It made her look fragile, like she was stuck in time. She didn’t even have to say much, just by looking at her, I could feel her guilt and sadness. It was subtle, but it said so much about her character. She looked like someone who had been carrying something heavy for years.

I think the costume and makeup choices in both films were meant to show us who the characters really were, without them even having to say it out loud. In Dumplings, Mrs. Li’s changing appearance was basically a visual way of showing her inner obsession and desperation. The more “refreshed” she looked, the more uncomfortable I felt, which says a lot. Her youthful glow didn’t feel natural, it felt forced and kind of disturbing. Her fancy clothes and flawless makeup were like a mask to cover up how messed up things had become inside. It was like she was trying to hold onto control, but underneath it all, she was spiraling.

In Box, Kyoko’s look said something totally different. Her pale skin, soft makeup, and quiet, modest clothes made her seem frozen in the past, almost like she hadn’t changed since she was a child. It gave this feeling that she was still stuck in her trauma. She didn’t look like a grown woman living in the present; she looked like someone who never emotionally moved on. Her appearance really matched the dreamlike and haunting vibe of the story. I could sense that she was carrying guilt and sadness just by the way she looked.

Out of all three shorts, I honestly found myself appreciating Box the most. There was just something about Kyoko’s character that really got to me. I could feel her guilt and regret, like I have mentioned: it was like she was carrying this heavy burden that she couldn’t let go of. The way she looked, the way she moved, it all felt like she was stuck in time, haunted by something she couldn’t escape. It was like I could almost hear the weight of her past in every scene. It was subtle, but so powerful.

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The high-key lighting in The Royal Tenenbaums really works for the film, and honestly, at first, I thought it might be too bright for such a heavy, emotional story. But then I realized it’s actually kind of genius because it makes everything look so perfect on the outside, like this picture-perfect family. But that’s the thing, it’s all just a façade. The more I watched, the more I felt like the lighting made the Tenenbaums’ dysfunction even more obvious. Like, when Royal’s in his room at the Y, the harsh lighting is uncomfortable and kind of exposes how alone he is. It’s almost like the lighting is highlighting how messed up everything really is, even when it looks so “normal” on the surface. So, for me, the lighting didn’t hinder the film at all, it actually helped underline the contrast between their polished image and the mess they’re all dealing with underneath.

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1. Margo arriving on the Green Line bus

When Margo steps off the bus, the lighting is so soft and almost magical. The way the light hits her just makes her look distant and kind of untouchable. It's like she’s in her own world, separated from everything else. The bluish tones give off this feeling of emotional detachment, almost like she's just floating in her own bubble. It’s almost like the lighting is showing us how she feels apart from the family, even though she’s physically there. It definitely makes her look mysterious and out of reach, which totally fits her character.

2. Royal's room at the Y

Royal’s room is a whole different vibe. The lighting is harsh, and it makes everything feel uncomfortable. The strong overhead light creates these long shadows, and you can almost feel how lonely he is. It’s like the room is too bright in the wrong way, exposing how empty and sad his life is. The neutral, almost cold tones make the whole place feel sterile, which just makes Royal look even more isolated. You really feel his disconnection from everyone, and the lighting does a great job of highlighting how miserable he is.

3. Richie's attempt in the bathroom

This scene with Richie is so intimate. The light is soft and warm, coming from the mirror and the small light above the sink. It makes him look so vulnerable, like he's in a moment of self-reflection. The lighting focuses so much on his face, which makes it feel like this is the only thing that matters in the moment, it’s just him, dealing with his emotions. The shadows around him make it feel like the outside world is far away, and this moment is all about him trying to make sense of everything. It’s a more personal, emotional lighting choice that makes you feel for him as he struggles through his thoughts.

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The scene at the private investigator's office with Raleigh and Richie is so telling with how the lighting is used. When I watched it, the way they’re blocked in separate lighting spaces really caught my attention. It’s like they’re both physically there, but emotionally, they’re miles apart. Raleigh is in the light, almost bathed in it, while Richie is sitting in the shadows. It’s like the light is highlighting Raleigh’s role in this investigation and his presence in the moment, while Richie’s darkness represents his internal struggle and emotional distance. The shadows around Richie make him feel so isolated, like he’s trying to hide or retreat from the situation. It feels like the lighting is visually showing the emotional gap between them, even though they’re sitting in the same room. It really made me feel the tension and how Richie is trying to keep his personal turmoil hidden while Raleigh is out in the open, more connected to the situation. It’s such a clever way to show that emotional disconnect without needing to say anything.

The lighting in The Royal Tenenbaums really caught my attention as the story went on, and it felt like it was reflecting the characters’ emotional shifts. In the beginning, everything’s bright and almost too perfect, which made the family feel like they had it all together, even though I could tell there were cracks beneath the surface. Then, as the drama unfolds, the lighting gets harsher and a bit colder, like when Royal’s in his hotel room, and it totally matched the tension and emotional mess the family was going through. But by the end, the lighting softens and warms up again, almost like things are starting to heal, and it gave me this feeling of hope. It felt like the lighting was walking me through their emotional ups and downs, making each shift hit harder.

Honestly, The Royal Tenenbaums is probably my favorite film out of all the ones we've watched so far. It’s just so quirky and unique, and there’s something about the way it blends dark humor with deep family drama that really caught me. I love how it doesn’t try to hide the messiness of family relationships, but at the same time, it’s visually stunning. The characters are so eccentric, and I couldn’t help but feel for them, even when they were making awful decisions. The mix of humor, emotional depth, and visual style really grabbed me. Definitely one of those films I’ll think about long after.

(I feel bad about the dog in the ending, he was my favorite)

https://macksennettstudios.net/how-lighting-affects-mood-in-film/

https://www.seriousreaders.com/blog/lights-camera-atmosphere-how-lighting-conveys-emotion-in-movies?srsltid=AfmBOoqM8mpbTeGCYffQVikHlgkqMtiHb9xialfr64AgqWFC7pn4TEMa

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The film follows a crippled con man named Verbal Kint, who is one of only two survivors of a violent explosion on a ship in San Pedro, California. During a police interrogation, Verbal recounts the events leading up to the disaster. He explains how he and four other criminals: Dean Keaton, Michael McManus, Fred Fenster, and Todd Hockney were brought together in a police lineup and decided to work together on a series of heists. However, they soon find themselves manipulated by a mysterious and feared crime lord named Keyser Söze, a figure surrounded by myth and terror.

As Verbal tells his story to U.S. Customs Agent Dave Kujan, the plot unfolds with increasing complexity. It becomes clear that everything has been orchestrated behind the scenes by Söze, who eliminates anyone who could identify him. The story builds to a shocking twist ending when Kujan realizes too late that Verbal has been lying, fabricating his story using details from objects around the office. Moments after Verbal leaves the police station, it’s revealed that he himself is Keyser Söze, vanishing before the truth can catch up to him.

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One scene that really stood out to me in The Usual Suspects was the ending, where Agent Kujan slowly realizes that everything Verbal had said was a lie. As he looks around the office and sees the names and details Verbal pulled straight from the bulletin board, it completely flips the story. I was shocked by how cleverly the twist was revealed, not through a big explosion or dramatic confrontation, but through small, quiet clues that suddenly made everything fall into place. The way the camera lingers on each item as Kujan makes the connections made me feel like I was discovering the truth right alongside him.

What made it even more powerful was the moment Verbal walks out of the police station and slowly loses his limp. Watching him transform from a harmless, nervous man into the cold and confident Keyser Söze gave me chills. It was such a brilliant use of visual storytelling, no words were needed, just that quiet walk and the shift in body language. That scene made me rethink everything I had just watched. It showed how easily perception can be manipulated and how dangerous someone can be when they’re underestimated. That twist left a lasting impression on me and completely changed the way I view unreliable narrators in film.

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One production aspect that really stood out to me in The Usual Suspects was the editing, especially during the final sequence. The way the film cuts between Agent Kujan piecing together the truth and Verbal walking away was perfectly timed, it built suspense without spelling everything out too quickly. I liked how it made me, as a viewer, feel like I was solving the mystery alongside the character. It also made the twist more impactful because it let the realization sink in slowly rather than dropping it all at once.

Another detail I appreciated was the use of lighting and shadows, especially in the flashbacks and during scenes involving Keyser Söze. The lighting created this moody, noir atmosphere that kept me feeling tense and unsure of what to believe. Even though it was a crime thriller, it often felt like a puzzle I was being dared to solve, and the cinematography supported that mood really well.

Overall, the production choices from editing and camera work to lighting played a huge role in making the story suspenseful and surprising. Everything felt intentional, especially when I rewatched it and caught new details I missed the first time.

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Verbal Kint

Kevin Spacey’s portrayal of Verbal Kint is full of subtlety, and his figure expressions play a huge part in why the twist works. Throughout most of the film, Verbal keeps a nervous, unsure look on his face; wide eyes, small smiles, and an almost sheepish demeanor. His figure movements are also key: he has a noticeable limp, his hand is stiff, and he often hunches over or avoids direct confrontation. These physical choices make him seem weak and non-threatening. But what really elevates the performance is the use of sound elements; his soft-spoken, often hesitant voice adds to the illusion that he’s a harmless storyteller. Only at the end do we realize it’s all an act, and when he drops the limp and straightens out, it’s shocking to see how much of his performance relied on controlled physicality and vocal tone.

Agent Kujan

Chazz Palminteri as Agent Kujan is the opposite in many ways. His figure expressions are sharp and intense; he often furrows his brow, squints, or leans in aggressively, showing his determination to break Verbal. His movements are confident and authoritative, he paces, points, and sometimes slams things, showing how in control he thinks he is. His sound elements include a strong, commanding voice that frequently shifts tone depending on whether he’s interrogating or trying to manipulate. He raises his voice when frustrated and lowers it when he thinks he’s got the upper hand. The shift in energy between him and Verbal is what makes their scenes so dynamic.

Dean Keaton

Gabriel Byrne brings complexity to Dean Keaton through restrained figure expressions. He often appears stoic or slightly annoyed, keeping his emotions tightly under control, which matches the mysterious, possibly reformed-criminal persona he plays. His movements are deliberate, whether he’s walking, sitting, or reacting to tension, it’s clear he’s trying to maintain a sense of control. Even when things start to unravel, he never fully loses composure. In terms of sound, Keaton’s voice is steady and measured, with just enough edge to suggest danger but also enough calm to hint that he wants to escape his criminal past. His controlled presence adds to the film’s suspense, especially since the audience is led to suspect he might be Keyser Söze.

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The Police Lineup Scene

This scene immediately stood out to me because of how the characters were physically arranged. The five suspects are lined up side by side, facing forward and taking turns reading a line. While the setup seems simple, the blocking cleverly reveals character dynamics without any exposition. Each character reacts to the situation differently; McManus is loud and rebellious, Fenster mumbles, Verbal looks confused and timid, while Keaton appears calm and detached. The way they turn to look at each other or smirk after someone messes up makes it feel more real and chaotic, like they already know this setup is a joke. As a viewer, I could immediately sense the chemistry between them and got early hints about their personalities and tensions. The blocking gave the ensemble energy and made the scene memorable, even with minimal movement.

Verbal’s Interrogation Scene

In the scenes between Verbal and Agent Kujan, the blocking does a lot to highlight their shifting power dynamic. Verbal is usually seated or physically lower than Kujan, who often stands or leans over him, trying to assert dominance. This creates a visual imbalance that reinforces Kujan’s belief that he’s in control. But as Verbal keeps talking and shaping the story, the blocking stays consistent, he remains small and unthreatening. Only in hindsight, after the twist, do I realize how intentional that was. The blocking was a visual trick, just like Verbal’s story. As an audience member, it made me buy into the idea that Verbal was harmless, reinforcing the effectiveness of the final reveal.

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https://indietips.com/visual-blocking/#google_vignette

https://www.studiobinder.com/filmmaking-techniques-film-blocking/

https://sony-cinematography.com/articles/the-cinematographer-and-scene-blocking/

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First Standout Camera Shot – Roxie in Her Cell

One of the most striking shots in Chicago appears during a quiet, introspective moment when Roxie is lying alone in her prison cell. The camera is placed directly above her, giving us an overhead view of her body stretched across the bed. This angle makes her look incredibly small, almost like she is sinking into the mattress or being swallowed by the empty space around her.

The use of this high-angle shot created a strong emotional impact. It immediately made me feel her isolation and helplessness. Up until this point in the film, Roxie had been presented as confident, lively, and full of charm, especially during her fantasy sequences. But here, everything is stripped away. There is no stage, no spotlight, and no audience, just silence and stillness. It feels as if the fantasy has paused, and we are finally seeing her as she truly is.

I believe the director used this shot to visually highlight the contrast between Roxie’s inner world and her real-life situation. In her imagination, she is a star. But in reality, she is just another woman stuck in jail, uncertain about what will happen next. The shot’s stillness and the way it distances us from her physically also create an emotional distance. It feels like we are watching from above with no way to help or intervene. This moment reminded me that for all the glamour and fantasy the film offers, there is always something much more vulnerable underneath.

Second Standout Camera Movement – “Cell Block Tango”

Another standout moment for me was the musical number “Cell Block Tango.” This scene is already intense because of the stories the women are telling, but the camera movement makes it even more powerful. The camera glides smoothly through the dark, smoky space, moving from one woman to the next as they take turns performing. It does not just jump from one face to another. Instead, it feels like the camera is part of the choreography, weaving through the space with the same energy and rhythm as the performers.

This movement creates a strong sense of immersion. Watching it, I did not feel like I was just a viewer sitting back and observing. I felt like I was being pulled into each woman’s confession, almost as if I were standing right there on the stage with them. The red lighting, dramatic shadows, and the close-ups of each woman’s expression made the scene feel theatrical yet intense. At the same time, the continuous movement of the camera kept the energy high and made the transitions feel fluid and connected.

The camera movement here is not just about style. It helps emphasize the message behind the song. Each woman is telling her version of the truth, and the way the camera respects that space, moving from one story to the next, feels intentional. It makes their voices feel equally important. It also supports one of the key themes of the film, which is how women reclaim power and agency through performance. Even though they are prisoners, they are in control of their narrative in this scene. The camera movement supports that idea by following their lead and never interrupting or overpowering them.

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Editing Highlight – Roxie’s Courtroom Puppet Fantasy

In terms of editing, one of the most memorable sequences in the film is Roxie’s trial. What made this scene unique was the way it switched between the actual courtroom and a fantasy version where Roxie is a puppet and Billy Flynn is the puppeteer. The editor used cross-cutting to alternate between the two settings, showing us how the real trial unfolds while also giving us a glimpse into Roxie’s imagination.

The effect of this editing was both clever and revealing. It shows how Roxie views the trial not as a serious legal battle, but as another performance. In her mind, she is not defending herself, she is simply playing another role for an audience. At the same time, the puppet imagery reveals something deeper. Billy Flynn is not just her lawyer, he is the one controlling her every move. The cuts between reality and fantasy make that point visually clear without needing any dialogue to explain it.

This editing choice serves the psychological and expressive functions of film editing. It gives us insight into Roxie’s thoughts and emotions during the trial. It also adds a layer of commentary on how justice is portrayed in the media. The courtroom is turned into a stage, and the legal system becomes part of the show. As a viewer, I felt both entertained and disturbed. The sequence was funny in its exaggeration, but it also made me think about how easily truth can be twisted when performance takes over.

I think this editing was highly effective because it kept the scene visually dynamic while also supporting the film’s major themes. It reminded me that in Roxie’s world, everything including something as serious as a murder trial can be turned into a spectacle.

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The cinematography and editing in Chicago are more than just stylistic choices. They are deeply tied to the film’s story, characters, and themes. The way the camera moves, the angles it chooses, and the way the scenes are edited together all help show the divide between fantasy and reality. More importantly, they help us understand how the characters use performance as a way to survive, manipulate, or escape their circumstances.

What I appreciated most is how these techniques made me feel as a viewer. The overhead shot of Roxie in her cell made me feel her loneliness. The camera movement in “Cell Block Tango” made me feel energized and captivated by the women's stories. And the fast-paced editing in the courtroom scene helped me see the absurdity and power dynamics at play. These choices shaped my emotional response and deepened my understanding of the film's message.

Chicago does not rely on traditional storytelling alone. It uses the language of film through its camera work and editing to reveal character, emotion, and theme in powerful ways. That is what made it such an engaging and memorable viewing experience.

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https://theasc.com/magazine/feb03/razzle/

https://decentfilms.com/reviews/chicago

https://aaft.com/blog/cinema/exploring-the-crucial-components-of-filmmaking-cinematography-and-editing/