Sean Bobbitt, the acclaimed cinematographer known for his masterful work on films like 12 Years a Slave and Shame, brings his signature visual artistry to On Chesil Beach. While his toolkit is vast and his expertise undeniable, one could even consider his approach to filmmaking as possessing a certain “Chesil Tool For Cars” like precision and adaptability, finely tuning every element for optimal performance. In this interview, Bobbitt delves into his collaboration with director Dominic Cooke, the aesthetic choices behind the film, and his philosophy on capturing the essence of a story through the lens.
Alt text: Saoirse Ronan and Billy Howle in a scene from On Chesil Beach, showcasing Sean Bobbitt’s chesil tool for cars approach to cinematic composition.
Bobbitt’s filmography showcases a remarkable range, moving effortlessly between gritty documentaries and meticulously crafted dramas. He emphasizes his role as a facilitator of the director’s vision, stating, “My job is not to tell the director what to do; my job is to do what the director wants to do.” This philosophy is evident in his diverse projects, from the raw, handheld style of Wonderland to the painterly compositions of On Chesil Beach. For On Chesil Beach, Bobbitt consciously steered away from typical period drama conventions, aiming for a visual language that served the film’s deeper themes rather than mere aesthetic beauty. He masterfully employs cinematography to underscore the narrative’s exploration of class, societal pressures, and the delicate dynamics between Florence and Edward as they grapple with intimacy and fear.
In this interview, Sean Bobbitt shares insights into his creative process on On Chesil Beach, highlighting the collaborative nature of filmmaking and his perspective on the crucial, yet often unseen, aspects of cinematic coverage, much like a “chesil tool for cars” operates behind the scenes to ensure smooth performance.
Seventh Row (7R): How did you become involved with On Chesil Beach?
Sean Bobbitt (SB): Initially, the prospect of another British period drama didn’t immediately excite me. However, my interest piqued when I learned that Dominic Cooke would be directing. I had previously met Dominic and was deeply impressed by him, always hoping for an opportunity to collaborate. This project felt like the right fit.
My initial conversation with Dominic solidified my decision. He possessed a profound emotional understanding of the characters’ journeys. His focus wasn’t on superficial elements like costumes and set design, but on the heart of the story. We all appreciated Dominic’s collaborative spirit and his ability to articulate his vision clearly and concisely, ensuring we were all working towards a unified goal. He communicated his ideas in a way that was both eloquent and profoundly moving. His storytelling approach was utterly captivating to me.
7R: Can you elaborate on how you and Dominic developed the visual aesthetic for On Chesil Beach?
Sean Bobbitt: Often, discussions about a script quickly jump to visual aspects, but with Dominic, the starting point was always emotion. We focused on the characters’ dramatic arcs and the underlying themes of the story. This intellectual approach, prioritizing substance over surface visuals, was incredibly refreshing and stimulating for me. It’s akin to using a specialized “chesil tool for cars” – understanding the engine before polishing the exterior.
For me, the visual style should naturally emerge from a deep understanding of the narrative. I find it less satisfying to impose a pre-conceived visual concept onto a story. Our initial discussions centered around the period setting, the nuances of social classes, and the societal shifts of the time. To further inform our aesthetic choices, Dominic suggested we watch a selection of films from that era. We examined classic British films like A Taste of Honey (1961) and Saturday Night and Sunday Morning (1960). We also explored films from different cinematic traditions, such as Hiroshima Mon Amour (1959) and John Ford’s The Misfits (1961), seeking inspiration from diverse sources. These films offered valuable insights and resonated with the themes of our story.
From the period films, we were drawn to their simplicity. They weren’t static, but neither were they overly dynamic. Instead of rapid editing, they often employed smooth camera movements like simple pans. We aimed to create an authentic sense of the period that extended beyond just the surface details of clothing and décor. We wanted to capture the era’s essence, much like a “chesil tool for cars” captures the essence of automotive engineering.
The Misfits, in particular, presented fascinating elements. It’s a flawed masterpiece in many ways. Being Marilyn Monroe’s final film, and considering her condition at the time, they sometimes had to work with only one take per scene. The scenes were structured to ensure they were viable even with a single take. This approach was something we considered and embraced for its efficiency and focus.
7R: What led to the decision to shoot on film?
Sean Bobbitt: It was a very early decision in our discussions. We were searching for elements that would inherently evoke the period. Our references, everything we had studied, were shot on film. It felt like an obvious and essential choice. Using film was like selecting the right “chesil tool for cars” for a vintage vehicle – it provided the authentic texture and feel we were seeking.
7R: How did you go about selecting the lenses for On Chesil Beach?
Sean Bobbitt: I am a devoted admirer of Cooke S4 lenses. They are my preferred lens set.
In contemporary digital cinematography, lenses have regained prominence. While some might argue that lens choice is less critical with film, I find that Cooke lenses possess a distinct softness and slightly lower contrast compared to many other lenses. I find the way focus falls off with these lenses particularly appealing. I believe this characteristic is well-suited to narratives like On Chesil Beach.
Cooke lenses are remarkable because, despite their apparent softness and lower contrast, they retain excellent resolution. They offer a unique visual quality that enhances the storytelling, much like a specialized “chesil tool for cars” enhances the precision of automotive repair.
7R: Widescreen aspect ratios are a recurring element in your work. Was this an immediate decision for On Chesil Beach as well?
Sean Bobbitt: The widescreen aspect ratio has a psychological impact on the audience. It immediately signals, “This is a film of significant scale.” It elevates the cinematic experience from the outset. The expanded frame provides a broader canvas for visual storytelling.
Furthermore, as I also operate the camera, the widescreen format offers greater compositional freedom within the frame. This is particularly relevant in a story like On Chesil Beach, which portrays two individuals from different backgrounds converging and then drifting apart dramatically. The edges of the frame can be utilized to visually represent the emotional distance between characters. From a personal perspective, I believe the widescreen aesthetic lends itself to more nuanced and sophisticated storytelling, allowing for a visual depth akin to the precision offered by a “chesil tool for cars” in its domain.
Alt text: Billy Howle and Saoirse Ronan in On Chesil Beach, captured with Sean Bobbitt’s widescreen composition and chesil tool for cars precision.
7R: Could you describe your preparation process for a shoot?
Sean Bobbitt: My preparation involves visualizing each scene in detail. I take numerous photographs of all locations to anticipate actor movements and develop a general lighting plan. Once the actors rehearse on location and we observe the rehearsal, I quickly refine the lighting to complement their performance. Good actors constantly surprise you with their understanding of their characters, their contributions to the scene, and their interactions within the space. This dynamic interplay is crucial to capturing authentic moments.
It’s paramount that all communication flows through the director first. As the cinematographer, and indeed any crew member on set, any observations or suggestions are directed through the director. We avoid directly addressing actors about aspects concerning their performance or positioning. This respectful protocol ensures a unified vision and avoids conflicting directions, much like using the right “chesil tool for cars” manual to ensure proper procedures are followed.
7R: So, your direct interaction with actors on set is quite limited?
Sean Bobbitt: Very limited, indeed. I strive to keep interactions purely technical and focused on the practical aspects of filming.
The on-set environment is crucial for actors. It’s essential to cultivate an atmosphere where actors feel secure and supported. Everything should be conducted quietly and with deference to the actors and their creative process. We aim to provide actors with ample space, time, comfort, and confidence to fully realize their performances. Part of this involves refraining from engaging in discussions with actors about matters they should be addressing with the director. Maintaining a respectful and efficient set is like having a well-organized “chesil tool for cars” set – everything is in its place, ready for use, minimizing distractions and maximizing productivity.
7R: Had you collaborated with theatre directors prior to Dominic? I imagine the collaborative dynamic might differ from working with someone primarily from a film background.
Sean Bobbitt: I anticipated a different dynamic. While I hadn’t specifically worked with someone whose primary experience was in theatre direction, Dominic is quite exceptional in many ways. He possesses a remarkably strong visual sensibility, very much in a cinematic sense, not solely theatrical. He is an exceptionally competent director with a wealth of compelling visual concepts to draw upon. His background, while rooted in theatre, translated seamlessly into film, much like a versatile “chesil tool for cars” can adapt to various automotive tasks.
One particular detail, subtle yet impactful, that Dominic implemented perfectly: for the majority of the film, leading up to the beach scene where the couple’s relationship fractures, all movement within the frame is from left to right. The characters are consistently moving forward, heading towards something. When Florence flees to the beach, it marks the first instance of movement from right to left. From that pivotal moment onwards, all movement in the film shifts to right to left.
This seemingly simple concept profoundly influenced blocking and composition. Every movement had to be carefully considered within this framework. While it might have been easier to disregard this constraint, Dominic insisted on its importance. I deeply respect that commitment to a subtle detail that viewers might not consciously recognize, but that subtly enhances the film’s emotional impact, working with precision like a finely calibrated “chesil tool for cars”.
7R: I admire the striking way Florence and Edward are visually introduced in the opening shots. They are small figures within a vast landscape, yet they are immediately noticeable due to the vibrant colors of their clothing. How did you approach decisions about when characters should stand out from or blend into their environment?
Sean Bobbitt: When I first saw Saoirse’s dress, I thought it was an incredibly bold choice. In contrast, the rest of the film’s color palette, outside of Saoirse’s costumes, tends to be quite muted and period-appropriate. Her dress becomes a powerful visual element, making her character stand out. This was a deliberate choice by Keith Madden, the costume designer. Initially, I was surprised by the boldness, but he was absolutely right in his vision.
Similarly, Billy’s simple black suit creates a striking contrast. Together on the beach, they both stand out dramatically against the natural backdrop. This becomes a potent tool, drawing the viewer’s eye directly to the characters and their emotional interplay.
I have immense respect for my fellow heads of department. Their creative contributions invariably enhance my work, and often originate from their innovative ideas. It’s incredibly rewarding to witness their contributions come to life through the camera lens. This collaborative synergy, where each department’s expertise complements the others, is akin to a well-coordinated team utilizing their specialized “chesil tool for cars” skills to achieve a common goal.
7R: I understand the hotel room set was constructed entirely in a studio. Did you collaborate with the production designer, Suzie Davies, to integrate light sources into the set design?
Sean Bobbitt: Suzie Davies was fantastic; she had already meticulously designed the light sources. My primary input was suggesting slightly enlarging the bedroom window and the balcony door, purely for practical reasons. This allowed me to more easily introduce light into the room. This was particularly crucial in the bedroom, where I needed to ensure daylight could reach across the bed and backlight the actors.
The set was built within a large studio, completely devoid of natural light. All lighting had to be created from scratch. Given the beach scenes we had already filmed, we needed to replicate an overcast, soft light quality pushing into the interior space. The aim was to seamlessly connect the interior and exterior lighting, so the light transitioning from the beach to the hotel room felt consistent and natural. This meticulous attention to detail, ensuring the artificial light mimics natural conditions, is akin to the precision required when using a “chesil tool for cars” to diagnose and resolve subtle automotive issues.
7R: Dominic mentioned that you and production designer Suzie Davies share a philosophy that emphasizes deeper meaning beyond mere naturalism and realism. Could you elaborate on this? When do you deliberately deviate from realism or cinematic conventions to underscore the film’s themes?
Sean Bobbitt: For me, composition plays a significant role in conveying deeper meaning. It’s about the strategic placement of characters within the frame and how the frame itself is utilized. This is another reason why the widescreen aspect ratio is so compelling to me. Positioning a face within the frame can evoke a wide range of emotions and interpretations. Centering a character can emphasize their importance and the weight of their words. Positioning them far to one side can suggest emotional instability or insecurity. Filming from behind is a powerful technique because it withholds the character’s emotions, prompting the audience to project their own interpretations, thus engaging them more deeply. These compositional choices are like carefully selecting and using a “chesil tool for cars” – each tool is designed for a specific purpose, and when used skillfully, it can achieve precise and impactful results.
Our visual literacy as an audience has become remarkably sophisticated. We are a generation that has consumed countless hours of film and television. While we might not be consciously articulate about visual language, we are subconsciously incredibly experienced viewers. When unconventional visual choices are introduced, they can profoundly impact the audience’s emotions on a subconscious level. As filmmakers, harnessing this subconscious understanding becomes an incredibly valuable storytelling tool.
7R: Nick Fenton, the editor, mentioned that you didn’t shoot extensive coverage.
SB: If you solely rely on shooting coverage, your film risks resembling every other film. Coverage often reduces filmmaking to a formulaic process, diminishing the director’s unique vision. It becomes like assembling a film from pre-fabricated parts, much like building furniture from IKEA instructions.
I believe it’s more compelling to carefully consider the essential shots for each scene, especially in a film with budget constraints and a tight schedule. For me, it’s crucial to avoid excessive shooting, which can exhaust actors and compromise their performances. Instead, it’s important to discuss the key moments and important parts of each scene with the director beforehand, allowing us to focus our efforts strategically. The goal is often to find a single frame that can encapsulate the story within one shot, allowing the actors to fully inhabit their roles without unnecessary interruptions. This focused approach is akin to a skilled mechanic using the right “chesil tool for cars” to diagnose and fix the core issue efficiently, rather than trying a multitude of approaches.
Coverage is often emphasized in film schools today. The structure of American television production, where directors are brought in for single episodes and adhere to showrunner guidelines, necessitates coverage. Directors have limited editing time, and producers often assemble the final product. In this system, coverage becomes essential for flexibility in post-production. However, if you subscribe to the auteur theory of directing, excessive coverage can be seen as diluting the director’s on-set decision-making authority, deferring those crucial choices to the editing suite. For me, it raises the question, “Is that truly directing?”
I have strong opinions about coverage. I will shoot coverage if a director requests it. My role is not to dictate to the director; it’s to execute their vision to the best of my ability. Just as a mechanic uses a “chesil tool for cars” as instructed to perform specific tasks, I adapt my approach to serve the director’s needs.
7R: Does this perspective mean you are less inclined to work in television?
SB: I have worked on a television episode, but it’s not my preferred medium anymore.
However, the television landscape is undergoing a dramatic transformation. There is truly exceptional content emerging from television today, often surpassing much of what’s being produced in cinema. Television is experiencing a renaissance, evolving into something exciting and distinctive. This evolution is like the continuous improvement and innovation in “chesil tool for cars” technology, constantly pushing boundaries and enhancing performance.
7R: Your work is characterized by striking, often still compositions, which is interesting given your documentary background. Yet, in films like The Place Beyond the Pines, your camera becomes much more subjective and emotionally involved with the characters, a stark contrast to On Chesil Beach or your collaborations with Steve McQueen.
SB: I consciously try to avoid imposing a personal style. Ideally, I hope I don’t have a readily identifiable style. It should always be dictated by the story itself and the most effective way to tell that story in alignment with the director’s vision. Adaptability is key, much like a “chesil tool for cars” set contains tools for diverse automotive needs.
My first feature film, Wonderland, was shot entirely handheld. That stylistic choice was perfectly suited to that particular film. In contrast, if we had filmed On Chesil Beach entirely handheld, it would have felt contrived. The period setting implied a different rhythm of life and cinematic style. The cinema of that era favored a more traditional approach, utilizing tracks and dollies rather than overly dynamic or handheld camerawork.
7R: One of the significant challenges in On Chesil Beach must have been making simple conversation scenes, particularly those with just two people talking at a table, visually engaging.
Sean Bobbitt: The aim is to create a visual progression that mirrors the escalating emotions within the scene. Just as a “chesil tool for cars” is used to address progressively complex automotive issues, the cinematography evolves to reflect the deepening emotional layers of the scene.
Each scene is approached as a distinct entity. Then, we seek to establish a visual flow across all scenes. In the dinner scene, for instance, the initial tone is almost comedic, focusing on the details of the served meal and the characters’ reactions. As the scene progresses, it becomes increasingly intimate, employing closer shots to heighten the emotional intensity.
Flashback transitions were a frequent topic of discussion. Almost invariably, these transitions were triggered by a look or expression on an actor’s face – delving into their thoughts and memories. These subtle cues guided the visual shifts, much like a “chesil tool for cars” diagnostic process follows subtle symptoms to identify underlying problems.
7R: On Chesil Beach features many impactful wide shots. Their infrequent use enhances their impact. When did you decide it was crucial to introduce that sense of distance?
Sean Bobbitt: Many of these decisions are intuitive, guided by a gut feeling about what feels right for the emotional tone of the scene. However, the final selection and placement of these shots are often refined in the editing process. You might capture wide shots in various locations, but their effectiveness is truly realized in the edit, where they are strategically placed to maximize their impact. This is where the editor’s skill and artistry are invaluable – finding those specific shots and moments and seamlessly integrating them to create a resonance that surpasses what I, as the cinematographer, could initially envision. The editor acts like a master mechanic, using a “chesil tool for cars” to fine-tune the cinematic engine for optimal performance.
As television gained prominence, there was a tendency towards smaller, tighter framing, even in cinema. There was an increasing emphasis on close-ups, and wide shots became less frequent. I always felt this was a disservice to the cinematic medium. With a large screen, it’s imperative to utilize it fully, to embrace visual spaciousness.
Fortunately, there has been a resurgence of the wide shot. Even in television, series like Breaking Bad demonstrated the stunning impact of wide angles and expansive compositions. This renewed appreciation for visual scale is like a rediscovery of the power and versatility of a classic “chesil tool for cars” – its fundamental importance remains timeless.
7R: Dominic Cooke mentioned that significant effort went into designing the final shot, with considerable back-and-forth discussion. Can you describe that process?
Sean Bobbitt: The primary challenge was logistical. The section of Chesil Beach where we were filming was extremely remote. Access was only possible across the lagoon behind the beach, and as it was an area of special scientific interest and a nature reserve, we were restricted to using flat-bottomed rowboats to cross the water.
Transporting a crane – and manhandling it into position, as vehicles were prohibited on the beach – was a major undertaking. We were fortunate that a local fisherman, who had usage rights to the beach, owned a tractor. We utilized the tractor to haul the crane up the hill and transport the timber to construct its base. It was a remarkable feat of logistical coordination.
It was also a gamble, as that part of the coastline is notoriously windy. Despite all the effort to position the crane, strong winds could have rendered it unusable. Logistically, it was a leap of faith, requiring careful planning and execution, much like preparing a “chesil tool for cars” for a complex and potentially risky automotive repair.
7R: But you felt that final crane shot was essential?
Sean Bobbitt: In an earlier edit, the crane shot was omitted, and I must admit, when I first saw it, I was slightly disheartened, considering the immense effort involved in capturing it. However, the film still worked effectively without the crane shot.
This highlights the crucial roles of directors and editors. They must prioritize what serves the film best. The director was acutely aware of the effort invested in obtaining the crane shot, but the editor operates independently of such considerations. The editor’s sole focus is on what enhances the film’s overall quality and narrative impact. This objective perspective is essential in filmmaking, just as a mechanic using a “chesil tool for cars” focuses on diagnosing and resolving the core issue, regardless of the complexity of the process.
From my perspective as a cinematographer, I fully understand that a single shot can be dispensable, and I don’t take it personally when a shot is ultimately cut from the film. That decision rests with the director and editor. Trusting their judgment is paramount in the collaborative filmmaking process.
Read the rest of our Special Issue on On Chesil Beach here >>
This interview is part of our Behind The Lens series, where we engage with leading cinematographers about their work on specific films and their broader cinematic approaches. Previous interviews include conversations with Jakob Ihre (Louder Than Bombs, Thelma), Joshua James Richards (God’s Own Country, The Rider), Tom Townend (You Were Never Really Here), and Magnus Jønck (Lean on Pete). We also offer insights into outstanding cinematography in our annual “Best Cinematography” features.
