MARK MY WORDS: there will come a time in Hollywood, and it won't be long,  when the whole "gender thing' is history. Female DPs will soon be stumbling all over their Academy Award acceptances speeches just as female costume designers. make-up artists, sound technicians. screenwriters, producers and, of course. actresses, have been doing for years.

Need proof? Industry pros will tell you that camera departments as Old Boys' Clubs are becoming hazy memories; role models for hotshot girl film school grads are all the rage. and as for those gender-obsessed studio execs who still refuse to cough up money unless a woman is displaying her assets in front of the camera instead of behind? They’re selling timeshare just outside Vegas. To paraphrase Jackie Robinson (who knew a thing or two about smashing barriers): any fool can whine about how screwed up the system is But it takes an awful lot of guts to really change things.

With that spirit in mind. MM quizzed a sampling of the of the industry's top female cinematographers; women who nave pretty much Ignored "gender question" and just shot great movies. Not every women using a camera in Hollywood is on this list, obviously. But all who are have a few things in common: absolute respect from their peers, a killer visual aesthetic, and tight collaborations with directors who wanted to make movies with the best people available. irrespective of how many chromosomes that meant in camera department. As we’ve previously written in these pages, the need for gender-based lists in this industry will soon be as rare as vinyl disks. Meanwhile, here are seven terrific, gutsy moviemakers who gave us all a head start.

NANCY SCHREIBER, ASC

With an art dealer for a mother and a degree in psychology, in retrospect a career in the camera department was a brave but logical career choice for this Detroit native. One of the true pioneers, Nancy Schreiber worked her way up as a gaffer on New York based features, learning her way around a set long before she ever framed a shot. With more than 16 features to her credit, (Your Friends and Neighbors, Celluloid Closet, and the upcoming Shadow Magic, shot in China) along with dozens of shorts, dots and music videos to her credit, she's a savvy veteran who commands instant respect behind the lens. Of course, those camera, lighting, or grip department guys who remain unconvinced might do well to notice the initials ASC after Schreiber's name: she's one of only a select group of lensers, women or men, to have made that club.

MovieMaker (MM): You had already broken a lot of ground working electric before you ever began shooting. What made you go into camera?

Nancy Schreiber (NS): I was doing very well as a gaffer. And I remember it was on a Bob Fosse commercial, this big musical number we did, where I had an epiphany, I guess you'd call it. The shoot used all my lighting schemes, but the DP got all the credit! I pretty much decided on the spot to get into features doing his job.

MM: We're talking early '80s now. Did you have any idea how tough it was going to be as a woman DP?

NS: I had no idea. Sandi Sissel, Judy Irola and Joan Churchill were a few women who were making strides, but they were in network news or documentaries. Brianne Murphy, on the West Coast, had shot a film called Fatso, which may have been the first Hollywood feature ever shot by a woman, I'm not sure. But there were no women in NYC shooting features, other than art films or pornography!

MM: That obviously didn't faze you.

Shallow Magic (1999)

NS: I think if I had been on the West Coast it would have been harder. But New York is a more independent scene. Plus, I had earned respect working electric on some big movies-many prominent DPs knew my work was solid. It sounds old-fashioned now, producers being afraid to hire women. But at that time, it was difficult.

MM: How much has the environment changed?

NS: Enormously. Women are not doing as many huge studio movies as men are. But in the independent world, which is where the quality, story-driven films are being made, women are kicking butt. Even a lot of the guys shooting big features have told me they'd rather be doing the independent stuff. They never get to tell stories anymore!

MM: What qualities do you think have helped you to become, for lack of a better word, a pioneer?

NS: (laughs) Patience! And a nose for politics on and off the set. But also I think my gut instinct for lighting has always been strong. I guess what surprised me when I first started out was how technically adept I was. Women aren't exactly encouraged to explore that side when you're a kid.

MM: Did you ever have to confront hostility from guys on your crews? Either in camera or electric?

NS: Quite honestly, I've never had a problem (with male crews) on any of my sets. Camera, in particular, is one area of a movie set where people can't fake it-you know very quickly whether the person can deliver or not. In my mind, the respect comes directly from the work. It's always been that way for me.

LISA RINZLER

If DPS are like athletes, obliter­ating goals that weren't supposed to be broken, then Lisa Rinzler is film land’s answer to Mark McGwire. Women just don't shoot movies like Menace II Society, Dead Presidents, or Gun Crazy. Glocks, drugs, violence, poverty-these are the places that male moviemakers visit, right? Of course, for every riveting shot of mayhem in a Hughes Brothers' flick, Rinzler can now answer back with a gently engaging moment from her '99 Sundance Cinematography Award-winner, Three Seasons. But don't take my word for it. Ask Oscar-nominated actor Ed Harris why he picked Rinzler to shoot his directorial debut, Pollock. "Passion and heart, baby." Just Like Big Mac.

MM: You studied painting at Pratt before going to NYU for film. Years later you're shooting a movie about one of New York's most famous painters, Jackson Pollock. Can the past affect the present in a DP's work?

Lisa Rinzler (LR): You know, there's a nice quote from the film where Pollock says that modern artists have, by necessity, had to find new ways of expressing the world around them. They can't use the tools of a past culture to express what's going on in their lives.

MM: And you can identify with that?

LR: Definitely. I was trained as a painter, yet now I'm working in a digital age, with com­puterized realities. And, to answer your question: I'm always referencing the past in my work. But it's like an under-layer, a foundation for a house. What's being built on top of all these experiences is a sorting out of your world as it's changing around you. And as far as movies and visual expression go, things are changing pretty fast.

Three Seasons (1999)

MM: No doubt. As a screenwriter myself, I'd find it hard to visualize my job on-screen. How did you tackle the problem f showing a painter's life in Pollock?

LR: Well, Pollock was not like a Carvaggio or a Francis Bacon (two other movies about painters) in that he didn't paint people: his work is all surface, texture, abstract energies.

MM: So, you don't spend a lot of time on the actual painting part of his life?

LR: No, we do! Pollock was not a verbal guy. He was very physical and inwardly directed. His paintings, like his life, were these slow implosions of energy. We reach the man, his character per se, by visualizing this artistic implosion on screen.

MM: You mentioned before about how swiftly things are changing. You've taken some hefty turns in your own career.

LR: You're talking about Three Seasons?

MM: Yes, versus your earlier work with the Hughes brothers, or even with Wim Wenders' Lisbon Story. Three Seasons is like a tone poem...

LR: I think `lyrical' is a good way to describe that film.

MM: Yes! It was a very beautiful film. Did Three Seasons reflect its director's personality, as much as, say, Menace II Society?

LR: Absolutely. Good films are always a reflection of the director's personal vision of ` the world.

MM: I agree. So, then, hour does Lisa Rinzler get herself into those movies? Or is it all about reflecting the director's personality?

LR: (laughs) Am I a sewing machine operator? Cutting out someone else's designs? Is that what you're asking, David?

MM: (laughs) In so many words. How much does individual DP's unique way of looking at things ultimately influence the film?

LR: (long beat) A DP's job is to represent, embellish, and enhance the director's vision. But you never want to remove yourself, and all your experiences, from the equation. That's why syncing up with the director, finding a chemistry, is critical. In a way, it goes back to your first question about drawing from the past.

The Love Letter (1999)

MM: How so?

LR: Well, Three Seasons, for example, was an enormously difficult, yet gratifying film. We were the first American feature to shoot in Vietnam, and they don't have the support system like we do here. Plans had to be scrapped or changed; the equipment was not what we're accustomed to. But even if a movie experiences some form of chaos, and that's practically every independent film (laughs), you still have a foundation to draw on. You have your creative belief system, coupled with the preparation you and your crew have worked so hard on, and they all come through for you.

MM: Even when chaos is barking at the door?

LR: Especially so. When time is short and every decision seems hurried, the combination of preparation and experience will get you through the storm. And I'm not talking about just getting the shot. I'm talking about doing beautiful, challenging work that everyone on the film can be proud of.

TAMI REIKER

What's one sure way to measure talent on a movie set? When your DP can deliver an acclaimed indie success story like High Art for roughly the same budget she's given to shoot a David Bowie video. Reiker's very first feature, The Incredibly True Adventures of Two Girls In Love, broke thematic ground back when a budget of 50 grand didn't mean hard drives filled with digital video dailies. Her most recent jump up in budget class-from roughly 600K for High Art to $10 million for The Love Letter, indicates this Connecticut-born shooter is as graceful on big canvases as she is on small.

MM: Your films show a terrific eye for set and pro­duction design. What were your influences before you made it to NYU?

Tami Reiker (TR): Still photography. I was really into hand-tinting my photos back when Saturday Night Live was popular. Also, I loved fashion photos. I would set up my own Vogue covers and do the whole glamour thing. Fake fashion shoots, I called them.

MM: Your issues/35/images had a lot of style even when you were a teenager?

TR: Definitely. I love playing with color and design in my work.

MM: Color was certainly a big part of what made High Art so visually striking. Do you think your still photo days influenced that?

TR: I don't think they directly influenced that film. My work in videos and commercials was probably more of a help. For example, we flashed the film (briefly exposing it to light to mute the color) on High Art, which is a common music video technique. And Lisa (Cholodenko, director) and I worked pretty hard on the film's overall visual layering. We had a color book which detailed each char­acter's color scheme and how it changed over the course of the film.

MM: Was your next film, The Love Letter, more intimidating because of the big budget jump?

TR: Not at all. Remember, I've been doing music videos and commercials for a while now. I've used techno-cranes, arc lights, and multiple filmstocks on shoots that cost a million dollars for 30 seconds of screen time. This David Bowie video I just did, we shot 25,000 feet of film in two days! But whether you have $610 million or 10,000, you still have to tell the story in a visually compelling way. So, no, more money doesn't scare me at all.

MM: I get the feeling from talking to you that there's not too much on a film set that would scare you.

TR: (laughs) Oh, I don't know about that. I had a great crew assisting me on High Art, but they were very young. We're talking very early 20's.

MM: Fairly inexperienced?

High Art (1998)

TR: I'd say so. But don't get me wrong, they did a fantastic job. It's just that I knew my guidance and control was important on that movie. Virtually every frame of the movie was done hand-held or with a jib­arm, which turned out to be the perfect tool because I was the dolly grip and the operator rolled into one. Looking through the eyepiece, booming up and down, searching right and left-I could do a lot of stuff myself.

MM: As a DP who's worked a lot in videos, do you think the whole style thing in indie fea­tures- Run, Lola Run, Twin Falls, Idaho, Blair Witch-has been pushed too far?

TR: Well, as 1 said, I really believe my job begins with the director and the produc­tion designer. Together, we have to find the visual tone of the story. When movies like the ones you mentioned work, it's genius. But if the visuals overpower the story, then we've gone too far and it's time to re-think what an indie film is about.

AMY VINCENT

Part of the new guard, Amy Vincent has, no doubt, benefited greatly from the doors opened by veterans like Sandi Sissel, Nancy Schreiber, and Ellen Kuras. But opportunity doesn't mean much without the game to back it up, and this former theatrical lighting designer has talent to bum. From the sleepy swamps of Louisiana (Eve's Bayou), to the scorching deserts of Africa (Kin), Vincent has exhibited zero fear with her film choices. A passionate believer in the director-DP partnership, Vincent will soon be reunited with Eve's Bayou helmer Kasi Lemmons in yet another challenging visual environment-a cave in the heart of New York City-the dwelling place of a homeless Samuel L. Jackson.

MM: OK, your agent told me you don't want to talk about the whole “gender thing."

AV: I don't want to talk about it only in so much as I don't think it's all that relevant to my career. Don't get me wrong, I'm honored to be on this list. I've worked with amazing directors; I've shot in incredible locations all over the world. And that's all because I've had some good fortune and great crews behind me, not because I'm a woman.

MM: Fair enough. But you're part of a very select group of women who gets to pick and choose films they want to shoot. How do you account for that?

AV: A lot of hard work. I came up in a very old school way-interning in the camera department, loading, assisting, and operating with people like John Lindley, Bob Richardson, Bill Pope. I didn't even realize how much I learned from those guys until I finally got to shoot a film myself. It was a revelation.

MM: When did the big break come?

Happiness (1998)

AV: No question it was on Eve's Bayou. Working with Kasi Lemmons has been the single most important event in my career thus far. We met when I shot her short film, which was used as a showcase to attract backers for Eve. Kasi and I became connected to such a degree that Cotty Chubb, the film's producer, actually had me tied into the Eve's Bayou deal. It was both of us or nothing.

MM: Is it fair to say the director is the key element that attracts you to a film, even more than the script or the location?

AV: No, I think it's everything. Photographing elephants and living out of tents in Namibia (on Kin) was not an experience I wanted to pass up, but if it had conflicted with Kasi's new movie, I would have had to bail. Working with Elaine [Proctor, the director] was great, though. And I have to say I really don't think it's because I'm a woman that I've connected with these people. I think its more because they're all writer-directors. They have a vision of their film that is really deep and measured. I suppose some DPs can just show up, knock off their shots, and grab their checks. But I need to be locked in creatively with the filmmaker.

MM: Which is why you've done so well with writer-directors. Your latest film (Freedom Song) is with Phil Alder Robinson for TNT.

AV: Yes, I was actually slapping slates for Phil back on Sneakers. And now I get to recreate this time (the Civil Rights era) which is so intense and dynamic. Working with Phil, Elaine and Kasi is just so challenging to me. It's the best way to push my perceptions of what movies can be and where my own career is headed.

MARYSE ALBERTI

Just about everyone who saw Todd Solondz's Happiness last year was blown away by the hilari­ously acute writing and directing. Yet not nearly enough props were given to the film's photography, perfectly modulated by Maryse Alberti, to color Solondis story of suburban Jerseyites gone adrift. Most of this French-born DP's career has been spent in the service of strong stylists like Solondz,Todd Haynes, and Michael Apted. But don't let the Euro­cool fool you. Alberti is a master American artisan, capable of giving poignancy to the bland hallways of a New Jersey apartment, or the strobing glamour of a 1970s-era Manhattan dance club (Velvet Goldmine) with a light-handed grace.

MM: You're the only European in, this group. Is there a different approach to shooting a movie in France, compared to the States?

Maryse Alberti (MA): I've never made a movie in France! I've never even worked with a European director.

MM: But, didn't you shoot in Europe for...

MA: Velvet Goldmine was shot in England with a British crew.

MM: That's the one.

MA: But that's my only experience with a non-American crew. I suppose, coming from the New York independent world, the main difference to me seemed a bit less passion over there. The British crew was technically great and very professional. But it's more of a job that they let go of at the end of the day which, by the way, is an approach I very much respect. It's not like an indie film here, where everybody on the crew has a script in their pocket they're fighting to get trade. (laughs)

MM: No kidding. When did you leave France for the States?

MA: When I was 19. I came to New York and worked as an au pair for three months. My English was not great so I spent a lot of time watching late night movies on the TV in my bedroom. Having a TV in your room where I grew up [on a farm in France] was unheard of.

MM: You must have overdosed on moving pictures when you got here.

MA: It was fantastic. I couldn't get enough of movies. They were so new to me. So different. In fact, I only saw two movies in my entire childhood in France: Duel, in a theater in Bordeaux. And, the week before 1 left for America I saw Harold and Maude with a cousin I was visiting in Paris.

MM: How did you turn that newfound love of films into a career?

MA: (laughs) Well, my very first job was as a still photographer on the set of a porn movie.

MM: Get out of here.

MA: That's the truth. A friend of mine in NY was working as an electrician on the film and he got me the job. It was my very first time on a movie set. I thought, what is this weird new world I'm getting into.

MM: (laughs) Hey, filmmaking's all about passion, right!

MA: (laughs) Absolutely.

MM: You know; I may be off base with this observation, but it seems like Maryse Alberti shoots all these cutting-edge, amazing movies, yet many American indies don't know anything about you. At least compared to some of the other women on this list.

MA: How can you say that! The New York Times did a whole piece on me, and I was the first woman ever on the cover of American Cinematographer! But I do know what you're talking about. I don't do the parties or the festivals and I've become extremely picky in the films I choose. I have a 5-year-old girl and she is the focus of my life. It's OK to let the younger DP's grab all the glory. I just want to choose my projects.

MM: You've obviously chosen well-Poison, Velvet Goldmine, Happiness, Crumb. Do you prefer documentaries to features, or vice versa?

MA: I love going back and forth. The documentaries teach you to react quickly and work simply. Why use a truck full of gear if one light bulb will convey what you need to get across? Of course, after shooting with a two-person crew in the street, you look forward to using all the trucks and toys on a feature. You can learn a lot from both formats and each can help strengthen the other.

JOEY FORSYTE

Like her pal, Lisa Rinzler, with whom Forsyte attended NYU, this Chicago native has been quietly busting down doors for more than two decades. Since her early days working as renegade director Robert Altman's "best boy," to her most recent low-budget indie feature, Preston Tylk, [see "Coming Attractions," pg. 28­ed.] Forsyte's work is marked by a warm, personal touch, reflective of the woman herself. A lifelong backer of female camera crews (Forsyte has had women in her department for much of her career), she is long overdue for a breakout indie feature, much like Rinzler had this year on Three Seasons.

MM: You didn't waste time with any rookie direc­tors on your first film. You jumped right in. with a guy who'd been a protégé of Orson Welles.

Joey Forsyte (JF): Yes, it was a real Hollywood story. I have a wonderful friend named Rosilyn Heller, who was probably the first female studio exec in Hollywood. We were having dinner in New York one night, and Rosilyn saw Henry Jaglom eating across the room. She literally dragged me over to Henry's table and insisted that he hire me for his next film. Henry had always wanted to work with a female DP, so I lucked out.

MM: Was it was anything like what you expected?

JF: Well, it was a fascinating experience for me. There was no script. Every scene was improvised, as was the camerawork.You had no idea what you were shooting until five minutes before you rolled. It's not my best­looking movie, but I did pretty well considering it was a six-day shoot!

MM: Tell me about The Dark Backward. It's one of your most stylistically unique films.

JF: One of the things that's so difficult about being a DP is finding words to describe issues/35/images. That film was difficult to articulate a vision for, because it was such a unique script. Adam Pifkin, the director, couldn't verbalize what the movie should look like, so, he showed me the film 1984. Even though The Dark Backward doesn't look like that film, it helped me to define the look. We called it poetic depression. Its a film that is beautifully ugly. When we finished, Adam told me it was exactly the way he had imagined it. That's the best compliment you can get.

MM: Tell me about the film that Martin Scorsese executive produced.

JF: Naked in New York. I'd done a student film with the director, Dan Algrant [see Algrant interview; MM # 5-ed.] years before. Scorsese was never on the set, but he talked with Dan every night and his devotion to the film was amazing. As a DP, I really identified with his passion. For me, film helps me connect with something larger than myself. Much the way religion can for some people. That's why I find a guy like Scorsese so impressive.

MM: You crossed paths with him again on the BBC TV series, Naked Hollywood, right?

JF: Yes, I did. I will never forget his interview. Most of the other people we'd been shooting were agents, and they were really into the business of filmmaking. Scorsese walks in and proceeds to bring my entire crew to tears.

MM: Tears? How so?

JF: He was talking about The Last Temptation of Christ and how it had fallen apart several times. He said that it was a blessing that it took so long to get going. It gave him time to see where the film was coming from-the Italian neo-realists-and to clarify his own connection to the film, which was his religious background. I think filmmakers (like Scorsese) who came out of the '70s really believed movies could make a difference. His words touched me.

MM: I'm curious about another mentor in your life, your father. He's an engineer by trade, but does art photography on the side?

JF: My dad is a tinkering-genius-type guy. And I've followed him down that path. He actually did photography on the weekends to help support us. I was in the darkroom with him since I was a kid. That was magic for me. Being with my father, seeing these issues/35/images, is really where it all started. But, to answer your question, my dad just had his very first gallery show this year. At the age of 78! He got great reviews, too, by the way!

MM: Speaking of youthful, my lead for this article talks about the gender-bias against female DPs winding down. Do you think the next generation will have it easier than the women on this list?

JF: You know, nine years ago I had a female studio executive tell me I was crazy to pursue a career in camera. They were simply not hiring women in that area. Period. It was sobering because 12 years earlier, when I had entered film school, I was told flat to my face that I would never shoot a movie. But here I am, having just finished my 17th feature. I still don't get a lot of calls for studio movies. And honestly, if I were a man, that area of my career might be a lot further along. But from my perspective, the independent world is very open to women. I don't feel that I'm denied work because I'm a woman. At the same time, I don't really know for sure.

MM: It's better in some ways, unchanged in others?

JF: Listen, gender bias won't be over until the percentage of women shooting compared to men is much, much closer than it is. I think if things have gotten better in recent years, it's because of women like Ellen Kuras. Ellen's shot big-budget movies which are standing alone, on their own merits. We haven't had someone like Ellen to point to for a long time. But now we do.

MM: So we're at the beginning of the end?

JF: Yes. There’s a whole new generation of film­makers in the business-directors, producers, other DP's-who were raised with working mothers and, to them, gender's not a big deal. I don't mean to downplay it, because the number of women shooting films is not where it should be. In the past, the fear of gender bias has kept some women from pursuing careers as DPs, and there just aren't enough of us. But we're at the beginning of the change.

MM: You're close to the next generation. A lot of them have worked on your movies as ACs. What's your sense-hope or fear?

JF: Equal measures of both. Although there are more women working in camera than ever before, some of them are discouraged about becoming DPs. I try to motivate these young women to use the hurdles, real and imagined, as fuel for their fire. You can change a lot of people's perceptions in this business and still have fun at the same time.

ELLEN KURAS, ASC

It's really stupid to compare male and female DPs. But, we're going to do it anyway: Ellen Kuras is the Vittorio Storaro of her gender. From her early work with New York downtown icons Jim Jarmusch and Jill Godmillow, to her ground-breaking indie masterpiece, Swoon, Kuras has shown an affinity for breaking rules. Her ability to mingle documentary-like footage and narrative marks an artist not content to sit back and make pretty pictures. With this year's landmark Summer of Sam, Kuras has moved into a higher budget range without sacrificing a foot-candle of creativity. Hmmm, didn't that Italian DP move from quiet, little, black-and-white films to big­time color epics on The Conformist?

MM: You probably have the most extensive academic background of any DP on this list. Tell me about that.

Ellen Kuras (EK): I originally went to Brown University to become an Egyptologist.

MM: Why?

EK: (laughs) Because I was interested in anthropology and small-scale societies. Unfortunately, the professor who ran the Egyptology department at Brown went on sabbatical, and I decided I didn't want to spend the rest of my life in a library anyway. Around that same time I took a class at RISD (Rhode Island School of Design) in photography. It changed my whole life.

MM: In what way?

EK: I became fascinated with the photographic image and how it was used as propaganda to manipulate and persuade the viewer, which is exactly what we do in film. I went to France for a year to study the theoretical aspects of film. It was a lot of seminars and we'd talk about decon­structing the image-color, perception, movement, and how and why a person identifies with an image.

MM: Sounds pretty intellectualized.

EK: It was. And, I was yearning to just go out and start taking pictures. I went back to Brown and got a double major in semiotics and anthropology. I got into ethnographic film and documentaries. I'd go to the Margaret Mead film festivals where there were 15 people in the audience, including the filmmakers! Indie film was a whole lot different back then. What was interesting about all this was that I had no clear career path. I just had ideas and curiosity-pho­tography, anthropology, semiotics, etc. Becoming a DP was a culmination of all my studies and interests, but it was more like an accidental path to get there.

MM:  I love that term- ‘accidental career.' Filmmakers today are all about scoring a big career. Making a name is everything.

EK: Well, my influences were mainly Super 8 experimental filmmakers Yvonne Rainer, Jonas Mekas, Michael Snow. It's a more personal kind of film­making, which explores conceptual and artistic concerns, I think.

Summer of Sam (1999)

MM: Swoon was an art film. Yet it created a reputation for your work within the mainstream film industry which is still talked about today.

EK: Yes, that's true. Some executives still refer to me as that woman who shot Swoon! Of course, the irony of Swoon is how little money we had to work with. To get an overhead shot we had to build a mountain of apple boxes with a high-hat. But, when I got up there, I couldn't operate without an extended viewfinder. Of course, we couldn't afford that because we were using my personal camera package, which only had two lenses!

MM: My guess is you had a bit more cash on Spike's film, Summer of Sam?

EK: Of course, but that film was not without its challenges. Spike likes seamless, fluid editing-it's all about the actors' performance. The way he achieves that is by running multiple cameras which are practi­cally looking at each other.

MM: For every shot?

EK: Just about. I had to be very careful with where I put my instruments. Spike's style is very clever because it doesn't force the actors into endless coverage. But if you're the DP, it can be tough. Remember, there were no sets on that film. Everything was location. And some very small locations, I should add.

MM: I have to ask you about being a role model. You've managed to obliterate the gender question and get props for the work alone.

EK: Well, I'm aware of how fortunate I've been and I take that responsibility very seriously. I had very few women role models when I came up. Also, for me, it's not always gender specific. Guys call me for advice, too. I think the frustra­tion women have felt comes out when a bunch of us get together. We laugh about the inevitable stuff that happens on a set and the perceptions people have about female DP's.

MM: So what kind of stuff happens?

EK: (laughs) I'll have to get back to you on that! MM