A Maestro of Impact
Villeneuve found a great deal of inspiration, he says, in the photojournalism of Alex Webb—whose 2011 monograph’s title, The Suffering of Light, seems to speak straight to Sicario’s aesthetics. The director had a cinematic reference point as well, though; one that matches his observations about the rhythms of Juarez itself. “I was thinking a lot about Akira Kurosawa and the way he approached violence,” he says. “There’s a great contrast between silence and immobility, and the bursts of violence that come immediately after those quiet moments.”
Throughout his career Villeneuve has examined violent subject matter without veering into exploitation or sensationalism. Prisoners, for example, presents Hugh Jackman as a man driven to disturbing acts of cruelty; the film manages to convey his motivations clearly without justifying the behavior. Villeneuve attributes this effect to his careful handling of point of view. “When shooting violence, I always try to portray the act from the perspective of the victim,” he explains. “I often try to suggest the most by showing the least, because I think the power of suggestion can be very strong. But I also don’t shy away from the blood and the brutality. I want you to know how horrible that is.”
Late in Sicario, an emotional scene between Blunt and Brolin is played out entirely in a long shot with no coverage. It’s an important moment in which Macer confronts Graver about the true nature of their mission and his own role in the game. The woman’s frustration is powerfully conveyed by the director’s refusal to go in close; the environment looms over the characters, the tension unbroken by close-ups or cutting.
It’s a compositional technique that the moviemaker previously experimented with in Incendies—to, he says, lesser success. “On that movie I was a coward,” he laughs. “I shot the scene that way, but then lost my nerve and went in for the coverage. This time I did the shot and said it was time to move on, and everyone looked at me like ‘Are you mad? You’re not covering it?’ I had to explain that no, everything was there.”
Why was he so certain? “We were coming out of a 15-minute car chase filled with claustrophobic close-ups, so in one sense I wanted the wide shot simply for rhythm. But it also serves a dramatic purpose, because it makes Emily look more vulnerable, being so much smaller in the landscape.”
Villeneuve allowed Del Toro to contribute many of his own ideas about character and story to the film
The Right Amount of Compromise
Decisions like these are often made in pre-production between Villeneuve and Deakins, who relish meticulously storyboarding their shots. That’s unsurprising, considering what consummate stylists the two are. Yet when asked whether the precision of this visual design ever felt oppressive or challenging, Blunt exclaims, “Oh God, no! There’s never any of that kind of ‘stand there and find your light’ dictating. For someone who has such an incredibly cemented vision and style, Roger Deakins is one of the most emotional and adaptable cinematographers you’ll find.”
“Both Roger and I come from documentary, and there’s nothing more exciting than to be inspired by actors who can give me a better idea than mine,” says Villeneuve. He next takes on the weighty mantle of directing the sequel to Blade Runner, to which he will likely bring the same open instincts. “My job as a director is to keep the equilibrium, to protect the script while also allowing for new possibilities.”
“It’s really all about trust,” Del Toro adds. “Trust between the actors, trust in your director, in your cinematographer, in your editor… You know, it’s really scary to get in front of a camera and act. You need a director to be positive rather than negative, because when they’re negative it just freezes you. You also need a director who allows you to explore without going off on tangents, and it helps if you and the director see the world the same way.”
“Directors need a tricky mix of confidence and no ego,” Blunt says. “You want a director who’s going to let you rip, but at the same time can pull you in when they disagree, and can back it up with a reason.”
Sicario allowed its creators to achieve something special by opening its doors to all possibilities. “I do think that movies find themselves,” says Del Toro. “You might have one idea about what the movie is, and then it starts becoming something else, and if you start to fight it, you stunt the growth of the film. A movie has its own evolution; it becomes a living thing that keeps changing. When Josh came in he changed it, and then Emily changed it when she reacted to what he did. We stayed in touch with what attracted us to the original script, but the colors changed.”
Josh Brolin, Emily Blunt, Denis Villeneuve and Benicio Del Toro at Sicario‘s Cannes premiere, May 2015
The actor elaborates: “In my experience, the script is like a map. It tells you where to go, but you might have a scene that was supposed to be in a car and suddenly it has to be in an elevator. Things change, and every one of those changes leads to new avenues of exploration. And that same kind of exploration has to happen in post. There’s no formula for making a good movie—if there was, everyone would be making good movies—but if there is something close to a formula, it’s that you have to let the movie keep growing and maturing. The responsibility and the credit ultimately have to go to the director: He has to let the film evolve, but he can’t let it run amuck.”
By keeping things simple, Villeneuve finds the story he’s supposed to be telling. “I’m always looking for the strength in simplicity,” he says. “Images have their own inner rhythm, and you need to let them find it by being as minimalistic as possible. It’s an approach that I find more appealing all the time.” MM
Sicario opened in theaters September 18, 2015, courtesy of Lionsgate. This article appears in MovieMaker‘s Fall 2015 issue.
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