The singular cinematographer is the second woman to be nominated for the Best Cinematography Oscar with The Power of the Dog.
Although Australian cinematographer Ari Wegner had established herself as a singular talent with the 2016 Sundance Film Festival sensation Lady Macbeth, her accomplished work on The Power of the Dog, Jane Campion’s adaptation of Thomas Savage’s 1920s-set novel, more than affirms her early promise. As the haunting, evocative tale unfolds — both inside the rambling Montana ranch house where Phil Burbank (Benedict Cumberbatch) holds sway and in the surrounding countryside — the visual storytelling on display feels like the work of a master.
It’s perhaps no surprise then, that when the nominations for the 94th Academy Awards were announced on February 8, Wegner became only the second woman ever nominated in the Best Cinematography category for her indelible work on Campion’s drama — 1 of the 12 nominations the film received overall. “I don’t think anything can compare to that feeling,” Wegner says. “The thing that maybe a lot of people don’t realize is that that nomination comes from within your craft. For me, that’s so huge, to be recognized by fellow cinematographers”
Krista Smith: How did you find your passion in this field?
Ari Wegner: I was never the kid that was growing up with the Super 8 camera. It wasn’t until late high school that I started to realize that movies, which up until that point had just been entertainment, were also an art form. I was already obsessed with photography and with writing. When I discovered that on all movies there’s someone that’s moving the camera, which is a whole other level — photography, but it moves, and also writing, but with images — it really aligned with my obsession with photography and light and writing and story, and also collaboration. It’s fun being a photographer, but the really fun bit was doing the shoots with friends and being in the dark room with a bunch of people. It was irresistible.
Do you remember the first movie that you saw in high school where you really saw the narrative become alive through image?
AW: This is a true story. Our media teacher showed some of Jane’s shorts, Peel and Passionless Moments. There’s something about them that really connected. I think I was too naïve at that point to realize that female directors were not as common as male directors, so it wasn’t necessarily even connecting on a gender level, but it felt so accessible. There’s so much discipline in Jane’s films, but there’s also humor and playfulness. Playfulness and discipline — I can see that in myself as well. Those early shorts of Jane’s cracked open something in me.
You and Jane did a commercial together before The Power of the Dog came to exist. Was that the first time you met her after studying her work in high school? How did you cross paths?
AW: We have a close mutual friend, Paola Morabito, who was Jane’s assistant for many years. She started directing, and I met her shooting commercials. This commercial came to Jane, and Paola suggested that we would work well together. But with The Power of the Dog, it was around Christmas time, and there was a heat wave in Melbourne — like you-can’t-go-outside heat — but it was coming up to Christmas. So, I went to the supermarket to do my Christmas day grocery shopping. The phone rings, and I look down and it says, “Jane Campion.” I genuinely assumed it was an accidental call because my name starts with “A,” and that happens to me a lot. I picked up, and she said, “What are you up to in the next couple of years? Would you be interested in hearing about a film that I’m doing a first draft of?” She said very casually, “If you want to wait for the script, you can, or if you’re really into it, you could read the book.” Of course, I quickly finished my grocery shopping and went home, ordered the book, and read it the next day. Then I read it straight away again. It was an incredible book.
You and Jane spent so much time developing the look of the film. Once you’re on set, how much of your work is just emotion and instinct versus absolute technical precision? How do those elements come together?
AW: The technical skill is really important to pull off whatever kind of creative vision you have. For me, the joy of it is working with the director and going from an idea, which can seem like a cloud — you can’t quite grab it — and over many, many conversations, teasing out: What are the elements that make up a Northern Hemisphere summer afternoon? How do we create that? What makes tension? How deeply does information need to be hidden for most people to see it, but not have their attention drawn to it so much that they notice that it’s important to remember? One of the many great things about this [film] was that we had time for those conversations to develop. But technical skill is a huge one. That’s the real joy for me: being the person that can be in the moment, be in touch with an actor in a scene, or with Jane in her mind. And then four seconds later, I go and talk to someone and give them a bunch of numbers as to how to execute what we just talked about or improve something. It’s like code switching or translating between these two completely different [aspects of filmmaking].
One of the great successes of this film is the juxtaposition between the claustrophobia that the viewer feels inside the Burbank ranch house, which is tense and dark and cool, and the giant expanse of these big, beautiful landscapes. As an artist and a technician, what were the challenges involved in going from shooting those more intimate interiors to the bigger exterior shots?
AW: I’m glad you separate them actually because they’re such different environments and both of them had their big challenges. The interior, the big challenge was the fact that we were going to be shooting on a stage, and that is scary for a film like this and for a filmmaker like Jane, where authenticity is absolutely one of the most important qualities. We made some big decisions that helped us there, like choosing to shoot backdrops out the windows rather than green screen, and working with [production designer] Grant [Major] to very closely design not just the spaces but every surface. You start to tease out what makes something feel real and lived in — it’s grimy and there’s dust — as a viewer, to believe in the performances, first you have to believe in the space and how it is lit.
The exterior, the challenge there [was deciding] where to place everything. What’s the story we’re trying to tell with these few fairly theatrical elements — a house, a barn, a corral, a road, trees, hills? The word that kept coming up was “unadorned” — no extra bits, no jewelry, no icing. If it’s not necessary, it shouldn’t be here. Then obviously you’re working with natural light that changes as the Earth rotates constantly. But as an overall challenge, it’s just that you’re shooting a film for Jane Campion. That is the highest stake of all. When you’re shooting for someone whose body of work you love, the stakes are instantly tenfold higher because you’re not just shooting this film — you’re shooting a film that comes after all these other films. Rising to the level of someone who is already a master craftperson and filmmaker. That challenge has no location.