Carlos Aguilar: What surprised you most about stepping into the role of director? Was there an added pressure that you hadn’t previously experienced?

Rodrigo Prieto: A surprise could be that I felt very comfortable in the role. Certainly I had some trepidation of how I would be on set, since I’m so used to focusing on the camera work, the lighting, and all these aspects that require a hundred percent of your focus. Knowing that now my focus had to be somewhere else, I was wondering how that would work. And it was seamless; I was very happy to see that I knew when an actor’s performance resonated with me, and how to work with the actors to get to a point that felt appropriate for that moment in the movie. It felt natural but not simple; filmmaking is not an easy endeavor. There are always all sorts of pressures — certainly time — but I didn’t feel the pressure of, Now you’re the director; now you’re responsible. 

Your career has taken you all over the world. Did shooting Pedro Páramo in Mexico feel like a homecoming? 

RP: After shooting Amores Perros, we moved to L.A., and then I went back to Mexico to do Original Sin and Frida, so I was back and forth. But since then, I’ve been working abroad mostly. We scouted many states in Mexico, but we found the best places in San Luis Potosí, which is the state where my grandfather was born. Going there was going back to my ancestors’ roots, just like Juan Preciado in Comala. My grandfather fought in the Mexican Revolution, so he told us stories about the revolution and this film is set in that time. Making it was connecting to my country, to my blood. 

Before Pedro Páramo, did you have any preconceived notions of what was expected of a director? 

RP: When I went to film school, one reason I focused on cinematography is that I felt that I could be more playful and nobody would judge me. I had this feeling that, at least in school, directors were under a microscope. But I was left alone as a cinematographer, and I enjoyed that. In moving on to directing, I was afraid that would come back, and it didn’t. I was able to be playful with a team and enjoy the process, even the stressful challenges that came up in production. Maybe I’m a masochist. 

Tell me about the process of choosing Nico Aguilar as the co-cinematographer you could trust to delegate some of the duties behind the camera. 

RP: When I first accepted the challenge of directing Pedro Páramo, I was on the fence about whether I’d do the cinematography or hire a cinematographer, but I realized that I’d always fantasized about shooting Pedro Páramo because I’d felt connected to the novel since high school. However, it soon felt like too much and I thought, I don’t want to let it go completely. Why not ask someone to join me and do it together? Almost immediately I thought of Nico. I saw the short films he had shot for my daughter when they were both at Chapman University. I felt he was very talented, and I asked him to do second unit for me on The Glorias and then on Killers of the Flower Moon. When I was shooting Barbie, some additional photography was necessary, so I asked Nico to do it and he did it perfectly. He was able to match the lighting of some scenes that I had done on the film. Nico understands what I’m doing and that’s why I invited him to do this.

In your work as a cinematographer, do you feel that you have a specific style? Are there hallmarks to your work or do you fully adapt to the director’s vision? 

RP: I try not to have a specific style. It’s inevitable that my taste comes out in what I do. But I try to approach each film on its own merits and to understand each director and what they’re going for, what moves them, what interests them, and then find ways of emphasizing whatever is important for a director. Each film has had its own very particular voice, and I try to be free of dogmas — as a cinematographer and in life. In Pedro Páramo, that’s one of the themes I find compelling — the weight of these dogmas and how they can really truncate the hopes and aspirations of people. The tragedy of most characters is precisely the weight of religion, tradition, the patriarchy, those in power. 

Your work appeals to a variety of directors — do you feel that flexibility has helped your career?

RP: Directors that know me understand that I’m not there to create a demo reel and to just make wonderful images on their own. I’m there to support their vision. It was interesting in Pedro Páramo, now being the [director and] cinematographer, along with Nico supporting my vision. That was really interesting because if I thought of designing a shot a certain way, nobody was going to question it. It’s the shot that’s in my imagination, and we’ll execute it. But even though I enjoyed directing this film enormously and I’d like to keep directing movies, I still want to be a cinematographer. Hopefully directors won’t think, Oh, now he’s a director, so we won’t hire him. No, I’m still very much also a cinematographer.

What have you learned from the many great directors you’ve worked with over the years that helped you on Pedro Páramo? 

RP: The passion of [Alejandro González] Iñárritu, the precision of Ang Lee, the joy of Greta Gerwig, and the creativity of Julie Taymor. In the case of [Martin] Scorsese, working with him and listening to him describe the design of his shots is an incredible joy. I really admire his willingness to not know and to ask questions. I applied that on Pedro Páramo. Being the director doesn’t mean you know everything; you have a vision, you have ideas, you want to do things a certain way, but there are things you discover. You need the support of the people around you.

A big part is listening to directors talk to actors and seeing how actors respond to certain things that the directors say and how they behave — what works and what doesn’t. That’s been wonderful, as a cinematographer, to be right there, to listen to a director, to see how the actors respond, and feel the results through the camera. That’s something that I think I carry with me as a director.