<rss xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" version="2.0"><channel><title>Directing - vo.rs</title><link>https://vo.rs/tags/directing/</link><description>Latest from the Directing desk at vo.rs.</description><generator>Hugo -- gohugo.io</generator><language>en</language><copyright>This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.</copyright><lastBuildDate>Thu, 15 May 2025 13:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://vo.rs/tags/directing/" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>The Slow Zoom and Other Lost Camera Moves</title><link>https://vo.rs/screen/the-slow-zoom-and-other-lost-camera-moves/</link><description>&lt;p&gt;There is a moment in Stanley Kubrick&amp;rsquo;s &lt;em&gt;Barry Lyndon&lt;/em&gt; (1975) that every film student has watched in slow motion: the camera holds on a tight composition of a couple in a candlelit garden and then, over a long unhurried beat, pulls back and back until the two figures are tiny inside an enormous painterly landscape. It is a zoom, not a dolly move — the camera never travels — and it is doing something a dolly cannot do. It is not following anyone&amp;rsquo;s eye. It is not motivated by a character walking or a head turning. It is the film itself widening its own gaze, reframing an intimate human scene as a small event in an indifferent world. That is the whole thesis of &lt;em&gt;Barry Lyndon&lt;/em&gt; delivered in one optical gesture, and it is the kind of gesture cinema spent forty years being embarrassed about.&lt;/p&gt;</description><pubDate>Thu, 15 May 2025 13:00:00 +0000</pubDate></item></channel></rss>