Let's talk about vintage lenses.
Here is your cool samurai show with modern lenses.
Here is your cool samurai show with vintage lenses.
Hollywood is no stranger to fads.
We are currently in the middle of a "make everything too dark" fad. But that fad is starting to overlap with "let's use really old lenses on ridiculously high resolution cameras."
This is Zack Snyder with a Red Monstro 8K camera.
He is using a "rehoused" vintage 50mm f/0.95 Canon "Dream Lens" which was first manufactured in 1961.
This old lens is put inside a fancy new body that can fit onto modern cameras.
Which means Zack is getting nowhere near 8K worth of detail. These lenses are not even close to being sharp. Which is fine. I think the obsession with detail can get a bit silly and sometimes things can be "too sharp."
But it is a funny juxtaposition.
The dream lens is a cool lens. It has character. It has certain aberrations and defects that can actually be beneficial to making a cool photograph. It's a bit like vinyl records for photography.
[ Peter Thoeny ]
It has vignetting and distortion and a very strange swirly background blur.
[ Gabriel Binder ]
Optical engineers have been spending the last 60 years trying to eliminate these defects. And I sometimes wonder if they are confused by this fad.
"I WORKED 70 HOURS PER WEEK TO GET PERFECT CORNER SHARPNESS!"
And whether you prefer to work with a perfect optic or a vintage one... it is a valid aesthetic decision either way. I think vintage glass can really suit candid natural light photography. You can almost get abstract with these lenses.
[ Peter Theony ]
Personally I like to start with as close to perfect as possible and then add the character in later. That way I can dial in the effect and tweak how much of it I want. But even with modern image editing tools, some of these aberrations are difficult to recreate authentically.
That said, it can be very easy for the "character" of these lenses to become distracting. And just like when someone first finds the lens flares in Photoshop, it can be easy for people to overdo things.
Zack Snyder decided to be his own cameraman and used only vintage glass in his recent movies and it has led to some complaints about the imagery.
I mean, Zack Snyder overdoing something? I can't even imagine it.
Non camera people felt Army of the Dead was blurry and a bit weird but they couldn't quite explain why it felt that way.
The dream lens has a very wide aperture and it lets in a lot of light. But it also has a very very shallow depth of field. Which means it is very difficult to nail focus.
[ Peter Thoeny ]
Her near eye is in focus and her far eye is soft. You literally can't get an entire face in focus.
There is no reason you have to use the dream lens at f/0.95 at all times. But just like those irresistible lens flares, Zack couldn't help himself.
Here is a blueprint that you can't really see.
Extreme close ups of faces without autofocus at f/0.95 is nearly impossible to pull critical focus on.
Looks like Zack nailed the area just above the eyebrow here.
Let's try to find the point of focus in this one.
Ummmm... she is just... blurry. Missed focus completely.
But Zack isn't the only one going vintage. I've been seeing this a lot recently.
Shogun is a beautiful show. And for the most part, I really enjoyed the cinematography. But they went the vintage lens route and it kept going from gorgeous to "I can't not see it" distracting. And perhaps because I am familiar with these lens defects I am more prone to noticing. But I do think it hurt the imagery in a few spots.
Vingetting is a darkening of the corners of the frame.
Light rays in the corners are much harder to control. A lot of modern lenses still have this problem, but they create software corrections to eliminate the issue. Some cameras do it automatically as you are recording the image.
Vintage lenses were built before lens corrections where a thing—before software was a thing. So you either have to live with them, try to remove them with VFX, or crop into your image and lose some resolution.
It's possible this is the aesthetic they wanted. They felt the vignetting added something to the image. But I just found my eyes darting to the corners and not focusing on the composition.
And then you have distortion.
In this case, barrel distortion.
This is mostly prominent in wide angle lenses. In order to get that wider field of view the lens has to accept light from some very steep angles. And that can be quite difficult to correct. So you kind have to sacrifice any straight lines.
And sometimes this was a positive contribution to the image.
I thought the curved lines matched the way they were sitting here.
But most of the time I just felt like I was looking at feudal Japan through a fish's eye.
It's a bit more tolerable as a still, but when all of these verticals are bowing in motion, I start to feel like I am developing tunnel vision.
I love that this is a tool that is available. Rehousing lenses is a really neat process and I'm glad this old glass is getting new life.
This documentary shows how lens rehousing is done and is quite fascinating if you are in to that sort of thing.
But I think we are in a "too much of a good thing" phase when it comes to these lenses. I think a balance between old and new can be found.
And I also think maybe Zack should see what f/2.8 looks like. He might like having more than an eyebrow in focus.
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What's so fascinating about Toranaga's plan to employ Mariko as Crimson Sky is that it was all there right from the beginning.
When Toranaga first arrives in Osaka the regents demand that he release Ochiba, the mother of the Heir, from where she is being held in Edo. Nothing scares Toranaga quite like Ochiba (no doubt why he held her in the first place), and he knows that once she is able to return to Osaka, she's going to do everything she can to destroy him.
Enter Mariko.
Mariko is perfectly placed: she shares a history with Ochiba, a girlhood bond that grew distant due to time and circumstance, but she is completely loyal to Toranaga, willing, in fact, to die for him and his cause. If the time comes for him to have to negotiate with Ochiba — or he has some need to soften her desire for vengeance — Mariko will serve as the crucial middle ground.
Once he realizes Ochiba will soon be free to move against him, Toranaga summons Mariko, requesting that she serve as a translator to the foreign barbarian. But even more important than her role as a translator, Toranaga wants to bring her closer and cement her place in his inner circle of followers. (As a woman, she is easily overlooked, not being a general or a vassal with an army of retainers, but her importance might be even more vital.) He reminds her of his great admiration for her father and acknowledges that for many years she has been robbed of her purpose. What if he could give it back to her? Like Mariko, we assume that her purpose is to serve as a translator, but Toranaga knows it is far larger: to play her part against the regents and serve as a bridge to Ochiba, when the time comes.
Toranaga is a falconer. He knows the value of caring for a bird, feeding it by hand, having it learn to trust you until it sees you as its only master. And as Toranaga describes his falcon, Lady of Steel, he could also be describing his plan for Mariko: “Conceals herself against the sun. Conserving energy, waiting for her moment.”
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Shōgun writers on Blackthorne's journey, A Dream of a Dream's theme of letting go
Emily Yoshida (writer): "Blackthorne's fate is so interesting, and totally unexpected. People are going to see in it what they wanna see, because there's a lot of ways you can read it. It could be somehow worse than death, like a purgatory of some sort. And then there's a way in which you can read it as a life of devotion to something beyond him, which has been something that has been a struggle for him. How do you view Blackthorne's fate?"
Justin Marks (co-creator): "I think Blackthorne's journey in this episode to the place where it lands, in such a beautiful and powerful scene between Blackthorne and Toranaga - on that hill where he offers up his own life. That's the journey that I hope all of us are on, if we're trying to understand how we interact with cultures we don't know. We want to forge relationships with people that go on, but we don't necessarily speak the same cultural or spiritual - or literal - language.
Which is to say, Blackthorne has been a prisoner of his own ambition. Which one might call the disease of colonialism - or capitalism, too. This idea of a man who is so bound by his ambition and where he belongs in this world, and what is owed to him, that he is the worst prisoner of all. So is Yabushige. They're both like this. And Yabushige never comes to that awakening, and finds himself dying here.
But for Blackthorne, it revolves crucially on this idea of what we call the 'false dream'. We wanted to open this episode on what feels like the beginning of a flashback structure, where we jump forward into the future, and we meet Blackthorne as an old man, and we tell the story of an old man looking back. And looking back with regret on the life that he led.
Only to realise that that was not the dream of an old man looking back - it was the dream of a young man looking forward to one possible version of his life. A version of his life that he has to draw to an end by killing that path. What Blackthorne is trying to kill there isn't himself, it's the version of himself that he's always been.
When Toranaga knocks that knife out of his hand and looks down at him, he's looking at a man reborn now, to a completely different life.
What is powerful is the idea of a man finally, spiritually, letting go. And this is something that we talked about from the very beginning, Cosmo and I. This whole story for Blackthorne is really just a story of a man learning to let go."
Shōgun official podcast Episode 10: A Dream of a Dream
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