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by Stephen Pizzello
Photos courtesy of Michael Ballhaus, ASC,
AMPAS, Columbia Pictures, Miramax, 20th Century Fox,
Universal Pictures and Warner Bros.
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All cinematographers have their own philosophies about the art form. Some advocate tableau-like composition, while others prefer more kinetic displays of camera magic. Michael Ballhaus, ASC unquestionably belongs to the latter camp, but he has a simple, sensible explanation for his roving eye: “If it’s a movie, it’s got to move.” Throughout his career, Ballhaus has partnered with directors who have encouraged his camera to swoop, glide and soar with lyrical abandon. A native of Germany, he gained a great reputation with his early work for prolific wunderkind Rainer Werner Fassbinder, who pushed him to shoot fast and think on the fly. After immigrating to the United States in the early 1980s, Ballhaus began a close and enduring collaboration with Martin Scorsese, whose penchant for dynamic camerawork is legendary. He has also shot films for John Sayles, James L. Brooks, Mike Nichols, Francis Ford Coppola, Robert Redford, Wolfgang Petersen and Barry Sonnenfeld, among others. Along the way, Ballhaus has created a jaw-dropping body of work. His 15 films with Fassbinder would alone merit a career achievement award; particularly notable titles include Whity, Beware of a Holy Whore, The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant, Martha, Fox and His Friends, Chinese Roulette, The Stationmaster’s Wife and The Marriage of Maria Braun. But his Stateside output is even more impressive. Ballhaus has earned Academy Award nominations for Broadcast News, The Fabulous Baker Boys and Gangs of New York, and the latter picture also earned him an ASC Award nomination. His other U.S. credits include After Hours, The Color of Money, The Last Temptation of Christ, Working Girl, GoodFellas, Postcards from the Edge, Guilty by Suspicion, Bram Stoker’s Dracula, The Age of Innocence, Quiz Show, Air Force One, Primary Colors, Something’s Gotta Give and The Departed. Suffice to say, the man knows his way around a camera. The American Society of Cinematographers will formally applaud Ballhaus for his artistry by presenting him with the ASC International Award at the organization’s annual awards gala, to be held on Feb. 18 in Los Angeles. Although he has earned many accolades over the years, Ballhaus says the International Award is particularly special. “This award comes from the best cinematographers in the world, which means a lot to me. I’ve worked pretty hard over the years, but I’ve also been very lucky,” he says with characteristic modesty. “Making movies was a hobby that I turned into my job. If everyone knew how much I loved doing it, they wouldn’t give me any money!” Ballhaus’ career in the arts was almost preordained. He was born in Berlin in 1935 to stage actors Oskar Ballhaus and Lena Hutter, who encouraged his creativity. He recalls that in 1943, “with bombs falling on Berlin every night,” the family took refuge in the quiet Bavarian town of Coburg. “My parents influenced me a lot,” Ballhaus says. “Right after the war, they founded a cultural agency and began inviting orchestras and conductors to come to Coburg to play works by the great German composers: Mozart, Beethoven, Brahms. Two years later, they founded the Fränkische Theater, which was headquartered in an old castle near Coburg. I was going to school, but in my free time I did everything I could to help out at the theater. It was a lot of fun.” Ballhaus’ love of cinema took root in his teen years. After developing an interest in still photography, he had an opportunity to visit a family friend, renowned director Max Ophüls, on the set of Lola Montès. “I was there when they shot the big circus scenes, and it was amazing to see 300 extras and all of these cameras, cranes and lights. The director of photography was Christian Matras. He didn’t speak a word of German and the gaffer didn’t speak a word of French, but they could still communicate with each other, and it was great watching them work. They would hold up five fingers or 10 to indicate whether they would need a 5K or 10K. I was fascinated to know how all of the machinery worked with all of the tracking shots.” Indeed, Ballhaus feels that his up-close observation of Ophüls’ gliding camera may have influenced his own style. “When the movie came out, I saw it many times, and I just loved the way he moved the camera. I also loved what he did with color.” After studying photography for two years and becoming “an officially certified 35mm photographer,” Ballhaus moved with his wife, Helga, to Baden-Baden, where she had landed a job at a nearby theater. “I started looking for a job, and I eventually got an offer to be an assistant on a documentary about Greece,” he recalls. “I kept telling the director to move the camera, but he was an old-fashioned guy, and I don’t think he appreciated my suggestions very much!” Ballhaus hoped to find work on feature films but initially had no luck. “Then this TV station opened up in Baden-Baden, and they needed operators for these big electronic cameras. I got a job, and I worked in TV for almost nine years in Baden-Baden and Munich.” After gaining experience shooting TV movies on film, he shot his first theatrical feature, Der Klassenaufsatz, when he was just 25. “I learned that making a movie involves teamwork. The director and I were well prepared. I was a good operator, thanks to my work with those big TV cameras, but I needed help with the lighting. I knew what I wanted, but I didn’t know exactly how to achieve it. The assistant and gaffer helped me, but if they did something I didn’t like, I told them so. I couldn’t tell them exactly how to use a 5K or 10K, but I learned while doing it.” After mastering the basics of his craft, Ballhaus began honing his skills. Fate intervened while he was producing, directing and shooting a documentary in Ireland. He received a phone call from a friend, Ulli Lommel, who was in Almerķa, Spain, preparing to produce and act in a Western titled Whity (1970). “Ulli asked me, ‘Do you like Fassbinder?’ I said, ‘Yes, why?’ And he replied, ‘Do you want to shoot a movie with him?’ I answered, ‘Sure, when does it start?’ He said, ‘You should be here in two days!’ Two days later, I arrived in Almerķa to meet Mr. Fassbinder.” Now ranked among the greatest German directors, Fassbinder was much less experienced than Ballhaus at the time. However, he was well on the way to earning a reputation as a brilliant filmmaker with a mercurial and often abusive personality. Working at an almost superhuman pace, Fassbinder would ultimately direct 43 films before dying of an apparent drug overdose in 1982, at age 37. He took a jaded view of human nature and could be downright sadistic with colleagues and friends. On nearly every picture, he worked with the same group of people, over whom he exerted a Svengali-like influence and control. He often let his mood swings dictate his casting choices, handing plum roles to those who pleased him and relegating offenders to secondary parts. After Ballhaus accepted the job to shoot Whity, he soon began wondering what he’d gotten himself into. “Fassbinder and I got off to a pretty rocky start. He saw me as a TV guy and never wanted to hire me in the first place. I think he was also a bit insecure because I had shot a lot more movies than he had. I must say, he didn’t treat me very well. There was one scene where I was concerned because we were jumping the line, and I told him I couldn’t put the camera where he wanted it. He reacted by asking the producers to fire me. I didn’t unpack my suitcase for two weeks because I thought, ‘This isn’t going to last long.’” Lommel confirms that Fassbinder was determined to “torture” Ballhaus at the outset. “Fassbinder wanted Jost Vacano [future ASC] to shoot Whity, but he was unavailable. When Michael arrived, Rainer said to me, ‘Tell him to go to hell — I want Jost!’ He had no choice but to try out Michael, though, and he gave him one of the most difficult setups ever. It was a four-minute traveling shot between five characters with a lot of focus shifts, and it was almost impossible to do. I knew it was one of Fassbinder’s sadistic ideas; he wanted to see Michael fail. He asked Michael how long it would take him to get [the scene] together, and Michael replied, ‘Just give me a couple of hours.’ When Fassbinder returned, they did a few takes. After each one, he would ask Michael, ‘Was that okay for you?’ And Michael would say, ‘Yeah, that was fine.’ Fassbinder just grinned triumphantly, expecting the worst. A couple of days later, Rainer and I watched the dailies of that scene. When the lights came on, he stood up with tears in his eyes, hugged me, and said, ‘Ulli, this guy is a fucking genius!’ That was the start of their long and beautiful relationship.”
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