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Always on the lookout for helpful new filmmaking devices, Daviau relied on several throughout the shoot. Empire of the Sun was one of the first features to be shot using Panavision’s Primo lenses, which had just been delivered by the Leitz Co. of Canada. For a soaring “God’s-eye” shot over the crowded streets of Shanghai, the modular Multicrane boom system was employed to give Daviau the reach he needed. A Haden stop changer, made in Sweden and adaptable to any lens, was used to quickly alter exposure in-shot when necessary. And, finally, Daviau took advantage of new high-speed daylight and tungsten film stocks from Kodak. Although many viewers may best remember Empire’s spectacular action scenes, Daviau was drawn to the simple scenes that focused on the boy’s emotional trauma. “I think my favorite is when he returns to the European dormitory where he’d lived with an English couple. The woman [Miranda Richardson] allows him to come back, gives him back his bed and unpacks his possessions. He is so overcome by her unexpected tenderness that he breaks down and cries. It’s an amazing, effective scene.” Empire earned Daviau his third Oscar nomination, as well as ASC and BAFTA trophies. Daviau’s first feature for Barry Levinson, Avalon, chronicled the life and times of an immigrant family in America over six decades. “Avalon is Barry’s remembrance of the late Forties and early Fifties,” Daviau told AC in October 1990. “It’s an overall portrait of a family and the relationship of a young boy and his grandfather. The grandfather is always telling the children about what it was like when he came to America in 1914. He arrived in Baltimore during the Fourth of July [fireworks], and he had never seen so many lights. This flashback is used as the basis for the storytelling throughout; we have flashbacks to 1914, 1915, 1917, 1926 and 1939. The film’s present is 1948 to 1951, and at the end, there are some scenes in the Sixties.” In visually establishing the period, the filmmakers decided to avoid using sepia-tone effects and heavy diffusion. “We had to find something new,” said Daviau. One technique he used in flashbacks was to shoot at 16 fps and then use optical printing to “stretch” the footage to 24 fps in post. “We’ve all seen this in documentaries and presentations of silent films, but it makes a visual difference we’ve rarely seen in color. If everything in the shot is fairly stationary, it looks quite normal, but if something moves in the background, particularly across the frame, it certainly doesn’t look like 24 fps. It doesn’t have the hokey effect of speeded-up action, yet it is still somewhat distancing.” Levinson likes using multiple cameras to capture performances, but Daviau does not, because he believes the lighting always suffers for it. “But this film really called for multiple cameras,” he noted, “because we had large-scale scenes of family gatherings with children, and we knew that if we shot the tight stuff on the children from the start, we’d get those initial reactions, which would otherwise be lost [doing multiple setups with a single camera]. In terms of matching, it helped in the coverage, but the lighting was certainly more difficult.” Reflecting on the experience of making Avalon, which earned him ASC and Academy award nominations, Daviau noted the teamwork such a picture requires: “I think it was John Hora [ASC] who said that making a period movie is the closest thing we have to a time machine. It’s true; when you look through that lens, it should be like looking back in time. It’s many fine details that make the difference, and everybody who contributes has to be in tune. On that picture, I particularly enjoyed working once again with production designer Norman Reynolds, who had also been on Empire of the Sun.” Daviau teamed with Levinson again on Bugsy (AC Nov. ’91), a stylish tale of love and deception depicting the life and death of mobster Ben “Bugsy” Siegel (Warren Beatty). Brutal yet suave, Siegel falls for the glamour of Hollywood, a beautiful actress (Annette Bening), and the dream of building a gambling oasis in the Nevada desert. For Daviau, re-creating the romance of Hollywood in the Forties was a dream come true. “I’ve been very lucky to make so many period films. Making any motion picture, but especially a period film, is about communicating with a lot of people. You have to be able to convince the actors that what you’re doing makes sense and is in support of their performances. It helps if you get to do some tests in prep, even if it’s just for hair, makeup and costumes. You need to talk to an actor about his or her concept of the character, and also ask, ‘Is there a film of yours that you thought had particularly good cinematography, in which you were effectively photographed?’ That will give you a great starting point for understanding how they see themselves. Annette Bening was such a joy in that way on Bugsy.” Daviau recently revisited the picture for a new DVD release, and he notes that Levinson decided to include 12 minutes of previously excised scenes, including a favorite of Daviau’s in which Bening brandishes a .45 pistol. “She’s screaming at [Siegel] and punctuating each angry point by firing the gun at him, with things blowing up all over the set,” he recalls with a laugh. “She’s so gorgeous and fun, but you absolutely don’t want to mess with her. Given the chance, all actors can do something amazing; you just have to watch for the moments, and they have to know you are watching.” For his work on Bugsy, Daviau earned his fifth Oscar nomination and second ASC Award. The cinematographer’s next feature project, Peter Weir’s 1993 drama Fearless (AC Nov. ’93), remains one of his favorites. A life-affirming meditation on fate, the picture literally opens with a bang as an unscathed survivor of a horrific plane crash, Max (Jeff Bridges), walks away from the scene, transformed by the near-death experience. Some of the picture’s most gripping sequences are flashbacks set aboard the doomed flight, filmed on a full-scale aircraft set built on a gimbaled rig high above the stage floor. “Purist that I am,” Daviau details, “I wanted virtually all the light to come from outside, through the small windows. Banks of Nine-lights above, below and straight into the windows gave us that realistic source and the moody, contrasty look. Also, subtle use of streams of liquid nitrogen propelled past the windows by air movers mottled the light source, adding to the feeling of movement.” Combining Paul Babin’s handheld operating with a series of techniques to suggest a spinning, chaotic world outside the stationary set — ranging from simple painted backings to the Introvision front-projection process — Daviau brought a palpable sense of chaos to these scenes. “I now understand why Peter’s films have such incredible energy,” the cinematographer enthused to AC. “He distills the essence of the story. He creates a very open atmosphere where everyone is enthused about participating. In the end, it all came down to helping Peter tell a very intense and emotional story. I think it will leave the audience limp.”
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