One of my biggest fears growing up was a planted camera
in my room. Irrational and unlikely as it might be, the idea that someone could
see what I was doing when I thought no one was watching was horrifying. Not all camera angles are flattering! Whether for vanity or for privacy, Harry Caul
lives a life of intense privacy, fearful of people knowing more about him than he
saw fit. Perhaps this is exacerbated by
his career choice, a surveillance specialist.
Francis Ford Coppala, in The
Conversation, smashes Caul’s life apart. Caul takes a case that he can’t
stay aloof from, too afraid that it will lead to murder. The tension mounts and the vagueness clears
through Coppala’s expert use of sound and image. The same scene repeats over
and over again, a man and a woman walking in circles around a park, their
voices intermittently obscured by static.
They are Caul’s latest targets and as
the scene repeats and the recording sharpens, a picture starts to
emerge. “He’d kill us if he had the
chance”.
The repetition of the mysterious
conversation adds tension to the film, the truth obscured from both the viewer
and Caul, being chipped away at until new conclusions arise and past ones fall. It is both an innovative choice and a lesson:
what we think we see and hear are not always the truth, our impressions are
never completely accurate. And there is
always the chance that someone is listening to you.
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