XI

		of light throughout, with someone's key, fill, and backlight clearly differentiated, what happens to the original apportionment of light when the camera discovers a new angle on the scene? Should the lights stay exactly as they were in the master shot or should they be adjusted to reflect the change in position that has taken place? In other words, do the lights belong to the space or are they floating around the set, endlessly rearranging themselves to accommodate the new visual relation between the characters and the camera? Although totally illogical within the parameters of verisimilitude that supposedly control traditional lighting, the latter situation prevailed. It is nevertheless easy to understand why. Imagine a scene at night where the fill side of a character's face is left virtually without light. This particular choice can be accommodated by throwing some light on the background behind the dark part of the face. By turning it into a silhouette, the technique maintains the integrity of the complete head of the character ahead of the background. What happens though if the camera is required to move to the side and shoot the dark side of the actor? Well, there wouldn't be much to look at. Something clearly needs to be done: for instance, increase the amount of fill light, change slightly the key's position so as to make it reach farther in the fill area, maybe add a little kicker. What this fudging around the edges means is that, in film, light is never constant. Its nature rather is ephemeral, its character volatile. All sorts of adjustments keep breaking down the desired illusion for a stable reality. As each successive shot (close-ups, etc.) modulates the master shot's original lighting setup, transcendental aspirations for a solid world vanish under the weight of vital accommodations. Internal lighting differences thus punctuate the assembly of each scene. Fundamental contradictions infiltrate the core construction of films.

		VI

		Having established the dominant scheme that regulates the apportionment of lights on the set, it is now time to pay attention to the plan's overall objective: the naturalization of light. This too follows the general advice given by the academic painter Couture to his students: "Look carefully at your model, decide what is its brightest light, and situate the light in your drawing at the place it occupies in real life." 17 And, true to form, in the movies, the lights we notice seem to originate from diegetic sources: windows for daylight or moonlight, lamps of one kind or another for arti-