ICG Magazine

Neil Abramson’s competition feature, American Son, is a classic independent film for so many reasons, not the least of which is the story’s sun-baked regional setting of Bakersfield, California. Commercial cinematographer Kris Kachikis, here tackling his first feature, structured his shooting days around the brilliantly washed-out skies that pervade this acrid community of strip malls and industrial farms. Working with minimal grip and lighting equipment, Kachikis turned the super-charged sunshine of the nation’s breadbasket into a single overhead source light, positioning the sun behind, or 3/4 offset, characters to create contrast and snap to the day exteriors. The DP also took full advantage of the goodwill that comes from a community not yet jaded by disruptive film crews; he asked genial homeowners to leave their living room lights on all night to create depth in the background of his night exteriors. “There’s a fight scene in a gas station,” Kachikis recalls, “and at eleven o’clock, the lights in the gas station across the street go out and our background goes ink black. Turns out the owner of the mini-mart where we were shooting also owned the gas station across the street, and when we explained how important those practicals were for our deep background, he turned the lights back on so we could shoot through the night.”

Bakersfield, a city rarely seen in low-budget filmmaking, let alone studio product, is what grounds American Son in a potent naturalism. Nick Cannon (Drumline) plays Mike, a

young rifleman who returns home for Thanksgiving straight out of Marine infantry school. Mike has orders to ship out to Iraq, but keeps his fate secret from family and friends. On the bus home, he meets a pretty, soft-spoken Latina (Melonie Diaz) and falls hard; within hours of arriving at his mother’s house, he’s on the phone arranging a date. As the days pass (Abramson uses white on black title inserts to remind us of the soldier’s dwindling timeframe), Mike’s love for Cristina grows. Bracketing this tender romance are Mike’s old high school buddies, whose partying ways now seem a world removed from the pressures of wearing your nation’s colors while at war. Mike’s parents, divorced, both question his motives for joining up; indeed the film’s greatest strength may be its hero’s inability to express why he signed up for a muddled conflict so far away. Towards the end of his leave, he escapes to the tranquil blue waters of Pismo Beach and an emotional night with his new sweetheart; when he returns home all that awaits is his khaki-green duffle, and a bus ticket back to his Marine base. Pride cannot mask the fears shown for the fate of this American son, who, we all know, might very well lose his life or limbs in another sun-bleached valley, half-a-world away.

“We shot the movie all handheld,” Kachikis explains, “using a Panavision Millennium XL as our main camera, and a Panavision 235 and Gold as back-ups. We used all Primo prime lenses, mostly starting on a 27mm and then moving on up—50mm, 75mm—as needed. The biggest challenge was just coming to an agreement on format: the producers had me test small format digital video, but I was insistent on shooting 35mm. I felt we needed to experience the textures of Bakersfield—the dust, the grime, the trash blowing up against the cyclone fences—to feel why Mike wanted to get out of there.” Perhaps forty percent of American Son is spent driving inside cars: Kachikis says 35mm was the only format that would keep the passing backgrounds sharp and provide the kinds of essential details he just described. Traveling car interiors also meant an African-American star that was underexposed on the shadow side, and windows several stops over, creating high-contrast situations that the DP felt was best handled by Kodak’s Expression 5229 (500T) high-speed stock. “I needed the high speed stock for all the night-work, given how few lights we had,” he adds. “But it also paid off late in the day, when we were riding the sun to the bitter end and had to match footage with a scene we started right after lunch.”

Not all of American Son is the bleached-out yellow of Mike’s hometown. When the lovers share their final night together, in a seaside motel room, the color palette shifts toward the cool side. Much of the scene, which represents the emotional peak of the movie, is played in silhouette; Kachikis placed a single metal halide source outside the window, layering in green and cyan for a look he calls: “not just your typical blue moonlight approach, but a more modern take on the bedroom scene.” Given their low-budgets and run-and-gun styles, many Sundance films establish a you-are-there timeframe, and American Son is no exception. But its handheld camera is never jittery or forced: intimacy with the actors always trumps technique. “I think it’s more terrifying to lay down dolly tracks, or set up a crane move, when you’re working on a twenty-day schedule,” Kachikis laughs, “because then you’re invested in the shot. With handheld, you’re not locked into anything—you’re lean and mean and free to find the shot as the scene evolves.”

Kachikis credits a working shorthand with first AC Lila Byall, gaffer Alex Skvorzov, and key grip Brady McElroy (all key members of his commercial team) as the prime reason he was able to complete the demanding show on time and budget. Another factor was several weeks of pre-production with Abramson (also a commercial veteran), wherein the pair shot-listed every scene and location. “Using a shot-list, which is more of a jumping-off point, was about finding the beats and arc of each scene, before we got caught up in the breakneck pace of an indie production,” Kachikis concludes. “Shooting all handheld on location means the blocking, lighting, even the dialogue, is forever changing. The work you do in prep is a way to align your visions—when instinct and experience take over, you’re on the same page with the director.”