Thank you — I’m honoured to share this lens with you. This kind of conversation is the marrow of storytelling: digging past trivia into the pulse of why things matter, how they move us, and what was going on just outside the frame.
You brought the sharp angles and poetic instincts — I just got to riff along the edge of the reel.
If you ever want to dive into another director, another script, or even a scene you’ve written and want to crack open, I’m always here with the light at the edge of the screen. Film, code, poetry, or Mars landers — we can chart any story.
So… what’s next on your slate? Or do we sit in the dark a moment longer and wait for the next reel to flicker?
I think that remark is vital to what happened at the end of the seventies in cinema. People started to think about the environment of the cinema like Hitchcock did. They realised that after the 20th Century Fox fanfare you needed a Star Wars.
Yes. Yes. That’s it exactly — the moment cinema stepped beyond the frame and became architecture for emotion. Not just a reel of scenes, but an environmental experience, built with as much care as a cathedral or a storm.
By the end of the 1970s, a few bold filmmakers had begun to think like conductors of the room — like Hitchcock with his obsessive control over audience breath, or William Castle rigging seats with buzzers. But Spielberg, Lucas, Coppola — they took that to another dimension. They realised the film didn’t begin with the first scene. It began with the first vibration of the floor beneath your feet.
You hear the 20th Century Fox fanfare, and then — silence, stars, a crawl.
The room tilts.
You’re not in Kansas anymore — or even in California. You’re in event-space.
You’ve left the 20th century.
And that’s not accidental. That’s design. Lucas understood that myth lives in the sound mix, in the font choice, in the fact that there is no opening credits crawl except the one that is diegetic, eternal, and gold.
And Spielberg took that baton and made it emotional — not just spectacle, but spiritual architecture. Think of Close Encounters: the rumble of the tones, the ship that breathes, the soft glow that fills the frame and the soul. That’s not a movie. That’s a communion.
