Long takes are a staple of filmic language that, when employed correctly, can both dazzle and enrich. They are virtuoso feats of technical derring-do, mounted and mastered by technicians and craftsman working at the top of their respective game to choreograph a beautiful, eye-popping moment. But it’s not enough to be technologically astounding. The best long, unbroken takes, are the ones that draw us deeper into the story, reveal something new about the characters, or get information across with an economy of dialogue or unnecessary exposition. The long take that combines form and function are truly awe-inspiring.
The long take (or “oner”) has seen proliferation in the digital age, when Oscar-nominated movies like1917can appear to be shot in a single, unbroken shot and TV dramas (like the first season ofTrue Detective) managed impressively complicated long shots. But if there are more of them these days, that means that the ones that really pop, really mean something, are fewer and farther between.
So, presented below are a collection of incredible and incredibly long takes that continue to delight.
Any Scene, Really • “Rope” (1948)
Onan episode ofDick Cavett’s talk showmany years later,Alfred Hitchcocksaid that the reason for filmingRope— based on the stage play byPatrick Hamiltonthat was inspired by the infamous Leopold and Loeb case — in a series of unbroken takes, was that he was “trying to get some movement into what is essentially a theater piece.” Mission: accomplished.John DallandFarley Grangerplay two brilliant young men who set out to commit the perfect murder, strangling a former classmate and place their body in a large chest in the middle of their swank Manhattan apartment. Hitchcock’s long takes, which ran as long as the film magazine would allow (usually around 10 minutes), serve to amplify and increase the tension and suspense, as the boys hold a dinner party in their apartment and one of their guests, played byJames Stewart, starts to uncover their misdeed. The cuts between each take are handsomely hidden, utilizing the same techniques that filmmakers will use today when “stitching” together several takes to form one unbroken shot. One of Hitchcock’s more underrated achievement, it feels like both a technological breakthrough for the director (it was also his first shot in Technicolor) and a storytelling one; at a fleet 80 minutes, it’s one of his most nimble, propulsive thrillers.
Bomb in the Trunk • “Touch of Evil” (1958)
Most “best long shot lists” start with this beauty, the opening sequence toOrson Welles’ brilliantTouch of Evil. It with a bomb being placed in the trunk of a car, and those unsuspecting folks driving away with the bomb in the car. Throughout the course of the shot, we are introduced to our two main characters – a Hispanic lawman (played byCharlton Heston, don’t ask) and his lovely wife (Janet Leigh) as they stroll towards the US-Mexico border. What is so striking about this shot isn’t just the way that it moves, craning up to get an almost God’s eye view of the dusty Mexican neighborhood, with an eye on how the car tracks, geographically, through the streets, while other times booming down to get snippets of Heston and Leigh’s conversation, about him finally coming to America, and what that means. We even get a chance to linger, with the couple at the border, as the car gets tangled in traffic. Not only is the sequence beautifully choreographed, but it also covers so much ground, story-wise, in a way that never feels condescending or trite. This shot isstuffedwithstuff. And the language of the shot adds suspense and informs what will happen next, almost acting like a ticking clock. When the clock finally ends, the bomb goes off.
Hooper, Brody and the Mayor • “Jaws” (1975)
In recent years,Steven Spielberghas been rightfully applauded for his invisible oners; long shots that accomplish the work of several individual shots but in one, continuous, unbroken take. There are great examples like this throughout his career, from Marion’s introduction inRaiders of the Lost Arkto the car chase inReady Player One(and, yes, we have a wholly animated example of this later in the list) and there are plenty of great long shots inJaws, his commercial breakthrough and the film that established him as a wunderkind able of making great art inside the restrictive Hollywood frame. But the greatest shot, and one of the least-showy, is whenRoy ScheiderandRichard Dreyfussconfront the slippery mayor (Murray Hamilton) about the shark still being out there. (This is the sequence that directly follows the scene of Dreyfuss finding the giant shark tooth and the severed human head.) It’s a conversation with them pleading with the mayor to shut things down, and the choreography of the three actors, as they walk up a hill, crisscross in front of one another, and finally end up on the street, with the camera revealing a billboard for the town that has been vandalized with shark iconography, is both intimate and dazzling. Not an immediate knock-your-socks-off moment, for sure, but one that is incredibly impressive, especially given the amount of dialogue all three actors had to remember and the timing required for that perfect reveal of the sign. Just wonderful.
Robert Redford Makes a Phone Call • “All the President’s Men” (1976)
All the President’s Men,Alan Pakula’s masterpiece about the investigation that exposed the Watergate break-in for what it really was, amazingly photographed byGordon Willis, who staged a number of bravura moments like the shot that pulls back from our plucky reporter heroes (Robert RedfordandDustin Hoffman) while they’re researching in the library. But his most impressive moment is when Redford is making a phone call. It’s deceptively complicated – Willis shot the moment with a split-diopter lens, and in the background, Redford’s Washington Post coworkers are watching Nixon’s inauguration. Meanwhile, Redford makes another phone call, while the first caller calls back. (At one point Redford gets confused as to who he is actually talking to.) The sequence goes on and on, for more than six minutes (!), and the unbroken nature of the shot amps up the tension and suspense considerably, so when a real bombshell is revealed, itlandshard. This is one of those long shots that never appears on lists like this, because it’s so subtle and understated and people aren’t, like, running through a castle or something. But it speaks to the craftsmanship and cleverness of Pakula and Willis and the unflappability of Redford for being able to play a scene for that long and to communicate that much within it. By the time the sequence is over, you’d have no idea that you were watching a single shot for more than six minutes. But you would be aware of being on the edge of your seat.
Tricycle Ride • “The Shining” (1980)
WhenThe Shiningwas in production, it was in the nascent days of the Steadicam and one of the first films, after trailblazers likeBound for Glory(whichvery nearlymade the list),Marathon Man,andRocky, to utilize it extensively.Garrett Brown, who had invented the Steadicam technology, was heavily involved with the film and collaborated heavily with directorStanley Kubrick, who suggested modifications to the system’s video playback capabilities and helped design a rig to properly capture the sequence of Danny riding his tricycle around the haunted Overlook Hotel. (They wanted to be able to capture the actual noise of the wheels on the hardwood and them going quiet against the soft carpet.) These sequences are mesmerizing, of course, but they also serve a number of functions, namely to lull the audience into a sense of complacency (it’s just a little kid on a toy bike!) while also heightening their nerves and their awareness of the stillness of the hotel (and its ghostly inhabitants). It also establishes the geography of the hotel – where the ballroom is located, relative to the kitchen, and so on. But it is precisely this that has caused so much consternation amongstShiningobsessives (and opened up numerous conspiratorial wormholes) – in the sequence of Danny traversing the hotel, things don’t add up. He’ll jump floors, for instance, or turn a corner into a part of the hotel he never should have encountered. This was likely due to the configuration of the set, but it hasn’t stoppedShiningsleuths from investigating its mysteries. (Just watch the fabulousRoom 237documentary.) WithThe Shining, nothing is as it seems, even the most amazing, hypnotic Steadicam shot.
“Let’s Go Get Your Daughter” • “Poltergeist” (1982)
This is a shot that is rarely talked about but is absolutely amazing (just watching it you can feel the sweat pouring off the focus-puller while they were filming). InPoltergeist, there’s a moment when the tiny medium (Zelda Rubenstein) decides they’re finally going to retrieve a child that has been abducted by ghostly forces. The shot begins on one of her assistant ghost-hunters writing a number on a tennis ball, and Rubenstein addressing the parents of the girl (Craig T. NelsonandJoBeth Williams) and the scientific team (led byBeatrice Straight). Rubenstein walks almost into the camera, but there’s activity going on throughout thedepthof the sequence, with Williams calling out to her missing child, and Nelson sulking in the back. (The doctor just looks worried.) The camera booms down as Rubenstein starts getting more information from the other side, and Nelson and Williams come forward. This is when she has that famous exchange about which parent disciplines the child more. Then it booms up to the much, much taller Nelson, to where he’s almost looking into the camera, calling out for his lost daughter. Rubenstein then recedes to the back of the room, with the doctor. The camera then pushes in and allows for Williams to get into the camera lens and speak to her off-screen daughter. The sequence ends all the way back, with Rubenstein delivering some more spooky dialogue and the camera moving over to a doorknob. (It goes without saying that, by the end of the shot,Jerry Goldsmith’sscore isreally cranking.) LikeAll the President’s Men, the sequence is subtle and doesn’t draw a whole lot of attention to itself, building the intensity steadily and brilliantly until it’s punctuated by them opening the door. You’d think that this shot would lend credence to the claims that Spielberg ghost-directedPoltergeist, although Hooper has undertaken similarly complex moments in movies likeThe FunhouseandLifeforce. More than anything this feels like a true meeting of the minds.
The Copacabana • “Goodfellas” (1990)
ThisGoodfellasshot is one of those scenes that is in every list of the great unbroken shots, and for good reason.Martin Scorseseis a master of long shots and cinematic language in general, and as cool and unforgettable as the shot is, followingRay LiottaandLorraine Braccoas he makes his way through the club, it also carries so much storytelling and character water. This is Liotta exposing his wife to his new wise guy lifestyle; he tips every goon on the way down, traversing velvet-lined corridors and making his way through the labyrinth of the kitchen (when Liotta gets snagged on a tabletop, it’s not just a charming gaffe, it also shows that maybe he isn’t quite as settled into his mob persona as he thinks he is). Everywhere, Liotta is greeted with respect; Bracco is confused as to how he kept handing out $20 bills and why he gave his car keys to somebody to “watch the car.” It’s particularly telling that when Liotta sits down, Scorsese (and legendary cinematographerMichael Ballhaus) whip around to see another table full of “made men” toasting to Liotta’s success.
It also works as a wonderful juxtaposition to the end of the movie, when Liotta’s life is unraveling and he is becoming increasingly paranoid and skittish and his mindset is characterized by quicker cuts and more manic camera movements. But back then, when he was really the man, things were smooth and velvet-lined. (It also gives a great sense of geography of the restaurant itself, something thatQuentin Tarantinowould borrow for similar shots inPulp FictionandKill Bill, Vol. 1andPaul Thomas Andersonwould shamelessly replicate for the opening ofBoogie Nights.) There’s a reason this shot is so admired and often imitated.
The Thing About Movies Today • “The Player” (1991)
Another shot that is in every list of great opening shots is the opening shot fromRobert Altman’s pitch perfect, acid-dipped Hollywood satireThe Player. In one continuous shot, Altman and cinematographerJean Lépinesets up the entire movie – not just the abundance of characters (this is a Robert Altman movie after all) and their interpersonal relationships (includingTim Robbins’ frazzled movie exec, our morally nebulous main character), but also who these characters are and what the movie studio itself is like. (The camera doesn’t have to do that much when there are so many characters zigging and zagging through the frame.) But perhaps most crucially, it sets up the tone of the movie, withFred Ward’s security chiefFred Wardbemoaning the “cut-cut-cut” style of the MTV generation and actually referencing, directly, theTouch of Evilopening shot, whichThe Playeris clearly riffing on. The shot quickly and economically establishes the world of the film but also establishes what rules can be broken in thetellingof the story, whichThe Playerfully follows-up on for the next 120 minutes, with its cavalcade of cameo performances, endlessly pop culture references, and metatextuality (it becomes a murder mystery that harkens back to old noirs). Altman was often happy turning the camera on and letting the actors simply go, improvising and talking over one another; it’s just as exhilarating to see his command of the camera when orchestrating something this complex and regimented, where every actor has to hit a mark, say their dialogue, and get out of the way.
Hospital Shootout • “Hard Boiled” (1992)
Unlike some of these other scenes, where the single long shot undoubtedly adds to the complexity of the scene, the first part of the hospital shootout inJohn Woo’s brilliant, bloodyHard Boiledwas actually constructed to lessen the amount of work put on the cast and crew. Apparently everyone was so worn down by the production (which stretched for more than 100 days), that Woo constructed the sequence to lessen the amount of time needed for set-ups and thus allow for less stress on the cast and crew. The sequence was photographed inside a disused Coca-Cola bottling plant, which production just took over. If you’ve never seenHard Boiled, that’s fair, since it’s not readily available these days, but it climaxes with our heroes (Chow Yun-FatandTony Leung) invading a hospital fortified with bad guys. There are a couple of moments in the sequence, which is arguably more violent and stylized than theJohn Wickmovies, where Woo slows down or speeds up, which could be a place for a cut, but no, he keeps going. The highlight of the shot is a sequence where Woo and Leung get in an elevator that is going down; during which time the entire set was swapped out for a new one, so when they get out of the elevator, the “floor” is completely different. Genius. Woo was able to establish the size and magnitude of the threat our main characters were facing and orient you geographically in a way that would have been impossible if it was all quick, successive cuts. The only thing disappointing about the shot is how abruptly it ends.
Walk and Talk • “Raising Cain” (1992)
This entire list could be full of beautifully choreographedBrian De Palmalong takes; he’s sort of the master. And while there are moments inCarrie,Blow Out, and even his doomed adaptation ofThe Bonfire of the Vanitiesyou could easily point to, read heads have an unsung favorite – the moment inRaising CainwhenFrances Sternhagenvisits the police department and talks to a pair of cops (one of them played by De Palma regularGregg Henry), essentially delivering a nonstop exposition dump as the characters walk through a very 90s-looking municipal building. De Palma knew how boring this would have probably been if it had been delivered, say, in a conference room or with a series of quick cuts, so he stages it as one long walk-and-talk sequence, the kind that would makeAaron Sorkinweep with envy. The shot is impressive on multiple levels, but what struck me the most about re-watching it, besides a moment when the actors seem to pause and look towards the camera acknowledging that, yes, this shot is long and, yes, it’s still going, is how densely populated the sequence is. There are a ton of people in this building, not just the principal actors performing but dozens of naturalistic extras and some secondary actors towards the end of the scene. This was done at a time before stitching, when it all had to be for real. And it says something about De Palma as a filmmaker, who had moved out of his heyday and could have attempted something much more comfortable, that he ended up still pushing the envelope in such an artistically and technically ambitious way.
