My Favorite Filmmaker from the 16th Century

Even though cinematic art is tied to technological advancements and concrete tools, I believe it was an intrinsic part of the human creative psyche long before its technical realization. It was only waiting for the means to manifest. However, the availability of cinematic tools by the late 19th century didn’t immediately lead to authentic cinematic creations. Cinema had to intertwine itself with its artistic kins: theater, music, literature, painting, and photography. It was a baby in the world of art, that had borrowed from many art forms before discovering its unique voice, a voice it might still be searching for.

To achieve it, the medium hinted at by the Lumiere Brothers‘ early frames needed a rediscovery from filmmakers to bring it back to the surface. But this was a bit time-consuming process that was carried out by only true cinematic masters throughout history. Moreover, many filmmakers adopted the idea of cinema as a combination of various artistic disciplines which slowed down this discovery even further.

One of the outliers was Robert Bresson who claimed that cinema should speak its own language. He was all about removing the excess. He integrated a minimalist approach through every aspect of his works: acting, settings, stories, and visuals. He rejected the trend of concept-driven films. Instead, he focused on only image, sound, and rhythm. I consider his Notes on the Cinematograph as a great book to understand his approach and decode the art of film.

A Timeless Cinematic Mind

Long before filmmakers like Bresson made their mark, a visionary from the 16th century was already plunging into the depths of cinematic thought without any breathing apparatus. He was the painter, Pieter Bruegel the Elder, who had an intensely cinematic imagination that can be spotted in his works.

Bruegel integrates individual occurrences into expansive panoramic scenes. They don’t take center stage and all seem inconsequential, but together, they mirror a single structure. Just like scenes in films. And these small moments can be connected by viewers to form diverse storylines. Like creating sequences in films. He grants his audience autonomy but subtly guides them. He places his intended focal point somewhere in the panorama, which is camouflaged as unimportant. Whether we catch it or not, whether we make connections or not, the heart of the matter resides there along with the flow of everyday life across the entire canvas. It’s as if everything is in motion or poised to move momentarily. Like a film.

Two pieces by Bruegel

Here is his The Census at Bethlehem (1566), that I had the chance to see at the Royal Museums of Fine Arts of Belgium.

At that time, painters were all about giving Bible stories an interpretation. Bruegel hopped on that trend and showed off a biblical scene with his signature. He took the whole Bethlehem Census passage from the Bible and inserted it right into his own time and surroundings. Mary and Joseph, the stars of the show, ended up as tiny players in the scenes of daily life. And there is a whole bunch of stuff going on, just waiting for us to discover.

Here is another one, The Hunters in the Snow (1565), that I had the chance to see at the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna.

Again, a daily ritual in this painting. On a winter day hunters back empty-handed, and villagers hustle around in the background. No need for deep analysis or symbolic fuss. It’s like a raw film scene, perhaps an opening shot that leaves us wondering: Where are we? Who are these people? What’s their deal? A world with unanswered questions stirs our feelings.

Bruegel as Filmmaker

As you might notice Bruegel challenges the visual tools of his era. To me, his works transcend paintings. They seem cinematic pieces longing for a different medium. It feels like a filmmaker’s vision trapped in a picture. If he had access to a camera, I imagine he’d have employed it to amplify his cinematic brilliance. I can’t help but ponder how his visionary concepts might translate using today’s techniques. It’s possible they might diverge from his established visual style, framing, compositions, and color palettes as these elements are mirroring his viewpoint on the art of painting. But imagining Bruegel as a filmmaker, I envision a distinct output rooted in his distinctive blends of specific incidents and daily life.

Perhaps we could think of Robert Altman‘s approach in the film Nashville (1975) as an example, where diverse small incidents revolve around one big main event. I can’t say for sure if Altman took inspiration from Bruegel, but what I do know is that his paintings have left their mark on numerous filmmakers. And I’m perfectly fine being counted among them. While I hold a deep appreciation for his painting style, I’m also fascinated by the cinematic spirit embedded in his paintings. So, he is not only a painter who inspires me, he is one of my favorite filmmakers, even if he never steps behind the camera.