Haskell Wexler: 10 key films from a master cinematographer

Although cinematographer Haskell Wexler was a notoriously difficult man to work with, fired twice in the space of two years at the peak of his profession, you’d never know it from the astonishing list of directors he shot films for over the course of his 60 years behind the camera: Mike Nichols, John Cassavetes, Hal Ashby, John Sayles, Elia Kazan, Norman Jewison, Tony Richardson… the list goes on.

A principled and outspoken liberal activist, Wexler was drawn to political projects that echoed his views on civil rights. While his most famous work was on narrative features – he won Oscars for his cinematography on Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (1966) and Bound for Glory (1976) – he started out as a young cameraman working on documentaries, and continued to intersperse fiction and non-fiction projects throughout his career. Wexler’s documentarian instincts are prevalent in much of his best cinematography, his kinetic camera favouring sweaty honesty over pretty artifice. 

The Best Man is set on the day of the Democratic National Convention, where the party’s presidential nomination is predicted to go to either ruthless ‘man-of-the-people’ Joe Cantwell (Cliff Robertson) or the more principled William Russell (Henry Fonda). 

Originating from a play, and taking place almost entirely within packed convention halls and anonymous hotel rooms, it’s not the most obvious showcase for a cinematographer’s skills. Nevertheless, Wexler finds numerous ways of keeping the story visually interesting (and the convention scenes predict his work on Medium Cool, four years later). In this early shot, which establishes the movie’s persistent claustrophobia, Fonda’s Russell is uncomfortably sandwiched between the faceless men on his team, and the TV they’re dependent on for updates. 

Debut director Mike Nichols had to fight the studio to film Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf in black and white, and Wexler’s Oscar-winning cinematography was the lasting proof that his efforts were worth it. Adapted from the Edward Albee play, the story of a middle-aged couple’s marriage imploding over one long night with a pair of newlyweds is shot through with a woozy promise of violence. 

Elizabeth Taylor was only 34 when she played Martha, who is described in Albee’s play as being 52. Nevertheless, the combination of her formidable acting, impressive makeup, and Wexler’s unforgiving photography made her look convincing as an older woman. The unflattering shadows in which Wexler casts her face further heighten her emotionally thunderous performance. 

Wexler’s first film in colour was In the Heat of the Night, which also marked his first time working with director Norman Jewison. The movie centres on Virgil Tibbs (Sidney Poitier), a Black homicide detective from Philadelphia who finds himself on a murder case in Mississippi, where he faces potentially deadly racism at every corner. 

In the Heat of the Night is generally considered to be among the first major movies to properly light a Black actor. Per Mark Harris in Pictures at a Revolution: “Poitier had often been the victim of thoughtless over-lighting designed for white actors that added glare to his face and rendered his expressions indistinct, but here, Wexler and Jewison made sure that every unspoken thought that played across his lips and eyes would read on camera.”

Although he helmed a number of other features, mostly documentaries, Medium Cool was the only film that Wexler both directed and shot to receive significant acclaim. A pioneering work of docufiction, it follows nihilistic TV news cameraman John (Robert Forster) through the Chicago summer of 1968, as he gets to know naive West Virginian schoolteacher Eileen (Verna Bloom) and her son, Harold (Harold Blankenship).

Wexler made Medium Cool a fascinating time capsule by placing his fictional characters against the very real backdrop of the 1968 riots outside the Democratic National Convention. Here, in a lemon yellow dress that stands out as much for its brightness as its suggestion of innocence, Eileen searches for the missing Harold while the city falls apart around her. 

Wexler was actually fired from The Conversation early in the production after a fraught exchange with director Francis Ford Coppola about back-lighting. Almost all of his scenes were reshot by his replacement, Bill Butler; the only one that remained in the final cut was the famous opening tracking shot. 

It opens on a bird’s eye view of San Francisco’s Union Square, where it seems to be an ordinary day in the city. Oh so slowly, we zoom in on the square’s inhabitants, eventually finding our raincoated protagonist Harry Caul (Gene Hackman). Though it’s only three minutes long, Wexler’s opening is extremely effective at establishing the movie’s central themes of surveillance and the subsequent paranoia, putting the viewer in an uneasy place from the off. 

For the second time in two years, Wexler was fired mid-project, having developed a contentious working relationship with director Milos Forman. This time, however, most of his work made it in to the final movie – only the climax and the fishing trip scene were shot by his successor (who was again, Bill Butler)

One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest takes place almost entirely within the grounds of the psychiatric hospital where R.P. McMurphy (Jack Nicholson) engages in a battle of wits with the sadistic Nurse Ratched (Louise Fletcher). Wexler’s lighting establishes both the dingy, institutional nature of the hospital, and the different times of day – especially important in a world that grants us precious few glimpses of the sky. 

Wexler bounced back in triumphant style, winning a second Oscar for his work on Bound for Glory. Hal Ashby’s movie is set during the 1930s, when Woody Guthrie (David Carradine) first set off to discover the travails of the struggling working poor.

As befitting the Dust Bowl setting, Wexler lensed Bound for Glory in an array of brownish hues, creating images that resemble sepia photographs. His cinematography is most renowned for including the first use of a Steadicam in a feature film: the groundbreaking, atmospheric shot saw the device’s operator (and inventor) Garrett Brown filming from a crane overlooking a migrant camp, before being lowered, dismounting and tracking Guthrie walking among the inhabitants. 

Wexler worked with Ashby again on Coming Home, which tells the story of Sally (Jane Fonda), who falls in love with a partially paralysed anti-war veteran, Luke (Jon Voight), while her husband Bob (Bruce Dern) is fighting in Vietnam. 

Coming Home follows its three central characters through a series of dramatic inner changes, often fielding joy and despair at the same moment, and Wexler’s cinematography captures the emotional nuances adeptly. Above, Sally and Luke hold each other after discussing Bob’s imminent return from the war; although their embrace is tender and the beach would usually imply a carefree moment, the muted colours and the long foregrounded shadow from Luke’s wheelchair acknowledges the complicated situation the two of them face. 

Wexler’s first of four collaborations with legendary indie director John Sayles could hardly have been more on-brand for the fiercely liberal cinematographer: Matewan depicts the true events of a 1920 miner’s strike that led to the deaths of 10 people in a shootout between the workers and the company. 

Working in a palette of mainly earth tones and often shooting at night, Wexler’s lensing emphasises the miners’ dignity and hard-fought togetherness – as in the scene where ‘Few Clothes’ (James Earl Jones), brought in by the mining company as a scab, throws his lot in with the workers who are standing behind him both literally and figuratively. His work on Matewan earned Wexler his penultimate Academy Award nomination. 

Limbo was Wexler’s third movie with John Sayles. Their collaborations always made grand use of natural settings – their previous film together, The Secret of Roan Irish (1994), was set on the picturesque coast of Ireland – and Limbo is no exception; to use an old but fitting cliché, Alaska really does feel like another character here.

While the first portion of the film was shot in the comparatively bustling city of Juneau, a mid-point turn finds our three protagonists stranded on a remote island, waiting for men who will either rescue or kill them. Despite the terrifying uncertainty of their situation, the three discover a fragile sort of peace in their scenic new home, and Wexler’s photography shows off its ragged beauty at every opportunity.