Here’s a case in point:

In 1994, I recall shooting (what was supposed to be) a hyperactive trading floor at a commodities exchange in a still-emerging European country. As an already experienced DOP, I had shot such locales before, with traders clambering on their desks and shrieking quotes at the top of their lungs. However, this was definitely not the case here in a converted conference room where I discovered a nonplussed cadre of four or five very sedate traders lounging about, sipping espressos, and discussing a recent football match.

Still, I was obligated to tell the client’s story, which included capturing, in all its glory, the wild and unhinged excitement of Europe’s latest, most vibrant trading floor.

So, shooting on film, this was my approach: First, my super-wide 5.9mm Angénieux would stay in its case as such a perspective would have only made the trading floor appear more deserted and devoid of life. No, instead, this was clearly the moment for a longish focal length lens to narrow and compress the trading room and take maximum advantage of the few inert bodies I had at my disposal.

By stacking one trader behind the other, the room appeared on screen to be teaming with manic brokers. Of course, I still had to compel my laidback coffee klatch to wave their arms and bark a few orders. This was doable, albeit with some effort. The main thing, however, was framing the close-ups and filling them to the point of busting, suggesting an unimaginable frenzy of buying and selling outside the frame. Thus, the unseen element, excluded from the Frame, communicated more effectively the assigned story than what I had actually included and was plainly visible inside the Frame.

DOPs, in collaboration with their clients and/or directors, will often employ close-ups to narrow the field of view and properly direct the viewers’ attention. Close-ups are effective because they tell an audience: Look at this. This is important. In real life, our brains perform this function automatically. For instance, we enter a coffee shop and see a friend seated in a chair, and we subconsciously frame out everyone else who happens to be sitting around.

Thus, close-ups serve a vital storytelling function by restricting what we show and know or might suspect. The horror genre relies heavily on just such a conceit; frequently exploiting a constrained field of view to build suspense and tension. Unable to see beyond the edge of the frame, audience can well imagine and fear that a killer may be looming nearby and ready to strike.

This notion of showing less to communicate more informs other aspects of the DOP’s craft as well. We routinely use, for example, various forms of lighting control like cutters and barndoors, to render potentially distracting objects less visible inside the Frame. Experienced DOPs, when lighting a scene, will also manipulate the density and character of shadows to help conceal an actor’s emerging weight problem, or orient a talent in such a way to reduce the visibility of facial blemishes, acne scars, or other shortcomings.

Just as a sound recordist seeks to exclude background noise, a screenwriter omits unnecessary dialogue, and actors strive to forego gestures that detract from the desired story, DOPs also do well to adopt an analogous strategy to help focus and strengthen the visual treatment. This is achieved, most notably, by excluding unhelpful elements from the Frame via tighter cropping, strategic lighting via manipulation of shadows, selective focus, or a slight compositional change to deemphasize offending objects that can’t be excluded any other way.

The lesson to aspiring DOPs is thus: Show less and you’ll communicate more. A lot more.