In Doctor & Peterson’s Up: it can even be found in the trailer, but there’s a marvelous shot of a young girl and her room bathed in a translucent rainbow of light as the fleet of balloons pass outside her window and the sun pierces through their colored skin.
In Lou’s Spring Fever: revolving doors, or should we say sex partners, may make for contrived melodrama, but the sense of movement and pivoting from one character to another as they pair off then find a third mate, is an agile concept and reminds one, in theory, of the movement in actuality of a Renoir film.
In Coppola’s Tetro: the way the two men sit around Gallo’s apartment, literally. They slump on the coach and you know exactly how sitting like that feels, and, not only that, but know the mind state of a person that sits on a couch like that.
In Kore-Eda’s Air Doll: a wizened but infirmed old man—looking like director Seijun Suzuki—breaks Kore-Eda’s twee/macabre death grip on the mise-en-scene by stepping out of the kind of caricature that all the other actors are and simply being an old man.
In Park’s Thirst: a wildly shot dinner party sequence early on, where Park experiments with crash zooms/reverse-zooms and whip pans to make camerawork mixing characters’ points of view and general two shots integrated into frisky, unexpected single take flourishes rather than conventionally edited sequences.