The Clock (1945): The Last Slow Pan

I just saw The Clock yesterday, starring Judy Garland and Robert Walker – and I want to talk about the slow panning shot near the end of the film. There’s a lot to say here about Vincente Minnelli and his use of the camera – how every single shot goes so deep – the “extras” in the background don’t seem like extras at all, but people in the background who are living, behaving, having lives that don’t start and end when the camera is on them. You can see that in all of his films, but it was particularly wonderful (and important) here. The story of The Clock is so delicate, so potentially sentimental – that without that feeling of teeming LIFE all around the two main characters – it just wouldn’t have worked.

If you haven’t seen it – then you might not want to look at the screen shots below. No huge spoilers, because this film is basically a romantic comedy, so – you know, this isn’t a whodunit or a thriller … but still: part of the joy in The Clock is the journey itself. Even though it’s a well-known formula, the twists and turns along the way made it an absolute delight and I kind of didn’t want it to end.

I’ll have more to say about it later. But for now:

The slow pan at the end. I’ll break it down below.

THE SLOWPAN

A bustling train station. There is a long slow pan through the crowds. As the camera passes by each couple, we hear a fragment of dialogue – before moving on … just like you would hear in real life, in a busy station, or anywhere crowded. And the fragments tell the whole story. Minnelli slowly moves his camera across the crowd … and people come into focus, and then go out, we hear one thing, we move on … and always in the background is the bustling hum of the crowd, the trains, the bells … and the throngs, even the ones who don’t have specific lines … are all having full experiences in the background. I’ve watched the scene 3 times now, and I keep seeing different things.

Camera moves by this couple. A bustling overprotective mother implores her son, “I hope you packed your socks!” The son is embarrassed at being treated like a child and cries out, “Ma!” She grabs him in a hug.

We move on. We pass by this couple, the husband holding a baby. He says down to his wife soothingly, comforting her, “I will, I will. You just be sure you wait for me.”

Onward. We pass by this couple in the foreground. The expressions on their faces say it all. As the camera moves past, we can hear her whispering, “Don’t be silly …”

We then pass by this couple. The man is in the middle of lecturing her, nervously, “The car insurance runs out on the 17th – now you have to make sure that you call the insurance agent now …”

We pass by these two. It appears to be a son (a grown man) hugging his mother – who is so upset she can’t speak. They have no lines between them – but it’s an eloquent moment, 1/2 a second long.

Moving on. We pass this family – and the father is in the middle of saying to his child, “Now you be good for your mother!” And the mother says, “Kiss your father good-bye …” The father leans down and kisses his child and then he and the wife kiss …

(And I have to say, it’s so refreshing to see a black family in a film of this era being treated like any other family – not tap dancing in the background, or a maid or a porter – they’re part of the slow pan, they are part of the montage we’re seeing – just regular, normal, and that’s pretty rare for 1945, and I think it’s great)

Moving on … We pass this couple … and the woman is sobbing loudly into the man’s chest. He holds her tight.

Onward. See what I mean about the depth here. In the foreground, an old lady clutches someone – her son? Her grandson? She weeps loudly – while meanwhile, a bit deeper into the frame – is another couple – quiet, calm, staring at one another with deep love and resolve.

That couple walks out of the frame – to reveal:

Our love-birds.

All one take. That’s a complicated shot. Everyone has to time their line perfectly, hit their marks, move on, stay out of the way, have behavior, not blow their lines – because then they’d have to go back and start again … It’s all of a piece, all one story – a flow … a flow of different goodbyes.

Beautiful.

The whole movie is full of beautiful touches like that. I’ll write up a review tomorrow.