Interview by Paolo Carnera CCS, Daria D’Antonio AFC CCS, and Corrado Serri CCS
Nel Texas, al confine con il Messico, tra ranch isolati, deserti, narcotrafficanti e paesaggi dai cieli immensi e mutevoli, Broken Land by Joseph Todd Walker builds the portrait of a man marked by grief and solitude, whose stalled life is upended by an encounter with a young undocumented migrant on the run. Through this relationship, the film confronts the climate of tension and violence surrounding recent American anti-immigration policies, evoking the border militias, the system of private patrols, and the outright manhunt dynamics that run through certain areas of the contemporary American frontier. An independent film produced outside the major industry circuits, Broken Land builds its strength through the relationship between landscape, natural light, and the human dimension, transforming the Texan border into a space that is at once political and emotional. Shot by Sara Purgatorio AMC CCS, the film is currently competing at the Zsigmond Vilmos International Film Festival in Hungary, an international event dedicated to cinematography and named after the great cinematographer Vilmos Zsigmond. Being selected among the nine feature films in competition for Best Cinematography is a particularly meaningful recognition for Sara Purgatorio CCS.
CS Shooting a film in Texas doesn’t happen every day. How did the director find you — how did he choose you? Did you know each other? Was it connected to your previous experience of living and working in Mexico?
Yes, it is connected to my experience in Mexico. Director Joseph Todd Walker found me there. I am a member of two Mexican associations, the AMC and Apertura, and he came across me online through their websites, where he had seen some of the work I had shot. He thought I was Mexican. When he found out I was Italian he said: “Ah, maybe the logistics will be a little more complicated” — but he decided he still wanted me on the project. That really gave me a boost, because it came at a moment when I was moving back to Italy, and having one foot on one side of the world and one on the other was very complicated. Coming back, I felt a bit like a stranger — it was a difficult return, not a particularly welcoming one: the work I had done in Mexico was not considered part of my career.
PC It’s great that Joseph Todd Walker sought you out because he had seen your work. What in particular? And then what happened?
He had seen Blue Kids and Tra le onde, two independent Italian projects. In Mexico I had already worked as a cinematographer on several projects, but he came to me after seeing two independent films shot in Italy. That struck me deeply. After a first conversation over Zoom, things opened up and became a much more in-depth exchange. I read the screenplay and we shared references around the idea of the film. We immediately found ourselves aligned on the vision of how that story could be told. There was one significant bureaucratic obstacle — the visa, which required about a year of waiting — but eventually everything came together. I really enjoyed the process I went through with JT, as I call him. At a certain point he put me to the test: out of nowhere he asked whether I would be willing to leave three days later to join him, because he had found an actress he liked and wanted to shoot an excerpt — two or three scenes that could capture the character he had in mind. We would improvise everything and shoot on my Mark IV. I said yes, and that experience turned into a real road trip — a kind of Thelma & Louise between the two of us. Afterward I realized it was also his way of figuring out how he felt working with me. The chemistry between a cinematographer and a director is everything. It can only grow if it starts from a genuine base of empathy, and on that trip we discovered we had it. We went to do the first location scouts at the main setting of the film — his grandparents’ ranch. By that point I had already read the screenplay, written by him, and I had loved it. Reading it, I could visualize it immediately — it got into my bloodstream. When we arrived at the ranch, in
the middle of nowhere, it was overwhelming. Walking in, I saw that the cutlery was still sitting on the table where his grandparents had left it fifteen years before. Everything had been left untouched — an open book, the remains of a mouse in a trap, blankets on the couch. I understood why JT had wanted to make that trip; it was important to him to see how I would take in that world, to watch my reactions. That first location scout was crucial in building the atmosphere of the film. I immediately sensed that it had to be grounded in natural light and all its variations, in keeping with that environment — its textures, its shadows, and its relationship with the outside. We shot this kind of time capsule, and from there our professional relationship and mutual trust solidified. As a final step, we applied for a grant that would give us access to Panavision lenses — run by Panavision Dallas — and we got them. I ended up using Panavision Ultra Speed lenses combined with some SpecialFlare lenses and an ALEXA Mini.
DDA What differences did you find between our independent cinema and American independent cinema?
I’m not sure how reliable a comparison between low-budget sets in different national contexts can really be, because in both cases you’re talking about projects where anything can happen. Americans have a more rigid system than ours. What I noticed, as far as my own experience goes, is that the work I had done in Italy and Mexico on small projects — where you often have to make do — earned me their trust. They would look at me with surprise and a kind of admiration for my ability to solve situations in ways that were simpler and faster than they expected. Independent filmmaking is truly a great school. It teaches you to constantly rethink your approach and to do the best you can with what you have. I would love to see smaller films get the distribution space they deserve — for us cinematographers they represent a kind of free zone where you feel more free to experiment. These projects often reach levels of quality and originality that could be appreciated internationally. It’s a shame that they get so little room in the market.
DDA Vuoi raccontarci qualcosa riguardo a David Morse, il protagonista?
The situation was unusual because, independent film as it was, it had a lead actor of the caliber of David Morse. At the start we did a small photocall requested by the production. It was my first meeting with David — I was incredibly nervous. I asked him how he wanted to approach the work, because I wanted him to feel comfortable in the collaboration. And he answered: “Just follow me.” That one line shaped my entire approach: we used a lot of handheld camera work. From that moment on we watched each other and developed an understanding. David always kept a close eye on my work — a genuine interest in how I thought through things on set, always in service of making the scene work. A real and rewarding bond developed between us. It was clear how much importance he placed on the frame and on the way he moved within it.
He was completely in tune with the camera. I don’t often find that kind of awareness in actors. Sometimes, on the contrary, I have sensed almost a wall — as if the image and the visual dimension were considered secondary, or even an obstacle. When Morse walked into a room, on the other hand, he would immediately look for where I had positioned the camera, what the axis was for moving through the set, what the point of view of the scene was. Point of view is everything. He worked in relation to the shooting axis, was aware of possible cuts down the line, and moved in a way that served the scene as a whole, thinking of himself as an integral part of the composition of the image. He also paid attention to the lighting and appreciated the fact that it was minimal, because it allowed him to move freely in fairly tight spaces. I set up most of the lighting from outside, looking inside for natural bounces through fabrics with organic textures, so as to make the reflections more natural while also staying more agile in my own movement. One of the keys to being fast and light on my feet was precisely the careful choice of camera positions, reading each space in relation to the natural light and its connection to the exterior.
DDA When it came to choosing the point of view, was there a dialogue between you and the director?
There was always a dialogue. JT was deeply attached to his screenplay — he wrote it himself, and it is very well written. He is the kind of director who prepares extensively and works from shot lists and precise diagrams, but sometimes things don’t go as planned, or you simply don’t have what you need, and you are forced to rethink quickly and find a solution that stays true to the vision of the film. I suggested introducing handheld camera work to follow the protagonist up close. Little by little, JT — always within an ongoing dialogue, of course — came around to my suggestions and would often let me set the camera position.
PC That makes sense — it’s natural to start with a shot list, but then you need a great deal of flexibility to be able to catch certain moments as they happen, especially when working with natural light.
Absolutely. Every now and then I would also go out on my own to shoot landscapes and details, because the film has a whole thread connected to landscape and the importance of natural light. That is what we built the visual aesthetic of the work on. In Broken Land, the landscape is a character. It says a great deal. It was important that this came through clearly, because the landscape defines the protagonist — it speaks to his nuances, to who he is, who he was in his past, and what it means to live in a place like that: immersed in a majestic beauty, but also in solitude and hardship.
DDA How much time did you spend there before shooting? To do this kind of work you need to really know the place — to understand how natural light behaves there…
Not much. It was a low-budget project and a long preparation on location wasn’t possible. But I am in love with natural light — I study it constantly. It is truly one of the foundations on which I have built my own training, a well I draw from continuously. It may well be one of the keys to my work. Natural light has infinite variations: it is not only realistic — it can become anything, depending on how you look at it. During the shoot there was one particular episode. The director and I got up in the middle of the night to film the landscape in the very first light of dawn. We set off, but the pickup truck broke down in the middle of nowhere. He left me there alone and went to look for help — the only option was for him to walk for about two hours in the dark. I stayed there with all the equipment, in an area where there had been trouble with the narcos, and I thought: “Now what do I do?” After a while I answered myself: “I think I’ll shoot.” I got out of the truck and started filming the first light of dawn. These are absurd situations — but that is what independent cinema gives you. You have to know how to catch certain moments.
PC How many days did you have for the shoot? How many weeks?
Five weeks. But then various problems came up and the production added more days. We lost three or four days because we had to flee the set on account of the drug traffickers. It happened three times. Then there were lightning storms, snakes… one natural disaster after another. We later shot another section — that was another week of production, and it was tough. All the wide overhead shots you saw in the film were done during this second stretch of production, thanks to a cherry picker tracked down through a friend who owned a nearby ranch. As was all the on-the-road section toward Denver, without the actor. We were always moving fast, even though the scenes had a slow, contemplative rhythm — as they should have. As a result, the pace of shooting couldn’t be frantic either. The real challenge in situations like these is maintaining consistency across the whole film. You choose an atmosphere, build an idea, and then you have to be able to carry it through every space and every moment — interiors and exteriors alike. All the interiors were lit by me, because inside the ranch was essentially a black box. We had to work on the light constantly. It was important that the passing of time came through clearly — dawn, afternoon, the cold, the heat, the hours going by. You had to feel the daily rhythm of that place, because that would open up the viewer’s sense of the protagonist’s life and his relationship with the landscape.
CS. And in fact the film brings two visual languages together: there are the exteriors, the ranch landscapes, the natural light — very beautiful, which brought to mind Days of Heaven by Terrence Malick. And then there is the handheld language. Moving on to another beautiful interior — how did you approach the diner scene? It is very beautiful, very — how to put it — “American.” It’s an image that carries a lot of baggage. In so many films you have these diners where characters spend time.
I was set on having this scene stand apart from the protagonist’s world immersed in nature. When I walked into that diner it was all white LED and various egg-yellow lamps. In that case I chose not to go along with the environment I found. I liked pushing toward a different color palette. With the night scenes too I leaned in a bit more — in terms of color, contrast, and lens dirt. I really enjoy using filters and building textures. I pay close attention to textures — both in the materials used in the production design and in the materials I can work with on the lenses.
PC What do you mean? Do you build custom filters?
Yes, I enjoy exploring. Sometimes these things work, sometimes they don’t. In this film I only used that kind of intervention in one scene. I had my whole “kit” ready, but in the end I went with just one solution — precisely because the film was looking for a certain naturalness. Every time I tried using filters or more visible interventions I could feel they weren’t working, so I dropped them. But in the fight scene I pushed a little harder. I worked directly on the lens, but only there, because I wanted the night sequence to feel rawer, grittier.
DDA What did you put on the lens?
I sprayed a little water mist — tiny water droplets — and then added a thread on one side. I’m not even sure whether that particular take ended up in the cut, but I think it did, because at a certain point some flares come in and the image stays dirtier. In that scene everything was set up almost like a freestyle. The director, in that situation, gave me complete freedom and I had a great time. We improvised a lot, including with the camera movements. I followed instinctively whatever was happening, moving from one side to the other, constantly ping-ponging back and forth. The punching section, on the other hand, was put together more precisely, of course. David Morse was outstanding, because we did very long takes — minutes and minutes. It was a very complex scene. The lighting was both diegetic and built by me. The backgrounds were partly from the gas station itself and partly ones I created. What I was mainly going for was separating the planes, working with the warm tones beneath the characters and differentiating the backgrounds. What I could do was work on the separation and dirty up the image a little more. Sometimes I like to push the sensor — damage it slightly, go after the undertones. And the Panavision Ultra Speed lenses responded perfectly to that way of thinking. We also had a couple of Special Flare cuts, but I used them very sparingly. They were very heavy and every time I tried slipping something too obvious in, I could immediately feel it stepping outside the tone of the film.
DDA What were the filters you wanted to use but ended up not using? Can you give some examples?
In the nighttime fight scene I was talking about earlier, I wanted to use a filter made with nylon threads that would give some movement to the lights with the handheld camera, creating light blades. But at a certain point I realized it was too much — especially because I wanted to stay very close on the close-ups, and that effect was interfering with the image. I tried it in one shot and then took it off. I had already pushed hard enough on the texture of the image, the contrast, the color. In the end I preferred to go with something that would only slightly dirty up the edges and let some flares come through. It worked better. In another situation, on the other hand, I used combinations of gels applied directly to the filters. The apartment was pulling very strongly toward green, and I was trying to either go with or correct those color characteristics. So I would attach materials to the clear filter to find the compositional balance I was looking for.
DDA So your base filters were clear?
Facevo una specie di collage, quando serviva. A me piace molto fare il più possibile direttamente sul set. Cerco di ottenere sul set quello che abbiamo pensato e costruito durante la preparazione. Per me la post-produzione è fondamentale, certo, ma deve assecondare un discorso già impostato. Mi è capitato raramente di stravolgere qualcosa in post.
PC Did you have a focus puller?
Yes, Elena Chiappa came with me. I pushed hard for her to be there, because for me the camera assistant — the focus puller — is my right hand. I work a lot on the camera myself, I am often behind it personally, so having someone beside me who knows the way I work is essential. It helps me give rhythm to the set. I need that kind of chemistry. Elena was outstanding…
PC What surprised me most and what I liked best about the film, from a visual standpoint, is the naturalness of the image. I never felt the presence of artifice and never sensed artificial light. It is something I care deeply about, because I am always looking for a strength in the image while at the same time not wanting the artifice to show. Can you say a little more about the ranch interiors?
We couldn’t intervene too much on the interior, but the moment I saw it I felt that place had a soul and I immediately thought: let’s work with this. I tried to differentiate the rooms, because it made sense to build a kind of internal narrative within the same location — both in terms of the passing of time and in terms of emotion. The room belonging to the protagonist’s wife, who has passed away, for instance, is the room of memories, and it always had a warm tone.
The room where the undocumented girl on the run lives, on the other hand, was white, with a clean light. She represents an element of change entering the stalled life of this man. When I read the screenplay I could clearly sense this change associated with the female presence. It is a presence that never truly left, and in some way redeems the protagonist. It allows him to become human again, to live, to take his life back into his own hands and finally move away from that place, rebuilding his identity. The female element was already central in the screenplay, and everything was tied to this… delicacy — I’m not even sure what to call it — whereby the image could not be too raw or aggressive, while still remaining dramatic. It had to hold onto a beauty of its own, a tension of its own toward hope. The choice of lenses also grew from that: the Panavision Ultra Speed lenses allowed us to capture the roundness of natural light in its fullness. The light never became too hard or contrasty, and together with the ARRI sensor — which in my view gathers visual elements in a very organic way — it worked perfectly in that direction. The narrative element became aesthetic: the way femininity alters the course of this man’s life found its language at the visual level.
The room where the undocumented girl on the run lives, on the other hand, was white, with a clean light. She represents an element of change entering the stalled life of this man. When I read the screenplay I could clearly sense this change associated with the female presence. It is a presence that never truly left, and in some way redeems the protagonist. It allows him to become human again, to live, to take his life back into his own hands and finally move away from that place, rebuilding his identity. The female element was already central in the screenplay, and everything was tied to this… delicacy — I’m not even sure what to call it — whereby the image could not be too raw or aggressive, while still remaining dramatic. It had to hold onto a beauty of its own, a tension of its own toward hope. The choice of lenses also grew from that: the Panavision Ultra Speed lenses allowed us to capture the roundness of natural light in its fullness. The light never became too hard or contrasty, and together with the ARRI sensor — which in my view gathers visual elements in a very organic way — it worked perfectly in that direction. The narrative element became aesthetic: the way femininity alters the course of this man’s life found its language at the visual level.
CS Can you say something about the remote grading experience, which I know was complicated?
It had never happened to me before and it was not a positive experience. I would not recommend it and would not want to do it again. At the same time I am reluctant to talk about it in overly negative terms, because I worked with a very talented colorist, and we all know that many freelancers now work remotely. I certainly don’t want to call into question their work or their approach to color. In this case the situation was driven by distance and above all by a lack of financial resources. We are talking about productions with very small crews — sometimes just two people — where even doing subtitles to send the film to non-European festivals becomes complicated. It was not an artistic choice. That said, I had a good experience working with Alessio Zanardi, whom I had already brought in on another project and who was extremely generous with his time. We managed to do part of the work in the room, because for me color correction needs to be done in person. Seeing the film on a big screen, with sound, completely changes your perception. For me everything goes through an almost physical response — I need to be in the room to make the right adjustments. It is a kind of logic I follow: if something works large, it will work small too. That is why being there in person is essential. In my view our work only ends at the moment the film is delivered. We should protect that in-person presence during the color grade contractually too, because it cannot be taken for granted. Lately I have started including it in my contracts, because — especially on low-budget films — it can happen that a lab or specific crew is imposed on you. It is frustrating. That is why it is important to work with like-minded collaborators: we have very little time and everything has to click right away. In my view, once productions understand the importance of this, they will save a great deal.
CS A question on a more personal note. You are a single mother and you spent many weeks away from home. How did you manage to balance this work with raising your daughter?
This work is the antichrist of family and relationships. In this case it was very hard to make a decision. At first I had thought about bringing my daughter with me — I had organized everything, I was convinced I could pull it off, one impossible juggle after another. Then, talking it through with Daria and others, I realized I truly couldn’t. And I think I made the right call, even though it was painful, because the environment I was working in was very stressful and also dangerous. When I was doing handheld work they would put snake guards on our legs because rattlesnakes were everywhere — there was always someone from security checking locations ahead of us. We ate on the van; it was certainly not a place to leave a little girl free to play. But today technology helps a little: being able to video call made an enormous difference. Every morning I could show her what I was doing, involve her, give her some sense of that world. I think it is important to bring our children into our work, to make sure it is not something alien or incomprehensible to them. To do that you would need a stronger production infrastructure — one that recognizes the value of private and family life. Sometimes small things would be enough: in Mexico, for example, one production had made trailers available for family members, and there was even talk of babysitters and spaces for children. These are details that make a real difference. Children adapt easily — it doesn’t take much to create a welcoming space for them. I have always tried to involve my daughter, because otherwise what kind of idea can she have of a mother who disappears for months? It was a very painful choice, but I believe I did the right thing.
PC Just one more question: what does this film leave you with?
It definitely made me grow a great deal in my relationship with actors. I had a first-time actress and had to bridge enormous differences in experience, two different languages, communication problems between the director and the cast. All of that was a huge stimulus. And it left me, even more than before, with a desire to go beyond your own national borders. I believe cinema is an extraordinary opportunity to broaden your vision of the world, and that it should be lived as a universal language. That is why I think it is important to seek out experiences outside your own country as well. That is what I hope for our projects too — that they can travel beyond national borders, because cinema is communication, a dialogue between different experiences and lives. If cinema speaks through emotion and tells something human and universal, then it can travel anywhere. This experience gave me a broader vision that I want to keep nurturing. Technically, professionally — but above all humanly.
CCS Thank you, Sara.
TECHNICAL CREDITS
Rental: Panavision Dallas
Camera Operator: Sara Purgatorio
First Assistant Camera: Elena Chiappa
Second Assistant Camera: Samuel Park
DIT: Lucky Atka
Gaffer: Chad Brewer
Key Grip: Mike Anderson
Camera: ALEXA Mini
Format: S35 2.39:1
Lenses: Panavision Ultra Speed + two Panavision Special Flare lenses
Colorist: Alessio Zanardi
