Is that a flare? Nolan asked as another sequence came up, this one showing Hathaway on an alien planet at sunset, a halo of light briefly visible at her shoulder.
We can take that out, offered Walter Volpatto, the digital colourist who was overseeing the work.
Its in-camera, Nolan declared. Put your can of bleach away. Can you go back to the hospital scene and do a split screen for the whole sequence? To my eyes it all looks a point brighter.
Volpatto called up the images, showing McConaughey again, this time entering a hospital room. Its pretty good, I think, he said.
Thats always what we strive for in the movie business pretty good, Nolan said sarcastically, squinting at the two sets of images. We lowered it [the brightness] a whole point the other day, so something is drifting. Were repeating ourselves.
I put them in, Volpatto reassured him, referring to the changes. In my experience, a flipped screen will always reveal new differences. Your eye adjusts. You clear away the moss and then you start to see a whole new level. The implication seemed to be that we were caught in the visual equivalent of Zenos paradox: clearing away blemishes only to reveal still more, and so forever on, until such time as you made peace with imperfection. In my experience, Nolan replied, motioning toward the bank of computers that separated his production team from the digital colourists, people behind this line are full of shit.
This is why I prefer film to digital, Nolan said, turning to me. Its a physical object that you create, that you agree upon. The print that I have approved when I take it from here to New York and I put it on a different projector in New York, if it looks too blue, I know the projector has a problem with its mirror or its ball or whatever. Those kind of controls arent really possible in the digital realm.
To the untrained eye there seemed to be no difference between the two images. I have no reason to lie to you, Volpatto said, sounding a little miserable.