The power of Before the Winter is profound. It is consuming and achieves the highest aspiration of any art form; the ability to manifest empathy for others who might be completely foreign to one’s self. One of the most remarkable aspects of this film is the visual language which has been established by cinematographer Zhen “Donny” Li. This story of a young girl’s navigation of the pain that accompanies her and her mother in a Los Angeles neighborhood is all too believable in present day. Before the Winter is both art and catalyst for social awareness on many levels. A stark contrast to the typically sunny and warm LA so prevalent throughout cinema, this story presents a cold and muted city, much like May (played by Venice Wong), the young girl whose joy is stifled by the situation she finds herself in. Through her eyes, it’s possible to witness a world composed of a slow and cruel constriction that others never perceive, or perhaps one which they choose to ignore.
Producer and writer of Before the Winter, Ms. Flora Jiang, was the creative origin of this story and is credited with bringing Director Juan Zuloaga Eslait and DP Donny Li together as the dream team to manifest her vision. This team admits that there were many long days of testing each other’s ideas about characters and scenes; some contentious and some more agreeable. It’s a method which the trio insists served the film well. The cinematographer confesses, “That early uncertainty was part of what made the process honest. We were constantly questioning ourselves and each other—not out of doubt, but out of care. Everything was in service of the film. I think what made this collaboration special was the openness. We were not afraid to disagree or to sit in the discomfort of not knowing the answer right away. That kind of working relationship is rare.”
While cinematography is often associated with image design, here, much of Mr. Li’s work is about emotional timing and restraint. An early scene in which May is exposed to someone who will greatly impact her family is structured around a moment of hesitation—with May standing outside their apartment, watching the glow of the lights inside and listening to muffled voices before she ever steps through the door. That is the first time May “meets” Fang—through her voice. Fang’s visual introduction is intentionally delayed, allowing her presence to be felt long before she is fully seen. As the viewer focuses on how this mysterious woman is interpreted by May, the unknown looms large. This progresses to a subjective observation shot: May peeks through the beaded curtain separating the kitchen and dining room. The camera slowly tracks from Fang’s cigarette, following the rhythm of her speech, until it lands on her face. This entire sequence conveys May’s psychological gaze—how a child might process someone new, possibly dangerous, entering her home. A notably powerful component in understanding May’s emotional state is the color language which reinforces Fang’s disruptive presence. Red is Fang’s signature—her lipstick, her jewelry, and a table lamp next to her are all red accents, a hue which is avoided elsewhere in the film. Through this layering of distance, color, and perspective, the audience feels the growing tension through May’s eyes—before she even understands what she is seeing. When May follows her mother to her “night shift job” later in the film, a neon sign with a red glow is a cue to the danger she felt at Fang’s initial presence. This scene marks a major turning point for May and for the story. The space and the framing of this scene are disorienting and unfamiliar. There’s a remarkably natural feeling here which establishes a highly realistic setting. This only adds to the shock of what follows. In the film, several characters come across May’s diary—searching for answers, trying to understand what she’s going through. What they find are fragments of a filtered world. Each person walks away with only a part of the story, but the audience is able to assemble a fuller picture—one that reveals the truth she never says out loud.
Before the Winter premiered at BOGOSHORTS in Colombia, screened at several festivals in the U.S., and will soon be part of The American Pavilion showcase at the Cannes Film Festival. When questioned how he feels about the welcoming reception of this film, cinematographer Donny Li imparts, “Something shifts when you see this film on a big screen and experience it with an audience. Sharing that space, hearing their reactions, and having quiet conversations afterwards made me realize that even if I could still see the gaps, the film had reached people. The emotion we worked so hard to build and express—it came through. I’m reminded that people can sense much more than we expect them to. I think this film will touch many people.”
Writer : Basil Thomson
Ayushi Saini