Thomas Edward Ackerman ASC (born August 31, 1948) is an American cinematographer. Teaching at UNCSA's School of Filmmaking since 2009. Shot for multi-Oscar-winning documentarian Charles Guggenheim (1970-1973). Among his films to remember: Frankenweenie (1984), Beetlejuice (1988), Christmas Vacation (1989), Jumanji (1996), Rat Race (2001), Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy (2004), Alvin and the Chipmunks (2007).

You graduated from the University of Iowa where you took a cinema course. Who were your early teachers or mentors?

My most influential teacher was John B. Kuiper. The U of Iowa had relatively few cinema courses and was not production oriented. An accomplished film historian, Dr. Kuiper screened one of his early films for our class, a poetic study of children riding a carousel. The photography was very strong, complemented by impressionistic editing, no doubt inspired by Eisenstein’s Battleship Potemkin. I was in my second year of college and this kind of moviemaking − its sheer audacity − came as a big surprise.

What sparked your interest in cinematography? Your father was a projectionist. Did he transmit this interest to you?

Absolutely, although not in the sense of “Tom, some day you can be cameraman”. Although he shot newsreels for Fox during the 1930’s, the prospect of his son making the leap from Cedar Rapids, Iowa, to Hollywood was definitely a fantasy. My encouragement came when I would hang out in the projection booth of the Times Theater. The smell of the carbon arc and machine oil, seeing my dad’s careful attention to focus and doing the switchover between projectors, were part of watching virtually every movie that came to town. The wonderful Italian film, Cinema Paradiso, does a good job of illustrating that experience. Minus the tragic fire, of course. I learned the hazards of nitrate print stock when my dad would bring a few feet home and we watched it burn explosively in our backyard.

Which film of the past has impressed you most in terms of cinematography in your artistic training?

I’ve been watching films for a long time, so there are several parts to this answer. One my earliest memories was watching Abbot and Costello Meet the Wolf Man. It starred a well-known comedy team, so there were a lot of jokes. Dumb guys do stupid things and eventually confront a werewolf. Lots of funny stuff happens but for a little kid, it was terrifying. I wasn’t exactly a connoisseur of cinematography, but the stark black-and-white images kept me up that night. Next example was an early 1950’s film, King Solomon’s Mines, shot in 3-strip Technicolor. The intense color rendition supported the story in every way. I had no idea why, but the whole experience was overwhelming. In the 60’s I was off to college, hoping to learn something about how movies were made. My critical faculties were growing, and films like Last Year at Marienbad, despite its oblique story line, were of great appeal. Actually, I was becoming an insufferable film snob. I loved movies that took risks. Soon, however, my tastes turned to “mainstream” films that, despite earning money at the box-office, were beautifully crafted and told good stories, such as The Graduate and Bonnie And Clyde. However, it was Godfather that, for me, changed everything. Stunning performances, photography by Gordon Willis, and Francis Coppola’s flawless screenplay. Add to that The Conformist, boldly stylized and operatic.

Meeting filmmaker Charles Guggenheim was important to your career: did he introduce you to the film industry?

Charles believed that ideas took precedent over style. In spite of a career that included The Great St. Louis Bank Robbery, Steve McQueen’s first starring role. In the early 60's he moved his company to Washington, DC to make documentaries and political campaign films. Charles was a rigorous taskmaster who insisted that films - even a single shot - needed to convey ideas. That was my obligation whether behind the camera or working as an editor.

Winner of four Academy Awards, did Charles Guggenheim have any connection, kinship with the american businessman and art collector Solomon Robert?

Not to my knowledge. However, in 1972 I did work with Charles on a documentary commissioned by Norton Simon, the famed business prodigy and one of the world’s preeminent art collectors. Simon later reinvigorated the Pasadena Museum of Art, where his collection now resides. We shot in California in a cinema verité mode, tracking Simon’s every move. When we finally wrapped, worn out by his duties as the on-camera candidate, he turned to Charles and said, “I know what it cost to get you here. What will it take to make you stop?’

Thomas E. Ackerman with Charles Guggenheim and George McGover

Your career crosses one of the great directors of New Hollywood, when you take part as camera operator in One from the Heart (1981) an american musical romantic drama film directed by Francis Ford Coppola and starring Frederic Forrest, Teri Garr, Raul Julia, Nastassja Kinski, and Harry Dean Stanton. In this film you have the opportunity to work with the italian cinematographer Vittorio Storaro AIC-ASC, at the time the Oscar winner for Apocalypse Now. He will later win two more Oscars. What did your meeting with Storaro mean for you?

Working with Storaro was more than a job opportunity. It was my window to a new dimension, in which photography was not just a way to craft images but a portal to the story. Vittorio’s bold use of color, for example. It wasn’t literal, but an emotional path to understanding the characters. Frankly, the images were just astonishingly beautiful. And could be labor-intensive! The film was shot entirely on stage, no location work at all. Vittorio was fond of using Brute Arcs, typically pushed through 20 x 20 foot muslin. Of course, no dimmer board could handle that load, so when one of the many color changes happened, the grips had to choreograph 4x4 frames of gel, physically switching from one color to the next. It was a beautiful thing to watch, but also weirdly antique. What did operating for Storaro mean to me? For one thing, it meant a 7-minute dolly shot with over 20 separate moves − in all directions − as the action moved from one apartment to another. Vittorio stayed close to camera with a bounce card, adding a bit of reflected light from time to time.

*One from the Heart* by Francis Ford Coppola (1981)

What was your first official feature film?

New Year’s Evil for Cannon Films, in 1981. Equipment was supplied by Cinemobile, a company that had begun to popularize location shooting by packing camera, grip, and electric departments on a compartmentalized bus.

Your filmography is pretty eclectic. You have experimented with different genres like comedy, horror-comedy, fantasy, music, adventure, romantic, parody. I guess there isn't a genre you prefer since the cinematographers shoot films, not genres… rather you went looking for the best opportunities on a visual / photographic level, right?

You said it perfectly. Each film has its own challenges and rewards. Although there’s certainly a way to shoot by formula, serious people avoid that.

Impossible to analyze all the films you have photographed. I'd like to focus on a few ... I'd start with your collaboration with Tim Burton. You worked with him on two occasions. The first was with the short film Frankenweenie (1984): it is both a parody and homage to the 1931 film Frankenstein based on Mary Shelley's novel. Burton later directed a feature-length stop-motion animated remake, released in 2012. How did you get chosen by Burton?

Tim screened some music videos I had shot, and talked about where he wanted to go with Frankenweenie. I later saw storyboards he had drawn, which gave a very strong sense of the direction we would be pursuing. Not only story but the style.

Was this your first Union job?

As a Disney Studios production, this was my first union job. That in itself was a bit of a thrill − and I thought of my Dad in the Times Theater projection booth. He would have been very happy.

You shot it in black and white by the way… was it a choice agreed with Burton?

It was Tim’s choice, with Disney totally in support. Our Production Designer, John Mansbridge, had been with the studio for decades was only too happy to create a black-and-white world. Our dailies were processed at Technicolor, the last production run they did with Black and White film.

Were you inspired by any films from the past?

Frankenstein, of course. Actually all of the horror movies I saw growing up. The one thing they shared was extremity. After all that’s what the audience paid to see. Subtlety wasn’t much in favor.

The second Burtons’s movie was Beetlejuice (1988), an american fantasy comedy film starring Alec Baldwin, Geena Davis, Michael Keaton and Winona Ryder. Beetlejuice was a critical and commercial success, among Burton's most famous films… In this film there are actually a variety of lighting: from a natural lighting used in scenes where Barbara (Davis) and Adam (Baldwin) living in their natural state of being human to scenes with Beetlejuice (Keaton) that are characterized by sharp contrasts with tones as blue, green and yellow tones. Your light perfectly explains what happens on the screen, making the viewer participate in the emotions that the characters feel. How did you plan your work?

Some of the plan came about by accident, for example during my visit with Production Designer Bo Welch in his office. He was working on a scale model of the “Afterlife” using a fluorescent fixture as a work light, with a sickly yellow gel taped in front. It worked perfectly, and would eventually influence the choice of colors in other scenes.

What stylistic choices did you choose to adopt?

I wanted to define the three worlds that Adam and Barbara inhabit − traditional New England, followed by a Post-Modern, over-the top version of New England, and finally the Afterlife. Which was uncomfortably surreal, to say the least. There were opportunities to blend these worlds, such as the shot that starts as a slow pan of an idyllic meadow, pulling back to reveal new tenants Charles and Lydia relaxing on their new porch, basically walled off from reality.

What is Burton's approach to photography in general?

He has great taste and hates gratuitous fancy stuff − you know, where the filmmakers are just showing off. “Look at this amazing dolly move…” Not that we didn’t do ambitious work. Hopefully, in most cases, it was justifiable.

With Robert E. Collins, Frederick Elmes, John Hora and Crescenzo G.P. Notarile you worked on Moonwalker (1988) an american anthology, musical film starring Michael Jackson. What experience was it?

My contribution was a sequence of Michael flying an amusement park airplane with fanciful animation surrounding him. Months later, when I was shooting tests for Beetlejuice, Moonwalker geared up again, this time on a sound stage next to ours at Culver City Studios. They were using a lot of atmospheric smoke, which was getting sucked onto our set. Unfortunately, I needed the air to be perfectly clean. Somehow the studio was able to solve the problem.

What is your memory of a pop music icon like Jackson?

He was quiet, very gentle, and considerate of the crew. The most animated he got was when my wife, Paula, brought our 10-month old daughter to the set. “What a beautiful baby − look at those cheeks! I later shot 2nd Unit on Captain Io for Disney. Vittorio was the DP, shooting for Francis Coppola. We shot 65mm using the Disney 3D cameras. Gian-Carlo “Gia” Coppola was 2nd Unit Director.

Jumanji is a 1995 American fantasy adventure film directed by Joe Johnston. It stars Robin Williams, Bonnie Hunt, Kirsten Dunst. A spectacular and adrenaline-pumping film, in Jumanji your photography combined with the knowledge of special effects, catapult the viewer into one of Robin Williams' most successful stories. What can you tell me about your photographic approach?

The story begins in an idyllic New England town, where nothing unusual ever happens until a kid discovers an old game and decides − unwisely − to play it. As a result, he is sucked into another world and never seen again. Until…a brother and sister, new occupants of the house many years later, find a game board in the attic. They play it, and the original owner, now an adult, materializes (Robin’s character) and the fun begins. The photography transitions to full-on adventure mode, with lots of thrills and action. And with that, great photo ops. The approach was to keep it real, or in many cases, surreal. No one has ever seen rhinos and elephants burst through a library wall, then head downtown to trample cars. Likewise − knife throwing chimps who steal a police car. By the way, this and the rest of Jumanji could have failed totally. It didn’t because our director, Joe Johnston, kept it real and the camerawork stayed in sync. So there’s funny stuff and scary stuff packed together. But all of if it was photographed as if there were no jokes. We played it real.

Could you therefore remember for me Williams one of the most beloved actors in the history of cinema?

Robin Williams was many things, all good. He was a perfectionist but never in an “It’s my way or the highway” mode. The crew adored Robin. He was one of the hardest-working people I’ve ever known. Robin wanted to get it right.

Thomas E. Ackerman with director Joe Johnston and Robin Williams on the set of *Jumanji*

Among the many other successful films you photographed I remember National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation and Dennis the Menace. Do you have particular memories of these films?

I have fond memories of both films, maybe because each of them resonated with my own experience. And that was John’s great talents as a storyteller For a cinematographer, these movies were a chance to visit people I had known growing up. John Hughes was a connoisseur of Midwestern life, ramped up here and there, but fundamentally accurate. Christmas Vacation − who among us has not been tangled in a dysfunctional string of lights? Or dealt with the complications of houseguests?

New technology: what do you think of the epochal transition from film to digital?

I embrace digital image creation and the opportunities that it brings. Having shot so much film over the years, I have a sentimental attachment. But digital tools bring a freedom we never had before. That said, it needs to be used responsibly. It should not, for example, be used to postpone decisions. I start with a set of LUTS that will guide us through the shoot, even if there will be freedom to tweak things later.

*National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation*, by Jeremiah S. Chechik (1989)

In the days when you shot on film, what was the biggest difference in your creative process?

The need to pre-visualize the results. How would light and color look on film? Of course, on a project of any size, there is testing of the actors’ make-up and hair style, costuming, set decoration, key props. These tests also offer an opportunity to test lighting, gel colors, lens filtration, and so forth. After all is said and done, you go into the fist day of shooting with a lot of confidence. But every now and then, even in the most locked-up shooting plan, there can be an unpleasant surprise. I had one such experience shooting The Eighteenth Angel, a “supernatural thriller” shot in Rome, with a couple of days in the Czech Republic. It was ideal: I had the good fortune to use Vittorio’s crew, we had a phenomenal scenic department, led by Stefano Maria Ortolani, with David Turchi serving as Line Producer. Shooting began in Prague, which in February was very cold. Having done a lot of work in Canada in the winter, I had all the right clothing with a digital light meter tucked safely inside, insulated against the sub-zero weather. A hand warmer kept it nice and warm. In the meantime, an identical meter was in use out in the cold. Since we were in Prague for only two shoot days, the camera negative was shipped back to Technicolor Rome. We were to screen dailies on our return with famed timer − and Vittorio’s favorite − Ernesto Novelli. A few minutes beforehand, reviewing the timing sheets, I was shocked to see that our printer lights from the Prague night work were much lower than expected. Indeed, when it was screened, the blacks had a slightly milky look. I was appalled because, in some shots, the lights needed to be trimmed a few more points. Ernesto assured me that all would be well, which was more comforting than “This is a complete disaster.” But unnerving all the same. We screened the reprints in Rome, relieved to see that the footage worked. But it was way too close to the edge for my liking. The guy who had been complemented by dailies timers for “solid negative” had just escaped by the seat of his pants. Two rules I have observed ever since when shooting sketchy, dark scenes: 1. Rerate the film (or sensor) at least one stop. But keep the meter set at the “normal” ASA. 2. If shooting in extremely cold conditions, keep both meters warm. Take them out one at a time, only long enough for light readings.

Which Italian cinematographers, past and present, do you most admire?

Vittorio Storaro has been doing bold, innovative work since The Conformist in 1970. He has also been a wonderful mentor to me.

Thomas E. Ackerman with Vittorio Storaro on the set of *One from the Heart*

Is there a particular sequence that you have illuminated in your career that you are most satisfied with?

Unfortunately, I can’t really describe a specific sequence. Taken as a whole, my photography has grown over the years and has been shaped by my collaboration with each director. I owe so much to them, and to the excellent crew people who have worked hard to make our photography happen.

What is your opinion on the film industry today? Do you think the magic of movie theater is being lost due to streaming platforms?

Sadly, the magic of going to a movie theater has almost vanished. It’s not just that popcorn doesn’t taste as good at home. The experience of watching a film without distraction, fully involved in the story, is what has been lost.

You teach at the University of North Carolina School of the Arts. What is the most important teaching you pass on to your students?

The mantra at most films schools is “We Are Storytellers.” It would be tempting to put that aside when it comes to cinematography students. Some people regard the shooting of a films as primarily a technical matter. And, yes, a motion picture uses images to tell a story. But those behind the camera convey the story − shot by shot. Storaro speaks eloquently of this process in his book, Scrivere con la Luce.