1 Maryse Alberti, ASC
Maryse Alberti knew there was much more for her to explore in the world than her little village in the South of France had to offer. At a young age, she made the decision to come to New York where she worked as an au pair. Having a TV in her room for the first time exposed her to numerous late-night classic films, where she began her discovery of cinema. But the suburbs of New Rochelle could not hold her. She decided to explore the United States, where she traveled for three years with an instamatic camera in hand, documenting her adventures. She returned to New York, and a friend gave her a Nikon 35mm single-lens reflex camera (SLR) camera. She learned the basics of photography and began shooting stills for the rock nâ roll scene and downtown arts. She was exposed to set life from shooting stills for X-rated movies where she met students from NYU and Columbia. Her networking lead her into the evolving independent film scene. She worked on numerous film sets in various crew positions before working her way to becoming the Assistant Camera on Vortex (1982), a punk-noir film photographed by Steven Fierberg, ASC.
Her unexpected big break came after she photographed the documentary H-2 Worker for Stephanie Black. The film went to Sundance winning the Grand Jury Prize. In 1991, she was the cinematographer for Todd Haynesâ Poison, which also won the Sundance Grand Jury Prize. She photographed Crumb for Terry Zwigoff (1994) and she was the cinematographer for Todd Solondzâs Happiness (1998) and Todd Haynesâ Velvet Goldmine (1998).
She received her first Sundance Award in Cinematography for the documentary H-2 Worker (1990). She won her second Sundance Award in Cinematography for her work on the documentary Crumb (1995). She won The Independent Spirit Award in Cinematography for Velvet Goldmine (1999) and was nominated for her work on We Donât Live Here Anymore (2004) and took home the Independent Spirit Award again for The Wrestler in 2009. She was also nominated for a Primetime Emmy for her work on All Aboard Rosieâs Family Cruise (2006).
Highlights of her narrative credits include working with Ron Howard on Hillbilly Elegy (2020), Chappaquiddick (2017), We Donât Live Here Anymore (2014) and Stone (2010), John Curan on Collateral Beauty (2016), David Frankel on Creed (2015), Ryan Coogler on Freeheld (2015), Peter Sollett on The Visit (2015), M. Night Shyamalan on The Wrestler (2008), Darren Aronofsky on Tape (2001), and Richard Linklater on Joe Gouldâs Secret (2000) with Stanly Tucci.
In terms of her documentary work, she has an equally impressive list of credits including her frequent collaborations with Michael Apted on The Incident at Ogala (1992), Moving the Mountain (1994), Me and Isaac Newton (1999) and The Power of the Game (2007) and with Alex Gibney on Eron: The Smartest Guys in the Room (2005), Taxi to the Dark Side (2007), Gonzo (2008), Carsen Jack and the United States of Money (2010), Client 9: The Rise and Fall of Eliot Spitzer (2010), Dear Governor Cuomo (2012), We Steal Secrets (2013) and Mr. Dynamite: The Rise of James Brown (2014). She photographed Love, Marilyn (2012) and A Good Job: Stories of the FDNY (2014) with Liz Garbus and West of Memphis (2012) with Amy Berg and worked with many others.
Maryse continues to create an impressive body of work in both narrative feature films and in documentary films. She has also worked in television and has photographed many commercials. She shows no signs of slowing down and is one of the pioneering female cinematographers to successfully manage her career while also raising her son. In speaking with her it was obvious that her enthusiasm for living, for travel and adventure are what drives and motivates her to continue to perfect her craft.
What made you decide to leave France and move to New York?
I come from the deep South of France, and as a kid, I used to look at the hitchhikers on the side of the road and wonder where they were going. I wanted to get out of my little town and America, at that point, was the furthest away that I could think of. England was too close; Australia was not even part of my consciousness. It was the beginning of the 1970s, and I had discovered Jimi Hendrix, who for me, was like an alien god, because there were no Black people in my little town. I loved Hendrixâs music, although I didnât really understand the lyrics. I decided that I would go to America to meet Jimi Hendrix. But really, I just wanted to get out of my little village. I convinced my parents, who were in the process of separating, to send me as an au pair to New York. I first arrived in New Rochelle, but I didnât stay very long. I took care of three kids, and thank god I didnât kill anybody, because they put me in charge of a seven-year-old, four-year-old and a two-year-old, and I was only 19!
How did you become interested in working in film?
In New Rochelle, I had a little blue television in my room and there was a TV in the kitchen. To me there were TVs everywhere because I didnât grow up with a TV. My grandmother was the first one to have a TV on the block, I was probably 12 at the time, and once a week, people on the block would go to her house to watch Au theater Ce soir, (To the Theater Tonight), which was the reporting of a play.
I only went to the movies twice before I left for the States; the first movie I saw was The Duel by Steven Spielberg. I didnât know who Steven Spielberg was of course, but it blew my mind. I havenât seen it since, but itâs in my brain forever. Itâs a story about this guy who is driving his car across country and thereâs a truck behind him, a truck that passes him, then he passes the truck, and then itâs a duel between him and the truck. You see him, but you never see the driver of the truck. It was amazing, just that experience. Then, right before I came to the states, I took a plane to Paris to stay with a distant cousin and she took me to see Howard and Maude in the theater. I thought that was an amazing story. So when I came to New Rochelle, I would watch The Late Show movies at night. Black and white movies. I really fell in love with movies, but I never ever thought, that I could make them. I didnât really understand how people were making them. You know what I mean? It is like my uncles asking me now, âWhat do you do?â I say, âWell, itâs like what you see on TV. Someone is there on the camera. Thatâs what I do.â But itâs still not very clear. I never really planned to become a cinematographer, but all of these things in my life brought me here.
How did you start working in New York City?
When I left New Rochelle, I came to New York City. I had a boyfriend who introduced me to this woman, and I moved in and took care of her little girl and it was great. New York was great.
I stayed there for a year and then I decided I wanted to take off and go see the big United States. I traveled for three years, North on 95 and back South with a stop in the Virgin Islands. I took pictures as a tourist and I kind of liked that. I worked in theaters. I did a lot of things to survive, but there was a comfort in photography, I always liked it.
When I came back to New York, a boyfriend gave me his Nikon camera. So, I started to take a lot of pictures. I worked for the New York Rocker magazine which was kind of the bastard child of Rolling Stone. The New York Rocker died, but I still have a lot of pictures of Iggy Pop and Wendy Williams. I did a lot of the clubs, My Kansas City and The Mud Club and The Ramon. But I had to work in a restaurant too, because taking pictures was fun, but getting paid was a whole other story.
I met this guy who was a neighbor, and he gave me a Super-8mm camera, so then I discovered motion! I made little movies with my friends, the girls on the bike, in the woods. But this guy, he was a director of photography (DP) and encouraged me; he said I had a good eye. Then I got a 16mm camera and I went back to France because my mother was getting remarried. I made a little movie about that part of France. My mother was kind of a character and the whole thing about France and the church. Itâs a short but was actually quite good.
So, you were getting your own self-taught training, first in photography, then with Super 8 and 16mm film, making your own movies. How did you start shooting films for others?
Stephanie Black, who is a documentary filmmaker, had seen my little film and connected to it. She was starting a movie called H2-Workers about the Jamaican farm workers, who worked in slave camp in Florida. She asked me to shoot it, whatever that meant, so I went with her. The first week we borrowed a camera and we were kind of crazy; we got arrested because we were trespassing, we walked into these huge barracks full of 500 Jamaican workers who were wondering what we were doing there. But Stephanie was amazing. She made the film, and it went to Sundance, so I went to Sundance, not really knowing what Sundance was at the time, but I was invited, and I knew I could ski. At the awards ceremony, the first award was cinematography, and I heard my name and I totally freaked out. The movie won best cinematography and best documentary, which was amazing.
This movie is really what got your career as a cinematographer going right?
Yes, I did a good job on my first documentary. Next thing, Iâm on the map. It was quite extraordinary. Stephanie Black remains one of my friends to this day. Then I connected with Todd Haynes and Christine Vachon, who had this company, and I shot a short film for Todd, that was a fiction film, so a different approach. Then Todd did a little film, Dottie Gets Spanked which was fun, followed by Poison which I did with him. Poison was a really interesting film, and it got a lot of attention, because there was one section of the film where there were gay men in jail, and the film had been partially funded by the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA). I think a religious, right-wing group ended up protesting it, so the film got press and was talked about, and I was associated with that. So again, I got on the map. I maintained a collaboration with Todd, but I didnât do Safe because I was pregnant. But then I did do Velvet Goldmine with him.
You got into the New York indie scene at a very interesting time, and you got started with documentary. Now youâre doing these big-budget, Hollywood studio films. Are there any sacrifices you feel you have had to make along the way?
I have a son and I quickly realized that when you do a movie, you are out of life for at least three months, sometimes four. When I did Velvet Goldmine, I was able to keep going because I had a partner who made room for me. Then we took turns. I was asked to shoot Boys Donât Cry and American Psycho, but it was my time to be home, so I couldnât do them. But I do have a great relationship with my son. There is no regret.
I did ten documentaries with Alex Gibney and we still talk about working together. Iâve been so lucky to have worked with him. I love the guy and weâve had some amazing adventures. So, I have done a lot of documentary work. When I was doing them, I might go away for two or three weeks. So, it worked out and Scott, my sonâs dad, stayed home at the beginning. When Marley was a little bit older, he started to work in television in New York. So, he was always home while I was roaming the world. But we found a balance, we gave each other the time to go out into the world and do our work and then be home to take care of our son. But it was not always easy. I saw a lot of women who were in the business, who had a husband with a regular job, and he couldnât leave because then he loses a job. I was lucky because Scott is a sound man. So, he could not take work and still go back to work, it was good to have that kind of partnership where you could do that. Also, understanding the hours, if I said that Iâd be home by 9:00 p.m. but oops, the day goes longer. For a while, before Marley was born, we worked on documentaries together a lot. Then when my son went to college, it was like, âOkay, here I go.â
What was your experience in documentary like?
When I started to work with Alex Gibney or with Michael Apted, I did the whole film, so you brought your crew. Now, thereâs more of a tendency that if you go somewhere you get a local crew. Then the cameras changed, forever. I shot with my little Aaton which would allow me to sit and wait in my corner until they forgot I was there. But then, the world of digital came, so I did a lot of movies with the Varicam, but still...