Check out these two long takes from Michael Clayton (2007) and Chernobyl (2019).
In this first clip from Michael Clayton, a corporate whistleblower is assassinated in his home.
In this second clip from Chernobyl, volunteers clear radioactive debris off the roof of the power plant. (Long take begins at 2:25)
Duration of the long take in the first clip from Michael Clayton: 2:11.
Duration of the long take in the second clip from Chernobyl: 2:02
Despite the fact that these shots last approximately the same amount of time, the subjective lengths (i.e. how long each take feels like it lasts) are very different1.
The murder scene feels like it happens frighteningly quickly.
The rooftop scene feels like it happens agonizingly slowly.
Showing a full assassination from start to finish, where the killers’ calculated and practiced method ensures the death looks like a suicide, highlights how easily powerful companies can dispose of a whistleblower. We feel like something so heinous shouldn’t be so easy, should take more time, but with no cuts, nowhere to hide, we see it all in just 131 seconds. It feels like it happened in no time.
On the other hand, in the scene from Chernobyl, having established that every passing moment on the roof will exponentially shorten your life and increase the agony you will soon feel as a result of radiation exposure, the audience feels the gut-wrenching dread and urgency of the men on the roof. “Get out of there, get out of there, get out of there.” But we stay out there, as the volunteers must, for a full shift. No cuts, no breaks, no relief. 122 seconds feels like it goes on forever.
In some cases, it might help filmmakers decide how and when to use a long take if they asked themselves what will/should/can the subjective length of the shot be?
And if the goal is in fact to warp the audience’s sense of time (“I want the audience to feel like it all happens in the blink of an eye.” / “I want the audience to be squirming, agonized by each passing second.”) they might consider how can we create this warped sense of time?
The most obvious answer is narrative context. For example, without narrative context the shot in Chernobyl is not really dramatic at all. Just men scooping debris with no stakes or understanding. On the other hand, although the scene from Michael Clayton does benefit from its narrative context, even if seen completely out of context, it’s still terrifying to see a man open his front door and get murdered in a way that will make his death seem like a suicide, all in a short period of time.
In addition to narrative context, consider the role of sound design in creating the tension in the clip from Chernobyl. The crackling of the radiation meter is incredible, and the scene would have a fraction of the impact without it. Contrast this to the silence in the clip from Michael Clayton.
I wonder what else contributes to a warped sense of time?
I also wonder how you can play with subjective vs. objective time in other media, e.g. prose, theater, music…
Hopefully this feeling is preserved while watching the clips out of context, in isolation, without already being immersed in the story, etc. I personally remember experiencing a strong feeling of warped subjective time when I first saw these scenes in context.