 Whenever I have a bit of spare time and want to watch good cinematic storytelling, my go-to has always been different episodes of the Twilight Zone. What has always impressed me about the show is the concept. Every episode is a new story, but they all follow similar patterns, with a setup conflict and a resolution. That resolution almost always takes the form of a revelation or a twist ending with a bait reveal. What robstirling the creator is able to do so effectively is to set up and reveal information. Within minutes of every episode, we have a pretty good idea of who a protagonist is and what the problem is, and from there watch our protagonist try to solve that problem. This entire story arc happens in 22 minutes. The show is able to do this so well because of the universal cinematic language. Basically, we have all seen enough movies throughout our lifetimes, and some things just make sense to us. Take this shot from Casablanca. Even if you have never seen the movie, I guess everyone can tell that we're about to transition to a flashback. This is something that Martin Scorsese spoke about during a speech he gave in 2013. But to a large extent, the art of cinema and its development has been linked to us, and we have no choice but to treat all these moving images coming at us as a language. Today I want to focus on the Twilight Zone, and some of the techniques that the different filmmakers used to make the series so great. With 156 episodes, I won't have enough time to explore each one, so I'd like to single in on a few of the best ones. I'll warn you now, there will be spoilers for these episodes. I want to start off with the very first episode, Where Is Everybody? And focus on one of the most important elements that is found within almost every episode, creating subjectivity. Essentially, how do you tell a first person's story with a camera? This can be a little bit tricky, in a book for example when you boil it down, it all has to do with what pronoun is being used. In film, that doesn't quite correlate. Some films have attempted to be shot from a point of view perspective, but that can look a little bit off. And let's be honest, a 3 minute conversation from one point of view can be pretty boring. The Twilight Zone and most forms of visual storytelling handles this differently. We open up with a wide shot of a man looking around, and then we cut to what he is seeing. And just like that, we are placed in the same position as our protagonist. In addition, as we'll soon learn, this character is confused. He has no idea with what is going on, the same as the audience. We have no idea who he is, but we're interested in his success. As he makes his way around the deserted town, we soon learn it is empty, and as he searches for answers, so are we. Through this, we are in the same position as him. It's the same philosophy that is used in a lot of detective stories. A big part of why we relate to different detectives is that we are on the same quest that they are, trying to solve the crime. The thing is, that isn't exactly true in this episode of the Twilight Zone. As he explores the deserted town, the camera seems to have a mind of its own, dancing around him always observing him. And that's because, as we learn in the Revelation, we are seeing the story unfold through the perspective of onlookers. Through this, the camera is able to establish the world that we are thrust into, make us care about the protagonist, and set up the Revelation all at once. While on the topic of Revelations, let's take a look at one of the more well-known episodes, The Eye of the Beholder. We open up with a medium shot of a woman, Maxine, in a hospital bed. Her face is wrapped in bandages. We immediately care for her. She has clearly had a traumatic past, and once we hear how pitiful her existence is, we start to feel sympathy. But that sympathy is quickly swallowed up by confusion. It's been minutes, and we haven't seen anybody's face. The face is one of the best ways to make people relate to a character. It's why some of the most emotional scenes of all time are almost entirely close-ups. And when you break one of the rules that everybody is familiar with because of the Universal Cinematic Language, it tells the audience that something is wrong. It makes sense why we haven't seen Maxine's face, she's covered in a bandage. But there's no reason why we shouldn't be able to see the doctor's faces. The camera carefully moves around them, so they're always blocked out. The longer it takes before we see anything, the more suspense is built. We know that something is going to happen, and it would be pretty easy to infer what. But we don't know how or why or when. Instead, we just need to wait and watch. In an interview he had with Charlie Rose, Quentin Tarantino talked about suspense and how the most suspenseful moments come from the longest scenes. It's like the suspense is a rubber band, and I'm just stretching it, and stretching it, and stretching to see how far it can stretch. As long as that rubber band can stretch, the longer the scene can hold, the more suspenseful it is. After 18 minutes of building suspense and anticipation, we have been waiting on a revelation. This episode does almost the exact opposite of what most episodes do. Most reveal a lot to us in the first few minutes. I had hoped we were in the bedroom of an apartment on West 12th Street in New York City. However, in this case, it takes the entire episode before we learn anything. When the doctors do reveal her face, that isn't where the suspense stops. It continues to build as she tries to flee. Up to this point, everything has been built up to the revelation, but now we don't know how it will end. Instead, we just need to sit back and watch her run with no idea of what will come next. I'll wrap this video up by looking at one of my favorite episodes, a current set Owl Creek Bridge. I'll say that this episode originally started not as an episode just as a short film. It ended up winning the short film Palme d'Or at the Cannes Film Festival and eventually best short film at the Academy Awards. It was first shown to audiences at large when it aired on the Twilight Zone, however. You could argue that this isn't actually an episode, but you can't argue that this isn't a perfect example of great visual storytelling. What it does so well and so seamlessly is change from a narrative to an allegory. If you're not familiar with the story, we follow a man about to be executed after attempting to blow up a bridge during the Civil War. At me last seconds of his life, his rope breaks, he escapes, and he makes his way back home. He sees his wife, and it was all a dream. What this film does so well is blend the line between reality and fantasy, and give you glimpses into the fact that what we are seeing is fake. We hear music that we assume is non-diagetic, intended for the audience. But it really is his imagination during the last fleeting seconds of his life. These older voices are also warped, talking and acting in slow motion, a hint that time is not what it seems. Audities like this continue all the way on his journey home, until he is about to reach his wife when the journey home seems to last forever, revealing to us that everything we are seeing is fake. The story is an allegory for the Civil War itself. We see the unnecessary and excessive violence, how it rips families apart, and serves no apparent or meaningful purpose. This short film is able to achieve all of this through a mastery of the universal cinematic language. Hey everyone, I hope you enjoyed, I really love the Twilight Zone. All five seasons are available on Netflix if you haven't seen it, and want to explore one of the most iconic TV series of all time. Let me know what your favorite episode is, I'm quite fond of Nightmare at 20,000 feet, and am interested in hearing yours. If you enjoyed this video, be sure to hit that subscribe button, and if you want more I've put a few links to my last video on Rosemary's Baby, and other videos in the Lesson and Storytelling series. Thanks for watching, and I will see you next week.