Polish cinematographers are among the most talented people behind the camera, shaping European and global cinema. Legends like Sławomir Idziak (Black Hawk Down, Blue), Paweł Edelman (The Pianist, Cold War), Ryszard Lenczewski (Ida, Last Resort), and Janusz Kamiński (Schindler’s List, Saving Private Ryan) are known for their superb compositions and visual depth. And the new generation of cinematographers is coming your way.

Adam Suzin, born in Warsaw, studied at the prestigious Łódź Film School, where he worked on over 30 short films, documentaries, and fiction projects, earning early recognition for his visual storytelling. He has worked as a camera operator on feature films like Sweat and Broad Peak, as well as series such as Netflix’s The Woods and HBO’s Warszawianka.

Collaboration is central to Adam’s process. On Father, he worked closely with Nvotová to explore how the camera could act as both witness and participant, moving between subjective perspectives and broader observational movements to reflect the emotional temperature of each scene. In his broader work, Adam follows projects that explore emotional authenticity and visual storytelling in new ways.

From short films and festivals around the world to major series and feature collaborations, he brings an ‘emotional camera’ philosophy to every project: the camera becomes an extension of the characters, reflecting their internal states while guiding the audience through the narrative journey. In Father, which premiered at the 82nd Venice International Film Festival, Adam’s cinematography does more than capture images; it shapes the emotional world of the story.

View of the Arts: Father pulls us into Michal’s inner world through a restless, immersive camera language. From your perspective, what visual grammar did you want to create for the film, and how did you technically achieve that sense of immediacy?

Adam Suzin: The main visual concept to shoot the movie in long-takes came from director Tereza Nvotova. Our main goal was to keep the shots long to keep the audience experiencing the life of Michal and his family in real time. Particularly in this film, it was important for the first sequence of the movie, where the accident happens, and we can experience a glitch in reality, which is caused by imperfection of our memory.

Not cutting the shots emphasized the moments when a cut did appear—in this case, the cut represented a glitch in memory. Long shots focus the audience, allowing them to perceive time 1:1, and imply a specific rhythm, shaped by camera movement in accordance with the choreography of the actors. Rhythm, I believe, corresponds with human nature and is deeply rooted in our subconscious. Hand-held camera operation adds a human quality to the visuals, bringing us closer to what we perceive as real. We made sure the camera stayed with Michal as closely as possible, allowing audiences to experience his daily routine alongside him. We chose a 40mm lens as the main focal length, most accurate to the human-eye perspective, combined with a 1.66:1 aspect ratio, which allows for both wide shots and strong emotional portraits.

VOA: The camera often stays very close to the characters, sometimes only inches from their faces. How did you approach shooting such proximity without overwhelming the actors, while still keeping the audience locked inside their emotional world?

AS: Shooting with Milan and Dominika was carefully planned during rehearsals. There was a full choreography of actors’ movements, camera, and technology involved, so for the final shot, we knew exactly where the camera would be and how it would move. Because the scenes were so emotionally intense, it was crucial to anticipate any problems that could interrupt the actors’ performance.

During rehearsals for the accident scene in the parking lot, we set up an area of movement for Milan and the camera according to his trajectory. We rehearsed it only technically, without the baby doll in the car, so that in the real take, he saw her for the first time. This approach allowed the actors the freedom to fill the organized space with a full performance in the final take. I have to admit this would not have been possible without the extraordinary skill and cooperation of Milan and Dominika. There were still scenes where the camera had to react in real time, especially when shooting with small children. This kind of reactive camera presence was crucial to create authenticity and let the audience experience the film as if they were witnessing it themselves

VOA: Your collaboration with Tereza Nvotová feels absolutely central to the film’s impact. Can you talk about the kind of conversations you had with her during prep and on set – and how those exchanges shaped the emotional tone of the cinematography?

AS: After the first reading and conversation with Tereza, I understood that we were going to search for a visual style that was more than just a camera following the action, like in Victoria or Boiling Point. As we went through the script and created the shot list, it became clear that there would be multiple perspectives, each characterizing different types of movement and serving different functions. In the script, there was already a shot of the camera exiting the courthouse through a window. We discussed who the camera is, and how it should move and behave according to the emotional temperature and dynamics of each scene.

Our main perspective was always going to be a hand-held camera, acting as a “witness” to Michal’s and Dominika’s lives. This viewpoint was also often used subjectively: during a single take, we could dynamically shift to Michal’s point of view, seeing directly through his eyes.

As the story progresses and the emotional tone becomes heavier, we felt the camera needed some distance from the characters to give the audience room to breathe and avoid being overwhelmed by the tragedy. Slow, “floating” camera movements corresponded with the emotional temperature of the scenes, and combined with lighting, reflected the characters’ inner states.

Because the film explores memory and the human mind, we knew we had to go beyond what the eye naturally perceives and push for a perspective that extended Michal’s mental state. We looked to films like Enter the Void and Irreversible for inspiration, aiming to create an immersive camera that lets the audience experience the story from the inside. We referenced out-of-body phenomena, in which a person perceives the world from outside their physical body. Following this idea, in the parking lot scene when Michal sees his dead daughter in the car, the camera detaches from his body, as if trying to escape the traumatic moment. Using long shots gave us the flexibility to dynamically shift perspectives and connect them with Michal’s consciousness.

This process was very on-the-go, with many decisions made during location scouting, as the spaces often limited timing and mise-en-scène. We sketched all camera movements, timed car travels, planned invisible cuts to connect sequences, and created numerous previses and 3D animatics to visualize camera movement. Every sequence demanded a different technical approach, which we tested thoroughly before shooting.

VOA: The visual style of Father is intimate, yet it never feels like it aestheticises pain. How did you strike the balance between creating those images and preserving the raw honesty of the story?

AS: It was important for us that the camera have empathy for the characters. Being with them and reacting as they react brings the audience inside their world. When it came to depicting dead children, we discussed how much of the girl’s wounds to show when Michal sees her for the first time in the parking lot. We didn’t want to shock the audience with brutality or overwhelm them with naturalism, so we decided to show just a part of her burned hand for half a second.

This empathetic approach also guided the camera movement. For example, in the courthouse scene, when Michal is faced with photos of his daughter’s autopsy, the camera observes the pictures but speeds up as if it doesn’t want to watch them. The camera behaves as his mind wants to escape the situation. Together with Tereza, we aimed to make this part immersive, and with editor Nikodem Chabior and composer Pijoni, we watched the sequence edited in one piece with music, so we could make crucial decisions about the rhythm of the camera on set.

VOA: You studied at the prestigious Łódź Film School, known for shaping generations of cinematographers and filmmakers. How has that education influenced your approach to visual storytelling?

AS: Łódź Film School teaches dramatic storytelling, focusing on character-driven drama in fiction while also offering documentary filmmaking, which brings students closer to reality and human stories. During my studies, I shot many documentaries, which shaped me as a cinematographer searching for truth in both story and visuals. A strong inspiration was Jolanta Dylewska, who taught us “Visual Dramaturgy,” where we analysed films and constantly asked ourselves, “Who is the camera?” This approach completely changed my perspective on cinematography. Classes with Ryszard Lenczewski and his collaborations with Paweł Pawlikowski on films like Summer of Love and Last Resort were also highly influential, particularly for hand-held camera movement, which I later explored in my Master’s thesis.

Another major influence was my collaborations with directors. In my third year, I remember seeing Victoria, which premiered at the Berlinale. Together with director Marta Prus, we were so inspired that we decided to shoot her diploma film Hot and Cold in a 30-minute single long take – a style that had never been attempted in film school before. That experience prepared me for shooting Father, as I was already familiar with this approach. Collaborating with director Dawid Bodzak on short films like Tremors and Crocodile was also crucial, allowing me to explore new languages of visual storytelling.

VOA: Your work here demands a kind of invisible presence – the camera feels like an extension of the characters rather than an observer. Is this a philosophy you consciously pursue in your cinematography, or did it grow naturally from the demands of this particular story?

AS: In realistic films that aim to immerse the audience in a fictional world, the camera needs to be invisible; otherwise, viewers will sense the operator’s presence, and the magic disappears – especially in long takes, where the camera is continuously present. I call this approach an “emotional camera,” referring to a strong connection between the actor and the camera operator. In this case, the camera almost becomes one of the actors, fully aligned with their mentality. It not only follows the actor’s movements but also acts as a mediator between the actor’s emotions and those of the audience. The operator’s interpretation of the actors’ emotions brings empathy, connecting viewers directly with their experience.

Because of the organic nature of the hand-held camera, operated by the human body, the operator can react in real time using personal intuition, adding a human quality to the visuals. This approach is close to me, as I developed it through my earlier work and documentary shooting. Father provided a perfect opportunity to explore it further and go beyond simply following the action. I believe every story needs its own visual language, tailored to its narrative. For me, it always comes down to the question: “Who is the camera?” Seeking that answer shapes the visual style and guides filmmakers in where to place the camera and how it should – or shouldn’t – move.

VOA: As a cinematographer, what kind of cinema attracts you the most? Do you find yourself drawn to projects that are emotionally raw, like Father, or do you enjoy exploring different visual and narrative worlds?

AS: Shooting Father was a technical challenge but also an emotional one, where I needed to dive into the character’s experience, and I often found myself in situations of looking through the viewfinder with wet eyes. I’m drawn to projects where I can emphasize the characters and where I see some kind of truth that makes the story worth telling. This is a seed from which different visual languages can grow. 

Written and interviewed by Maggie Gogler

Featured image courtesy of Patryk Kubat

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