Great Scott! What Back to the Future Taught Me About Filmmaking
As a movie lover since childhood, I’ve come to appreciate how classic films don’t just entertain—they teach you how to see. Over time, this love for cinema has started to shape my photography and filmmaking more directly. That’s why on this blog, you’ll sometimes find reflections that merge both worlds: iconic films and the craft of visual storytelling.
Some of these classics—like Back to the Future—are more than just nostalgic comfort. They’re perfectly constructed. Every frame serves a purpose. There’s no fluff. No filler. Just precise visual storytelling at its best. If I had the chance, I would’ve loved to step back in time and be on set during the making of these masterpieces, watching them unfold on real film with a team that knew exactly what they were creating.
Today marks 40 years since Back to the Future (1985) hit theaters. As a kid, I didn’t think much about framing or light. I just knew it felt like magic. The hoverboards, the DeLorean, the lightning strike at Hill Valley—every scene was burned into memory, not just because of the story, but because of how it looked and felt.
Now, all these years later, I find myself behind a camera—not chasing 88 mph, but chasing moments that feel just as electric.
Time Travel and Visual Style
If you strip away the time travel plot and the nostalgia, Back to the Future is a masterclass in visual storytelling. Dean Cundey’s cinematography was bold, confident, and layered. Watch it again, and notice how often light is used not just for mood, but to propel the story forward. That final stormy sequence? It’s not just spectacle—it’s shot with the same intention I now try to bring to my wildlife work: drama, urgency, clarity.
There’s even something poetic in the way the film plays with time. Because in a sense, that’s what photography and filmmaking do too. You freeze a fraction of a second—or stretch time out—to make people feel something. You’re not just documenting. You’re bending time to your will.
Wildlife Filmmaking Is a Time Machine Too
Every time I look through a lens in the field, I’m aware of how fast things move. A bird catching a fish is gone in a blink. A lion’s stare lasts maybe five seconds before it turns. There’s no second take.
But with the right frame, the right light, and a bit of instinct, you can freeze those moments—just like a flux capacitor in the wild.
Finding My Own DeLorean
I won’t pretend a Sony Burano is as cool as a DeLorean (well, maybe…). But I will say this: the tools we carry change the way we see the world. As I step deeper into filmmaking, I’m not just collecting gear—I’m building my own time machine. Every frame I shoot becomes part of a record. Not of Hill Valley, but of the natural world as it is—before it changes, or disappears altogether.
A Final Note to My Younger Self
If you’re out there, sitting on the living room floor watching Back to the Future for the tenth time, wondering why it feels so good—you’re not just a fan. You’re already a filmmaker. You just don’t know it yet.
So here’s to 40 years of Back to the Future. And here’s to making images that stand the test of time.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go watch Back to The Future for the—well, I’ve honestly lost count. I’m not sure how many times I’ve watched this masterpiece. Although, come to think of it… I don’t think I’ve seen it in 4K yet. That needs to be fixed tonight.