How to Become a Better Filmmaker by Studying Fine Art

Let's look at 22 examples of directors visually referencing paintings and consider what you can learn from their example

Eight years ago, I sent a mood book to some Italian producers with whom I was developing a TV series. It was nearly 100 pages in length, filled with more than 200 images. The images, I hoped, would be experienced as a kind of tone poem of opium-laced dreams, twisted beauty, and gothic horror. A sort of opera of madness, you might even say. The producers — whom I adore (and not just because they’ve plied me with so much mozzarella and wine in my life) — went quiet. I had impressed them so much with my take on this world, I quickly began to worry I had overstepped. Had I revealed myself to be a fool? Were they frantically trying to work out how to fire me from the project I hadn’t even begun to write yet?

After a week, I finally heard back from them. They wanted to schedule a phone call, but offered no context about what we would be discussing. Oh shit, this was not going to be a good conversation.

When we got on the phone, they admitted that they were indeed unsure what to make of my opera of madness, filled as it was with not just images from film history — but art history as well. I knew it, I thought; it was too over the top. I hadn’t even used much text, trusting the feeling — the vibe — the images would create in a viewer would be adequate.

Because of their admitted concern, the producers explained that they had decided to confer with the other producer on the project to get his thoughts. This producer was a legend, not just in his native Italy, but in international cinema, too. In fact, he’s one of the most respected filmmaker in horror history — Dario Argento, director of such classics as (in inglese; mi dispiace per i miei lettori italiani) The Bird with the Crystal Plumage (1970), Deep Red (1975) Supsiria (1977), Inferno (1980), and Tenebrae (1982).

“Wh-What did Dario think?” I asked.

I’d worked with a few directors I truly admired before, but I’d never had one of them look at anything other than my scripts. How had I not considered these producers might share my foolhardy attempt at a professional mood book with the world-famous filmmaker I specifically taken this project for the chance to work with?

“We didn’t actually speak with him about it,” they said, or some variation of this. “We emailed it to him. He emailed us back an hour later.” A smile and a wink bubbled up through their lovely accent then. All the email said was, ‘Leave him alone.’”

“Leave him alone.”

Dario fucking Argento, the guy who made Suspiria, had recognized what I was doing. I wasn’t a fool. The years I’d spent studying art — from film/TV and literature, to fine art and music (including his beloved opera) — had paid off because my mood book had spoken to him on a visual and, most importantly, emotional level.

Hey, maybe I was a real filmmaker after all.

The point of this anecdote is this: you cannot become a master of any creative medium without studying other mediums. If you’re a screenwriter, study fine art. If you’re a fine artist, study music. If you’re a musician, study fiction. And so on and so forth until your creative tool box is probably more interesting than the art work you actually create.

There is joy to be found in this process, too — not just labor — I assure you.

Besides, it’s not as if all the artists we lionize aren’t doing exactly that, too. Take directors who regularly draw influence from the fine arts when bringing their films to life (though, to be fair, I suspect cinematographers are often responsible for some of these ideas, too). They use paintings to influence the tone and mood of their work, but sometimes even to compose shots and scenes. This borrowed imagery is part of a long intertextual conversation art works have been having with each other and their viewers for centuries.

To demonstrate what I mean by this — and because many of my readers here have asked me to do this after I provided examples in Substack’s Notes — I have compiled 22 examples of films that directly reference fine art. To make sure my free subscribers can get something valuable out of this, too, I’ve left twelve of them available to anyone who opens this article. However, the other ten are an exclusive treat for 5AM StoryTalk’s paid subscribers. If you have the resources to become one yourself, you will not only get to check these out, but you’ll also help me keep spending as much time as I do discussing the arts with you via articles, Notes, Chats, and the 5AM StoryTalk Podcast.

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When perusing these images, I suggest doing so in one of two ways: first tap on the piece of fine art first to enlarge it and then tap the arrow to investigate its cinematic offspring; or, begin be enlarging the film image, then move backward to better understand its inspiration in the fine arts.

The Kiss (1907/1908) by Gustav Klimt and Shutter Island (2010) directed by Martin Scorsese

The Empire of Light (1954) by René Magritte and The Exorcist (1973) directed by William Friedkin

Ophelia (1851–52) by John Everett Millais and Melancholia (2011) directed by Lars von Trier

I’ve written about John Everett Millais’s Ophelia before, which you can read here. It’s one of my favorite paintings.

Lady Macbeth (1890) by Gustave Moreau and Carrie (1976) directed by Brian De Palma

Witches' Flight (1797–98) by Francisco Goya and The Witch (2015) directed by David Eggers

…and Witches' Sabbath (1797–1798) by Francisco Goya and The Witch (2015) directed by David Eggers

Wanderer above the Sea of Fog (1818) by Caspar David Friedrich and Nosferatu (2024) directed by Robert Eggers

I admit, I wouldn’t have pegged this image from Nosferatu as inspired by Wanderer above the Sea, but Robert Eggers has discussed the reference himself, so there you go. Maybe you see it better than I do. I think it’s a good example of what I’m talking about here, though - whether we see it or not, it informed Eggers construction of the shot.

American Gothic (1930) by Grant Wood and The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975) directed by Jim Sharman

American Gothic does more than just get visually referenced in Rocky Horror Picture Show. It also makes an appearance.

Bonaparte Crossing the Alps (1800-1803) by Jacques-Louis David and Marie Antoinette (2006) directed by Sofia Coppola

House by the Railroad (1925) by Edward Hopper and Psycho (1960) directed by Alfred Hitchcock

The Swing by Jean-Honoré Fragonard (around 1767–8 and Frozen (2013) directed by Chris Buck and Jennifer Lee

Prisoners' Round (after Gustave Doré) (1890) by Vincent van Gogh and A Clockwork Orange (1971) directed by Stanley Kubrick

Note to 5AM StoryTalk’s free subscribers: If you upgrade now, there’s more Van Gogh, Magritte, Hopper, and Goya references to come (amongst others). If you enjoy Dario Argento’s work as much as I do, you’ll also likely appreciate the parallels I draw between his films and paintings.