In the cinematic world, a setting, an outfit or the colour of a light can exist itself as a character within a film. The city of San Francisco bleeds through every visceral frame of David Fincher’s Zodiac (2007) just as the three respective European locations in which the films of Richard Linklater’s Before trilogy (1995-2013) [Vienna, Paris, Peloponnese] breathe life into the conversations and happenings between its two leads, giving birth to crucial context in which the film’s events unfold. Through these location choices (with a little help from Linklater’s inspired direction), dialogue is given room to flow within each location, representing a different chapter of the character’s lives, with each portion a unique (yet undoubtedly European) look and mood, natural and authentic. On the opposite end of the spectrum we are given an auteur like Wes Anderson, who is famously (or infamously, depending on your taste and tolerance for aesthetics) known for his artificial and manufactured settings, often opting for custom purpose-built sets, stop-motion animation and miniatures (many exteriors in The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014) are minis).

R.W. Fassbinder’s haunting The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant (1972) exposes the beauty of mise-en-scene in every frame; the entirety of the film’s 2 hour duration is spent closed in the bedroom of one Petra von Kant, no action taking place any further than a few metres from her bed (again, setting existing as its own character). As the tale progresses, Petra’s reliance on make-up to cover the insecurities and shortcomings of her highly stylized and material life is attended to heavily, with the change of a wig and switch of an outfit defining each five parts of the narrative. Here, Fassbinder exerts complete control over his actresses (all female cast!), Petra herself receding from a drunken buffoon into an unaccustomed reserved nature by the film’s conclusion. The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant also exists as a perfect how to guide of the technique of blocking; the emotional frailty of characters’ woefully defined by their steps, their overlapping bodies as they slump side by side on the edge of a bed.