The scene opens with a quarter-shot with a simple, balanced composition utilizing the rule of thirds, which drives home the frank expression of the actor as he speaks to the younger man seated next to him. This first character, being placed to the right of the one he is speaking to, highlights Ebert’s idea that characters placed on the right are inherently authoritative and in control of the scene, which can be further observed in the way that the first character we see is visibly older than the second, who is on the left. A quick cut reveals this second character, a younger man, who looks unsure at what the first man says. The composition is nearly identical, but reveals a man sitting across the aisle to the rear, again older than the man on the left, enforcing the hierarchy of the scene once more. The older man continues to speak, now looking down and contemplating every word, again cutting away as the younger man smiles slightly. The man on the right speaks again, his pacing slowing down, and the anticipation of the reaction shot driving tension. The older man seems in some way defeated, and the reaction shot of the younger man drives this home. The older man picks up a glass and begins to fiddle with it before saying something and taking a drink. The younger man appears deep in thought as the older man tells him what. The older man then prompts his thought further, as a teacher to a student, the younger man looking on intently at what the older man is about to say. The younger man reacts with endearment, the older reminiscing about some far-off memory, before it slips away once more, and he returns to drink. The repeated structure of speaking and reacting reflects the roles each character plays in the film: one as the learner, the other as the teacher.
Judging by only the audio, this scene is meant to be incredibly hilarious and poetic. Pacino takes long pauses in between his words to drive home the focus of the scene and have the audience listen to what he is saying just as the younger man does. The lack of music and the silence of the surrounding environment further place Pacino’s words at the center of the scene. Pacino’s voice is low, jaded, and the lack of response notes the younger man’s pensiveness and contemplation. All of this drives home the character’s authority over the audience and the younger man.
Finally, bringing both senses together, we get a funny, depressing, and tender scene all in one. Pacino’s character is seen as an off-kilter, nurturing, father-like figure with a keen sense of humor who is imparting what he truly believes to this younger character. The cuts and pauses focusing on the young man’s thoughts and reactions to the older figure’s vulgar hilarity reinforce the power dynamics and the classic trope that audiences love. Since each of these traits was picked up without sight or sound, the scene must be effective, and I certainly found it to be. I was able to glean so much information about the characters and the film simply from a one-minute clip of them interacting with each other. That is filmmaking.
By focusing on just sight, I blocked out the dialogue and was able to learn more about the character’s meanings and expressions, whereas with just hearing, I was able to understand the intent and content of the scene. In some ways, more information was available through seeing than hearing, which tells me that the principal aspect of any film should be intentional composition.