Mikhail Krichman

Mikhail Krichman, born smack in the heart of Moscow back in ’67, is kind of a legend when it comes to cinematography. Not the loud, in-your-face type—more like the guy who can paint with light and shadows, and honestly, his camera work sticks with you way after the credits roll. People mostly know him for his collaborations with Andrey Zvyagintsev, and if you’ve ever seen "Vozvrashchenie" (that’s "The Return" for non-Russian speakers), "Leviathan," or "Nelyubov" ("Loveless"), you know exactly what I’m talking about. The vibe he brings is so distinctly Russian—cold landscapes, bleak emotions, but somehow there’s beauty in all that gloom. His style? Oh, it’s unmistakable. Krichman isn’t just pointing a camera and saying action—he’s sculpting the whole mood. You’ll get these wide, almost haunting shots of empty fields, or a cramped apartment just dripping with tension, and it’s all him. It’s never flashy or over-the-top, but somehow it feels epic, even when nothing really “big” is happening. He’s got this knack for making you feel the weight of every moment. Honestly, if you’re into movies that don’t spoon-feed you everything and leave you thinking about them for days, Krichman’s work is basically required viewing. And it’s not just about the visuals—there’s a kind of poetry to the way he frames people, the way light kind of leaks into a scene or how a storm rolling in feels like another character. The guy’s a master, and if you’re talking about the best cinematographers out there, his name’s gotta be on that list.