JOHN BAILEY, ASC (1942-2023)

            When he passed away last week, John Bailey was lionized as a great cinematographer, dedicated teacher, passionate supporter of world cinema and an inspiring leader at both the ASC and the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.  All of that is true.  But what seems to have been missed in the commentary was an understanding of the type of person he was.

            Bailey and I were not close friends, but we shared much more than a casual acquaintanceship.  I first became aware of him through a c.1980 article in Andy Warhol’s Interview magazine.  It featured a full-page photo of him casually leaning against an Olive Avenue parking meter, across from what was then called the Burbank Studio.  He projected an air of competence and intelligence that I instantly connected with .  When we finally met a decade later over lunch at Panavision in Woodland Hills, he lived up to my calculations.  I was early in my career and his advice and encouragement had a great influence over how I conducted myself through the coming years.  Our chat got off to a lively start when he swatted aside my questions about underexposure.  “That’s the last thing you should be thinking about,” he said, or words to that effect.  And he was right.  At the time, he was the first cinematographer I’d met who was more concerned with why we did things than how we did them.  I owe him a huge debt for opening that perspective to me.

            Flash forward to 2003 and I’m starting my first term as president of the ASC, heading a table populated not just by Bailey, but by fellow giants George Dibie, William Fraker, Victor Kemper, Laszlo Kovacs, Woody Omens, Owen Roizman, Haskell Wexler and Vilmos Zsigmond.  It was an intimidating group, to say the least.  But Bailey was a staunch supporter who helped me find my footing in the gentlest of ways.  That our opinions eventually diverged on certain issues never affected our relationship.  Despite any friction that may have transpired inside the boardroom, outside, his temperament was always friendly, polite and respectful.  It’s hard to imagine someone behaving that way in today’s society, but his example is something everyone should aspire to.  Even when correcting my fractured pronunciations of obscure French film titles, he did it with a twinkle rather than a sting.

            I had a chance to return the sentiment in some measure during a several-week long controversy prior to the 2019 Academy Awards.  The facts aren’t worth recounting but are easy to find; suffice it to say that for the public they were politically re-purposed and mischaracterized.  Through no fault of his own, Bailey endured an unjust and vindictive siege from every corner of the industry.  Naturally, the biggest mouths were the least informed.  What was most hurtful were the opinions expressed by our camera-colleagues, many of whom reflexively jumped on the bandwagon of idiots.  He sounded heartbroken when I called with a word of encouragement, but by the end of the conversation we were both laughing at the insanity of it all.

            I spoke to Bailey for the final time on Halloween.  I’m glad I did.  He had been popping into mind intermittently for several weeks and rather than ignoring the signals, for once I took action before it was too late.  The dialogue was animated; he was in good spirits and fully engaged with the issues of the moment.  I knew he was ill, but was nonetheless shocked when his death was announced so shortly thereafter.

            I will miss him and send condolences to his lovely wife, the film editor Carol Littleton, who is slated to receive an Honorary Oscar on January 9. Beside presenting the statuette at that time, the Academy would be prudent to recognize Bailey in the way he deserves, as well.