On 5 April, Doha’s Museum of Islamic Art hosted a master class by revered cinematographer Darius Khondji, an event that was part of this year’s Qumra (3-9 April). The session was moderated by academic and critic Richard Peña, who opened with a note of admiration, expressing his surprise at the diversity of Khondji’s oeuvre – though not so surprised upon discovering that one of his early mentors had been none other than Jonas Mekas. The Lithuanian-US avant-garde filmmaker, Peña noted, had passed on his belief in the “infinite possibilities cinema has to offer” – a principle that would come to define Khondji’s own career.

Khondji, renowned for his richly textured visuals and innovative approach to cinematography, has long been a figure driven by curiosity and a relentless desire to explore the cinematic form. As Peña delved into the beginnings of this artistic journey, Khondji recalled that cinema had surrounded him from birth. “My father owned some theatres in Iran,” he said. “As a baby, I was in the cradle. The nanny brought me there. I remember listening to the soundtracks of Egyptian films, Italian neorealist films, mainstream European films, and Indian films.”

After moving between France and Italy and eventually settling in Paris, Khondji’s multicultural upbringing was instrumental in shaping his cinematic sensibilities. While his elder brother aspired to become a director and actor, it was Khondji’s sister and his French mother who nurtured his artistic growth. By the age of 11, he had already decided he wanted to make films, and a year later he began experimenting with 8mm shorts inspired by horror classics such as Dracula, shot in the suburbs of Paris.

“I didn’t know what a cameraman was,” he admitted, “or what cinematography even meant.” It wasn’t until he became a regular at the Cinémathèque Française that his cinephilia took hold, leading him to pursue film studies. After a detour studying languages and history, he enrolled at UCLA, only to later transfer to NYU where, as he put it, he “studied a little bit.” His time in New York in the late 1970s, however, proved to be transformative. “It was an amazing time to be there,” he recalled, highlighting how he became deeply interested in still photography, particularly minimalistic framing and lighting. “I used to photograph statues at the Louvre – it was all about framing and lighting for me.”

Khondji’s collaborative spirit emerged as a central theme throughout the masterclass. When Peña presented a clip from Shirin Neshat’s Tooba, Khondji admitted he hadn’t seen the film in a long time, but described it as deeply moving. He stressed how cinematography is an extension of the director’s vision: “I remember her words when she was describing to me what she wanted to make with the film, and I just photographed. As cinematographers, we are like musicians, playing the sound and music given by the composer.”

The conversation shifted to Khondji’s early work in music videos and commercials in the 1980s, which he described as a “land of experimentation.” He emphasised that even in commercial work, the story must lead the technique. “Technique by itself is very sterile. It’s not exciting. What excites me is when someone tells you a story and you start drawing a sketch – even if I’m not a good drawer.”

Peña showed Frozen, the iconic Madonna music video directed by Chris Cunningham. Khondji chuckled, “Sorry you had to sit through all this,” before praising Cunningham as “one of the most original people I’ve met.” Music, he noted, remains a vital component of his work: “When I don’t like the music, we may still make good images, but I’m not into it the same way.”

A highlight of the masterclass came with a discussion of Delicatessen, the cult classic co-directed by Jean-Pierre Jeunet and Marc Caro. “We created a world on a stage. It was very new for me,” Khondji explained. “The only scene shot outside was the rooftop, where we used the real moon.” Working in tight sets with wide-angle lenses – a first for him – and employing a skip bleach bypass process to achieve the film’s distinctive colour palette, Khondji spoke with pride about the craftsmanship. “We were putting silver back into the print instead of removing it. Today you can do all this digitally, yes – but it’s dangerous. With DI (digital intermediate) you can destroy a film if you’re not careful. Freedom is wonderful, but artistically, you’ve got to be cautious.”

This cautious optimism for digital cinema was echoed in his reflections on David Fincher’s Seven. Fincher, having seen only Delicatessen and some of Khondji’s commercials, invited him to shoot a Nike campaign before sending over the script for Seven. “We worked with underexposure and pushed it on the film negative. It wasn’t just pretty photography – it was storytelling.”

Discussing The Lost City of Z, Khondji detailed how he shot with natural light deep in the jungle, using an old 1980s Arriflex. “At the end, we had scenes lit only by flames. We wanted to bring a generator, but couldn’t.” 

The shift to digital, he confessed, was painful. “I didn’t want to at first.” It was only with Nicolas Winding Refn’s series Too Old to Die Young that he found joy in digital filmmaking. Refn, he recalled, promised to experiment with colour and framing. “It’s all a matter of translation – translating your world into film or digital.”

He also reflected on working with Bong Joon-ho on Okja, recalling how the crew treated the digital creature as though it were alive, and only in select scenes puppeteers handled a giant Okja to help his framing. “Little by little, they made me believe she was real,” he said. “The lead actress, Ahn Seo-hyun, made her come alive.”

The talk was rounded off by a clip from Bennie and Josh Safdie’s Uncut Gems - one of the French-Iranian master’s latest credits – and a Q&A session.