Being a Cinematographer Means So Much More Than Hitting Record

Being a Cinematographer Means So Much More Than Hitting Record

Titles can be confusing. I get that. But when it comes to videographer and cinematographer there definitely is a difference.

If you want someone to record a hockey game, you’ll most likely hire a videographer. Doing videography is not what I do at WorkCabin Films.

Being a cinematographer is not about showing up, pressing a button, and pointing a camera. That’s the most surface-level, mechanical part of the job. It’s something virtually anyone can do with a few minutes of practice. What separates a cinematographer from someone who simply operates a camera is a deep, foundational understanding of visual storytelling. It’s about being a narrative architect, not just a technician.

As a cinematographer, I don’t just capture images. I help shape the story. Every frame I compose, every decision about lens choice, lighting, movement, depth, and tone… it’s all intentional and serves a purpose. And that purpose is to elevate the story, to pull the viewer in, evoke emotion, and sometimes even say things without a single line of dialogue. That’s the kind of storytelling you don’t get by simply pushing a button and recording what’s happening.

Too often, people confuse the term videographer with cinematographer. And sure, there’s some overlap in the toolkit. We both use cameras, shoot footage, and often edit. But the philosophy is vastly different. A videographer often focuses on coverage, making sure the event or scene is recorded. A cinematographer, especially one seasoned in narrative or documentary work, focuses on craft, on how that coverage emotionally resonates. We sculpt light, use negative fill to shape a mood, design camera movements that feel like choreography, and understand how color science impacts perception.

In my work, especially in conservation filmmaking, I’m not just documenting what I see. I’m interpreting it. A foggy morning in an old-growth forest isn’t just something to film because it’s pretty. It’s a chance to visually represent solitude, resilience, and fragility. The decision to shoot handheld in the undergrowth versus locked-off on sticks from a distance isn’t random; it’s a storytelling choice. It says something about proximity, intimacy, and perspective. That’s the kind of nuance a seasoned cinematographer brings to the table.

And let’s be honest: this level of intentionality doesn’t come overnight. It comes from years of working on sets, absorbing lighting setups, studying the greats, making mistakes, learning how different lenses bend space, how shadows can build tension, and how subtle camera movement can either breathe life into a moment or completely distract from it.

So, when someone says, “Oh, you just press record,” I smile. Because what I actually do is collaborate with directors, shape scenes with light and texture, control emotion with composition, and help bring the soul of a story to life. That’s the art of cinematography.

And trust me: it’s never just pressing a button.

Gregg McLachlan
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