Bentham's prison architecture — guard sees all prisoners, none see the guard. Foucault's metaphor for surveillance and control. In cinema: asymmetrical gaze without reciprocal visibility.
In a cinematic context, the panopticon functions differently than the architectural metaphor might suggest—it's not about prisons, but about the structure of the gaze itself. The viewer sits in the dark, observing a world on screen that does not see them. This asymmetrical viewing position is the foundation of classical cinema. The camera occupies a point from which it captures everything, while the filmed subjects exist in their fictional reality—unaware of the apparatus observing them. This creates a power imbalance that Foucault later applied to society and control.
In practical filmmaking, the panopticon principle manifests concretely in camera work and editing. An exterior shot without an established viewpoint—the camera seemingly floats above the scene, documenting without a visible perspective—creates precisely this panoptic structure. The viewer becomes the invisible guard. This is particularly evident in drone shots or extreme high angles: the bird's-eye view eliminates any exchange of glances, any counter-movement. Characters cannot look back into the apparatus; they do not know they are being observed. This is cinematic control in the literal sense.
It becomes interesting when directors consciously work against this panoptic structure. A direct look into the camera destroys the panopticon—the character acknowledges the viewer, returns the gaze, and the asymmetry collapses. Godard and Straub/Huillet systematically used this to prevent unobserved watching. Conversely, editing rhythms and montage logic (Establishing Shot → Detail → Reverse Shot) reinforce the panoptic system: we always know where we are, mentally control the space, but remain invisible.
This has consequences for lighting: films that reinforce the panopticon principle often work with diffuse illumination without visible shadow dramaturgy. The lighting must not reveal its source—it appears omniscient, present everywhere. This is subtly disturbing and creates the tension that horror and thrillers exploit. The camera as an invisible, almighty observer—this is not aesthetics, it is control technology in cinematic format.