Read Frame Type Film – A Conversation with Philippe Millot
A Room Full of Ideas
I enter the room; Philippe Millot is working. I ask if I may pose a few questions about the book being printed today. He is the “designer.” Philippe starts speaking right away: “I don’t know if that’s part of your questions, but—the form I gave to the book…”
I interrupt: “You mean the design?”
He replies: “I don’t like to call it like that.”
…I understand: it’s not about designing—it’s about creating. It’s not about the book; it’s about the idea that became something. Read Frame Type Film was not meant to be a book at the beginning. It started as a seminar.
From Seminar to Book
It all began when Enrico Camporesi and Catherine de Smet planned a seminar for students. It was supposed to be a seminar about typography in films—films from the Centre Pompidou’s archive. Catherine, knowing Philippe as a typography expert (once he reads this, he will say “at least, that’s how they call me”), invited him to join. His affirmative approach to life made him agree.
The seminar aimed to analyze films through the lens of typography: what is text on screen, and how does it change? Again and again, the thought emerged: “This should be a book.” They discussed, exchanged ideas—Philippe started drawing. And somehow, the book was born. But between an idea and its realization lies, as Philippe puts it, not just “the sea,” but a publisher.
The Birth of MUBI Editions
Enrico was already in touch with Davide Cazzaro, the publishing director at MUBI. Initially, Davide asked them to write an article on film and typography for MUBI’s Notebook, which they did. But as the book idea took shape, they asked if MUBI would consider publishing it. Davide asked for some time—MUBI was a streaming platform, a production company, a distributor, and a magazine publisher—but not a book publisher. Not yet. Still, the ambition was there. And so, Read Frame Type Film became the very first book of MUBI Editions. Now, just over six months later, Philippe is here in Bolzano for the printing—where it all comes to life.
A Rectangular Space of Light
Philippe’s first sketch had text positioned strangely. This “strange” positioning created an empty space in the middle—a white rectangle. The projection screen. The place where movies appear.
Calling it empty is misleading. In our offset printing world, white is where no color is applied (at least most of the time)—yet in film, white is the result of all colors combined. Light.
This idea is reflected in the book’s design:
Everything belonging inside the movie (titles, images) stays within the rectangle.
Everything outside the movie (discussions, thoughts) is placed outside.
Some pages contain only “external” information, leaving the “screen-space” empty—or rather: full of light.
Initially, the book was meant to include 40 films. In the end, it became 24—a significant number in this context. 24 frames per second.
Form Follows Content—And Vice Versa
The book’s design mirrors its essence. A black cover, a white rectangle in the center, with the title placed outside. I ask Philippe why the typography on the cover is so “simple” (in my eyes). He explains: typography is not the key element here. It helps create space—the space of the screen.
Philippe speaks passionately about typography. For him, letters are not just symbols; they are objects that shape space. “Words can be possessed, used. They have a physical presence.” He uses this example to explain his point of view to his students: “The word cheval (French for horse) is not just a word. When I say ‘cheval,’ the horse stands still. It does not have legs. If I say cheval galope (the horse gallops), the word itself conveys movement—the word galope provides the horse with moving legs (visibly speaking).”
To Philippe, typography is about shaping words—giving them form, creating a story. Words are not just ideas; they are tangible objects. He talks about fonts as if they were characters with personalities. Regarding this book, he doesn’t see the need for hundreds of typefaces. A Bodoni or a Didot will be fine: readable, elegant, striking a perfect balance between abstraction and clarity. A Didot punctuated by a few appearances by Franklin Gothic.
The Final Step: Printing and Reflection
For Philippe, the moment of printing is bittersweet. It’s the moment when materials, light and colour meet the story you’ve built up, and the two become one. And yet, this is when you realize what could have been done differently… Fortunately, you have to concentrate on other things as you watch the sheets coming off the press because, even at this stage, you can create inaccuracies. We should remember Andrea Palladio and the introduction to his Four Books of Architecture: “Beauty will result from the form and correspondence of the whole, with respect to the several parts, of the parts with regard to each other, and of these again to the whole; that the structure may appear an entire and complete body, wherein each member agrees with the other, and all necessary to compose what you intend to form.”
Philippe believes that every book must have its own character. Form arises from the situation, then extends and sometimes modifies the situation. The viewer (which precedes the reader—because a book should will first be understood in a visual and tactile way) should instinctively grasp its essence.
“The book should feel as natural as possible, as unforced as possible.”
Reproduction or Creation?
Philippe tells me a story about when Picasso visited a print shop to check the printing of a book full of his works. Picasso was confused when the printer asked him if the colors in the print were “good.”
“Of course they’re good. They’re not like my painting though—I never painted these.” For him, reproduction was meaningless. “We should create something new.”
… Philippe collects small objects—photos, pressed leaves, and other things. He sometimes leaves them in books in libraries. In doing so, he makes these books unique. He makes the owner of the book wonder if the object was supposed to be there, or if it was there by mistake—and what it meant. That’s what they also did with Read Frame Type Film: 12 small cards with 24 images are inserted randomly between the pages. This makes every copy slightly different. A small surprise for the viewer.
Philippe insists: “We need to address something to someone. We’re going to invent something, something that’s already there. You could also say, we’re going to discover something, something that was covered up.”
A Book That Should Inspire Another Book
Philippe’s aim is that Read Frame Type Film will spark new ideas, just as it was itself born from another book. To amplify the topic, to add new perspectives.