This film was made in the middle of the shakey-cam epidemic, when even otherwise mature film makes would try to find a scene or two contrived to make an excuse for waggling the camera all over the place. In this film, every shot, every frame, and every camera movement is rock-solid (even the hand-held shots), designed to make a pleasing composition where we can watch the story unfold, and to allow us, the viewer, to wander our gaze over the frame and inspect the details without being jarred out of the story by a waggling camera. Through steady frames, we are riveted to the story as it unfolds. We're bound to the characters, and we love the love we see between them. As in a rare hand full of films (I'd compare this film to Vertigo in its story-telling power), at the end of Signs I feel as if I have not been told a story, or heard a story, or seen a story. I feel that I have lived a story deeply.