When the chance to snap a perfect photo of something reveals itself, a sense of panic often flutters in the mind of whoever takes notice. Hastily, a phone is whipped out, picture settings are fumbled through, and viewing angles are scoped.

This is all done in an effort to preserve the beauty of a living image — to capture that skyline before the sunset’s amber glow fades into twilight, or snap the snazzy sports car before it races off into the distance, or to get a shot of that glistening mountain of ice cream before it starts to melt.

Not too long ago, leisure cameras were only dug out for significant events — like vacations and graduations — but with image capture devices so easily accessible now, any visual frame of someone’s day can be deemed picture worthy.

“Kodak moments,” as they were once called, have been whittled down to ordinary moments — more frequent, and therefore not as special.
One could feasibly document each passing day of their life if they felt an inclination to do so.

The recent movie “Chronicle” takes a fresh look at this trend.
It is primarily an action flick about three ordinary high school students who stumble into superpowers, but it involves an interesting subplot about the protagonist, Andrew Detmer, and his sudden urge to film as much of his life as he can.

As Andrew trudges down the corridors of his school and along the sidewalks of his dingy suburban town, his camera is always dragged with him (until he develops the power of telekinesis, and then it just hovers with him).

Andrew is an archetypal loner, depressed and antisocial, who keeps his digital lens trained on the misery of his everyday life in isolation.

The movie uses a familiar cinematic trick in which the eye of Andrew’s camera also serves as the eye for the audience.

This way, viewers are given a much more intimate vantage point and are a tangible object inside the story — a passive friend, one who sees all but says nothing.

Never at any point in the movie is there a definitive answer as to why Andrew is so desperate to film his life, but it is clear that he won’t let up, and it’s his stubbornness that partially contributes to his doom.

Using Andrew as an example, the film reflects a real life dissonance between urge and understanding.

There’s a growing obsession many people have with producing digital diaries and digital profiles online, stuffing them with daily images and videos of personal experiences.

It’s as if we’ve suddenly awakened to the possibility of recreating the entire world around us and putting it online, but there doesn’t seem to be a clear rationale behind it.

That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but “Chronicle” suggests it might be worth pausing to consider the consequences of leaping recklessly beyond a mysterious frontier.

Andrew’s wish to record every detail of his day alienates him from those who try to bond with him. They find his camera to be weird, obtrusive and disrespectful, but mostly insincere.

Hiding behind the camera prevents Andrew from immersing himself in the ebb and flow of his social atmosphere. It becomes a barrier, which only increases his emotional detachment.

In reality, there’s no particular reason why operating a camera should subtract emotion from an experience, but it does seem to happen from time to time — particularly in extreme circumstances.

Viral YouTube videos that involve situations spiraling out of control often have a cameraman or others nearby who seem uncomfortably indifferent to the disaster happening before them.

Instead, they are more concerned with capturing the footage.

Our culture is already constantly accused of being indifferent to calamity, and it almost appears as if filming or photographing during these heightened moments of life is a convenient way to make that indifference become natural — to make it seem less callous.

Rarely is it taken to the clichéd extreme where a camera operator would choose to film rather than provide vital aid.

It’s not about filming instead of assisting, but possibly about filming instead of feeling, which could be just as much of a worry.