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Prescriptions for Success
If, as the media philosopher Marshall McLuhan once observed, Gutenberg made everyone a reader and Xerox made everyone a publisher, does Premiere Pro make everyone an editor?1 Today, powerful software such as Adobe’s Premiere Pro and Avid Media Composer rule the filmmaking world. Anyone with a couple hundred dollars, a computer, and an idea can become an editor. Or can they?
If you put 100 monkeys in a room with an Avid, it is unlikely they would eventually edit the great American movie. Though anyone can do it, not everyone can do it well; following the rules and knowing how to operate the software are not enough. Despite the accessibility of equipment and user forums that address technical issues or describe such basic editing concepts as matching action, preserving continuity, and maintaining eyelines, many films fail. Yet often the intervention of an experienced editor with an intuitive sense of story and structure—a film doctor—can make the difference between a healthy movie and one that flatlines. Within the pages of this book are principles and insights to help the filmmaker achieve this goal.
► The Film Doctor
What is a film doctor? Simply put, the film doctor is the person who promotes the health of the film. At times he or she saves its life. Film doctoring involves many considerations. It can be as subtle as intercutting parallel stories rather than letting one play out fully before introducing the other. It can require taking the movie’s ending and splicing it to the beginning. Or it can involve completely redesigning the ending. All this demands a solid understanding of story, genre, and pacing. The riveting, suspensefully edited climax of the hit thriller Fatal Attraction (1987) replaced a previous diminuendo conclusion, tediously played out on the close-up of an audio tape that fortunately ended up on the cutting room floor.
Film doctoring can be as simple and unexpected as the projectionist neglecting to thread up the first reel of Lost Horizon (1937) during a preview screening. When the film played better before the unsuspecting audience, the studio realized that the first 10 minutes were superfluous and cut them out.
Or film doctoring can involve an editor replacing the soundtrack with a new song: “Do Not Forsake Me, Oh My Darling,” played throughout a dynamically edited and failing western that became the classic High Noon (1952).
The metaphor of film doctor serves as an abbreviated way to examine situations that can occur in any editing room on every film, from an indie movie produced for a few hundred dollars to a studio blockbuster weighing in at well over $300 million. Except for the level of politics, the sophistication of the technology, and the number of accountants, the two are surprisingly similar. Like twins who were separated at birth, the differences reside in the inherited traits and environmental influences—nature and nurture—afforded to each.
Strong Medicine
The difference between a cut that is not working and one that works is striking. While time and polish may burnish a film’s rough edges or improve a performance, an edit in the hands of an editor with a strong point of view and the means to fulfill it can give the appearance of a completely different film. This is particularly true in the documentary genre where the editor often shapes the movie from haphazard or unscripted footage. In the case of a fictional narrative, the recut film appears as if new footage has magically materialized in the hands of the film doctor, that a life has flourished inside the narrative, and that energy has flowed into the characters. Just as a healer’s good hands, insight, and compassion can alter the patient’s prognosis, so too the touch of an accomplished editor can change the course of a film.
This assurance extends to the audience, the most important recipient of the new vigor. The viewer relaxes and gives himself over to the images before him. Seeing a good film is like falling in love. One’s resistances break down, an innocence and vulnerability blossom, and, in this attitude of surrender, the ego’s constant chatter and self-protectiveness ease to allow something new.
For the most part, films are entertainment, something that takes us away from ourselves. But the really good ones compel us to examine our lives, our goals, and our values. The filmmaker who can look into herself and rally a unique approach, rather than the obvious or banal solutions that come from dealing with the surface, stands a chance of affecting the consciousness of the time.
Viewed as a puzzle or labyrinth, the filmmaking process can best be solved by the strategy employed in attacking any maze: retrace your steps. During the editing process, all the foibles, failings, and virtues of the script and production become clear. If one views the filmmaking experience as a three-step translation—from the writer’s idea to a script, from the script to dailies, and from dailies to final edit—it becomes clear where elements break down. Something is often lost in translation. To be a good film doctor, one must not only address the patient’s ailments but, even better, suggest modes of prevention.
There are strategies for success but no guarantees. Unlike the real world of medicine, filmmaking is not a science. Yet, like medicine, it requires intelligence, preparation, and sometimes great leaps of faith. And time is always of the essence. When viewing the dailies, mistakes in production become clear. When viewing the first cut, mistakes in the script become clear. When viewing the final cut, mistakes in the editing become clear. It is easy to be an armchair quarterback in the comfort of the editing room. One thinks of the assistant who mumbles, “The script sucks, the director’s an idiot, the movie’s a disaster; I could’ve done it better,” to paraphrase a cartoon found in some editing rooms and projection booths. But probably at the time of production, considering the budget and time constraints, the footage may be the best it could have been. Ultimately, everything ends up on the editing bench, and it is the editor’s job to make everyone else look good, even at the expense of the perfect cut. In order to achieve this, some shots may not match, some continuity may waver, some choices may appear odd, but if everyone looks good and the film works, the editor has created the perfect cut.
The Cut
Electronic nonlinear editing has introduced many new terms to the editing vernacular. Some older terms remain, occasionally altered in meaning. What is referred to as a sequence used to be a cut. Cut also means the physical or, in current use, virtual separation of one section of media from another. Geographically, the place where one shot is joined to another is at the cut. The physical act of joining the two was known as splicing.
The Editor
If the director and writer are the film’s parents, the editor is the pediatrician. In many cases the editor has been doing her job a lot longer than either of the others. Like a doctor, she has gained vast knowledge, diagnosed many ailments, and learned how to remain objective while still caring deeply for her charges. And she probably spends long hours doing it.
The best editors tend to have a depth of life experience. Their activities extend past the walls of the editing room and even beyond film culture. They have something fresh to bring to the work. They may have lived in other countries or among other cultures. They look outside themselves toward nature and the arts. They look inside themselves to find commonality with all humankind. They read books, listen to music, attend theater performances. They develop a strong sense of story and structure, both current and ancient. And, through all this, the editor must maintain a childlike sensitivity and naïveté.
Case Study
In my conversations with award-winning editor Arthur Schmidt (Forrest Gump, The Birdcage, Back to the Future, Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl), I was surprised to hear him refer to himself as “naïve.” How unusual to hear a man of such knowledge and sophistication—a connoisseur of opera, music, and fine food—refer to himself as naïve. Yet that naïveté is the crux of film editing. It gives the editor the chance to discover treasures, to ask questions, and to conjure answers that will erase confusion for the audience. The editor approaches the film with the naïveté that mirrors the audience’s shared innocence that envelops them as the lights dim. Through answering the questions for himself, the editor supplies the answers for his audience, allowing them the great joy of a communal, uninterrupted dream. That is why many editors spend as little time on the set as possible. They want to avoid preconceptions. As Richard Pearson (The Bourne Supremacy, Quantum of Solace, Justice League) told me, “I don’t usually like to hang out on the set. I don’t want to know how long it took to set up that Steadicam shot. Then I’d feel obligated to use it.”2
► Principles of Filmic Medicine
To a film doctor, the basic medical disciplines apply: cardiology, genetics, anatomy, psychiatry, and, ultimately, surgery. Along the way, proficient use of the instruments and a good bedside manner help everything run smoother. In the following chapters we will explore each discipline of the editor’s craft.
Cardiology
As the heart gives the body its pulse, then the pace and rhythm achieved by good editing give a film its heart. This is accomplished through the editor’s three main choices: the selection of shots, the length of shots, and the placement of shots. The selection of shots influences the scene’s performance, focus, and point of view. The length and position of shots influences the subtext, the pacing, and the rhythm of a scene and consequently the overall film. A shot can appear on the screen for several frames or, in the case of the opening sequence of La La Land (2016), for the full length of a 35 mm film roll.
In the case of Alfred Hitchcock’s classic Rope (1948), or the more recent Russian Ark (2002), one shot runs the duration of the entire film. But those are exceptions. Usually it is necessary to cut and to cut often.
Doctor’s Note
Rope was intended as an experiment in non-editing. In actual practice, Rope incorporated hidden splices to allow transitions from one film roll to another, since 35 mm motion picture film is supplied on 1000-foot rolls that, running at 24 frames per second (fps) or 90 feet per minute, last only 11 minutes. Every 11 minutes or less, depending on thread-up waste, a changeover had to be choreographed into the on-screen action. At that point an actor would back up toward the camera, obscuring the scene so the frame went completely black. The cinematographer then changed the film roll. The new roll began with the actor stepping away from the camera. A splice joined the two black frames. Russian Ark, on the other hand, used the entire length of a specially modified high-definition videocassette.
Genetics
In life there are certain traits that are inherent in our makeup, our heredity. In medicine such conditions as diabetes, some cancers, and some heart disorders are a product of genetics. In the editing room the editor also encounters inherited conditions. These begin with the script. Issues of motivation, character arcs, story structure, genre expectation, beginnings, and endings confront the editor as she tries to create a coherent and compelling movie from a compromised script.
Anatomy
Structural anatomy is an offshoot of the inherited conditions of the script. Some of us are taller, some shorter, some wider, and some leaner. The editor’s job is to build a full, living being starting from a skeleton. But first he has to get the bones right.
Case Study
In my classes at USC, I often begin the course by handing each student a piece from a giant jigsaw puzzle. The puzzle depicts a fire engine with enthusiastic firefighters and their Dalmatian. The students’ job is to work collaboratively over a large table to build the puzzle within the deadline, usually one minute. Many presume this exercise’s analogy to film editing before I even point it out. But all are surprised to discover that one of the pieces is missing. Unknown to them, I have hidden the missing piece behind the podium. They look for the errant element, and when everyone shakes his and her head, they realize they are stuck without the final piece. Now their mission has changed. They have to figure out exactly what the missing piece should look like. Occasionally I even throw in some pieces from another puzzle which they must discard.
Some students realize that the puzzle’s box top, with its picture of the completed puzzle, is analogous to the script and will help them decipher the challenge. Others use their imagination. Either way, after some discussion, they conclude that the missing piece would consist of a firefighter’s hand, part of the ladder, and some textured metal from the fire engine’s flank. This kind of investigation mirrors the editor’s job. Any editor can put together a movie’s puzzle pieces, but only innovative and well-trained editors can successfully fill in the gaps to enhance a film’s story, characters, and rhythm.
Psychiatry
The practice of psychiatry is concerned generally with character and mood disorders. In the editing room the film doctor must possess a profound understanding of character and the way that characters reveal themselves through dialogue, subtext, response to other characters, and reactions to the tensions placed on them by the story’s obstacles. When dialogue is not working, when it sounds clumsy, arbitrary, forced, or unrealistic, it may indicate a faulty upbringing: the script. But there is another influence as well—performance. This, like the director’s vision, overlays the script. Bad acting and poorly conceived directing will handicap a previously healthy story. Judicious editing can enhance performance by refining timing, altering gesture, and adding subtext.
Surgery
When all else fails, there is always surgery. What goes and what stays form the crux of the editing process. A classic joke quotes Michelangelo who, when asked how to sculpt a horse from a marble slab, replied, “Simple—chip away everything that is not a horse.”
Similarly, in filmmaking, once the editor has removed every line of dialogue, every action, every scene that does not absolutely pertain to the story, he is left with the best possible movie. The trick is knowing where and when to cut. Like the New Yorker cartoon in which a group of surgeons huddle over an anesthetized patient and one says, “Let’s just start cutting and see what we end up with,” this is as ill-advised in filmmaking as it is in medicine (Figure 1.1).
Essentially, one must have an orientation to the scene, the film, and the patient. It is not enough to know how to splice images together. Just understanding the basic rules of matching action, establishing eyelines, preserving continuity, and so on will not suffice to create a compelling motion picture. Constant alteration is the nature of editing, but those changes are not arbitrary. Neither is surgery. Like surgeons, no two editors are alike. There will be as many versions of a scene as there are editors to cut it. Ultimately, however, there are approaches that work and those that don’t.
Instruments
Along with all these disciplines come the tools—the scalpels, forceps, and hemostats—that allow the doctor to perform his elusive magic. The editor’s tools have expanded from the mere scalpel of the editing block, or splicer, to today’s complex, software-driven editing systems. As will be reiterated throughout this book, the tools constantly change—more so today than ever. Ultimately, it is not the tools but the editor who cuts the movie.
Bedside Manner
Lastly, through all of this, the editor, like the doctor, must discover in himself a bedside manner, a way of approaching the work and the people in it. Some call it politics, some call it diplomacy, and some call it playing the game. It amounts to a way of sustaining your creative vision, cooperative attitude, and mental health throughout the marathon of filmmaking.
Exploring film doctoring is a way to illuminate the practice and art of film editing. As fresh air, good food, and exercise contribute to good health, understanding the fundamentals of good editing becomes the best preventative medicine. It will make life easier and create movies that will stir the emotions of audiences for years to come.
RX
“Watch two movies and call me in the morning”: Russian Ark and Hitchcock’s Rope.
And read. Read novels. Read screenplays. Read commentaries on story and story structure, such as Syd Field’s and Blake Snyder’s guides to screenwriting. And read the works of Carl Jung who introduced the idea of the collective unconscious and archetypal images that recur throughout time and cultures. Start with Man and His Symbols. Read The Golden Bough by James Fraser and Mythology by Edith Hamilton. And listen. Listen to the voices of strangers and of those who are close to you. Listen to music, to jazz, rock & roll, rap, classical, and motion picture soundtracks. And listen to the interviews of Joseph Campbell by Bill Moyer at Skywalker Ranch. More than giving you answers, these resources will lead you to new and exciting questions. They will help inform your editing choices.