19

Bedside Manner

► Politics of the Editing Room

Wherever human beings work together politics come into play. Even in rarefied environments such as Zen monasteries, ashrams, and other institutions dedicated to peace, harmony, and enlightenment, heavy politics abound. Look at Jonestown or the commune of Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh, the womanizing, Rolls Royce–collecting guru. For an ascetic or monk the discovery of politics may be particularly disturbing, since the life he or she has chosen is supposedly free of such worldly issues.

But in the film business, politics comes as no surprise. Working in an editing room can be like living on a submarine—a long journey in close quarters. It helps to be able to get along with others, and sometimes that includes dealing with politics.

Bedside Manner

In the medical profession, the behavior that a physician assumes with his patient is called bedside manner. An editor, as well, develops a bedside manner. This allows him to navigate the sometimes tumultuous waters of the editing room. As any good writer or psychologist knows, humans do things for all sorts of reasons, some good and some bad. So politics becomes a factor. Ulterior motives come into play in all lines of work, and sometimes it is hard to sift through the verbiage to find the truth. Clever politicos will frame their requests or statements as if in the other person’s best interest: “I know how proud you are of the cut, so I’ve arranged for you to screen it for the suits.”

In some situations defending the cut that he and the director have arrived at becomes the primary focus of an editor’s job. While editors at times enjoy the privileged position of working alone and undisturbed, this peace, like most things in life, is mutable. Deadlines arrive, emergencies arise, tempers flare, opinions fly. In general the editor’s allegiance is to the director. As key participants in the filmmaking process, the editor and director share a bond of mutual trust and creative spirit. In most cases the director brought the editor onto the film and expects the editor to fulfill his vision in the best way possible. This includes defending him against the onslaught of producers, studio executives, and distributors who, for better or worse, harbor their own opinions and motives about the film. Conflict, the essence of drama, is great on film but not in the editing room.

No Surprises

Feature film producers often call the editing room to inquire about the director’s footage or to try to influence his cut. If the producer wants to review material, it is a good idea to make sure that the director is aware of this. It is, after all, the director’s cut. And directors don’t like to be surprised.

Screening the Rough Cut

If you let someone know ahead of time about what is going to happen, they are prepared and have time to adjust their expectations. Editors have an ongoing dilemma of when to show the cut. Even though most producers insist that they know how to view a rough cut, they don’t. The editor’s diplomatic skill in diverting this request until he is confident that he can present the best possible cut becomes tantamount to survival in the editing room. And, most importantly, it benefits the film. As much as most editors want to be flexible and cooperative, showing a cut before its time can be devastating to the director as well as to the editor. If the cut will take another day or so to complete, it is important to remain firm and try to defuse the request. Of course, experienced producers generally understand this and the more experienced editors generally arrive at a working cut in a shorter period of time.

Keep in mind that in some cases a scene just doesn’t work. As mentioned previously, you may wrestle with it over and over, but ultimately you discover there are flaws in the scene. At that point it is sometimes a good idea to minimize the expectation by discussing the problem scene ahead of time. After all, the editor usually knows whether her cut is working or not. Something informs her, either excitement at how the cut’s impact doesn’t diminish on multiple viewings, or a discomfort each time it does. As the old adage goes, “If something’s not right, it’s wrong,” and you’d better get it fixed before you screen it.

The Best Policy

In its simplest, most elemental form, politics is nothing more than understanding the other person’s needs and trying, as best one can, to respond to them. This posits that participants in the marathon process of feature filmmaking communicate with one another. Why not ask and clarify what the director is looking for rather than try to guess? Honesty helps. As Mark Twain observed, “If you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything.”

Like everyone, directors have moments of insecurity, some more than others. They depend on the editor to protect them by providing the best possible cut. Developing confidence as an editor and film doctor is one of the best sidekicks you can have. But confidence cannot be faked. One can try and, even for a while, get away with it. Ultimately, it undoes you. If you are not sure of something, say so. If you have a question, ask. Admitting that you don’t know is a form of confidence.

All Ears

Another aspect of bedside manner is listening. Don’t we all prefer doctors who listen to us rather than those who impatiently scurry to get on to the next patient or interrupt us as if unconcerned about our wellbeing? The best doctors are those who listen, who weigh what is being said, who develop a rapport with their patients. Some producers and directors are people of few words, sometimes withholding out of their own insecurity, a loss for what to say, or a need to maintain power in the relationship. Most are ignited by their ideas and the joy of the process and will gladly chat about issues that arise.

Putting aside the obvious value of conversation, of give and take, what is the best approach for each of these types of personalities? The simple, across-the-board answer is to listen. We learn by listening. We also put the other person at ease and bring him or her to our side.

One of the chief complaints patients have regarding their doctors is that the doctor fails to listen to their concerns. Wise doctors know that this is not only essential in creating trust but also to understanding the patient’s issues. Many interactions occur on a less than rational level. Malcolm Gladwell, in his book Blink, tells of the medical researcher Wendy Levinson who evaluated the interactions between doctors who had been sued for malpractice by their patients and those who hadn’t. According to Gladwell,

The same holds true in filmmaking. Something as simple as listening separates a well-functioning editing room from one that is at odds with itself and others. Often editors complain that directors don’t know what they want or aren’t able to articulate it. Yet, if one takes the time to really listen, the information is probably there—or at least much of it. This, beyond any clever manipulations, diplomacy, or subterfuge, can make the biggest difference. Even if something isn’t stated directly, a good listener can perceive through tone, context, even body language what is needed.

Listening can apply to getting the job as well. In a job interview the director wants to know that you have seen some of his or her work, wants to know you are enthusiastic about the project or the script, and wants to know that you are capable of pulling it off. Beyond that, most directors mainly want to share their vision with you. After all, that’s probably what drove them to venture into this project in the first place. If you listen and can sincerely see what the director sees, you’re in a good position. Unless they ask, the person isn’t waiting to hear your critical review of the script or theories on filmmaking. Your reply will come in the form of a cut. This is not to say you should remain mute or withdraw—far from it. What it does say is that this person has worked very hard developing her project, getting funding for it, and preparing to film it, and now she is going to hand it over to you, a person she may not even know. She wants to feel that you’re patient, that you listen, and that you’re flexible, and occasionally she wants you to mirror what she’s telling you so she’s sure you got it.

Staying Seated

Stay in your seat. This means don’t give up control. It’s especially important today, when many directors have a cursory or better knowledge of software such as Avid or Premiere Pro. Even though Moviolas were incredibly simple machines, it was nearly impossible to avoid ripping, scratching, or breaking the film if one hadn’t developed the physical agility to run the equipment. Today, though more crowded with options, software-driven nonlinear editing systems are physically easier to operate. So, when an editor goes for a coffee or bathroom break, the impatient director may be inclined to jump in and continue the cutting. Some are even bolder and will ask the editor to move aside and let them have a go at it. Having developed the skills and confidence to occupy the editing chair, the editor needs to maintain control of the editorial helm of the film. This is not a power trip. This is, as all decisions should be, for the good of the film. Even though the editor may be easygoing, affable, and flexible, it does the film a disservice if he abandons his position on the film. Abdicating the editing chair allows for haphazard treatment of the producer’s most valuable asset.

On the other hand, as with much of filmmaking, there are no hard-and-fast rules. Editors and directors who have worked together for years sometimes bend this rule, due to a deep connection and shorthand that can forward the project. But for the most part, editing the movie is not the director’s job. If a director is editing his own film in order to further exert his control or to overcome an inability to explain what he wants, he should reconsider. Sometimes films that are edited by directors would have been better off if the director hadn’t sat in the editing chair. Even good films would probably be a little peppier, a little smarter, and a little shorter if the director had allowed himself that restraint.

► Dailies and Rough Cuts

Studio executives often don’t know how to look at dailies. If the dailies are presented in the order they were shot in, as opposed to script sequence, the situation grows even worse. The best political move has little to do with politics—organize the dailies in lined script order, as discussed in Chapter 5, so the viewer has the sense of watching a story rather than a collection of disjointed takes.

The Answer Is Yes

As an editor you have to learn to take yes for an answer. Too often we keep talking after the decision has been made in our favor. Continuing the pitch after you’ve achieved the goal makes a producer wonder if he has made the right decision. After all, if this guy feels the need to continue to justify his actions, maybe there is something wrong.

As a side note, remember that editing is all about timing, which includes patience. Sometimes you have to wait for “Yes.” Even if you diagnose a problem and have a sense of how to fix it, this may not be the best time to broach it. In some cases you may have to wait until after a screening of the first cut to voice your idea.

The Poor Craftsman

The adage “It’s the poor craftsman who blames his tools” remains as true today as in medieval times. Editing, by its nature, is both a creative and technical medium. It requires deep aesthetic understanding combined with refined technical skills. Occasionally the equipment creates problems. Equipment failures can be frustrating and even embarrassing. This can be particularly disturbing when you are in the middle of a screening or on the way to one. It is important to keep in mind, however, that it is the equipment and not the editor that has failed. All equipment fails from time to time. Avoid getting flustered. Most people understand technical difficulties. Briefly explain what has happened, and then, if you have the expertise, fix it. If not, make sure you know someone who can. Having a technically adept assistant is a major asset. It takes the onus off the editor, proves the value of having assistants, and solves the problem quickly.

But there’s another side to technical issues. Inexperienced or incompetent editors, unwilling to admit their own shortcomings, blame the equipment. An assistant who worked on only a couple films but had caught the director’s eye was promoted to full editor on the director’s next film. At first, things went smoothly, but then the editor hit snags for which he was ill-prepared. He became unnerved. The rental house that had supplied the editing system began to get daily calls regarding the equipment. In fact, the machine was in fine working order, but the assistant-turned-editor was uncomfortable working at an editor’s level. Unwilling to admit this, he blamed the equipment. The experience became unpleasant for him and the director, and it became his last stint as an editor.

If you love the work, it is easier to weather the ups and downs of the business. Music editor Joanie Diener looks at it philosophically:

What’s the Big Deal?

Another aspect to consider as a creative person is that often the company you’re working for does not share the same concern about making art. Their interest is in making money. Lots of it. Granted there are some executives who feel truly devoted to the artistry of the medium, but often that is because they were in a creative aspect of filmmaking at some point earlier in their careers. The rest really are mainly concerned with money and power. So don’t be disappointed when you can’t appeal to them in terms of artistry. If you try to appeal to them, it may have to be in terms that reassure them of the fiscal benefit of your request or suggestion.

A corollary of this refers to any contract you make. Many producers and executives are ethical people, priding themselves on dealing fairly with people, anxious to give as much or more to those who work for them as they receive in return. Others are eager to ensure that they take as much as possible and compensate as little as possible. They may hold carrots, speaking of future work, larger projects, and bonuses, but generally the intention is to get as much as they can without paying for it or, rather, paying very little. An artistic person’s strong suit generally isn’t business. If truth be told, most would work for free because they love what they do. But everyone must have a livelihood and a means of supporting themselves.

In this regard, considering an independent production company your friend because they’re outside the system may be an illusion. The Latin warning caveat emptor, “Let the buyer beware,” which puts some of the responsibility on the buyer for purchases of inferior or fraudulent products, can easily be reversed to caveat venditor, “Let the seller beware.” If you are taking a nonunion job, you should have an agent or an attorney look over any deal memo before you sign it. You need someone on your team, someone who is willing to go to bat and be the bad guy. Despite what the producer or legal affairs people might tell you, the contract may mean something completely different. One word on a contract can make the difference between whether you get a screen credit on a film, receive the points or bonuses owed to you for your hard work, or make the producer richer with what is rightfully yours.

The Strength of Weak Ties

In light of employment trends, it helps to consider a concept that sociologists have coined “the strength of weak ties.” This refers to the phenomenon that job offers and help can come from the most tangential areas. As important as it remains to make and sustain connections, to stay in touch with people you’ve worked with before, the universe seems to have constructed a scheme that is partly out of our control. One pursues a particular job with a close friend or with a director one has worked with before. Sometimes it works—and some of the top directors have a fierce loyalty to their team, which includes the editor, director of photography, and production designer—but sometimes not. Yet, out of nowhere an acquaintance, a chance encounter, a weak connection presents a need and, rather than requiring months of courtship, demands immediate fulfillment and you’re the one. In this regard, it’s good to always be prepared. Have your resume in order, your website up to date, and your clothes pressed.

Committing to a Project

Several times I’ve been brought in on films that were produced or directed by nonfilmmakers. That is, they had never studied filmmaking, never made a film before, and, in one case, rarely went to the movies. There are some people who describe themselves as nonfilmmakers but are driven by a passion so strong that it needs to be expressed. Such was the case with the team who made the stunning Academy Award–winning documentary about dolphin slaughter in Japan, The Cove (2009). Part of what elevated their passion to something tangible and engaging was the employment of an experienced editor, Geoffrey Richman, who’d edited Michael Moore’s Sicko (2007). He was able to help them construct the story and put all the pieces together.

Film Doctoring

The position of film doctor is a privileged one. Where editors are usually recruited by the director, in the case of film doctoring the editor may have been brought in by the studio or the producers. Rather than doing the director’s bidding, the editor is following his own instincts, supported by a bond company, a producer, or the studio. As Jon Poll, who has film doctored many comedies, points out, the editor is usually coming in with free reins. The film is in trouble, and he’s there to fix it.

Here the politics can be tricky. Directors have mixed reactions to this sort of addition. Some welcome it, confident that new eyes will help the project. Others resent it at first, though in most cases they realize that something wasn’t working. They’re actually relieved down the line when they see vast improvements.

Editors, as well, have varying responses. Some are unwilling to admit their shortcomings and react defensively. Others view the doctor’s visit as a chance to improve the film on which they’re credited.

Jon Poll points out that when he comes on a picture as a film doctor, he brings with him one rule: You can’t fire the editor. He feels he’s not there to replace anybody. He’s there to make the movie better. This approach benefits everyone. Often one finds that an editor is happy to work alongside the film doctor because he gets to experiment with cuts that previously he might have been afraid to try. In some cases it becomes a learning experience.

Of course, on some films the editor has already been dismissed. The movie is in trouble, and, rightly or wrongly, the desperate producers pointed the gun at the editor. Now the film has lain dormant, floundering for several weeks or months. The budget barely supports extending the schedule, let alone keeping on twice the editorial staff. In these cases the film doctor may be the last person standing.