9

Genre Editing Styles II

► The Comedy

One of the most challenging genres is comedy. Unlike other story forms, comedy requires frame-by-frame precision. A comedy editor is akin to a microsurgeon whose exactitude allows him to reattach severed nerve endings, repair vital organs, and avoid unsightly incisions. A horror editor acts more like a general surgeon, one who gets the job done but doesn’t mind leaving a few scars in his path. In fact, he may prefer it. The comedy editor’s work, and therefore the jokes of which he is the guardian, can live or die based on the timing of a couple frames.

Despite the demands placed on the editor by comedy’s need for precise timing, the genre offers help in a unique way. With thrillers or dramas it is difficult to judge audience reaction. Until the movie is over and audience members are polled for their response, the editor and director have little sense of how the audience responded to each moment of the film. Comedies, however, offer a built-in and nearly foolproof measuring device: laughter. Depending on how much laughter, if any, a joke elicits, the filmmaker can judge its effectiveness.

Comedy comes in various flavors, from light romantic, such as The Proposal (2009), to the hard-edged and explicit, such as The 40-Year-Old Virgin (2005) and the American Pie series. Some comedies are situation driven; others are character driven. The sit-com, a recurring type of comedy found in television shows like The Office (2005–2013), 30 Rock (2006–2013), and South Park (1997–), contains characters who defy the personality arcs that dramatic characters require. Sit-com characters rarely change. Each time the viewer returns to 30 Rock, Jack Donaghy will still be a smooth-talking control freak and, in South Park, Kenny will again be killed.

Comedy, like the clown, takes our human frailties and presents them in a manner that becomes not only palatable but enjoyable. Within all comedies various tenets apply as to what constitutes humor. Though what makes people laugh varies depending on geography, cultural mores, and experience, certain aspects prove universal. Even tame comedies possess some form of edginess, an irreverence that defies established authority, and, because of that, allows the viewer a delightful release. At times we hear of how a comedy has gone too far, though to some extent, that is what audiences expect from comedies: to trespass into forbidden areas and break cultural taboos. Because attitudes and customs change, what was hysterical at one moment may lose its potency at a later time. Likewise, the pace of comedy has evolved over the years. The more leisurely comedies of the 1940s and 1950s have given way to the fast-paced comedies of today. In either case, that tempo is the editor’s responsibility.

What are some of the incidents that make us laugh? Consider these:

• ► A person acting like a machine, as in Modern Times (1936). When Chaplin repetitively continues to tighten bolts on an assembly line that has stopped operating, the mechanical quality of his actions makes us laugh.
• ► A machine acting like a person, as in Wall-E’s amusing discovery of life’s equivocal nature when the little robot of the title, having carefully organized his found cutlery into forks and spoons, finds himself confronted with a spork.
• ► Hyperbole plays a major role in comedy. Consider the exaggerated antics of the Three Stooges. Or the unlikely situation of the characters in The Hangover (2009): waking up with a baby that is not theirs, a live tiger in their bathroom, and a naked man in the trunk of their car.
• ► Embarrassment also influences comedy, as in the now classic pie scene in American Pie (1999) or Eugene Levy’s unannounced visit to his son’s frat room in American Pie 2 (2001). There’s also Michael Palin’s excruciatingly debilitating stutter in A Fish Called Wanda (1988).
• ► Bodily functions, sometimes found under the category of embarrassment, provide endless fodder for gross-out comedies such as the unexpected hair fixture in There’s Something About Mary (1998), the farting scene in Blazing Saddles (1974), or Maya Rudolph’s toileting dilemma in Bridesmaids (2011; Figure 9.1).
• ► Absurdity, as in the Austin Powers films, makes fun of the prosaic quality of daily life, stretching it beyond reason.
• ► Stupidity makes us laugh because it pokes fun at the human frailties that we all share from time to time. Jim Carrey’s Dumb and Dumber films are one example. Clowns often make us laugh because of their feigned inability to comprehend what appears obvious to everyone. Consider Steve Carell in Evan Almighty (2007) as he attempts over and over again to shave his beard that God has deemed will remain.

Figure 9.1 Maya Rudolph in Bridesmaids (2011)

Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures

The basic structure of comedy is the setup and the payoff or punch line. Veteran comedy editor Bruce Green, who has edited many of Garry Marshall’s “heartfelt comedies,” views this structure in two basic configurations.¹ In both cases, these approaches relate to the world’s oldest slapstick situation: a man slipping on a banana peel.

In one approach the editor shows a man walking down the street, then a shot of a discarded banana peel resting on the ground ahead of him, then a cut back to the man, then to the peel, and finally to the man stepping and slipping on the banana peel. In this way the anticipation of the sight gag is set up, and the audience savors the man’s approach, knowing that he’s going to step on the banana peel.

In the other approach, the same man is shown walking down the street, but the editor doesn’t show the banana peel. Instead, he waits for the man to suddenly slip. At that point the editor reveals what brought the man down: a banana peel. The editor has led the viewer down a road where he does not see it coming. The surprise elicits a laugh. In the context of the overall film, an editor varies this approach in order to maintain comedic interest.

In comedy, timing is crucial. Editing is about timing, and comic timing is the most unforgiving form of editing. The actor’s delivery, combined with the editor’s pacing, strives to generate a spontaneous release, the laughter that we enjoy in a good comedy. An adept comedy editor knows how to take control of the actor’s comedic timing.

In conversations with another top comedy editor, Jon Poll (Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me, Meet the Parents, Dinner for Schmucks), he emphasized the importance of timing. In Dinner for Schmucks (2010) some jokes were originally getting “soft B-laughs,” but in retiming and recutting the scenes, the editors brought them up to A level. As Poll puts it, “The best jokes usually have to be nurtured and helped like little children.”³ That’s the editor’s job.

Through the use of coverage, wide angles, close-ups, and so on, the film doctor corrects the timing of a setup and a punch line. Coverage allows the editor to cut away to other characters, to remove space within a reading, and to arrive quicker at a punch line. If the director only films an actor’s performance in one angle, then the possibility arises for the actor to place the wrong emphasis on a line or to move too slowly in setting up a joke. Some actors take the opportunity to chew up the scene when the gag as written will suffice. Only the most expert comedy directors, like Mike Nichols or Garry Marshall, have the luxury of limiting their coverage to a single wide shot if they choose. Referring to The Birdcage (1996), its editor, Arthur Schmidt, explained how in the instance of one of the early kitchen scenes the director chose to limit Schmidt’s editorial choices by supplying him with only a single wide angle for much of the scene.⁴ Of course, when confronted with the likes of Mike Nichols and Robin Williams, the chance of such an approach failing is greatly diminished.

This is one reason that comedies are often talent driven, designed for known actors and comedians with extraordinary track records. Audiences recognize that these performers have made them laugh in the past and expect them to succeed on subsequent occasions. Star talent also helps promote this genre overseas where jokes may not translate as well. Bruce Green mentions the use of Hector Elizondo in most of Garry Marshall’s films.⁵ In Runaway Bride (1999) Elizondo was hired because he could best deliver the line where Julia Roberts escapes her wedding by hopping a ride on a Federal Express delivery truck. When someone asks where she’s headed, Hector’s character replies, “I don’t know, but she’ll be there by 10 tomorrow morning.”

Jon Poll, who has worked successfully as a director (Charlie Bartlett, 2007) as well as an editor, views performance issues from two points of view. As an editor he watches dailies by placing himself in the position of an audience member. In this regard he constantly hopes the actor will give him what he needs. “It’s all about judging performance, talking out loud, and hoping the character will do the line in a particular way.” But as a director, Poll found himself on the set and able to ask for what he wanted. Directing with an editor’s sensibilities can be an advantage because he can visualize additional coverage that would be useful in the editing room where others might be satisfied and move on. Ultimately, however, Poll concludes that the editor probably has the greatest influence on a film.⁶

Surf the Laughter

If certain jokes don’t land well, they can affect the entire film. In this regard Poll suggests that the editor has to “surf the laughter.” Like a surfer waiting out the small waves in anticipation of a great ride on a larger one, the editor finds that “sometimes it’s worth losing little laughs in order to get to bigger ones with more momentum.”⁷

In this regard, different comedies rely on different approaches to humor. In the Austin Powers films, the filmmakers came to rely on where each laugh would fall. The exact positioning of the jokes became crucial and required fine-tuning, whereas on character-based comedies, like Meet the Parents (2000), the editor becomes more accepting of laughs arriving at different or even unexpected moments. Much of this depends on reaction shots. In Meet the Parents, for instance, if Poll didn’t get the expected laugh on De Niro’s shot, he might get it by cutting to the reaction on Stiller or vice versa.

Sight Gags

Another significant aspect of comedy editing is the sight gag. Like the banana peel joke, the sight gag relies on physical humor with visual setups and payoffs rather than on dialogue. Even in a smart comedy like The Birdcage, which excels in pithy verbal humor, the sight gag works as a potent accent to dialogue scenes. These moments often benefit from a wide shot following a series of tighter shots engendering the comic tension. In The Birdcage the sudden climax in the wide shot reveals a physical stunt, such as when Robin Williams drops an ice bucket or the pretend butler trips and falls.

Goldmember (2002), the popular comedy from the Austin Powers series, creates a hilarious scene primarily composed of sight gags. In search of Doctor Evil, Austin Powers clandestinely boards his ship, disguising himself as one of the officers cloaked in a long white coat. Beneath the coat, however, he rides on the shoulders of Mini Me.

The image of the unusually tall Austin toddling through the ship makes for a good laugh. When Austin enters the sick bay, he’s asked to give a urine sample. Since no one—except the audience—is looking, Mini Me fulfills the request by spitting apple juice into the specimen cup. Later, a shocked sailor watches as Austin’s silhouette behind a white sheet appears to give birth to an oversized baby, umbilical cord and all, which is actually Mini Me released from a pack on Austin’s chest. All excellent sight gags.

There are many other factors that also influence comedic response. To promote these the editor draws upon other editorial tools, including the sound mix. Sound effects, if inappropriate or excessive, can be funny. If the setup line to a joke is not loud enough to be heard, it can ruin the joke. In that case, the line needs to be pushed up in the mix so the audience can hear it. Such manipulation may be subtle, but a couple decibels can make the difference between getting a laugh and not.

The structure of comedy remains fairly traditional, altered only by the outlandishness of a new plot and characters and by the crafting of performance, as seen in the Judd Apatow–type comedies (Superbad, Bridesmaids, Trainwreck). These have found, or created, an audience that was not present or, at least, not ready for it in earlier years.

► Romantic Comedy

Romantic comedies end with a wedding exemplified by the classic The Philadelphia Story (1940). Even if there is no actual wedding there is a promise that such an event will occur in the not-too-distant future. Romantic comedies, of course, are a subset of the larger genre of comedy. Rather than relying on the machine gun effect of firing off one laugh after another, they delve into the world of relationship, described traditionally as boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy marries girl. Unlike most other comedies, there is often a poignant moment near the end that elicits tears rather than laughter. The editor’s timing of a particular look is often the point separating a release of genuine feeling from something that will feel forced. Again, it is important to keep in mind that it is what the audience brings to the image that imbues it with such power. Because of this, it is often the subtext or even the silence that sustains the great well of emotion.

Time and again, what works in dialogue in a script often becomes overstated on film. At that point it becomes appropriate to trim out some dialogue and let the juxtaposition of the actors’ faces, perhaps accompanied by music, build the scene’s emotion. Remember that the more neutral or unloaded the images, the better the chance that the audience will see themselves in the experience. The psychological concept of identification and projection is a potent factor in creating strong characters, because the characters are ultimately aspects of ourselves.

► Family Matters

Sex is a significant part of life, and romance comes in many forms. In foreign cinema and early American cinema the naked human body appeared freely. In Ecstasy (1933), a naked Hedy Lemarr, skinny dipping in a lake, caught the desire of Aribert Mog. It was the first serious film to depict sexual intercourse and female orgasm. In the original King Kong (1933), the smitten beast removed Fay Wray’s clothing, while atop the Empire State Building, as if he were peeling a banana.

With the introduction of the production code, Hollywood shifted toward a more restrictive and Puritanical approach, and Fay Wray’s nudity disappeared from subsequent prints of the classic film. When television arrived, its widely and freely distributed programming resulted in the Federal Communications Commission (FCC) and the commission’s strict guidelines prohibiting graphic violence and sexually explicit material. Networks developed departments of Standards and Practices to monitor final cuts of TV projects and ensure that they did not overstep the bounds. Then cable television appeared.

Subscription-based programming, such as HBO, Showtime, and Netflix, allowed for the depiction of a wider range of human experience in terms of language and the human body. The enormous success of HBO’s Game of Thrones (2011–) speaks to the audience’s appetite to experience, at a safe distance and with a compelling story, extreme manifestations of sex, as in the brothel scenes, and violence, as in the Red Marriage episode.

With these new freedoms, both film and television editors were presented with a new challenge—how to edit sex scenes. Editing love and sex scenes involves precision timing and sensitivity in the editing process. This relates to the use of anticipation, suggestion, subtext, emotion, and implied action as it relates to the Editing Triangle.

Two primary aspects to keep in mind when editing sex scenes involve arousal and consummation. As with most sex acts, foreplay is a significant part of the process. In life, foreplay can take various forms including dinner dates, daring adventures and lovers’ quarrels—resistance can build desire. But in the bedroom, on film, foreplay becomes a sort of audiovisual striptease. The audience’s interest is piqued by the growing seduction of images. Revealing too much at first, as in any good story, lessens the impact of the climax. In sex scenes, greater impact resides in cutting away from the slowly disrobing bodies to the lovers faces, to neutral images of hands or bed clothes and so on, and continually hiding and withholding the naked reveal.

How does the editor create anticipation? By doling out information in small parcels. While reviewing the dailies, the editor should look for moments where glimpses grab our attention. These glimpses do not reveal too much, but whet the appetite to know more, see more. Glimpse by glimpse the editor reveals what lies ahead until the culmination of the scene where much—or at least more—is revealed. It is a strange aspect of human nature that what eludes us tends to attract us, until we get it. In a sense, this is the way of all good storytelling. And editing is storytelling.

Anyone who has ever listened to an uncle or co-worker who is not proficient in storytelling knows there are two basic approaches that do not work. One is found in the person who rambles on endlessly about a minor event devoid of conflict or a conflict-filled event devoid of character, supplying every minute detail, many of which have no impact on the story, and ultimately bore his or her listener. The other is the person who does not have the patience to develop a story and anxiously whips through the facts to get to the main point, diving headlong toward the ending before he or she has let us know the characters, setting, conflicts. Their story blips along with plot spikes but misses all the important moments.

In creating love and sex scenes it is important to create moments. A moment suggests a particular allotment of time where a feeling can develop. Imagine two people who come from different backgrounds, whose families disagree on many things, who would feel more comfortable having never met each other. Yet something powerful attracts them to each other. Even though they argue, try to avoid each other, put up with the criticisms of their parents, one day they discover an overwhelming attraction between them. The tension breaks and they fall into an embrace. As it turns out, the tension was not one of dislike but of sexual tension. That moment, when they realize how much the other means to them, requires the editor to slow down and develop that experience. The moment arises out of the look in the other’s eyes, a tiny fidget, or a turn of the mouth. The moment may also incorporate the surrounding landscape, the way a breeze moves through the trees or a flower dips its head, the way sunlight hits the strands of a spider’s web—think of the lovemaking scene in David Lean’s Ryan’s Daughter (1970). These shots, when paced with the right timing, help the audience to experience what the lovers feel in their hearts.

Another approach is the impetuous approach. As in life, sex often involves a gradual seduction, a slow burn toward a final conflagration of passion. But in other cases characters can be overcome by passion, as when one character insists, “We’re not going to have sex,” and the next cut reveals them tumbling onto a bed in a passionate embrace!

► Action Adventure

The action adventure genre has undergone huge transformations over recent years. The shift in camera design, visual effects, and editing techniques has changed the action film from the spectator sport of such brilliant films as Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981) to a more immersive approach where the audience is swallowed up by the action. With the advent of new digital 3D systems, the opportunity for an enveloping experience has grown even further. A film like Avatar (2009), while more traditional, even conservative, in its narrative approach and editing style, benefits greatly from the leading edge technology incorporating motion capture, CGI, 3D, and other effects.

The action scenes that comprise an adventure film are an editor’s playground. In cutting action the editor takes the most liberties and freely employs his or her inventiveness. Action is often covered by multiple cameras in order to give the editor a wide range of choices and to guarantee that difficult and potentially unrepeatable shots are captured from as many angles as possible. This increases the quantity of footage manifold. And with digital capture that is compounded by a tendency to let the camera run much longer than it would with film. Conversely, the quality can be inconsistent. A move that might look large and impressive from one angle might be dwarfed by another angle. One camera may only glimpse part of an action, while the other camera might register the entire action. Consequently, the editor must comb through massive amounts of coverage looking for those gems that will make a scene work. Often, action scenes need to be cobbled together from many pieces, but those pieces are what give the scene its dynamism and vitality. Remember the Editing Triangle? Nowhere are shot selection, length, and juxtaposition more obvious than in an action sequence.

When it comes to the position of shots, it is important to keep in mind that action, like conversation, is dialectic. In action, instead of opposing opinions or ideas, the clash occurs between the physical manifestations of different aims. This is conveyed through images and sound effects rather than words. Where the back and forth conversation between two characters in a dialogue scene reveals the story, in an action scene the dialectic is created by intercutting visuals.

Action is the essence of film. It is immediate, visceral, and requires no translation or interpretation. Perhaps this is why the action genre remains the largest revenue generator for studios. It is also why exposition generally stands out like a boil. The audience, caught up in the excitement, does not want the momentum interrupted by long speeches. Even the fantastic chase scene in The Rock (1996) bumps when the pursuing FBI agent explains to us that Sean Connery is “running into things to try to slow us down.”

Action films revolve around the deeds of the hero, such as Peter Quill in Guardians of the Galaxy (2014), Batman in The Dark Knight (2008) or Neo in The Matrix (1999). In Hollywood they are often big men with big egos. Fortunately, more and more women have also begun to take on the leading role, such as Ellen Ripley (Sigourney Weaver) in Alien (1979), The Bride (Uma Thurman) in Kill Bill (2003), and Diana (Gal Gadot) in Wonder Woman (2017). But at some point we get a glimpse into their vulnerabilities, such as cocky Indiana Jones’s (Harrison Ford) fear of snakes. Either way they risk their lives in battling to the finish with evil. The opponent’s villainy must be commensurate with the hero’s goodness. The greater the antagonist, the stronger the hero. But mere black hats and white hats aren’t enough these days. The hero must have a bit of an edge or instability, while the villain needs to display some humanity, if only as far as a rationale for his misdeeds.

In constructing scenes with the hero character, the editor needs to find those moments that imbue him with charm, humor, and daring. It can be a glint in the eye, an extra beat before a reply, or a slick, well-practiced move. Consider the quirkiness of Robert Downey Jr. in Iron Man (2008), the stunning physicality of Russell Crowe in Gladiator (2000), or the confident charms of Sean Connery in the early Bond films. Film critic Betsy Sharkey, in her Los Angeles Times article “Building a Better Action Hero,” suggests that aside from the obvious aspect of a great physique and daring, “it helps to be a little crazy… . The crazy we like comes with an unhinged look that never leaves their eyes.”⁹ Other advantages include “a passion-fueled intensity,” a boy- or girl-next-door appeal, and a funny side.

Guideposts

Two significant structural issues permeate most action films. One is temporality and the other is geography. For most of motion picture history, action has supplied audiences with thrills and chills. Part of what makes an action sequence effective involves the audience’s orientation toward time and place. In a chase it is generally important to know where the pursuer and the pursued are in relation to each other. If the pursuer seems too close to the pursued, then the challenge of the chase is diminished. If the pursuer is too far away, then the tension lessens.

By incorporating guidepost shots (Figure 9.2) the editor manages to subtly clue the audience into the timing of the pursuit. If the escaping vehicle passes a palm tree on its way out of town, then the audience is able to gauge the distance between the vehicles by noting when the trailing car also passes the same palm tree. Employing these landmarks, as well as occasionally cutting wide, helps orient the viewer and establish the temporal and spatial distance between the two vehicles.

Figure 9.2 The guidepost shot

Lately, however, a more expressionistic approach has emerged. This allows that in the tumult of action, where swift responses predominate and chaos enters the fray, a certain amount of disorientation is appropriate. In this vein, films like Mad Max: Fury Road (2015) and Quantum of Solace (2008) rely on an extremely fast, selectively nonlinear structure that overrides the viewer’s ability to digest all that occurs in front of him or her. At times it becomes difficult to decipher time and locale. In this approach, extreme and short-lived close-ups flood the screen. These tighter shots, by virtue of the singular and narrow information they communicate, reveal only a glimpse before being overtaken by the next shot. Because the surrounding terrain appears only in occasional glimpses, the impression becomes wrenching and chaotic. Adrenaline rises, pulses race, and attention focuses. The disadvantage of this approach is the risk of losing the audience and plunging the ensuing events into a dissociated morass where the audience loses interest in the overall movie.

While geographic and temporal relationships still matter in order to keep the audience oriented, their significance has diminished in the new editing room. Orientation is sacrificed for the sake of disorientation. The visceral feeling of actually being immersed in the action with its wild, unfettered thrill holds precedence. One need look no further than a film like Quantum of Solace to witness the new approach to Hollywood’s longest-running franchise: James Bond. The opening chase sequence is cut so fast, employing such quick and disorienting shots, that the audience perceives little more than the pure adrenaline rush of the car chase (Figure 9.3). Its editor, Richard Pearson, already a veteran of other popular and sprightly edited action films such as The Bourne Supremacy (2004), confided that he had already assembled the scene with vigorously paced cuts when the director, Marc Forster, asked him to throw the whole scene into overdrive with shots of even shorter duration.¹⁰

Rather than go with the usual white car chased by three black cars, Forster chose to change it up—a gray car chased by three black cars. According to Pearson the goal was to present this installment of the franchise “more like an art film,” including making the chase “much more impressionistic.”¹¹ Many loved the unique and innovative approach, but some diehard Bond fans were disappointed. They didn’t like the attempts to alter a formula they had grown familiar with.

Figure 9.3 The opening chase scene from Quantum of Solace (2008)

On another sequel to a hit movie, Pearson encountered similar issues. Iron Man 2 (2010) arrived in the editing room with comparable demands based on the original. To give the audience exactly what they expected could devalue the sequel. The film, Pearson explained, “can’t deliver exactly what the audience wants, yet fans are disappointed if it diverges too much.”¹² Such is the dilemma of genre and sequels.

As an editor, one sifts through footage like a beachcomber hunting for lost treasures. Among all the grains of sand one discovers an unexpected coin, a silver ring, or fragments of a gold chain. Likewise, the editor discovers moments that the untrained eye would ignore or discount. In action editing, the jarring bump of a camera, a flicker of light off chrome, an unintended swish pan as the camera finds its mark become opportunities for glimpses into the whirlwind of a chase or fight scene. These, coupled with quick close-ups of the drivers along with cutaways to wheels, speedometers, stick shifts and so on, increase the excitement, as in Baby Driver (2017). In such cases a reference shot or quick cut to a wide angle will supply the only orientation the audience receives.

Crank

Another popular action technique derives from the use of slow motion, or slo-mo. Overcranked footage—running the camera at a higher than normal speed—has emphasized and amplified violence as far back as Sam Peckinpah’s The Wild Bunch (1969). In this groundbreaking film, Peckinpah photographed the action scenes using multiple cameras, each running at a different speed. Later in the editing room he and his editor, Lou Lombardo, interspersed the various slow-motion angles with normal speed.

Today, after The Matrix, film motion bends to and fro, accelerating wildly and then suddenly decelerating. Time is heavily manipulated. Overcranked footage gives way to undercranked footage. The film Crank (2006), appropriately named considering its highly accelerated pace, crams an immense amount of fast-paced fights, car chases, and explosions into its slim 88 minutes. In the dynamic opening scene of Wayne Kramer’s Running Scared (2006), the director accomplished a wide variety of speed shifts by using a specially modified camera that he could crank faster or slower depending on the desired effect. The editor, Arthur Coburn, then accentuated the violent shootout between drug dealers and corrupt undercover cops with short, fast, well-placed cuts.

While undercranking and overcranking effects are often created within the camera, most nonlinear editing systems offer the ability to alter the action by precise increments, with varying degrees of success. Overcranking, for instance, works better when produced in-camera, since actual frames are created. On an NLE system the effect is artificially achieved by multiplying existing frames. New ultra high-speed digital camera cards, such as class U3 SD cards that run at a minimum of 30 megabytes per second, process images fast enough to produce true slow motion that used to be produced solely on film.

Undercranking generally works better than overcranking on NLE systems, since it involves removing existing frames. A chase sequence can be enhanced by speeding up the cars by using the computer’s motion effect. If a motion-altered sequence is later conformed back to film, however, a film effects house must skip print or, in the case of slo-mo, repeat-print the film frames to achieve the desired effect. Since film is a discrete form, some motion effects will not carry over from digital to film.

Doctor’s Orders

When finishing a movie on film, be sure to calculate motion effects so they translate into a film environment. Unlike interlaced video, for instance, there are no half frames in film.

Doctor’s Note

According to film historian Kevin Brownlow, the early films of D. W. Griffith (Figure 9.4) were limited to one full reel. Wishing to extend his limited ration of film stock, Griffith experimented with slowing down the camera’s cranking rate to as little as 12 fps. In this way more information was imprinted on the film. Projectionists were instructed to play back the movie at the reduced speed in order to maintain realistic motion. Fearing that the flammable nitrate film might catch fire, projectionists often ignored this request. When the film was played back at standard speed on the projector, the action appeared to have speeded up.¹⁴

Figure 9.4 D. W. Griffith directs

Reproduced by permission of the Mary Pickford Institute for Film Education

Emphasizing an Action

Like the dynamic editing found in documentaries and later infused into music videos, the pacing of action editing benefits from the use of jump cuts. The action leaps ahead or doubles up through the use of jump cuts. In this regard, some events and stunts call for more attention in order to create their full impact, such as explosions. In reality, explosions are short-lived events. In films they often hold a pivotal position, culminating a scene or changing the course of the plot. In order to give them their due, editors may choose to slow them down either by using overcranked footage or by incorporating the three-step pattern. In this case the explosion begins, but before completing the eruption, the editor cuts to the same or different angle with the burst slightly retarded from its last position. The editor allows it to grow past the last position but not to full bloom. Again, a cut is made, and again, the action rewinds several frames earlier before it is finally allowed to crescendo as a full eruption. This technique, while effective in action scenes, can provide emphasis in myriad editing situations.

In Poison Ivy: The New Seduction (1997), Jaime Pressly’s character Violet strips off her robe in preparation for taking an early morning swim before the prying eyes of her girlfriend’s father peering surreptitiously from the upstairs window. As Violet peels off the diaphanous gown, the cut resets to frames earlier where the gown has just begun to leave her shoulders, allows it to progress further in its removal, then resets again—this time deeper into the action—and finally plays out until the silken garment falls completely away, revealing her naked form.

In The Rock, Stanley Goodspeed (Nicholas Cage), roaring across the screen in a yellow Ferrari, pursues John Mason (Sean Connery), who drives a borrowed black Hummer. When Mason appears to be evading him, Goodspeed takes a shortcut through a warehouse. He’s confronted with a gigantic plate glass window. “Oh, why not?” he asks himself and throws the car into gear, bursting through the glass. If the moment were allowed to play out in a single, temporally correct shot, it would lose much of its impact. Instead, the editor, Richard Francis-Bruce, chose to break the action into thirds, allowing the Ferrari to emerge through the glass three times in an exterior shot that each time resets slightly to the earlier phase of the action.

When the editor has finished his cut, he will want to add some temporary sound and music to help enhance it. This is especially important in action scenes, where much of the footage may have been shot without sound. Prerecorded sound effects can be downloaded from the internet or from CD libraries. Your goal isn’t to replace every sound in the scene—that’s the job of the sound effects editors as they prepare for the final mix—but to hint at what sound will occur there. In a car chase it is helpful to put in temporary effects of roaring engines and skids, but only those sounds that are most essential to telling the story. If a character leans out of a car, points a shotgun at the vehicle beside him, and fires, you’ll want to hear the gunshot. Later, the sound effects editors may find a better gunshot or even record one using that same gun, but for now, to tell the story, you have temporarily placed the appropriate sound there.