To be an editor

I've recently started an acting class (more on that soon), and as it's a beginners class the attendees generally aren't in the industry. One or two would like to write or direct, but generally people are within other careers.

I've been honest and told them what I do. Here's a conversation I had last week after class with a small group:

Them: so what do you edit?
Me: Animation, mostly, at the moment. I have a short film or two coming up on the side.
Them: So where do you go after that? What is it you want to be?
Me: An editor.
Them: No, I mean, would you like to direct?
Me: Nope. I love editing.
Them: But... you already edit. What do you do next?
Me: Edit more. Edit better.

I'm not denying that there are editors out there who have always had their hearts set on directing. After enough sets of bad dailies I have sometimes wanted to make a film under the impression I at least knew a lot of what not to do.... perhaps that's why I'm doing well in animation editing where I have input over the way the framing works, the timing of lines, and the way we actively expect lines to be re-recorded to change performance.

Perhaps it's the lack of perceived credit/ glamour in the eyes of the public that puts the job down? I'd imagine most people on the street would find it very difficult to name any editor. Ask them about directors, and the job becomes much easier. It's true, our sector of the industry does seem to get marginalised (I remember commenting on Twitter one time when I noticed the editorial department credits of a feature film listed below on-set catering) and ACE and MPEG are actively campaigning for greater festival recognition of editors (see editorspetition.com for more information). Editors are traditionally seen as the quiet workers behind the scenes, and that's how a lot like it. But the lack of recognition for the job as a craft, and to want to always learn how to do your job better, does sometimes grate.

The creative impulse

Last night I went to a reading of "Wall" by David Hare. I've enjoyed several of his plays, and there was a £5 offer on, so I went along.

"Wall" is about Hare's own experiences with the Middle Eastern conflict between Israel and Palestine, and is being presented as a companion piece to "Berlin". I think it may be a testament to the fact that I'll never be a true theatre-type that when people start talking about the walls we build around ourselves, I'm more likely to think about Pink Floyd than the Pyramus and Thisbe reference  that followed last night.

Nonetheless, amongst several astounding pieces of commentary last night from both the subjective and objective viewpoint, I feel compelled to share the following paragraph - a quote from the reading last night:

I don't entirely understand this. People always ask: how do you choose the subjects you write about? I have a glib answer. Why did Bacon paint popes? Meaning: the artist doesn't choose the subject, the subject chooses the artist. 'Go to Rwanda,' said my American agent, when ten years ago I first proposed a play about Israel/Palestine. 'Better still, go to Kashmir. Now there's a dispute nobody understands. Throw some light on Kashmir.' But unfortunately it doesn't work like that. Recently, I found myself writing about Berlin because I don't understand it. Now I want to write about Israel/Palestine because I do. No, hold on, let me rephrase, that's a preposterous claim, nobody understands the Middle East - but put it this way: I recognise it. It answers to something in me.

I found editing whilst on a degree course which had absolutely nothing to do with media at all. I joined the student television station and tried all sorts of roles - camera, floor managing, sound mixing, vision mixing, co-producing... but when I got my first chance to creatively put something together at my first year - a trailer out of an evening's recorded event at the university - something was answered in me. From that point on, I knew I never wanted to do anything else. And with each project that I look at - some will inevitably stir more passion than others, and those are the ones which will really work.

Editing can often be seen as a technical vocation by the people who don't understand it - but it's truly anything but.

On editing actors

I had an interesting experience last week, when we were getting some actors (from the sketch show I'm currently editing as a NFTS TV student's graduation piece) to do some additional voicework to help ease transitions/ smooth over some cuts we've had to make to the sketches.

As we were running late, I had to go to pick up one of the actors from reception whilst another was finishing up in the recording booth. I saw him, went over, said his name.... and then realised that there was absolutely no reason in the world why he'd know who I was. I may have been editing material with him in it for the past month, but he's never seen me before in his life.

I'd read about this aspect of editing before in books, but had always assumed it to be along the lines of seeing a well-known TV or film personality walking down the street. We may watch them weekly on television, but we never think that we know them.

Except from a certain aspect, we do know the people who we've edited. We've actively studied their physical and facial reactions on several different takes in an attempt to judge one the 'best' or 'most apt' for the surrounding scene and performances. We've berated them (sometimes loudly in the direction of the computer monitor without acknowledgement of the futility of such an action) for an utter lack of consideration to continuity between different slates. We've interpreted their intentions and characterisations - and when hard decisions have been made on the subjects we've made them with the actor because of what they've given us to work with. We've made cuts and decisions alongside their performance - to enhance one character trait whilst diminishing another, to engage the audience as if they were there in the room when the scene was being filmed (or even within the mindset and context of the drama they're watching, as appropriate).

It just seems a little harsh at times, when part of the job description involves getting involved to some extent in the emotional journey of the characters that you've been watching on screen for weeks or even months. The lack of acknowledgement can sometimes feel total. They'll likely never know just how much we study them and feel that we know them and/or their character. But it's probably for the best. A self-conscious actor is usually the last thing you want when they're doing their close-ups, and so long as the finished product looks great then everyone's done their job well.

BFI 52nd London Film Festival

As a student, I got free access to the press and industry screenings at this year's London Film Festival. I could also attend daytime (before 5pm) screenings so long as they hadn't sold out. It's a pretty good deal, and one that I'll be sorry to see go once I leave the NFTS.

Student delegate pass for the London Film Festival 2008

I managed to get to four films in total, all press screenings.

Frost/Nixon was screened at the Odeon in Leicester Square (where a large number of UK/ world premieres are held), and drew quite a large crowd. Having recently taken quite an interest in film adaptations of theatrical pieces (since noticing a dialogue scene in a restaurant in David Hare's My Zinc Bed SCREAM OUT that it was timed for live performance of a certain genre - even though it leant itself well to the discomfort of the on-screen situation), the adaptation of this was superb - notably so since both leads had of course been playing the roles for some time, and would have had to overcome differences within the adaptation. Similarly, the setting didn't seem too 'sceney' - the flow of locations and discussions and character encounters were precise and correct. And whilst I know just about nothing about the historical relevancies and accuracies of the story, enough information was given as was necessary for the plot and genre whilst not labouring it out. Fantastic film, brillliantly structured.

One of the criticisms that student films here often get is that the motivation of characters is missing, or their actions are unbelievable. By the time this point is raised to a significant level, we're usually within the final stages of the edit and the "do we need to reshoot or can we fix it?" question is whispered amongst the significant production crew members.  Of course by that point we're usually so far into the process that either the budget's disappeared in its entirety (along with the contingency and any 'extra funding' occasionally raised on the sly), or we're so far into the woods on a crammed schedule that we can't see the trees for the caterpillars on the leaves. So it's useful to be able to spot it and other common flaws in the work of others, as a known easy pitfall. And I certainly recognised the signs in 1234, a low budget British first feature. Their press release focusses massively on the looks, cast and music... which for a film about a band are all clearly major points and probably the things that a target box office audience would care most about after all (and the music backing/ references are certainly all in place). And it certainly functions as a story - the first half concerning the build-up of the band is great, and the audience at the screening were all along for the ride. But then during the gradual break-up of the band, the film seemed to come apart too. Things which seemed inevitable were treated as surprises, significant actions came either completely out of the blue or after a massive delay during which the pace of the film seemed to slow.... still, it makes it clear just how much I've learnt from making the mistakes that I've made whilst cutting myself.

Director/ Editor Antonio Campos on Afterschool:

I made a short film in 2004 called Buy it now, which was about a teenage girl who sells her virginity on eBay [...] But there was so much rapid cutting and too much music on the soundtrack; it took away from the experience because it felt so cluttered. I decided to make a film about teenagers and do everything in the opposite manner. As opposed to a lot of cutting and a heavy score to try to communicate the sense of adolesence, I decided to watch a confused adolescent in a room, watch two kids talk, observe a conversation between a mother and daughter uninterrupted. And I liked it. I liked watching people.

I had read that before watching the film, and it did help to explain a lot of the decisions... which were often well-judged (a section where the principal of the school is leading a service for the two dead girls is framed for him - and remains so when the mostly much shorter school children go up to deliver their tributes), but did sometimes feel like something he was stubbornly trying to do past the usefulness of the shot. The tribute video which the main character co-shoots and edits is a lesson in editing appropriately for the purpose, though!

Last up was Slumdog Millionaire - Danny Boyle's latest film, set in India and investigating the life of a child from the slums in India who is one question away from winning the top prize in Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? And it was fantastic. Gritty, emotional, harrowing, beautiful, funny, human. The overall effect was outstanding. It's not out til next year, and does mark a massive change of pace and scene for its director, but I'd recommend it even above Frost/Nixon for the simultaneous complexity and simplicity of the story.

The hokey-cokey style of editing

(in, out, in, out, shake it all about - for those unfamiliar with the childrens song)

The past month or so has been devoted to the Fiction graduation film. It's been a bit of a journey, and our final structure is borne of the knowledge that we've tried just about all reasonable alternatives in-keeping with the genre. We're at the stage now where if someone suggests something different to the version they're seeing, I can just grab it from another sequence and demonstrate why it was rejected.

However, the fact that we've arrived at something which bears a strong resemblence to the first cut (barring two scenes swapped and others shortened or deleted) may have been a product of not trimming the scenes down at an earlier stage, to work with their position at the time - which would have made it easier to isolate the reasons why certain themes weren't working so well rather than leading us around a mad semi-fantasy world in which half of the virgin audience thought that our main character was mad (we're aiming for rom-com)! Not that that didn't have its value of course - we determined the precise value of the dream section and returned it to its original form, cutting out all recurrences or flashbacks - even those originally scripted.

But whilst I thought I was going in and trimming as much as I could whilst we were still moving scenes around - thereby saving time because of not having to massively adjust scenes when we'd changed the order of events, I can see now just how much it held us back. In one sense.

In the other sense, we're still on track to picture lock on the original schedule - and we almost certainly wouldn't have arrived at the same film with the same confidence had we not gone through the stages that we did.

[caption id="attachment_58" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="A still from the NFTS Short "Mr Perfect" (working title)"][/caption]
A still from "Mr Perfect"

The Eight Stages of the Edit

... as copied from a printout on the wall at the place where I digitise. Origin unknown. Argue on the precise ordering/ repetition amongst yourselves.

1. Optimism - "This could be really good."


2. Confidence - "This is great!"


3. Doubt - "This is what they want, right?"


4. Resolve - "Fuck 'em! We can do this!"


5. Despair - "Fuck, we can't do this!"


6. Siege Mentality - "Fuck everyone, what the fuck do they know?"


7. Insane Euphoria - "Hahahahahaha! Who gives a fuck? Let's edit with our toes like Daniel Day Lewis in My Left Foot. Let's voice it ourselves. On helium. Let's fashion part three from brie or jam or Old Spice or bits of dog."


8. Relief - "Pub?"