We all love them. Well if not all, then the majority. Moving images, in sequence, in a dark theatre of a cinema or in the comfort of our computer screens. We watch and we remain seated until the end, or we loose our patience and go for the next browse. Quickly. Or, in a more traditional sense, outside for a drink, in the real world. In the latter case, a waste of a cinema ticket.
Movies move us, make us feel, terrify us or make us laugh hysterically. Disturb or provoke a different way of looking at life, at events magnified and isolated on a movie screen, other times we would at best ignore to observe. We don’t have a choice. It is impossible to know the effect a film can have on our psyche the minute we press play. All we are left with, is the director’s vision. Or is it someone else’s vision we neglect to acknowledge?
The Editor’s.
Yes. A word not often mentioned in Q&A’s, movie interviews with star actors and directors. A neglected, yet most powerful force in the process of filmmaking. I know what you think. All elements are important in the making of a successful film. In every way. I agree with you. But let me indulge in the joy of talking about editing. And its immense power to guide your thoughts. Without you noticing it.
Being an editor means you sit in a dark room for hours, looking at raw footage of film, many times filmed on the day. And in your mind there is a question. Where is the story? How can I skip through hours of filmed action and cut to the chase? Literally? Why does this frame work here and would never be usable somewhere else? And why do I have to change to the next frame, at this exact second?
This is the art of editing.
The more years of experience, the easier it is to trust your gut as an editor. Or if you are lucky, you don’t compromise your instincts from the beginning of your career, even if it doesn’t make sense to anyone else. You follow your artistic voice, because you can’t do otherwise. And if you edit an artistic project you have close to your heart, your heart rejoices as you watch and review the final result, and if you are editing a live show on TV, you get less emotional, but still. You want to get to the point. And quickly. And you will still be pleased because you have guided the action, in a way that fits the programme, that with your choice you have entertained people. Or made them laugh. Or cry. Or shock. Whatever the purpose is, the editors make the call. Behind the scenes always, but their work speaks volumes in our subconscious and conscious part of our beings.
This brings me to the next point.
Are all selections and sequences of moving images a plain manipulation? Or artistic vision? Or perhaps can we find the silver lining? Could manipulation be a good thing if it’s used for a good cause? Or is artistic vision vicious sometimes that in order to fulfil itself it disturbs our minds for eternity?
Art is meant to provoke emotions. It is an attempt to recuperate a failed effort to connect on a personal level with another. Or lets just say, an indirect way of communicating one’s emotions. The artist’s.
The artist likes to observe. People, situations, relationships, nature, or even better, human nature. The darker, the most mysterious becomes the focus, most of the times. Because we want to capture the essence of what we don’t know. What we can’t put our finger on. We like things to be tangible, in our control. And this is a magnificent opportunity as an editor, to be in control.
I believe all artistic work is about control. As an artist you choose when your art stops, where you have completed your part the minute you say “Cut”, or “That’s a wrap”, or when you put your painting brushes down and say: “I am done here.” We all long for this creative control. The control we many times feel robbed from in real life. When you create art, you get the chance to decide and determine what will happen. You get to decide your own ending of the story you so willingly want to share. In a film, in a song, in a painting. But let’s talk about film, specifically.
Now, I am about to list some of my favourite examples of powerful editing. I do want to point out, there will be quite a few spoilers.
1. Precision : The Haneke Way.
The White Ribbon (Michael Haneke, 2009). Subtle change of frames, almost discreet, unnoticeable. Somehow, it feels like the events are taking place in real time. Slow editing, without the viewer even noticing that the frame has changed. The choice of shots reflect a similar type of shot back in the edit, making it easier for the viewer to connect with the story and then unexpectedly there are close-ups in specific moments of the script, where important words take place in the dialogue, crucial to the visual storytelling. Clear objectives and precision is Michael Haneke’s seemingly preferable method of editing, and in occasions such as in his 1997 film Funny Games, editing becomes almost spontaneous, cutting often from wide or mid shots to close-ups, where the lead actor stares at the camera and consequently, the viewer. Quite effectively, this editing choice creates a disturbing feeling to the viewer, while watching the violent events unfolding during the film. It makes the viewers feel accomplices of the violent act, as they are still there. Watching. To be entertained. Very powerful choice of timing and truly a “study on violence” as Michael Haneke himself has described the film to be. Haneke’s calculated precision does give all the space needed for the viewer to experience the fullness of emotion that is provoked with prolonged sequences. Though often uncomfortable, it is an accurate representation of a reality we many times hope to avoid, turning it into an extra satisfying cinematic experience.
2. The Unexpected Choice : The Opposite.
House of Cards, a Netflix Original Series (2017). Politics and drama intertwined, false behaviours masked by the thrill of ambition, of a potential promotion to the next position. Calculated behaviours that do not easily get exposed. Unless it is intentional. Notice the character of Claire Underwood, when engaged in a very important conversation with another character, especially evident in the last episodes of the fifth season. The frame stays throughout the conversation on a close-up of Mrs Underwood’s character, when someone else is talking to her, sometimes even extensively. This is an exiting choice from an editing point of view, as one can understand her thoughts in depth and the script and words become secondary in the order of significance in these scenes. In fact, the script works as a background, where with this choice the editor provided a most valuable insight in the cryptic character of Claire Underwood. Every slight movement in the eyes or change of expression becomes telling of her inner thinking process.
3. A Careless Joy : The Real.
Andrea Arnold’s American Honey (2016) feels like an effortless perfect put together realism extravaganza. Fast pacing edit, music video like, vibrant colours, sharp and bold editorial choices to portray the pain, joy and all in between of this unconventional, harsh and strangely hopeful lifestyle of the protagonist, as portrayed in the film. The viewer is fully engaged in the wilderness unfolding on screen, feeling one with the action, almost in real time with what the characters are going through. An intimate close up approach towards the lead actress, where the edit revolves around her personal experience and including all characters in the same approach towards the end of the film, revealing a glimpse of their own personal struggles. Similarly, a generous slice of realism can be found at Blue is the Warmest Colour (Abdellatif Kechiche, 2013), an honest take on one’s first significant love relationship. The edit is documentary like, observant and quick, lingering at certain sequences, causing mixed reactions by audiences after viewing the film, which has lead to controversy. Still, the director is determined to show us that life is indeed made by everyday events, including prolonged intimate scenes between the two main characters of the story, birthday parties and a spaghetti bolognese that can surprisingly reveal a lot about social differences. In the heartbreaking sequences approaching the ending of the film, the edit remains slow and non judgemental, unpretentious. The viewer has the opportunity to experience what is like to fall in love, fail and move on. As simple as that. And that indeed takes a lot of artistry to achieve within the context of visual make believe.
4. A Dive Into the Unconscious.
What would an alien do when landing on planet Earth? Certainly wouldn’t follow any logical instructions. Jonathan Glazer’s Under The Skin (2013) is a fine example of how effective can an abstract edit be, precisely conducted to navigate us through the eyes of a beautiful alien. In sequence, the edit does not follow any logical order, from the protagonist landing in a white studio space changing clothes from a dead body, to exiting right after an English – evidently – council estate building, to entering a shopping mall. From driving in the street picking up strangers, to luring them into a strange black pool, willingly into disappearance. And it all makes perfect sense while watching the film, as emotions take over, blurring any need for reasoning on behalf of the viewer. Extremely effective use of documentary like shots and contrasting controlled interiors, to show the vastness of her character, connecting and disconnecting with the world around her, leading up to the profound awakening of her human experience.
And what about absurdity? How underestimated is this principle in terms of creating a foundation for cinematic bliss? Dogtooth (Yiorgos Lanthimos, 2009) is not considered coincidentally an original, but truly justified, with a strength of visual metaphors and prolonged sequences, enough to reveal and evoke profound emotions. Sharp, hilarious and shocking the edit unravels unapologetically in front of the viewer, who tries to make sense of what is actually being watched. As the film unfolds, finally, there is a decoding of the “secret” cinematic language all Yiorgos Lanthimos’ works require, in order to be fully understood, valued and appreciated. Lanthimos is betting all the odds in the value of the metaphor. Of a deeply rooted sociological idea such as attachment to family beyond the years of adulthood and the dangers of such conformity when not questioned. Of the need to break free and find yourself in search of the unknown, in the outside world. Such profound ideas cannot be easily translated in film, without the risk of pretension and rightfulness. However, intelligent use of strangely and seemingly “unreasonable” editing choices can do the trick. What we don’t understand immediately, we can certainly feel.
5. Visual Poetry: Unexpected Beauty.
How does beauty affect our thinking? This is a valid question when it comes to stating the unsaid in film, capturing a feeling, an underlying message with the selection of powerful, unexpected images. In Moonlight (Barry Jenkins, 2016) parallel stories of the protagonist’s life and past coexist, as the character is maturing into adulthood. Slow navigation of the camera, while revealing equally slowly the settings of each era, is accompanied by an observant edit to capture the stillness of moments in each different time. The key is to give enough time for the viewer to observe the action, even to slow it down just enough to become something untouchable, an impression. Yet it becomes incredibly important in how events are proceeding, and perhaps becoming the main reason of a specific sequence in the character’s life, which assists the completion and understanding of the story. The self-destructing mother, the cause of all evil as portrayed in the film, comes back to haunt and remind of her strength in the protagonist’s memory. In his mind, she never moved an inch since the day distilled in time, delivering aggressively her will to her loving son, screaming at him to leave her alone. Powerful choice of muting her actual voice to be covered with a brilliant score, making the haunting even more effective. She is present both in his reality and his thoughts, as we can see clearly from the editing choices throughout the film.
In Only God Forgives (Nicolas Winding Refn, 2013), a similar exposure of the omnipresent mother who is always there, alert and alive, trapped even in the protagonist’s close and dark interiors, both of memory and of his seclusion from the real world and his responsibility. The edit becomes even more bold, when the mother appears in unexpected parts of the story, specifically towards the last fight scenes, evidently still influential in the protagonist’s choice for revenge. The action slows down intercutting with real time speed of actions taking place in the moment, creating an inexplicable charm and a chance for reflection. At other times, the frame remains the same, observant and unforgiving of violent events, to distill the inevitability of punishment. And at an unexpected turn, the punisher reveals his humanity by singing an incredibly beautiful and sad song at a karaoke bar, where the beauty of the setting is alluring and inviting, delaying our judgement of the character’s force for justice, while the lyrics give away that he is indeed, capable of emotion.
I cannot neglect mentioning the importance of how a breathtakingly beautiful setting can tell a personal story of loss, so universally and effectively as in The Fall by Tarsem Singh, a 2006 film. A simple telling of a story, a fairytale, from a patient to another in an LA hospital, set in the 1920’s, a narration that initiates a beautiful and unconventional friendship between them, becomes a cinematic eye opening experience. The story initially is told as a way to distract from the physical pain of the patient in direct and constant juxtaposition of an innocent and full of life little girl listener, asking questions, eager to find out more about what will happen next. As the story unfolds, naturally stunning actual locations take place in the visual storytelling, to portray ultimately the narrator’s state of mind. He is trapped in his own helplessness. But it can be a beautiful one, bold and bright to match a child’s imagination and love of life. As the film progresses, the reality becomes more evident in the fantasy tale, interfering with the plot, ultimately conducting the end. Real life and fairytale become one and loss becomes a transformational experience, translated in gorgeous natural settings, beautifully leading back to the coldness of a hospital environment. Often, it becomes a place where the fictional characters do appear at the present moment in unexpected places, all possible in a child’s point of view. The little girl ultimately is igniting hope to the lost soul and new meaning and strength to carry on living to the hopeless narrator. Personal decisions become powerful with the beautiful representation of an imaginary bold and indestructible self, as we view the protagonist choosing to live over self-destruct.
6. Force of Nature.
The outside world can indeed provide all the insight we need. All we have to do is observe. To listen, to reflect. And such spectacles are rarely neglected to be used in the world of make believe. Including a natural scenery can enrich an edit immensely and quite effectively, providing space for reflection, even become a character in the film. In The Danish Girl (David Ebershoff, 2015), often transitions to the beautiful Danish scenery as well as the vibrance and possibility of the Parisian sky go hand in hand with the protagonist’s personal transformation, providing the ground necessary in the personal torment he is going through. It represents a stable force in his internal turbulent state, in search of identity. In the last scene movingly one comes to the realisation that nature is the ultimate goal of this personal journey, to be released free into existence. In Ex Machina (Alex Garland, 2015) nature becomes a longing in the edit. The outside in contrast with the inside, often presented in comparison, as the artificial needs to become one with reality. Vast scenery presents possibility. And so does in God’s Own Country (Francis Lee, 2017), where the landscape covers the silence, of a love too grand to be reduced often to words. In the Coens’ masterful No Country for Old Men (2007) the use of extensive scenery from the opening sequence to the end, reveal the wilderness of the environment and betray what is about to take place. Wilderness on the outside, can portray the same effect internally in a character’s journey on screen. Other times a refuge, as clearly stated in Alejandro González Iñárritu’s Biutiful (2010), an inevitable ending that marks the beginning of the film. The calmness of scenery and strangeness of conversation comes in full circle until the last scene of the film. A lingering watch at birds running free, represent a longing for an unexpected change of fate. Unchangeable and terminal, the end does become “biutiful”, carefully placed in sequence, in line with the effortlessness of landscape, movingly and generously, to provide insight to the viewer. Barcelona has never before been viewed on screen under such an honest view of reality and beauty, even in the saddest of circumstances.
7. Memory of Consequence.
Memory is a real thing. And it moves us to all directions, most likely backwards and inwards for introspection. It can also be used as the ultimate drive for interesting choices in the editing room. In Tom Ford’s Nocturnal Animals (2016), a brilliantly executed cinematic remembrance of the past blends in perfectly with the horrific events unfolding, as part of the novel the protagonist reads. In direct line from her past, the book is a consequence of her actions, that now have come in the present moment to haunt her. This is the reason the edit can effortlessly change from the fictional world of the novel, to her reading in bed the story, back and forth presenting flashbacks of memories from her own life. She slowly gets tucked into this terrifying world she has partly created, towards the lure of a new possibility. The lingering last sequence reveals that such expectation can only be described as naive and entitled, and the final close up is telling of her inevitable fate. A more hopeful approach of redemption whilst contemplating and learning from the past can be found in the beautiful 2017 film by Ritesh Batra Sense of An Ending, where the significance of memory in the visual storytelling allows the possibility of effortless coexistence of past and present on screen. The masterful edit presents the viewer with the opportunity to grasp the real gravitas of how a seemingly childish choice of action, can be crucial in someone else’s shaping of the future. Yet, the lack of judgement of the facts and the gentle unfolding of the story becomes a way to give forth compassion and understanding, as a way to redeem a second chance in life.
8. Out of Sequence: Realism.
A film about personal relationships can never be defined by simplicity. And reality is never linear, even if we often wish for such approach. Blue Valentine (Derek Cianfrance, 2010) is a realistic account of a love story, but the edit makes all the difference in making it as real as possible. After establishing the present time of everyday life, we get the opportunity to view the beginning of the relationship, the life of the main characters before even that time and still going back to the beginning, towards the end of the film. Why does everything have to make sense? Sometimes happy endings do happen. But most of the times we don’t get to experience a tale of loss as honest as when presented with flashbacks of happiness, exactly at the time of loss. Time is never linear, as it can be created in an instant. It can be reviewed or simply remembered. And this is the reason why this film is so breathtakingly realistic without offering any much required resolutions. Gaspar Noé’s Love (2015) does take it a step further, with actual lovemaking on screen and extensive portrayal of a couple’s discovery and deepened personal connection. Regardless the often graphic cinematic result, the essence still remains. The film successfully presents an unresolved case of a love affair gone bad, offering a non linear portrayal of events shaping and explaining the characters’ actions. What is more admirable is the unconventional choice of sequences, dialogue and insistence of finding, capturing and presenting a true moment on screen. And that ultimately differentiates a bold take on personal loss and unresolved issues. As life can be, inexplicable.
9. Edit on The Go: Instinct.
Darren Aronofski’s Black Swan (2010), is an accomplished “dance edit”, as appropriate as the subject of the film, a dancer’s life on screen. The film opens and closes with a dance sequence, which is on both occasions dreamlike, perfection oriented and ideal, as all ballet productions aim for, as high as their dancers’ expectations. There is a lot at stake and with it comes emotional instability, much successfully portrayed in the edit of this film. Throughout the film, abrupt, sharp, handheld shots quickly cut and change in the edit, well customised to a professional dancer’s daily movement, which is full of life, pain and perseverance. Documentary style accuracy in frames, at times a slowing down to reveal transformation. This becomes evident by the choice of a close observational edit of the protagonist’s expressions, of her approaching her own madness as well as perfection of mastering her role as the prima ballerina. Accurate, whilst free and unexpected, the edit offers us a personal point of view, interchanging with the observational wide shots to establish life at a professional environment in a ballet company. Up until the very end where all is revealed, the viewer is still looking to understand where it all starts and finishes. Is it reality or Nina’s imagination? And to which extent does fantasy and real life coexist under living daily in such a highly pressured professional environment? Sometimes the price is too high to pay. A perfect representation on screen of aspiration, inspiration and danger of ambition.
10. The Mastermind Edit: The Hours.
In my personal point of view, this 2002 film by Stephen Daldry is a masterpiece of all kinds. Especially in terms of an absolutely effective and beautifully constructed edit, paying homage to three outstanding and interconnected stories of three women, living in three different times. All events happen in a single day, as in the words of Virginia Wolf : “A woman’s whole life in a single day. Just one day. And in that day, her whole life.” One day is enough to be as eventful and to contain all different aspects of time: past, present and future. The film opens and ends with the same sequence, with the use of voiceover. The script, the underlying force driving the film, dictates the edit, which is shaped by objects used, colours, thoughts and words even repeated by the lead actresses. Other times in the form of an unexpected insight, appears a moment in the past. The correlation of art imitating life is evident here, often tragically accurate, to show that fiction is not that far off reality. The power of consequence and of personal choices that mark peoples’ lives can be all included in an inevitable dance of destiny and be finally reduced to what anyone “can bare”. Bravery can be disguised in seemingly cowardly choices, but the film only observes and never judges its characters’ choices. The edit comes to conclude that everything in life is linked and every single detail does count and can change the future, at times leading at unexpected territories. Endings mark forcefully new beginnings, and in this sad tale, the love for life and the present moment, always prevails.
And to which extent does art enrich our everyday lives? Does it count or is it an excess?
I dare agree with the first option.
As seemingly small or grant gesture a choice can be, any choice can form a different result. In these terms, editing can be viewed as a force to be reckoned with and to be used for making across an important statement, as important as the freedom of speech. And even though there is life to be lived outside films, an encounter with a much accomplished one, can enrich the viewer’s personal take on things. And since we have no time to waste by taking every moment in, as if it was the first to witness in our daily experience, it is films that come to the rescue, to point out the fine details that make all the difference. And sometimes, to give altogether a new meaning. Or a change of mind. And that, is potentially, invaluable.
