Now  that I live in London, I’ve continued to see plays old and new by the National Theatre, Royal Court, RSC, Almeida, and many others…. and I find that it stretches the part of my brain that I use for editing in a most pleasing way.

The Editing Process

During the course of becoming familiar with certain works – especially Shakespeare – a certain amount of work not dissimilar to film editing becomes apparent. The works of Shakespeare themselves are published in many different versions even whilst Shakespeare was still alive, and any given production may use aspects of a certain quarto or folio. The recent RSC run of Hamlet directed by Greg Doran moved the “To be or not to be” soliloquy back significantly to the first time we see Hamlet after he has conversed with the ghost of his father, having discovered that it made more sense for their interpretation to follow the first quarto version at that point rather than placing it in the more traditional place between the arrival of The Players and their performance. They also chose to end the play as Fortinbras entered after the death of Hamlet, rather than fully concluding that particular political sub-plot.

Audience Engagement

See any modern production of a  play more than once in the same run which involves the same cast (more on that later), and the chances are that you’ll notice some differences – even if you can’t exactly pinpoint what they were. Changes can be made during previews and even the run according to audience response – much like test screenings for films. Even one night to the next, audiences will react differently (and often unexpectedly) to lines and events, and the mark of a really good company is in how they’ll adapt to their audience response and make the evening even more memorable for those who are there.

Choice of seat can also have a marked effect on the experience a member of the audience will have. A balcony seat at the end of a row 100 feet away from a proscenium arch stage can imitate an extreme long over-shoulder shot for the duration of a pivotal conversation, whereas a centre stalls seat a few rows back can be an optimal position from which to choose whose reactions to monitor –  a sort of self-edit. A thrust stage side-on view can almost place an audience into the play itself, whilst a round situated below audience level gives an eerie uncomfortable CCTV feel to an audience witnessing scenes which become even more intensely private.

Performance

The most recent RSC production of Hamlet made the headlines in 2008 for the speed in which the London run (taking place after many months in the RSC’s home of Stratford-upon-Avon) sold out once the tickets went on public sale. This was largely due to the casting of David Tennant in the title role, rather well known for being in Doctor Who since 2005 – and generally seen by many as a good time to introduce the wider public to Shakespeare because of the casting.

Then, during the run, he got sick. Several weeks of a severely limited run were led by the understudy Edward Bennett. People still went, although empty seats were very noticeable in stark contrast to the lines outside the theatre overnight waiting for returns when Tennant was still in the role. Accusations of ‘star casting’ had been largely vindicated by the press once the play had opened in Stratford (as I knew they would be, having seen him on stage several times in the past), but I took the opportunity to see the difference that casting can make.

In the RSC, when a lead player is ill and their understudy takes their place, it tends to have a knock-on effect amongst the entire cast. The understudy for Hamlet was playing Laertes in the same piece, the understudy for Laertes was playing Guildenstern, the understudy for Guildenstern was part of the general ensemble in the play, and on and on until there are just scenes with fewer people than there generally should be and someone with twice as many lines. I’ve seen understudy performances before, when Frances Barber was ill during the London run of Ian McKellen’s King Lear… but having seen this Hamlet in Stratford I was able to compare between the two characters.

The results were interesting. Ed Bennett had had relatively little stage experience prior to 2008, and certainly not within the context of such a leading role on a West End stage. And whilst the performance was consciously different, it still had to fit in with the remaining cast who were still playing their usual roles – notably Gertrude, Claudius, Horatio, Polonius, Ophelia – as well as the staging extensively rehearsed by all and the motivations worked out by the company in rehearsal.

Ultimately, I was quite surprised by how different the characterisation turned out to be within the constraints mentioned above. A fairly different relationship with Claudius largely communicated by eye contact and posture, a more subdued form of madness with less conveyed via physical comedy, and success with humour within entirely different parts of the script. Of course, whilst understudies lack the chance to rehearse as much as the principals OR adjust the aspects of performance to entirely suit their own preferences, there was still the sense of watching two actors play the same role with the same director and external circumstances. Different performances will always suit different tastes, but the points at which they took control of the stage or passed it over to other characters were varied enough to be significant.

So when this transfers to the medium of video, it can never be enough to cut between actors just because of the lines they’re saying.That’s editing by numbers, and more than usually following a set format of  ‘line, cut, line, cut’ … potentially with some variation. Performance is so key. With a really good actor who’s embodying the role and properly thinking about their motivations, their footage can be both a great signpost to appropriate editing decisions within the context of the story that their rushes are telling – as well as a joy to work with. A different actor in that role – even with the same director, motivation, surrounding cast – should result in a different edit, just as much as two editors would never edit the same scene in the exact same way or two concert pianists would never perform a sonata with the same emotional level at the same points.

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.

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?”

Playing around with Wordle, I entered in the text from my ‘about’ sections here and on my website as well as my CV…. and generated the above. It’s interesting to see without the surrounding context – some things are titles or synopses of projects, some things are background information which aren’t so relevant to what I do now, seperate words are broken up… but I suppose it’s fairly similar to how a computer would see the site, and also shows the emphasis (however unintentional) on certain words.

It’s fairly elementary, but the Doctor Who Confidential (BBC iPlayer – I believe only accessible from the UK) from last week has quite a nice insight to sound post-production processes for the uninitiated. Sound is always something I feel I’m lacking in – either I put off laying temp tracks etc for longer than I should within the editing process, or I just play around for ages with controls without any real sense of what I’m doing when I try to achieve a certain technical effect. Foley recording, however, I love. Take that as you will…. it seems fairly counter-intuitive for an editor, but the rhythms and the precise timbres of sounds synched to a video just appeals to a certain side of me which I guess I usually use in dialogue scenes more than anything, but comes from my musical and orchestral past.

Also, I’m considering my next phone. I think I’ll need email and internet, and I’m torn between the iPhone, a Blackberry, or a Nokia (E90) Communicator.It’s a few months away, but I’m currently swaying towards the Nokia, unless anyone has any insights?

Still, the result cleared up a major plot point which had never really come across as well as it could have. The screenplay had already reorganised Will Shakespeare’s scenes (logical in theatre, potentially section-after-section in modern day film terms), so I can’t really feel too bad about my last minute shuffling. My most recent documentary edit utilised the scene rearrangement method from a very early stage, but this is the first time I’ve extensively reshaped in fiction in this style – our short films at the school don’t lend themselves open to much of that sort of thing. But having seen how effective it was, my mind feels blown open for future edits in all projects.

You really can read all of the books that you want on the theory of editing – but you just can’t learn how to edit from them. Because editing has to be instinctive, it has to be natural, you have to feel it… and even the most poetic instruction manual is still an instruction manual.

So really, the greatest compliment one can receive at the end of a scene is a comment on the story itself – an “oooh, that’s not going to last long” in reference to the newly formed relationship between two key characters or an “oh my god, he’s mad” after a key incident with a character (assuming of course that that was the impression you intended to convey) is praise of the highest order. It’s also an opportunity to discuss those strange people who have numerous issues that you’ve been getting to know recently. And just being able to do that makes any other potential gripes about the job disappear.

*This does happen. Though like the directors and writers, they’re also often blamed when it doesn’t work.