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“Does it all happen in post?”
“Not all, but a bunch!”
In This Chapter
Recognizing Performance Credibility
Clients and Producers: Pick Your Battles with Great Care
Two positions in the overall production process are close enough in function to be considered critically supportive partners of the director: first is the videographer and second is the editor. The videographer helps the director create live recorded camera shots and the editor fits those shots together into cohesive, “naturally” flowing scenes that make up a program.
It’s obvious that the editor’s role is a crucial one, but some media professionals (mostly editors, I believe) feel theirs is the paramount role. I’ve heard the phrase, “It all happens in the edit bay,” quite a few times over the years, and, at the risk of seeming defensive or territorial, I can assure you it’s an overstatement. I don’t mean to dismiss the critical role the editor plays, I’ll be the first to say that a good editor can be a great creative force in making a program memorable and a bad editor can ruin one. I have learned from, and been helped greatly by editors, but the simple fact is it does not all happen in the edit bay.
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BREAKOUT 9.1 “AN EDITOR’S CONUNDRUM”
I once produced a public service announcement (PSA) designed to encourage donations for a children’s charitable organization. It was narrated by an on-camera speaker who was a celebrity baseball player.
I had recorded two types of coverage of the speaker. One was a slow dolly move from a wide shot to a medium close-up. It ended just at the point where the speaker would go into voice-over as the address for the organization appeared full screen. The other coverage consisted of two shots. One was a lock-off (still camera) medium shot in which the speaker went through the entire read. Complementing this was a close-up of the same lines that could be cut in at any time for a more intimate, or perhaps dynamic, feel as he made the case for giving to the organization.
I viewed all the footage several times before handing the material to the editor. Although I liked the lock-off and close-up, in the end I preferred the dolly in to the medium close-up as the speaker reached what I felt was a powerful close. His words at that point were, “They’re frightened and alone, and they’re depending on us for help.” Following this would be an effect that would take us to a graphic screen with instructions for giving.
I left the editor instructions, and spent the next day in off-site meetings. When I returned to have a look at the program, the editor had decided he liked the lock-off and close-up better than what I’d asked for, and he had cut the piece accordingly.
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I am not opposed to editorial input. There have been many occasions when an editor’s creative ideas have improved my shows. What I was not happy about, however, was the fact that he had not created a version to my liking so we could compare the two. Also, when I brought this up and told him I’d like to see a second version per my instructions, he rubbed salt in the wound when he said, “Why do that, Ray? This looks great.”
I agreed that his work looked very nice, but reiterated that I wanted to see a version with the dolly shot. He shrugged and in an off-handed tone said, “Sure . . . Whatever you want, boss.”
The interesting thing is that in the end I agreed that his cut was the better choice, and that’s how we did the final edit, but after a second conversation with him in which he told me (you guessed it) “It all happens in the edit bay,” I paid him and crossed him off my list for future work.
The editor is given a series of recorded shots, sounds and graphic elements. He or she is tasked with assembling those segments in the most fluid, dynamic and effective way possible. Prior to this, the director is given a script and is tasked with: auditioning and casting actors; scouting and confirming locations; blocking camera moves and angles to get the most effective shots; directing actors; overcoming the many obstacles that regularly arise during production; directing graphic artists and finding the right musical selections; leading a crew of professionals through these obstacles; and handling clients and producers in a way that makes them feel comfortable and secure that the program is in good hands and will come to a successful end.
You can probably imagine that the director and the editor might experience conflicting opinions on how parts of the program should be edited. In most cases, this is a healthy process that, if treated with humility and openness on both sides, will result in a high-quality end product.
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There is also the old saying, “fix it in post.” You probably know that this means the director has ended up with some sort of compromise or problem in production, hoping to fix it later in editing. One example might be settling for a shot in which, say, the boom mic. dropped into the shot during a take. Assuming the schedule is tight and the director feels he cannot go for another take, he might feel that “fixing it in post” is the best choice.
Not too many years ago, this was considered a cop-out by a director. Why? It often led to a disaster because the program could not be fixed well enough to meet the client’s or producer’s standards. Directors learned that many times, the process of fixing one problem in post led to another. As an example, to fix the appearance of the boom mic. in a shot, the edit might have to use a digital zoom to pull the shot forward, and this would degrade the image quality—perhaps to a noticeable amount. These days, however, though I cringe to say it, technology has come so far that a “fix it in post” decision can usually be effective, and therefore perfectly acceptable. I always try to get the very best I can in the field or the studio, but circumstances can sometimes dictate a “fix it in post” decision. When this is the case, I feel much more comfortable with the idea these days than I did 20 years ago.
One example that I faced was the previously mentioned lead actor who simply could not match up to the abilities of the other actors on the show. Yes, I had cast him, and admittedly it was a mistake, but as I mentioned, when I realized the difficulty we would have with his material, I shot extra coverage; combined with a talented editor, this allowed us to “cut around” the actor enough in post to make the show successful. Many times when she was delivering lines, we cut to reaction shots of the other actors, over-the-shoulder shots in which her lips couldn’t be seen, or B-roll. In the end, I knew it would never occur to the audience that we had done this. And the actor’s audio, when we weren’t seeing her face, “sold” the performance.
RECOGNIZING PERFORMANCE CREDIBILITY
Another aspect of postproduction that can cause a director heartburn, is an editor who is not in sync with the director’s opinion of a good performance. Quite a few years ago, I brought material to an editor and, as we were viewing it together, what turned out to be a big problem surfaced. The editor was delighted with the dialogue of all the actors—in fact too much so. Personally, I was not completely happy with one actor’s performance, and I could see that in the final analysis this could hurt the show’s credibility. I also knew that by eliminating parts of a few scenes, we could cut the show keeping his appearances to a minimum.
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When I told the editor I had decided to eliminate the material in question, he thought I was making a big mistake. “You’re kidding!” he said.
“No’” I said. “His performance isn’t that convincing in those scenes.”
“But it’s good, solid dialogue!” he said, “It’s a shame to waste it!”
“I just think the show will be a lot more credible if we keep him to a minimum in those scenes.”
The editor wasn’t happy, but he did cut it as I had asked and, in the end, the show played fine.
My suggestion to new directors, or those having trouble dealing with these kinds of issues, is to first view the material objectively imagining you are the client or an audience member. Then ask yourself a few questions:
• Will it ring true?
• Will it look and sound “real”?
• Will it support the objectives originally set out for the show?
Based on the answers to these questions, go with your gut feelings when working with editors, producers and others involved in the show. But if there is disagreement, handle it in a professional and respectful way.
CLIENTS AND PRODUCERS: PICK YOUR BATTLES WITH GREAT CARE
Remember that you will not win all battles. There will be times when a producer or client is unflinching in his call for changes and you’ll simply have to live with that. Some directors can get defensive when put in this situation. Their opinion is that they are the most qualified to make creative decisions, and they’re not inclined to abandon their principles. My suggestion to these folks is to remember that, although we all want to be proud of our shows and do the best possible work, in the end (remember—the real world) it’s a training or marketing project, not a major, dramatic feature film or documentary. And becoming entrenched in “principles” can create a professional image that no freelancer wants—that of a “difficult,” “Hollywood” or “artsy” director who is unwilling to compromise. He will be viewed as over the top creatively and, to put it frankly, a pain in the rear to deal with. Translation? A director (or writer) who is overlooked when future jobs come up.
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BREAKOUT 9.2 “THE DOOMED DIRECTOR”
A good friend of mine who was an accomplished corporate director, ended up out of a job because of some poor choices on an executive production.
He had been given a project aimed at preparing employees for fast-paced technical changes that were rapidly reshaping the company and the industry. The program included an interview with the president of the corporation we worked for—a very large telecommunication organization. My friend set up and shot an interview with the president in the “ivory tower.”
When he brought the footage back and began working with an editor, he told me that he was going to be sure the interview sequence was cut to show that the president, a man from the south with a pronounced drawl, was not just a figure head but a real person. I wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but a few days later I found out.
He had edited the sequence keeping in a few “flubs” made by the executive. In one case, the president had lost his train of thought and had to ask an assistant to remind him what to say next. In another, he couldn’t find the right words and stuttered and stammered for about 5 seconds (which can be an eternity on the screen).
I knew my friend had been unhappy at his job for some time, and very critical of our immediate supervisory staff. I suspected that his hidden agenda was a kind of passive aggressive way to “get even” with them for what he felt was their mishandling of our department. I could see a disaster coming and I told him that frankly. “Think about it,” I said, “To you it may seem like you’re showing the president as a real person, but to the rest of the executives in the company, you’ll be presenting him as a kind of bumbling fool. Don’t do it!”
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Well, he didn’t take my advice. He cut the sequence as he had planned and because our immediate boss was out of town, my friend showed the program to a group of executives who were stunned by what they saw.
The program was immediately halted until my boss got back into town. Then a series of meetings were held which culminated with my friend’s “departure” from the company. He left still feeling he had “done the right thing,” but my opinion was, and still is, he blew it.
As far as I am concerned, he could have simply left the company if he felt the supervisory staff were incompetent. He did not have to do it by embarrassing the head of the corporation and burning his bridges.
There is much to be said about the power of simplicity. But when applied to today’s corporate media world, it can be a tricky word. For instance, what does simplicity mean when applied to, say, a program for a large company highlighting their new product release? Simplicity could mean producing or directing a program with a simple “cuts only” style that relies mostly on dynamic images and does not incorporate much in the way of visual effects. The effects I’m referring to might include “fancy” transition edits, of which there are many, and/or picture manipulation such as coloration, slow motion, strobing, split screens or any number of other special effects.
For the most part, I am a simplicity person. I try to make the images and graphics I have developed display the qualities that keep an audience engaged. That means finding interesting angles, trying to achieve the best lighting (when it is appropriate), often keeping the camera in motion, and, of course, getting the best performances out of the best actors I can cast. By the way, the idea of simple, powerful performances hinges not only on the camera and lighting, but also depends, as I’ve mentioned, on the writing—in other words, a script that is credible, natural, accurate and creatively engaging. On the whole, I try to achieve quality programs by applying these elements; however, as I said, the word simplicity can be tricky.
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I recall a program a director friend of mine once did that was meant to serve as an “on-ramp” to the “information super highway.” I suppose I’m dating myself with that statement, since this was one of the early monikers given to the Internet. The friend did a very nice job of visually presenting images that suggested the fast-moving, electronically charged world of cyberspace. He had a young energetic host that “popped” in and out of an ultra-futuristic set and his program included segments that flashed, swept in and exploded in high-tech sequences that were anything but simple.
To be perfectly honest, at the time I became a bit envious. It looked great, and it occurred to me that maybe I was behind the times because I didn’t typically adorn my shows with these kinds of “fancy” effects. Then again, I reasoned that at the time I hadn’t yet done any shows specifically focused on subjects like the Internet. And therein, I realized, lay the answer to my dilemma. For the most part, the program design and the objectives should dictate the level of “complexity” or “flash.” Shows that are based primarily on actors’ interactions might not be mutually exclusive of special effects, but would typically require more cuts and less flash. Shows, on the other hand, that contained elements of modern technology or futuristic ideas should certainly be more “slick.”
The trick is to figure out the type of program you’re writing, producing or directing by development of the Program Needs Analysis. Based on this clarity of design, when it comes time to prep, shoot and edit the program, significant visual planning should take place. Effects require thinking through how they will appear on screen, what exactly they will do or show and how they will transition between scenes. If actors are to appear in these types of scenes there is a good chance green screen Chroma key work will be involved, which most often involves studio time, additional planning and special lighting.
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You may notice that I said the type or degree of “flash” should be determined “For the most part” by the type of program it will be. That’s because there is another facet to this decision—the client, and his desires. Many times clients will be in favor of special effects and flash for the simple reason that it makes the show look “cool”; it’s more like what they see on TV at home and they want a slick look and feel to represent their company, department or products. This is a valid opinion, and when it’s the case, assuming they are willing to pay for the extra time and resources, you would be wise to provide what they want.