Chapter 1

Introduction

Much has been written about the mystique of film directing, so much so that the craft and the art of directing have been submerged in a swell of adulation. The adulation is understandable. Film—celluloid or digital—is the art form of the twentieth century, and the director is given much of the credit for a film’s success. Paradoxically, directing remains a vocation that has used its mystique to its advantage; consequently, less is understood about the means of directing than about the other key roles in production. So, one of the goals of this book is to develop an understanding of what the director does and, by doing so, to help the reader become a better director. The path to better directing is exploring the tools available to the director and understanding how those tools can be deployed to make the competent director a better director and the good director a great director.

Having stated my über-goal, permit me to step back a bit to contextualize the goal of the book. First, the book examines the role of directing in production. Filmmaking, more than most popular or elite art forms, is collaborative. Producers, cinematographers, art designers, sound designers, editors, composers, scriptwriters, and actors all contribute mightily to the power of a finished film. Many have used the analogy of the director as the conductor of an orchestra or the coach of a sports team. Such analogies are, on one level, good. The director must marshal a varied group of talented individuals into a winning team and a single voice, and the sum of the whole must always be greater than the sum of the parts. This is the directing challenge, and this is where directors distinguish themselves as good directors or great directors, as opposed to competent or less competent directors. To do so, however, the director must be a politician, technician, storyteller, and artist.

This book focuses on the director. That is not to say that producers, writers, or actors are less important. Indeed, all are critical to the success of a film, and their roles are clearly understood. The goal of this book is to make the role of the director equally clear.

What Does the Director Do?

The director is responsible for translating a script (words) into visuals (shots) that will be turned over to an editor to pull together into a film. Start and finish points, however, may well blur, as the director joins the project in the writing or pre-production phase and does not leave the project until post-production. Thus, the director may well be involved in all aspects of the editing phase, such as sound design, music composition, recording, and mixing into the overall sound, until the film is completed. In other words, the director is responsible for the creative supervision of the film from early in its conception to its completion. The director will work most closely with the producer, who is responsible for the organizational and financial supervision of the film from its conception to its conclusion.

In the pre-production phase, the director may either play a secondary role to the scriptwriter or partner with the writer. The exact nature of the role depends on the director’s track record, influence, and interest. There is no such variability in the production phase, when the director is clearly in charge. Interpretation of the screenplay, blocking, breakdown of the script into specific shots, and modulation of the performances of actors are some of the specific responsibilities of the director in the production phase. In the post-production phase, the director’s interest or influence will either expand or reduce the director’s involvement. Generally, directors are quite involved in this phase even though editors (picture and sound) are driving many decisions.

What should be emphasized, however, is that writers, directors, and editors share one goal—to tell the story as effectively as possible—but their contributions differ. Writers use words, directors use camera shots and performances, and editors use visuals and sound to tell the story.

Who Is the Director?

Directors, as with every other profession, come in all different shapes and sizes. Whether they are male or female, Western, Eastern, Spanish, or American, their uniqueness is a result of the mix of each director’s beliefs, experiences, interests, and character. Some directors are playful (think of Federico Fellini). Some are deadly serious (think of Ingmar Bergman). Some prefer particular genres (think of Clint Eastwood). Some seem to thrive on a diversity of genres (think of Howard Hawks). Some are political (think of Sergei Eisenstein). Some are apolitical (think of Blake Edwards). Some prefer comedy (think of Woody Allen). And some try to alternate serious films with comedy (think again about Woody Allen as well as Billy Wilder).

My point here is that each director has a distinct personality that makes the work of that director different from the work of others. Part of the pleasure derived from films is their diversity, which contradicts the notion roaming around too many halls of film education institutes that there is one right way to make a film. My feeling is that there are many right ways, depending on the character, beliefs, and interests of the specific filmmaker.

How Did We Get Here?

Directors were not always the central figures they are today. As Hollywood developed into an industry, stars and producers were far more important than directors. David Selznick, a studio executive, became an important producer; consequently, he is the central creative figure associated with “Gone with the Wind.” No one remembers the four directors and as many writers on the film. When one speaks about “Casablanca,” it is Bogart and the Epstein brothers, the writers, who are remembered rather than Michael Curtiz, the director. Otto Preminger and Joe Mankiewicz both began their ascent in the film industry as producers. Both later made their mark as directors. Billy Wilder began as a writer, as did Preston Sturges. There were important directors in Hollywood (such as John Ford, Frank Capra, and Howard Hawks), but whenever possible they also acted as producers of their films. Even today, Jerry Bruckheimer and Brian Grazer are important producer figures in the industry. So, how did the director become so important?

The pivotal event occurred in France rather than in Hollywood. There, critics such as François Truffaut, Claude Chabrol, Eric Roehmer gathered around the journal Cahiers du Cinema, under the editorship of André Bazin. In post-war France, they studied and wrote about the creative genius of John Ford, Howard Hawks, Alfred Hitchcock, Anthony Mann, and Sam Fuller. They considered these American filmmakers to be the auteurs of their films, and they criticized the structure and output of their own French film industry. They began to make their own films—independent, low-budget films in the freer style characteristic of American cinema. The effect of their adulation was revolutionary, as directors came to be widely regarded as the auteurs or creative kingpins of their films. This concept was seized by cinephiles in England, where Karel Reisz and Lindsay Anderson wrote about film in the same spirit and began to make their own films in the freer, more personal style of the French “New Wave” filmmakers.

In America, the notion of auteurism was quickly adopted by John Cassavetes, Arthur Penn, Mike Nichols, and Sidney Lumet. Also, an intellectual–journalistic rationale was provided by Andrew Sarris; in his film reviews and later in his book The American Cinema, Sarris articulated and applied the auteur theory to all of American cinema. The auteur revolution had come to the United States, and film schools became a hotbed of auteurism. Graduates of the late 1960s (particularly Martin Scorsese, Francis Ford Coppola, and George Lucas) fueled in their early films the idea that the revolution was going to take over Hollywood.

In fact it did not, as studios, agents, and actors became more important even as the director’s status was rising. Everyone in film—actors, editors, writers, musicians—became superstars right along with the directors. As the commercial stakes rose, so too did the superstar population of Hollywood. Globalization and technology have deepened these trends, but today the director is at the pinnacle of the film hierarchy.

Where Are We Today?

Film today is one of the most important global industries. For many Hollywood films, most of the revenue can come from outside of the United States. A tentpole film such as “Troy” can expect to earn two thirds of its revenue offshore. In the United States, film and television are key export industries. In so fluid and lucrative a milieu, it is no wonder that directors are superstars the world over.

Wong Kar-wai of Hong Kong, Tom Tykwer of Germany, Luc Besson of France, and Steven Soderbergh of the United States are all at the peak of industry and public attention. In one sense, they are part of a continuum begun with Charlie Chaplin and Alfred Hitchcock 70 years earlier, but today is different. In addition to the industry being more global, there are other reasons for the increased importance of directors.

One reason is financial. George Lucas (“Star Wars”), Steven Spielberg (the “Indiana Jones” series, “Jurassic Park,” “Jaws”), and Peter Jackson (“The Lord of the Rings” trilogy) have created financial empires within the Hollywood industry. Their scale is unprecedented. Another reason is critical recognition, that is to say, the attention of the critics. Francis Ford Coppola (“The Godfather” series, “Apocalypse Now”), Martin Scorsese (”Raging Bull,” “Goodfellas,” “Kundun”), and Spike Lee (“Do the Right Thing,” “25th Hour”) are not runaway commercial hit directors (indeed, the works of Scorsese and Lee are rarely commercially impressive); nevertheless, they are critically embraced and valued far beyond their commercial viability (or lack thereof ).

Yet another reason is the director’s willingness to experiment. Steven Soderbergh experiments with clashing style and content (“The Limey,” “Traffic”). David Mamet, a well-known playwright, experiments with very filmic plot-oriented genres (“Heist,” “Spartan,” “The Spanish Prisoner”); Mike Figgis experiments with technology (“Time Code”); and Oliver Stone experiments with the MTV influence (“Natural Born Killers”).

A number of filmmakers try to replicate their style and success as commercial and television video makers. The world of advertising has launched the careers of Tony Scott (“Man on Fire”), Michael Bay (“Bad Boys”), and McQ (“Charlie’s Angels”). Their transition to filmmaking has worked and created yet another layer of directors in the industry.

Finally, some directors were something else before they became directors, such as the actors Robert Redford (“Ordinary People”), Clint Eastwood (“Mystic River”), Mel Gibson (“The Passion of Christ”), Diane Keaton (“Unstrung Heroes”), and Angelica Huston (“Bastard out of Carolina”). The theater directors Sam Mendes (“American Beauty”), Nicolas Hytner (“The Crucible”), and David Mamet (“The Winslow Boy”) follow in the footsteps of Elia Kazan, and all do very good work.

Another consideration with regard to today’s directors is that they are far more international than their predecessors. Many successful foreign directors (that is, directors who are successful in their own countries) are now working in English productions as well as those in their languages of origin. Istvan Szabo of Hungary (“Taking Sides,” “Sunshine”), Luc Besson of France (“The Messenger,” “Leon the Professional”), and Tom Tykwer of Germany (“Heaven”) are among the best known of these filmmakers.

American directors are also taking a more flexible approach to their careers. Spike Lee makes documentaries and commercials between his feature films. Martin Scorsese also makes documentaries between his features. Steven Soderbergh occasionally jumps into digital video and small-scale features in between his more commercial projects. Barry Levinson takes on edgy television projects in addition to his more conservative (read commercial) feature films. Oliver Stone has moved from directing a low-budget HBO documentary about Castro to directing a $200 million feature about Alexander the Great. In Europe, Lars von Trier continually experiments with the style of his films. Roger Michell jumps from film to television to theater with great frequency.

One of the most interesting career paths exhibiting this flexibility is that of Ang Lee. Lee has moved from ethnic family comedies (“Eat Drink Man Woman”) to Jane Austen family comedy (“Sense and Sensibility”) to Chinese-language action adventure (“Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon”) to American action adventure (“The Incredible Hulk”). And I have not even mentioned his Western or nonlinear films! This degree of diversity keeps the director challenged and in risk-taking rather than risk-aversion mode.

What I am suggesting is that today the director is a superstar, but the means of becoming such a superstar as well as sustaining one’s superstardom have grown far more complex.

The Structure of the Book

This book is divided into two parts. The first focuses on the question “What is directing?” and discusses how a director arrives at the director’s idea. The first half of Part I defines the director’s idea and differentiates competent or technical directing, good directing, and great directing. I realize that competent, good, and great are loaded, subjective words. They are hierarchical, and my use of such terminology and my taste may not match those of the reader; nevertheless, I am going to use these terms to capture the sense that there is a distinct path to improved directing and that the path requires a premise, a director’s idea, to guide the choices the director makes. Those choices—the direction of the actors, the shot choices, the proximity of the camera to the action, deciding when to switch to a stationary camera, and finally text or script interpretation—are the substance of the second section of this first part. Approaches designed to reach the director’s idea of the reader are provided in an appendix that appears at the end of the book.

The second part of the book is comprised of 14 case studies of the work of individual directors. The case studies are organized as follows:

1. Articulation of the director’s idea.
2. Application of the director’s idea.

Scenes from each director’s work have been chosen to examine their approach to directing. The discussion of these scenes includes:

1. A summary of the narrative content of the scene
2. The performances (how they are adapted to orchestrate emotionally the director’s idea)
3. The camera work or visualization utilized to achieve the director’s idea
4. Lighting, sound, and, if applicable, art direction and how they contribute to the director’s idea
5. A summary of how these elements work together to further the director’s idea

How I Came to Write This Book

I have already pointed out that this book presents a hierarchy of directing. Understanding the genesis of my biases will allow readers to either give in to my views or to temper their views with mine. First and foremost, I hope that the reader will come to share my excitement for great directing and to appreciate how to reach for those stars. Second, I must say that I have always been smitten with the directing bug. From the very first time I made a film I knew that I had experienced a singular pleasure of the act. Of course, I instantly associated that effort with those of my idols, the poetic John Ford, the vigorous Raoul Walsh, and the epic Anthony Mann. Although I had not yet navigated the emotional depths of, for example, Charlie Chaplin, I felt certain that doing so lay just ahead.

The joy of directing has never left me, but in short order it was joined by a drive to write, and nothing proved more pleasurable than editing my own work. Indeed, the process of discovery I experienced in the editing process is quite unmatched in all of my film experiences. I began to teach and quite enjoyed that, also. I have never thought of myself as pollyannaish. I simply enjoy every aspect of the form. It is all about telling a story, about having—and giving to the audience—a thrilling experience. This has not changed, even after thousands of films viewed and even more thousands of students taught. In the past 15 years of my career, I have been writing books about scriptwriting, editing, and production.

In 1988, an editor at Focal Press, Karen Speerstra, asked me to evaluate a book proposal on directing. I did so, and in the course of that evaluation I shared with her that the best directing book I ever encountered was Karel Reisz’s The Technique of Film Editing. First written in the early 1950s, that book was for me the bible of directing, and I said as much to Karen. Her response was to ask me if I wanted to write the third update of the Reisz book. Of course I did, but it did not come to pass. What did result is what I call the cousin of the Reisz book, my 1993 book, The Technique of Film and Video Editing. That book, now in its third edition, has given me the opportunity to flesh out Reisz’s subtextual idea: What do directors need to know about shots to make a strong film? Much has changed—styles (e.g., MTV), pacing, types of documentaries, elaborate nonlinear films—but the ideas of Griffith and Vertov and Eisenstein and Pudovkin remain the fundamentals for the shot organization and selection that create powerful film experiences. And those ideas are at the core of the Reisz book.

Flash forward to 2003. I am teaching a workshop in Amsterdam on the history of editing. Attending are working editors and producers. To a person, the attendees express their regret that directors have not come to the workshop. They should be your audience, I am told again and again. Thus, the idea for this book took form.

I would like to end this chapter with the following ten ideas about directing that I would like to share with the reader:

1. Writing, directing, and editing are all about storytelling. The writer uses words, the director uses the camera and the performance, and the editor uses shots and sound. The means differ but the goal is the same: Tell the story as clearly and as strongly as you can.
2. Making a film is both a creative and organizational challenge, akin to setting up, operating, and shutting down a small (or mid-size) business; consequently, the director needs a creative team (actors, cinematographers and crew, sound and crew, art director and crew, editor and crew), as well as an organization team (producer, production manager, script supervisor, assistant director), and must get along with both teams. Think of this role as a mix of general and captain.
3. Many different styles of leadership can be effective.
4. Making a film requires making hundreds of decisions each day.
5. Directors can never be over-prepared.
6. Directing is technical, intellectual, emotional, and creative. The more layers operating for the director, the more likely the film will be lively and engaging.
7. Actors are critical to the success of a film; they are the front line, the great risk takers in a production. Because of the risks they take, they deserve the respect of their directors.
8. Character matters. Good and great directing is fueled by the character of the director. By character I mean that vague mix of ethics and behavior that make each of us who we are. False character, conversely, does not make for good directing.
9. The story, whether 30 seconds or 3 hours, can be told in many ways. The emphasis or interpretation of a director will depend on that director’s interests, intuition, and belief system. One interpretation is not necessarily better than another. It is simply different. And herein lies another pathway to viewing directing as a unique expression of the director (as opposed to an objective view of the work).
10. Technology is not a solution to the directing challenge. Technology is just technology. Directing is the human factor in the directorial equation.

And now let us begin.