3

Enlargement and Composition

Until now, we have considered the celluloid band in its entirety. However, as we proceed we find that the space of the picture is subdivided into smaller units which in turn consist of smaller parts which are assembled from still smaller entities. This cutting up of the whole of the space brings the danger that the smaller units will fall apart. Consequently, we must search for ways and means of connecting the divided parts.

At this point, however, we are not ready to examine the subdivision and connection of the story structure. We shall confine ourselves to the investigation of the purely technical and mechanical subdivision of the celluloid band. And here we find that the smallest entity is the picture frame. There are 16 frames to the foot, which means that the entire motion picture consists of about 120,000 to 170,000 frames. If we take the celluloid band in our hands, we realize that each one of these little pictures is different from the other. Each succeeding picture shows a progress from the foregoing. Even though this is a purely technical characteristic, it teaches us that the story must progress incessantly and relentlessly just as these little pictures progress.

An indefinite number of these picture frames forms a shot. A shot is defined by a change of the camera set-up. As long as the camera set-up is not changed, we have the same shot, although the things which are being photographed may have changed. And as soon as the camera set-up is changed, we have a new shot, even though the thing which is photographed in the new set-up may be the same.

The number of picture frames to the foot is mechanically determined. But the footage of film in a shot is undefined. Furthermore, it is a matter for our decision at what distance to place the camera, in which direction to photograph, and at what time to end the shot. We must investigate the principles which will guide these decisions.

First, it is necessary to understand that the field of the camera is limited. The photographic lens cuts out a certain segment of the whole. This is a vital difference in comparison with the theatre. Although the theatre is limited in its possibilities of representation, it exhibits those events fully. Everything that happens in a certain room or in a certain set is shown to us simultaneously and completely. The picture, however, might show us parts of the room or parts of the set. The camera, which cuts out a certain field, does not show us the whole but only a part of the whole. Each shot shows a certain section and the next shot may show another section.

The question, What section should be shown? can be answered in the following way. Since the camera picks out a section of the whole, it must pick out the section which is important. Consequently, the motion picture does not give us a realistic representation of events, as in the theatre, but a selective rendition: only those things that the creator judges to be important are shown to us.

Because we are unable to see the whole and decide for ourselves what is important, the motion picture creator must choose for us and show us what he judges important. It is as if he were to say, “Look here, this expression or this action or this object is essential.” It is as if he were to point out various elements, thereby accentuating them so that they attain a special meaning to the story. He can further emphasize them by arranging them in space in such a manner that the objects in the foreground seem disproportionately larger than the ones in the background. This is due to the distortion of the lens, a common joke with amateur photographers who take snapshots of their sleeping friends by positioning the camera at their feet, which then appear much larger than their heads. In the motion picture this distortion of the lens can be used for emphasis. For instance, a glass of liquor in the foreground which, although small in reality, will fill half the screen. Then, in the background, a habitual drunkard will appear tiny in comparison with the glass which exerts such power over him.

Since the motion picture director has this power to select the essential, the audience assumes that everything he shows is important. But from this can also result a wrong accentuation, if the director shows a sector which is actually unimportant. Unlike the theatre audience, which automatically concentrates upon certain parts of the stage, the motion picture spectator will not try to decide for himself what is important, but will trust the selection of the director.

Inasmuch as this is the principle which guides the handling of the camera, we must ask, What is important?

To show what is important means to show elements which reveal information. Knowing that the actor is not the only source of information, we must not limit ourselves to the actor. If a gun is important, we must show the gun; if a flat tire, we must show the flat tire; if a rustic setting, we must show the rustic setting. If it is the actor’s eyes, we must show his eyes. Depending upon the size of the element which is important, we must come closer or go away with the camera in order to adapt the field of vision to the size of the element which is being photographed.

Since many elements may be expressive, several of them may be important at one time. Then these elements must be combined in one shot. The fact that elements, although of contrasting or different value, are combined in one shot binds them together; we can call this the composition of various means of expression in the same shot. Contrary to the conception of composition in painting, composition in motion pictures is not so much an aesthetic as a functional matter. It is mainly the combination of various elements revealing information.

As the story progresses, the interest will shift from one actor to the other, from set to object, from prop to actor, or from one combination of elements to another. It will not be possible that the same shot can continue to show everything that is important for too long a time. Hence, we have to change the setup. The smooth handling of the camera means the continuous following of the shifts of our interest. If we delay a shot while interest has progressed, the audience feels disturbed. If we want to see a certain action and we are shown the expression of an actor instead, we feel disturbed. Sometimes the action is less important than the reaction. At times the expression of the actor who is talking is less important than the expression of the one who listens.

If we fail to show the elements in which the audience is interested and which are important, we have the effect of hiding something. This can simply be a mistake, or the director can gain a new effect by making use of the limited field of vision. For instance, we may be able to gather from the reaction of one of the actors that something is happening. But if we are not shown immediately what is going on, in hiding this important element from the field of vision, we arouse curiosity. Later, this factor can be revealed as the entrance of another person, as a gun threateningly pointed at the actor, or as a fire newly started.

This hiding of objects, by excluding them from the visual field, is particularly interesting with respect to sound. We can either show or hide the instrument which causes a sound. We can hide the person who caused a noise by opening a door, or we can hide or show the person who fired a shot.

The camera must be compared to a pair of eyes. Generally, they are the eyes of the storyteller. This being the case, they should be placed where they can see and thereby show us the essential things. But at times the storyteller can identify himself with one of his actors. That is, he can sneak into the soul of one of his persons and look out through the eyes of this actor. Then he can shift to the soul of the other actor and look out from there. Let us assume we show a man entering a room where he sees a scene of horrible devastation. The camera then shows us the scene from the point of view of the actor. Or if you have dialogue between an actor who sits in a chair and an actor who stands before him, you can photograph one shot upward, as the sitting actor would see the other person, or a different shot downward, representing the view of the standing actor. But you can also photograph both actors from the side; in that case the shot would be seen through the eyes of the storyteller.

In the beginning of this chapter it was said that the motion picture coordinator could choose the kind and length of his shots. He is not entirely free in his choice, however. He should adapt them to the demands of the story in accordance with the principles which were outlined in these pages. Many a director has indulged in extravagant shots. No matter how interesting and perfect they may be from a technical point of view, they are rather a disadvantage than a benefit to the story. In the picture Citizen Kane there is a shot where the camera comes through the roof of a nightclub. From a technical point of view, the shot is beautifully executed; from the story point of view, the shot has no sense and no meaning. In the same picture, however, there is a shot whose brilliant composition has become famous; there is a glass containing poison in the foreground. In the center a woman is dying as a result of the poison; and in the background is the door through which Kane enters — he who is the reason for her attempted suicide.

Technically speaking, the different kinds of shots are classified as follows:

Each kind of shot is capable of showing us a different assembly of facts revealing information. The long shot is capable of showing us the total of all the factors, the complete set and all the people and all their actions therein. However, they are seen from the distance, so that details are not clearly visible.

The full shot brings us nearer. It is still capable of assembling all the factors of set, objects, props, actors, and their actions.

The medium shot does not show the whole but only a section. It shows only a part of the set, it shows not a whole group of people but just some of them. The moment we lose the representation of the whole, the camera points to certain parts, as if it were to say: this is important. The total is simply an imitation of life. But at this stage, the principle of selection begins to work. We can assemble factors of different meaning. For instance, a jockey, his horse, a gambler, and the finish line in the background. Or a policeman, a gangster, and a broken safe.

The close shot points to the detail. It can be part of the set, like the bullet hole in a wall, or even part of an object, like a flat tire, or a prop, like a letter or like the nervous tapping of an actor’s fingers.

Still closer is the semi close-up or two shot. It is used when we want to show the faces of two people. And last we have the close-up. There we bring the expression of an actor to the last row of spectators in the largest movie house, a fact which has made the movies so popular as a democratic art. The legitimate stage exhibits the actor’s expression only to the expensive seats.

The purpose of the traveling shot is to follow the shifting of our interest without interruption, that is, without the change from one shot to another. This confines the use of the traveling shot to cases in which we actually have a shifting of interest and in which the camera is able to follow this shift.

It can mean that the reaction of the face of an actor suddenly becomes more interesting than the group of people or the set behind. It can mean that the interest shifts from one single object to the entire set. Or that the interest stays with a person who moves on. In that case the camera may travel along. But in any case, the movement of the camera must depend upon the story happenings and not upon the director’s fancy.

The same principle guides the use of the panoramic shot. We should not turn from one object to another unless there is reason for it. We may want to turn from one group of people to another. Or the director may think it necessary to expose the set by a pan shot. For this purpose he can let an actor cross the room and turn after him with the camera, thereby exposing the set. But the crossing of the actor must have a meaning. Sometimes the walk itself can be important. Charles Laughton’s manner of walking in the picture The Private Life of Henry VIII (1933) represented a definite characterization, as did Nathan Lane’s and Robin Williams’ separate imitations of John Wayne’s gliding style in The Birdcage (1996). The danger in the pan shot, as well as in the traveling shot, is that they are slow. It is much quicker to cut from one shot to another. Therefore, they should only be used if they actually follow a shift of interest.

It must be realized that each shot is a separate thing by itself, whereas the story represents a continuous flow. The tendency of the division into shots is to cut up the story, whereas we desire to obtain a smooth continuity.

For one thing, the change from one shot to the other should not be too great. If we start out with a long shot showing a person entering a room, we should not follow it up with a close-up. The change is so great that it hampers the connection. Instead we should maneuver the camera closer in two or three approaching shots. Thereby, we convey a feeling of intensified action (which by the way corresponds to the development of most scenes: they grow in intensity). The reverse process has the effect of bringing us back from the detail to the surroundings. It conveys the feeling of the circumstances in which a scene has taken place.

Action makes for smooth connection. We hardly realize that we look at two different shots if the first one shows the beginning of an action and the next one its continuation. A person who begins to stand up from a chair in one shot and finishes this action in the next one represents excellent connection. Even the lighting of a cigarette will connect two shots. The reason is anticipation, which leads our perception smoothly to the completion of the action. Anticipation works even more strongly in connecting two shots if there is no action. It is sufficient for a person to look in a certain direction. We anticipate that something has happened there and we anticipate further that the next shot will show this happening.

Since shot follows shot in one continuous flow, the following devices are used for demarcation:

FADE-IN: The slow appearance of the image on the screen. Most pictures begin with a fade-in. In the course of the film they are generally used to indicate the end of a sequence — a division similar to the chapters of a novel.

FADE-OUT: The slow disappearance of the image at the end of a sequence or of the picture.

DISSOLVE TO: A gradual blending from one scene to the next, used when a lapse of time or a decisive change of place occurs. The division created by this device is less marked than the one of the fade-out and does not indicate an interruption of the flow of events.

CUT TO: A direct switch from one shot to the next. Because the transition is so rapid, no time is lost. But it also means that no lapse of time occurred. Therefore it would not be appropriate to show how a man walks to the door and then cut to a shot where he opens it, because he would have needed several seconds to traverse the room. But it would be correct to let him start opening the door and cut to a reverse shot wherein he finishes the action.

MONTAGE: It is next to impossible to give a concise definition of montage. There are too many different opinions concerning its use. Pudovkin said that film did not become an art until montage was invented. Eisenstein conceived the entire picture as a montage (Potemkin, 1925). The Russians used it to a considerable extent for symbolical juxtaposition, whereas in Hollywood, montage is used primarily to compress developments too extensive to be presented in fully dramatized scenes. Nowadays, Music Television is a form of montage being used more and more in feature films, with varied success (Tapeheads [1988]; The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert 11994]; To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar [1995]; Evita [1996]).

On the whole, the shots chosen for montage must not only be expressive so as to convey information, they must also be adapted to the style of the film: funny incidents in a comedy (Private Parts [1997]), emotional in a love story (Love in The City [1953]), exciting in an action picture (Twister [1996]). While being helpful to the progress of the story, montage has no dramatic force of its own. The scenes glide by so fast that the spectator has no time to sink his teeth in.

EXT. or INT.: Denote that the scene takes place in an exterior or interior setting. Although it may be filmed inside a studio sound stage, where a garden or a balcony has been built, the differentiation is primarily significant for the cinematographer.

DAY or NIGHT: Without any intermediate moods like dawn or dusk, this is rather archaic usage. The scriptwriter, in descriptive passages beneath the shot headings, indicates the nuances.

The employment of technical devices is not so much the writer’s duty as the director’s, or film editor’s; and, although the mere sound of technical terms is awe-inspiring to the novice who believes that mastering them will make him a screenwriter, they are of minor importance to the knowledge of screenplay technique.

The following sample scenes from a film for television and a feature film demonstrate the sameness of technical terminology.

The preceding scenes illustrate the interchangeability of terminology defining technical devices relative to scene and shot changes, indicating that differences between mediums are not very important in terms of how a script page looks.

A writer who worries too much about pagination risks losing sight of what is most important, i.e., the story — its scope and style. Is it intimate and better suited for television, or grand enough in some manner that necessitates a feature film approach?

As for formatting specifics, shots are numbered sequentially in all scripts. Shot and scene descriptions are capitalized, as are character names and descriptions of the major actions when used in non-dialogue exposition (see Appendix: Screenplay Format).