Week #2 Lectorial & Experimental Film: Editing

edit

verb

  • to choose material for and arrange it to form a coherent whole
  • to expunge; eliminate
  • to prepare by deleting, arranging, and splicing, by synchronizing the sound record with the film, etc.

Editing is one of the most underrated techniques in the world. While watching a film most people fail to properly acknowledge the beauty of the edit. If you walked out of the theatre and quizzed your friends on their favourite aspect of the film, how many do you think would pick editing as a highlight? Much of this arises from the fact that the majority films these days are generally edited coherently, ensuring basic temporal and spatial continuity–and it figures, editing is so frequent and camouflaged that it becomes hard to notice it, let alone grade it. Some will say that good editing is editing you don’t notice at all, and other citations range from “Movies become art after editing“, and “The film is made in the editing room“. So in order to fully appreciate the edit it’s necessary to take it back a step (or in this instance step all the way to the opposite end of the spectrum) and look at bad editing: the infamous basketball scene from Catwoman (2004).

It doesn’t help that the scene is deeply cringeworthy at a base level (how you gonna do that in front of those kids, Catwoman?); the sporadic and haphazard editing only makes the scene incomprehensible and, in many ways, unwatchable. What could have been achieved in less than 20 cuts is done in ~130 of the most purposeless and ugly shots of the 21st century. The cuts hold no weight and bear no tension, lifelessin comparison to the masterworks of a Leone or Kurosawa. Catwoman itself was a disaster, so its incoherence can’t be entirely blamed on the editors (Halle Berry later blamed Warner Brothers: “Thank you for putting me in a piece of shit, god-awful movie… It was just what my career needed.“), but when the job is put in the right hands, the results can be electrifying.

As touched on by Jeremy Bowtell in the week #2 lecture, editing is as much about the ‘spaces between‘ as it is about juxtaposition and the combining of parts to create new meaning. Film editor Walter Murch (2005) [whose credits include Apocalypse NowThe Godfather: Part III and Jarhead] argues not only that ‘the cut [should] reflect what the editor believes the audience should be feeling‘ at a certain moment, but should ‘advance the story‘ and ‘occur at a moment that is rhythmically interesting‘. So when these suggestions are applied to a film like Catwoman, where does it rank? If random and volatile zooms and cuts are your thing, then obviously you’re in heaven, but to the average person the frequency and meaninglessness of the editing is jarring. Sometimes it’s beneficial to keep things simple.

A film like La Jetée (1962) relies heavily on editing; its existence is central to its use of, and with these restrictions Marker succeeds in creating something wholly unique and wonderfully spellbinding. An album of b&w photographs, a few simple cuts and a little help from an insightful narrator is all it takes to build a world from the ground up. A scene doesn’t have to be a violent flurry of transitions, like in Catwoman, but more a methodical and structured arrangement of shots, like in the scene below: Sergio Leone’s The Good, The Bad and The Ugly (1966).

Morricone’s scoring here also plays an enormous part in the creation of tension between the three central characters (a touch easier on the ears than Mis-Teeq’s Scandalous) but at its simplest it remains one of the most sweaty-hand producing scenes ever put to screen, achieved in half the amount of shots in Catwoman‘s basketball scene and with a 100% higher success rate. A true emotional high.

Here, less is more, but excess isn’t always detrimental. Take the stairway shootout from Brian De Palma’s The Untouchables (1987) as the perfect example:

Utterly absurd but undeniably engaging; a true nail-biter. De Palma’s trademark slo-mo (and intimate focus on set pieces) elevates a basic gunfight into a gritty, edge-of-your-seat extravaganza complete with high-stakes pram down the stairs action (coincidentally also scored by Morricone). All in all, there is no one perfect way to edit. Much of the style depends on context, genre and overall meaning, the emotions attempting to be conveyed or the tension attempting to be exuded. The beauty of the edit is something to be appreciated, no matter how many times it involves Halle Berry groping a man on the court.

The Wizard of Oz & In Bruges: The Modern Fairytale

In many ways, the use of colour in The Wizard of Oz (1939) is its greatest achievement. From the grounded, sepia tones of Kansas in late 1930s America to the glistening glory of the Technicolour dreamscape which stretches beyond Oz’s furthest reaches, Fleming’s decision to paint the opposing locations’ respective landscapes in such drastic contrast in one way or another defines both the film’s success and reputation. In a world where the use of colour in film is taken for granted and is often employed without inspiration (see Man of Steel, majority of the MCU catalogue), Oz’s commitment to expanding the representation of colour and portraying it as an object of desire in a time when black and white film stock rule can only be seen as revolutionary.

In looking to escape the tedium of agricultural life and the economic disruption of America’s Great Depression, Dorothy (Judy Garland) turns her desires inwards and finds within herself a livelier environment: the spectacle of Oz, the ultimate wonderland, vibrant in every observable aspect, achievable only through the use of Technicolour (Dorothy’s slippers were adjusted from silver to ruby to take full advantage of the vivid process). Additionally, the studio’s employment of the cartoonish visual style present in Oz adds to the location’s idealistic appearance; for Dorothy, Oz is a utopian dreamland envisioned out of dissatisfaction with her immediate and muted environment and MGM’s creation of gorgeous matte paintings services this idea brilliantly.

Coincidentally, another film I watched this week which addressed similar themes was Martin McDonagh’s neo-noir crime comedy In Bruges (2008). Wherein The Wizard of Oz explicitly contrasts the idea of stark reality and escapism through fantasisation, In Bruges mixes the two notions and meets in the middle, allowing itself to source much of its humour from this balance. In many instances the film’s location, Bruges, Belgium, is referred to as a ‘fairytale town’. In a heated and crucial moment, the film’s antagonist, crime boss Harry (Ralph Fiennes), reveals the nature of one the hitmen, Ken (Brendan Gleeson)’s, next assignment via phone call: to eliminate his partner, Ray (Colin Farrell) after a botched assassination attempt. In conclusion, Harry confesses his pride in his allowing of Ray to experience the beauty of Bruges, declaring that “[he’d] like to go see Bruges again before [he] die[s]” and likening the city to a “dream”, before ending with call with “give me a call when he’s dead”. Here, the association between lightness of the idealistic ‘fairytale’ land and the grimness of the actual situation makes up much of the content which brands In Bruges both hilarious and as the modern day fairytale.

As opposed to Dorothy’s longing for escape in The Wizard of Oz, Ray’s feelings towards Bruges are quite the opposite; Ray longs to escape the proposed ‘fairytale’, at one point in the film drawn to suicide because of his actions there. Although in the 1930s, the idealised notion of fleeing to a ‘fairlytale’ land as a diversion from one’s monotonous and strenuous existence was epitomised in The Wizard of Oz, in today’s day we are aware as a society that places such as Oz do not exist. The idea of simply running away from the hardships of our given lifestyle has been debunked and we as forced as a people to come to terms with reality. Here, we are upon an age where Bruges is the new Oz. The Wizard of Oz ends with Dorothy returning to Kansas, finding herself captivated by the idea of home being the one and only place she needs: “There’s no place like home.” In Bruges defies this norm, and ends with Ray being stretchered off into an ambulance, his chest punctured with bullet wounds as he comes to terms with the fact that maybe that’s what hell is: “The entire rest of eternity spent in fucking Bruges.”

Lofi Media Self-Portrait

3x audio recordings

  1. blu-ray: the simple sound of me putting a disc into a player. I am very much a supporter of physical media (blu-rays, DVDs, CDs, vinyl).
  2. trambience™: a general tram ambience sound. Since moving to the city last month public transport has become central to my way of living. Always moving.
  3. typing: writing is something I enjoy doing, though sometimes you can hear the backspace key being spammed; I am also a bit of a perfectionist so more often than not writing is something I also find difficult.

 

3x pieces of video

cinema from Samuel Harris on Vimeo.

  1. cinema: to this day I remain a fan of going to the cinemas, an experience unmatched by any home entertainment system. Very much a film buff.

rainy day from Samuel Harris on Vimeo.

2. rainy day: my favourite kind of weather, such a emotionally strong and poignant time of day. In the same way that the video is framed, I also feel very much like an observer.

bookstore from Samuel Harris on Vimeo.

3. bookstore: Readings on Carlton is one of my most recent discoveries; a store which caters to all my interests, from film to literature. The shortness and shakiness of this video in one way or another symbolises my relationship with books, as reading is something I take pleasure in yet to have read my fair share of classics, important titles, etc.

 

6x photographic images

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  1. family: as scarcely as I openly appreciate my family, they are in many ways central to my life and identity.

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2. girlfriend: if mum wasn’t still washing my clothes every weekend, she would probably top the list of most important people in my life. Every moment is a joy spent with her. 

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3. my melbourne room: making the move to the city was a huge step in my life, and this crammed room on the corner of Flemington Road will become my sanctuary for the next ~year. Equipped with everything of importance to me. 

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4. my actual room: my Melbourne setup is fairly similar to my one at home. Dressed to encapsulate my identity with material objects (blackhat and Ex Machina top 5 of 2015).

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5. sample of my collection: goes hand in hand with my first audio piece. Only a miniature representation of my entire collection (over 300 films, several TV show boxsets, the usual etc etc). Taxi Driver is forever my favourite, while Phantom of the Paradise/Frances Ha/The Tree of Life/Lost in Translation/Miami Vice all tie for second place.

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6. ‘the arts’: to be honest, I got lucky with this photo (maybe the best I’ve ever taken). Now it has the pleasure of acting as a symbol for my appreciation of the arts in all their forms.  

 

This task proved somewhat difficult, although in the end I am more than ok with the final result. If these 3 media components can in any way communicate an idea of my identity then this is what it’d look like.

Movies I watched this week (and a bit) – 11/03/16

In order to incentivise blog posts I have decided to detail a brief log/review of the films I’ve watched each week. Posted Fridays.

 

Safe (1995) dir. Todd Haynes
03/03/16
rewatch

Review written for Letterboxd:

Inexplicably ambiguous. Haynes puts his heart and soul into this feature; he frames Moore (as Carol before Carol) in ways that act as an extension of her isolation within her materialistic lifestyle, working in complete control of every facet of the frame. Moore is shown endlessly trapped within the confines of her designer San Fernando villa, shot hovering on the peripheries (even in her own garden, Haynes positions her lost amongst her own jungle, a slow zoom out wholly encapsulating these emotions). Sound design here also plays an enormous part in capturing the ambiguities of Carol’s disease, the perpetual whir of electricity detailing her deterioration and superimposing the sound of silence during the film’s brooding first act. Thematically, Safe defines the feeling of anxiety; the hopelessness of an explanation and an understanding from others epitomised by Carol’s final relocation to Wrenwood, and to a greater extent, the enigmatic Lester. This is a horror film. ★★★★½

The Suicide (1978) dir. Todd Haynes
03/03/16

Inherent Vice (2015) dir. Paul Thomas Anderson
05/03/16

Review written for Letterboxd:

“They told me I was precious cargo that couldn’t be insured because of inherent vice.”
“What’s that?”
“I don’t know.”

A trivial quest of a film, not as indecipherable as many have protested but undeniably shares many similarities with a puzzle box on first viewing. Phoenix is the most lovable, bumbling pot-head ever acquitted to the screen. Also boasts some of the funniest moments of PTA’s filmography (here, here and here to name a few). Slow zooms are crucial. ★★★★½

In Bruges (2008) dir. Martin McDonagh
07/03/16
rewatch

Almost a 21st century rendition of ‘the fairytale’; Bruges is the new Oz. ★★★★★

Holy Motors (2012) dir. Leos Carax
08/03/16

Carax’s scathing critique of the contemporary film industry is really a goldmine. More thoughts to come after well warranted rewatch next week. ★★★★½

Stella Dallas (1937) dir. King Vidor
09/03/16

It was a pleasure to witness this in all its 35mm glory, Vidor’s eye for composition in order to produce to most viable of emotional responses is a strength to be admired. Moved both a little too fast and a little too slow for my liking, Vidor clearly trying to compress as much content as possible into a 100 minute runtime that the film’s final act becomes a constant back and forth motion (while some transitions throw the delicate story years into the future without much more than a fade). All in all, Stanwyck truly is the glue that holds everything together in this truly heartfelt picture. Also features one of the most melancholic endings ever put the screen. ★★★½

The Lady Eve (1941) dir. Preston Sturges
09/03/16

Hilarious. Stanwyck again steals the show, leading an admittedly wonderful ensemble on a wild trip across the high seas. Sturges’ clearly possessed a comedic talent that was years ahead of its time. The Lady Eve is concrete proof that rom-coms aren’t simply throwaways. ★★★★½