The fundamental editing principles which were evolved in the silent cinema have now become common knowledge. The use of close shots, fl ash-backs, dissolves, panning and tracking shots is now common practice in every studio. These devices form an accepted part of every fi lm-maker’s resources: the way in which any of them are used to-day may vary in detail from the silent days, but their dramatic usefulness has remained sub-stantially unaltered.
Sound and other technical innovations have brought about some minor changes: the determination of pace, which in the silent days was entirely a matter of the rate of cutting, can now to some extent be aided by the control of the volume and urgency of the sound-track; passages of time, previously conveyed by subtitles, can now be suggested in the dialogue; on a more routine level, devices like inter-cutting shots of the passing land-scape with interior shots of a train compartment to convey that the train is moving, are no longer necessary because back-projection can be used to convey the idea in a single shot. These and many other small techni-cal differences have arisen but they are all of an essentially practitechni-cal nature.
More important changes of editing technique have arisen out of the very marked change of style which fol-lowed the advent of sound. A much greater insistence on realism has been a notable feature of the past two decades of fi lm-making. This is strongly refl ected in contemporary editing practice. Effects which were com-monly used in the silent cinema but which now seem to detract from the realism of the presentation have fallen into disfavour: iris shots which were so often used to focus the attention to a detail are now out of fashion because they constitute an artifi cial pictorial effect; masking, which was used by Griffi th, is now rarely employed, again because it is unnaturalistic; quick, momentary fl ash-backs, such as Griffi th has in The Birth of a Nation , are rarely used since they tend to look arbitrarily planted. It would be rash to say that these devices will never be used again, but they have at present fallen into disfavour because they draw attention to tech-nique and disturb the illusion of reality.
Larger problems of planning and editing the story continuity have considerably changed since the advent of sound because it is now no longer necessary to show everything visually. In The Birth of a Nation , for instance, there is a scene where a mother promises her son who is lying wounded in hospital and is later to be court-martialled that she will go to see President Lincoln and plead on his behalf. From the shot of the mother in hospital, Griffi th cuts to a shot of Lincoln in his study, and then, after an explanatory title, cuts back again. The insert is necessary if the audience is to become aware of what the two characters are discussing and is a much more elegant way of conveying it than would be a title alone. In a sound fi lm, obviously, this sort of explana-tory editing is no longer necessary since we would hear the mother’s words.
A detailed comparison between the editing of silent and sound fi lms will perhaps emerge, if we consider the whole complex of problems which constitute editing under four separate headings:
The Order of Shots
In the silent days, the director and editor (they were usually the same person) worked with a great deal of freedom. The only factor which decided the order of shots was the desire to achieve the most satisfactory visual continuity.
Often a great deal of material was shot which only found its appropriate place in the fi nal scheme of con-tinuity on the cutting bench. Griffi th is said to have shot most of his fi lms “ off the cuff, ” shooting a certain amount of cover which allowed him enough footage to experiment with the material when he came to edit it. Eisenstein worked on his scripts in much greater detail, but he too relied to a great extent on the cutting stage of production to shape and reorganise the shot material. German fi lm-makers, on the other hand (Carl Mayer, for instance), tended to work with much tighter scripts; but the point is that in the silent cinema it was possible, creatively and economically, to let even the broader outlines of continuity take shape after the shoot-ing was fi nished. The medium was extremely fl exible in that there was no physical reason why one should not cut from practically anything to anything else: indeed, one suspects that Eisenstein, for example, arrived at some of his most telling juxtapositions in the cutting room.
In sound fi lms this freedom to rearrange and experiment with the material in the cutting room has been con-siderably reduced: partly because synchronised sound “ anchors ” the visuals; partly because production costs of sound shooting are so high that it is normally impractical to shoot a large amount of footage which may not in the end be used. Dialogue often carries essential plot information which cannot be given anywhere except in one specifi c context, and the image going with it is therefore “ anchored ” from the moment it is shot. This does not mean — as some writers have suggested — that editing patterns in the sound fi lm need be any less complex or expressive than they were in the silent days. What it does mean is that the fi nal order of shots in sequences employing actual sound needs to be planned at an earlier stage in production. In this sense the responsibility for the editing has shifted from the editor to the writer.
Selection of Camera Set-ups: Emphasis
The principle of using long, medium and close shots for various degrees of emphasis has remained substan-tially the same since Griffi th fi rst applied it. In contemporary fi lms the writer will usually indicate the kind of camera set-up he thinks most suitable, and even if he does not, the director should have a fairly clear idea as to which set-ups will be used in the assembled continuity. When a scene requires a number of different cam-era set-ups, the whole scene is frequently shot from each separate position and subsequently assembled by the editor as he sees most fi t. This, however, is not ideal policy: however much cover has been taken, a scene shot by a director who is uncertain as to how it will be edited is not likely to have the precision of effect which can be achieved by planned shooting.
Timing
In a silent fi lm the state of tension of a passage was largely conveyed through the rate of cutting. Griffi th con-stantly varied the pace of his fi lms to convey (and control) the changing of dramatic tension; and the climax was almost always a rapidly cross-cut sequence, usually a chase. Eisenstein evolved an extremely elaborate theory of timing which can perhaps be best appreciated in the sharp changes of tempo in the Odessa Steps sequence. Whatever the theory, however, the timing of shots was solely determined by their visual content.
In the sound fi lm this is no longer the case. By timing the picture in relation to the sound-track the editor can achieve a whole range of effects which are not necessarily inherent in either the picture or the sound alone. With dialogue he can frequently carry the words from a shot of the speaker over to the reaction shot;
he can delay reactions or give pre-warning of what is about to happen; he can play sound and picture in par-allel or he can use them in counterpoint.
These detailed points of timing are normally left to the editor and sound editor. Often the effects depend on minute adjustments which are diffi cult to envisage before the material is shot, and they present the contem-porary editor with one of his chief problems.
Presentation: Smoothness
Although the process of cutting from one shot to another is comparable to the sharp changes of attention one registers in everyday life, this does not mean that any cut will automatically pass unnoticed. In most silent fi lms one remains conscious of the many abrupt transitions; in many of Griffi th’s fi lms one is aware of the constant changing of camera angles and it requires a certain amount of practice and adjustment to accept the jerkiness of the continuity without irritation. Eisenstein, far from wanting a smoothly fl owing series of images, deliberately set out to exploit the confl ict implied at the junction of any two shots. Against this it must be said that the German fi lm-makers of the late twenties, using a much more fl uid camera technique, often made deliberate attempts to achieve a smooth-fl owing continuity. (Pabst may have been one of the fi rst fi lm-makers to time most of his cuts on specifi c movements within the picture in an attempt to make the transitions as unnoticeable as possible.)
Owing to the sound cinema’s insistence on realistic presentation the problem of achieving a smooth fl ow of images is much more acute to-day. Harsh, noticeable cuts tend to draw attention to technique and therefore tend to destroy the spectator’s illusion of seeing a continuous stream of action. Constructing a smoothly fl ow-ing continuity has, indeed, become one of the modern editor’s main preoccupations.
It must be stressed again that this grouping of the various functions which together make up the process of editing does not correspond to anything like four stages in production or even to four separate creative processes. Nevertheless, it shows how the responsibility for the larger editing issues has shifted from the edi-tor to the writer and direcedi-tor, and how the new problems which have arisen since the advent of sound have remained the responsibility of the editor. A quotation from a modern shooting script, set side by side with a post-production break-down of the fi nished sequence, is given below. A comparision between the two col-umns should indicate how the responsibility for the editing has been divided between writer, director and editor in a contemporary fi lm.
BRIGHTON ROCK 4
Extract from Shooting Script and Reel 7 of the fi lm Pinkie Brown ( Richard Attenborough ), the leader of a gang of toughs, has been trying to kill Spicer ( Wylie Watson ) who possesses some incriminating evidence. Pinkie arranges to have Spicer killed by a rival gang but the arrangements go wrong and both Pinkie and Spicer are beaten up. Pinkie, however, believes that Spicer has been killed.
4Director: John Boulting. Editor: Peter Graham-Scott. Shooting script and production: Roy Boulting. Associated British Picture Corporation, 1947.
In the following scene Pinkie is seen talking to his lawyer Prewitt
“Brighton Rock”
SHOOTING SCRIPT POST-PRODUCTION SCRIPT Ft. fr. ban-isters behind him. He puts his hand on the banister rail; he pushes it sideways banister uprights in centre of frame.
retreating back toward camera and being followed by Pinkie. Spicer is
Spicer comes backing out on to the landing. Pinkie follows closely.
SHOOTING SCRIPT POST-PRODUCTION SCRIPT Ft. fr.
Spicer, fearful, relieved, disbelieving and joyful all at once, offers a
SHOOTING SCRIPT POST-PRODUCTION SCRIPT Ft. fr.
His face contorts with agony as he comes forward in an involuntary lurches forward into frame. Pinkie pushes him violently towards the banister.
14
50 C.U. Spicer’s face
It fi lls the screen. His mouth opens in a scream, his eyes wide. The face goes back with the thrust. rail and hurtles down past camera .
17. Shooting up towards banister.
The passage from Brighton Rock is noteworthy for two reasons. Firstly, it is a sequence which depends for its effects largely on the editing. Secondly, the script is very near to the fi nished fi lm and demonstrates that it is possible to plan a large proportion of the editing effects before the fi lm goes on the fl oor. The selection of set-ups and the order of shots have been preserved practically unaltered. The changes which were made are interesting because they throw light on the relative functions of the writer, the director, and the editor.
(In practice, of course, writer, director and editor may be the same person: the functions performed by each
are here considered separately merely to indicate the work done before, during and after shooting, i.e., in the script, on the fl oor and in the cutting room.)
There are a number of minor alterations in the order of shots where the director and editor have felt that they could improve on the scripted continuity. Scene 36 has been left out completely, presumably on the grounds that it is more important to show Pinkie reacting to Dallow’s baffl ing news than to show Dallow — who simply happens to be the person bringing it — delivering his lines. Similarly, shot 20 has been introduced to strengthen the scripted effect. These and one or two other changes have been made on the fl oor and in the cutting room, but they are all essentially matters of detail.
The more important alterations of continuity are all concerned with smoothness of presentation. They are introduced at points where the scripted continuity has, for one reason or another, given rise to physical dif-fi culties. The insert of the shot of Prewitt ( 4 ) was almost certainly a necessity arising out of the shooting. One imagines that shots 3 and 5 might have been used as one continuous take: possibly this was intended, but the end of the take used in shot 3 was for some reason unsatisfactory (or the take used in shot 5 unsatisfactory towards the beginning, or both) and the two takes had to be bridged by cutting away to shot 4.
Similarly , it will be noticed that the camera set-up used in shot 3 is from the opposite side to that envisaged in script-scene 38. The reasons for this are a little more complex. Immediately following 5 , a series of rapid close-ups is used: coming after an extremely long, slow-moving shot (shot 5 is 83 feet long) they make a striking effect. Now if the script order of scenes had been followed, it would have been necessary to cut to a shot of Spicer’s back against the broken railing, and this would have considerably softened the impact of the rapidly following close-ups. Further, the slow panning movement of the camera transfers the attention to the door of Spicer’s room: we can hear voices coming from within and the slow panning of the camera visually strengthens the atmosphere of anticipation. Lastly, the camera set-up which was used allowed the director to show Dallow nonchalantly watching the whole incident: the dramatic advantage of this is obvious.
Since it is often necessary to write the shooting script before the fi nal details of the construction of sets is known, physical diffi culties may arise in the shooting which the writer cannot envisage. Script scene 38 is a case in point. The panning movement of the camera in shot 3 would have been physically impossible had the camera been facing in the direction suggested in the script.
The most striking difference between the shooting script and the fi nished sequence becomes apparent when one looks at the third column indicating the length of each shot. It becomes clear to what a great extent the element of timing brings life to the inert shot material. The speed with which the shots follow each other and the changes in the rate of cutting, both of which are fi nally determined in the cutting room, are the very basis of the scene’s effectiveness.
This is particularly so in this sequence where two slow, expectant periods are contrasted with two extremely fast volleys of shots. Shot 5 , for example, has been quite deliberately left on the screen for a great length of time: by preceding the series of short, incisive close-ups ( 6 – 11 ) which convey the confl ict between the two men, it considerably adds to their effect.
Again , the relatively long-lasting shot 12 provides a brief period of respite — a moment of false security for Spicer — which suddenly gives way to the feverishly fast cutting of the actual fall. This contrast was evidently
partially planned in the shooting, for shot 12 was made intentionally slow-moving: Pinkie’s movement is slow and deliberate, and Dallow is seen in the background watching the proceedings with feigned boredom. After this, the quick group of shots, each in the region of one foot long, comes as a sudden dramatic switch into action.
Looking again at the way this sequence has been conceived and edited, we see that the credit for the edit-ing must go not only to the editor but also to the writer and director. The larger editedit-ing decisions, such as the rough order of shots and the fi rst planning of the set-ups, have been tentatively decided in the script.
Decisions of timing and smoothness have been left over to the cutting room and when necessary have been made to override previously made plans. This is of course an over-simplifi cation — it is certainly not possible to say categorically that the writer has been responsible for one particular point, the director or editor for another — but it gives an overall picture of the procedure. Certainly, it shows that the editing of a sound fi lm begins long before it reaches the cutting room.