The re-editing of Dead End changed an ineffectual three Definite Days into a strong emotional duration of All-Purpose weeks. Yet, with simple Einstein magic, the film’s running time remained the same!
TWELVE
influence
of sphere
“The most beautiful thing we can experience
is the mysterious. It is the source of
all true art and science.”
— Albert Einstein
Einstein treasured simple solutions to make clear the mysterious. I think it would have delighted him to interpret the 180 Degree Rule. This rule is usually the first specification that film students learn. While content to hear ‘rule’ — it can be a support — students fear defying its ‘warning’; they are cruelly paralyzed by its conditions. What is this Rule? How might the undaunted Einstein move filmmaking into unrestrained space?
Think back to your earliest drawings. Landscapes were the most popular for me. The top of the paper was reserved for the sky, clouds, and sun — I don’t remember ever drawing a moonlit scene. The bottom was reserved for grass and trees. On the table-top-like ground I would draw a house. [Figure 12.1] The entire drawing signaled a world in two dimensions.
Figure 12.1
Then came a breakthrough…
I learned the fundamentals of vanishing point perspective. I would place a dot in the center of the paper. From the bottom edge I would draw two lines, beginning several inches from each other, which ‘met’ at the dot. This would create a roadway traveling ‘into the distance’ of the paper. By moving the dot higher or lower from the bottom edge of the paper, or by drawing the two lines closer or farther apart, I could create a bird’s eye, or ground’s eye view of my roadway. [Figure 12.2]
Figure 12.2
There was still more to learn…
If I drew horizontal lines attached to the roadway, I could create railroad ties — the train tracks moving ‘into’ the paper’s distance. Turn the paper on its side, and the railway became a fence. [Figure 12.3] This three-dimensional illusion captivated me.
Figure 12.3
It still does!
Film images are recorded on a ‘flat’ strip of celluloid-triacetate. While the images depict our three-dimensional world, and this depiction — as was your earliest exploration of spatial illusions in your childhood drawings — is crucial to the eye-engaging aspects of motion pictures. Film is presented in two dimensions. It is projected onto a two-dimensional screen — structured in cuts — and the relationship of character, object, and place can be restrictively and puzzlingly cramped; or, it can be extra-roomy.
HINT: Remember the discussion about frame scope? Top and Bottom, Left and Right in “Editing With Two Left Feet”? The Left and Right of the film frame readily and naturally define the 180 Degree Rule.
I think the best way to begin to understand the 180 Degree Rule is to screen a scene that is faulty — spatially bewildering — and unnecessarily ‘breaks’ the Rule.
Macon Delivers a Letter to Muriel scene from The Accidental Tourist. Macon attempts to slip a ‘Dear Muriel’ letter under her front door. Muriel surprises Macon, and opens the door. Although Muriel and Macon are supposed to be facing each other, we see both facing screen left. [Figure 12.4] How this happens in production is simple, and best explains the configuration of the 180 Degree Rule.
Figure 12.4
How did this happen?
When actors face each other — quite common in dialogue scenes — one will (and should) be facing screen Right, and the other will be facing screen Left. This is how the audience ‘knows’ that they are facing each other when only one actor appears on screen. This holds from absolute profile through all camera placements until a character is full face, eyes looking straight ahead. While actors face each other with a ‘correct’ Left and Right, the camera must ‘hold’ this Left and Right relationship as well.
In the Muriel and Macon scene the compositions were produced with set-ups to the outside of each actor’s left shoulder; resulting in both ‘looking’ to screen left. After filming Geena Davis (Muriel) ‘looking’ to screen left, the camera should have (simply) been ‘aimed’ [Figure 12.5] at William Hurt (Macon) with a turn to the left.
Figure 12.5
The way Hacon and Muriel should be ‘looking’
Instead, the shot of William Hurt was produced by moving the camera — and tripod — to the other side of the doorway.
HINT: To minimize the obviousness of the 180 break, the editing is judicious in its intercutting, and squanders several dramatic advantages — losing Emotional Attachments. Imagine the dramatic asset in seeing Macon while hearing Muriel open the envelope, and letter.
Yes, the camera can be moved all around the 360 Degrees of the production space, but the film is presented in 180 Degree segments. The order of these segments — cuts — should keep the spatial relationship(s) clear. Maintaining a ‘correct’ Left and Right is important to the visual logic of film’s two-dimensional presentation.
Students will sometimes exclaim that they can “easily tell one character from another, even with a 180 Degree break,” as if this were the central point of the visual logic to be considered. It isn’t!
One Sunday morning I knocked on the front door of a friend’s house. An elderly woman I had never met greeted me. She said, “Hello,” and looked back into the living room. I leaned slightly to the right, and shifted my focus behind her. On the couch sat an elderly man I had never met. He did not look up, but continued to read his newspaper. The woman turned to me, and in a strong Eastern European accent added, “We are Sophie’s parents. I am the momma” — she gestured toward the couch — “and that is the poppa.”
TIP & HINT: Clear visual logic requires no verbal explanation.
I’m certain that if asked an audience could raise hands each (and every) time Muriel appeared on screen; and without any help — or hints — even I could have guessed the momma from the poppa.
At issue is the spatial relationships that occur when a 360 Degree Place — all locations — gets presented on a 180 Degree screen: Who is looking where? What happens when there are more than two characters? Who is looking at, or speaking to, whom? And, most important, how postproduction keeps all of this straight, while simultaneously bringing the audience from a proscenium presentation to a rich, and full — if only in illusion — three-dimensional place.
It is interesting that a related expression of visual logic was produced in the Macon and Muriel scene: The camera ‘looks’ slightly up at Muriel, because she is up a step inside the entranceway; while the camera ‘looks’ down to Macon. This visual logic ‘softens’ the 180 Degree break.
The principal reason that the 180 Degree Rule is confusing and inadvertently limiting, is that it is most often depicted in two-dimensions from above — a bird’s eye view — but the Rule is of a Left and Right concern, not Top and Bottom. This common view ‘fastens’ the actors with a line — described as imaginary — and informs the filmmaker that no cut can be made which joins a shot taken from one side of this imaginary line, with a shot taken from the other. [Figure 12.6] This imaginary line with a warning not to ‘pass the camera across’ (by way of a cut) commonly describes the “Rule.”
Figure 12.6
An imaginary line cuts space in half
This presentation is misleading at best, and incorrect in fact: An actor, turning to ‘look elsewhere,’ permits a ‘cut across the imaginary line’ [Figure 12.7] without breaking any “Rule…”
Figure 12.7
…and permits an exploration of the Space of Place
The possibilities that the 180 Degree Rule ought to encourage is best appreciated when the “Rule” is spatially depicted in the three-dimensions of the production space: with feet on the ground, and thoughts on a bow — as in bow and arrow.
Since Top and Bottom have nothing to do with our “Rule,” let’s position the bow parallel to the ground — its tips to the Left and Right. The arc of the bow cor
responds to the many permissible (to hold to the “Rule”) camera positions. The arc can be delicate or severe; the bow’s length can be vast or teeny. [Figure 12.8] The string of the bow — the earlier imaginary line — is the link between subjects and/or objects.
Figure 12.8
Let’s move from the figurative to the “Rule’s” practical application in directing, and the editor’s obligation to ‘find’ an order — in cuts — which construct a full, and unambiguous, spatial field. Let’s dwell in a roomy screen!
1. Breaker Morant. Who Do You Think Did Kill the Missionary? scene.
2. The Verdict. Pretrial Meeting in the Judge’s Chambers scene.
The Breaker Morant scene opens in Exterior Long Shot. A stone wall crosses the entire frame — indicative of a two-dimensional point of view. The arc of the bow curves Outward to the viewer; the string of the bow links George Witton to Peter Handcock. Pay attention to each character’s Physical Action, and Physical Life: their movements in the space of the scene, and their engagement with objects. These elements prompt, and inspire, the fullness of the sphere to be realized. Witton walks (Physical Action) from screen Right to Left; stops; and using a stone, inscribes his initials (Physical Life) on the wall. Handcock is crouched shining his army boots (Physical Life). A longer bow (and string) links Morant, who is in an open cell, lighting his cigarette (Physical Life). Morant exits the cell, and moves toward Witton (Physical Action). Handcock stands in anger (Physical Action), throws his boots (Physical Life), and moves away from the wall (Physical Action). [Figure 12.9] The arc of the bow ‘adjusts’ its positions in a counter-clockwise ‘swing’ guided by the actor’s focus of attention — eye contact.
Figure 12.9
All four points of a compass, without breaking the “Rule”
Concurrent with the ‘adjusting bow,’ the scene’s Dialogue, Physical Action, and Physical Life are brilliantly engaged, and integrated.
TIP & HINT: Dialogue; Physical Action; and Physical Life are the last three of the nine key elements.
The scene demonstrates ‘observance’ of the 180 Degree Rule — and its spatial consistencies — while transporting the audience ‘Into’ the 360 Degrees of the setting.
Interior scene from The Verdict: Frank Galvin, plaintiff’s attorney; Ed Concannon, defendants’ attorney; and Judge Hoyle, meet in the judge’s chambers to ‘negotiate a settlement.’ Both attorneys are facing screen LEFT — ‘looking’ at the judge — and the judge faces screen RIGHT ‘looking’ at the attorneys. [Figure 12.10] Visualize the arc of the bow, and its string to ‘see’ how the 180 Degree Rule is easily maintained throughout the cutting.
Figure 12.10
Got your Settings?
In Medium Shot we have viewed Galvin, Concannon, and Hoyle from in front of each, with a sustained ‘correct’ Left and Right.
Let’s move to the scene’s most relevant spatial moment:
CONCANNON
Your Honor, Bishop Brophy and the Archdiocese
offered plaintiff $210,000.
JUDGE
What?
The next cut — back to Concannon — takes us slightly behind him. Note that he is still facing screen LEFT as he ‘looks’ to Judge Hoyle; [Figure 12.11] and the Judge still faces screen RIGHT to ‘look’ at the attorneys.
Figure 12.11
Left and Right still maintained
The bow, and its string which ‘connects’ Concannon and the Judge, holds the 180 Degree Rule. The bow, still held parallel to the ground with tips LEFT and RIGHT is now a Long Bow — at least a longer bow — with its Right tip passing Concannon’s Left shoulder. This new composing on Concannon will present an opportunity to view the room beyond Galvin’s Left shoulder: the fourth wall of the Judge’s Chambers — unseen until now!
CONCANNON
My doctors didn’t want to settle at any price.
They wanted this cleared up in court. They want
their vindication. I quite agree with them.
But for today the offer stands….
On Concannon’s next phrase, “before the publicity of a trial begins,” a cut to Galvin shows the last of the four walls: The bow is now behind the attorneys’ chairs. Without breaking the 180 Degree Rule, Galvin and Concannon ‘look’ at each other in opposite screen directions [Figure 12.12] from earlier cuts: Galvin now ‘looks’ to screen RIGHT, and Concannon ‘looks’ LEFT.
Figure 12.12
What is the editor’s part in all of this?
Here is the crucial moment in the continued integrity of the spatial relationship, while revealing the 360 Degrees of the judge’s chambers:
CONCANNON
…. so long as you understand that Mr.
Galvin It’s got to be that way.
On this phrase we see Galvin. [Figure 12.13] He turns to address Judge Hoyle.
Figure 12.13
GALVIN: We’re going to try the case
Galvin looks to screen RIGHT when he addresses the Judge; and a cut to Judge Hoyle at this moment would have Hoyle looking to screen RIGHT as well, producing an unnecessary 180 break. The editor follows the cut of Galvin with a cut to Concannon [Figure 12.14] before a cut to Judge Hoyle.
Figure 12.14
A reaction cut to Concannon first, and we’re home free!
Concannon’s reaction not only serves the dramatic moment, its ‘return’ to the ‘bow string’ that linked the characters earlier maintains the 180 Degree Rule.
To see a (more than) 50-year-old wily solution to preserve the 180 Degree Rule, screen Dobbs Complains to Howard About Going for Provisions scene, followed by the Gila Monster scene, from The Treasure of the Sierra Madre.
A Close-Up of Howard from the Dobbs Complains scene is reused in the Gila Monster scene so as to cut to a Reverse Master Shot of Dobbs, Howard, and Curtain without a 180 break. [Figure 12.15]
Figure 12.15
Can you find it?
The most magnificently visual distinction between theatre and cinema is this exploration of space: to move the eye beyond a projected proscenium two-dimensional presentation, by way of the indispensable cut, into a wholly realized, three-dimensionally roomy screen.
THIRTEEN
all bets
are off
“The only person who behaves sensibly is
my tailor. He takes my measure anew
every time he sees me. All the rest go on
with their old measurements.”
— George Bernard Shaw
Stanley Kubrick said, “The truth of a thing is the feel of it, not the think of it.” Great editors have a gift for getting at that truth: They ‘feel’ a fertile attachment to the material. They trust intuition, they allow intellect to flow from emotion, and they can ‘feel’ the difference.
In May 1994 editor Craig McKay attended the School of Visual Arts’ Dusty Film Festival. He presented the award for Outstanding Achievement in Editing. In his opening remarks he said, “Editing is not an intellectual process. It’s an emotional one.”
This chapter is an intermission: a break from thinking. It is a disclaimer — a waiver from all I’ve expressed, and all you’ve pondered!
I offer a strong and certain caution: The truth cannot be shaped by a blend of editing ‘ingredients.’ Each time you work on a film you are obliged to unearth what it is about a moment, a scene, a sequence, and the entire form of that specific film that is ‘one of a kind.’ It is in the exclusive particulars — immense and trivial — that one finds the secret in any editing recipe: Context.
Context is why I don’t do theory.
The Howdy Doody Show provided my introduction to Dramatic Irony. The show was among the early kid’s programs on television. Howdy was a marionette dressed in western garb. He had a freckled face with a boyish grin. Buffalo Bob, a live jovial guy in a tasseled buckskin suit hosted the show, which featured the Peanut Gallery: a jury box of sorts, filled with a live audience of children. A cousin was scheduled to be a Peanut Gallery ‘guest,’ and all of
the relatives — old and young — tuned in.
The cast of players included Clarabell, a mischievous clown. At some point during every show Clarabell would sneak up behind Buffalo Bob while he chatted with the kids in the Peanut Gallery. The kids could see Clarabell slowly approaching, always with a seltzer bottle. They shrieked, and motioned warnings to Buffalo Bob, who never seemed to understand the kids’ hollering. “Having fun kids? Yes it’s nice to see you all,” he’d say with a ‘missing the point’ grin. Clarabell got closer and closer. The kids’ squealing became frenzied. Buffalo Bob looked confused. “What? What is it kids?” He would finally turn, to see what all the ruckus was about. Clarabell would squirt him in the face with seltzer. The kids in the Peanut Gallery went out of control, some in laughter, some in frustration.
The kids on the show and the kids watching on TV always knew what Buffalo Bob never seemed to get. Dramatic irony added captivation and exhilaration.
Dramatic irony is the foundation of the storytelling in Atlantic City. As Sally learns — bit by bit — what the audience has already learned, the story unfolds.
Imagine in Karin and the Shepherds Picnic scene, from The Virgin Spring, if the audience didn’t know that their encounter on the road was not a chance meeting, but was rather an ill-fated premeditation. [Figure 13.1] There would be a far less menacing discomfort.
Figure 13.1
The audience wants to shoot a warning
The Eye is Quicker Page 9
