O: But surely on one level, the lack of rules and codes, and the lack of a too premeditated theory is what keeps film alive. Obviously film is an art form and it's a made form, but what's wonderful about film is how it also catches an uncontrolled reality. There's the chance of the accidental, which then can be selected, chosen, and shaped by the director and the editor. But to begin with something too controlled … it's why I cannot stand cartoons, which are a hundred percent premeditated, totally manipulative, and therefore completely artificial.
M: It's true. That's the amazing thing about film. I suspect it's impossible to have a cinematic Guido d'Arezzo, but who knows? In the fifth century, who would have predicted modern musical notation?
When you look at all the things that have to be done, within such a short period of time, and they all have to harmonize in a structured yet wonderfully random way…. Filmmakers are dependent on luck to a great degree, even perhaps on Sheldrake's morphic resonance: somehow just being in the same place, thinking about the same things, causes people of very different natures to start to spontaneously align themselves, like iron filings onto a magnet. Otherwise, I just don't know how it's possible to do what we do.
A WONDERFUL LINE FROM RILKE
O: Do you think success and failure can distort the lessons an artist is able to learn?
M: There's that wonderful line of Rilke's, “The point of life is to fail at greater and greater things.” Recognizing that all our achievements are doomed, in one sense—the earth will be consumed by the sun in a billion years or so—but in another sense the purpose of our journey is to go farther each time. So you're trying things out in every film you make, with the potential of failure. I think we're always failing, in Rilke's sense—we know there's more potential that we haven't realized. But because we're trying, we develop more and more talent, or muscles, or strategies to improve, each time.
Every film has lessons to teach us—if we receive those lessons in the right way. That's the trick. It's especially tricky, I think, in worlds where there's either complete rejection or complete adoration, inexplicable anonymity or soul-destroying celebrity. How do you deal with that? Those things obviously have an emotional impact that is undeniable.
I could see the danger of great success very clearly when I went to Disney Studios in 1980, when we were talking about doing Return to Oz. Walt Disney had been dead for about fifteen years, but he was such a presence that everything he'd said—even the most accidental comment—was the word of God. He had been screening dailies once for a live-action film, and he happened to ask: What was the f-stop on this shot? The f-stop determines the depth of field— how much is in focus. Someone answered 5.6. Disney said, I like that. Enough is in focus, but not too much, it's just right. Somebody took that to heart, and it became an edict. So every film at Disney Studios had to have the exteriors shot at an f-stop of 5.6, to give the Disney depth of field.
Whether Disney himself approved of that, or whether he would be horrified to learn that the answer to an accidental question was copied down by one of his monks and became part of the liturgy of Disney Studios, I don't know. When something is successful, everything that went into it, both the good and the bad, tends to get bundled up as the recipe for how to make a success. It becomes very difficult to separate out what was true and what was untrue, what was good and what was bad, what was superficial and what was profound.
The idea of this kind of success—of people liking his paintings, of getting frozen into a certain mould as a result—so terrified van Gogh that it contributed to his mental imbalance and suicide. What he wanted to do was to investigate. He secretly enjoyed the freedom that poverty and anonymity gave him.
The distortions of failure, of course, are the opposite: instead of having everything unjustly accepted, everything is rejected. Or that's the risk, at any rate. Truly great lessons can be learned from work that fails, but failure is stamped on the product and there's a tendency to think everything you did was wrong, and you vow not to go there again. You have to resist this impulse, just as you have to resist the syrupy entanglements of success. These are, almost, religious issues. What the world thinks is a success, what it rewards, has sometimes very little to do with the essential content of the work and how it relates to the author and his own development.
O: That's probably one reason I don't reread my books after they come out. So that my memory of Anil's Ghost or The English Patient or In the Skin of a Lion is of my emotional relationship to the book just before it came out. You are hanging fire. You don't know if it's going to work or not, but this is the best you can do at this point. After that, as Wordsworth said, it may or may not be pudding….
M: Yeah. It's important to hold fast in this hanging-fire state. That's the only thing, in the long run, that will allow the true lessons to emerge. It may take years for you to recognize them.
O: And there's always something I remember in a previous book that I was not able to get right. That's what I somehow carry with me into the next work—I'll have to deal with that the next time. There was a moment in In the Skin of a Lionthat I couldn't quite get—to do with the death of Ambrose Small and his strange solitude during his last days. Now I can look back and see that much of Almásy's situation in The English Patient came from that “lack” in the earlier book.
DREAMS
O: I'm going to ask you one last question, about dreams. I'm curious whether sound—since you work so much with it in your waking life—is a central part of your mind in the sleep state. Is sound more evident in your dreams than in other people's?
M: I don't think so. Dreams have a funny absence of sound for me. I'm trying to remember—I think I had a dream six months ago in which sound was important.
But a funny thing happens to me, especially in the final stages of making a film. Everything is aiming towards a specific goal and you have to be alive to the moment, creatively, but you also have to pare things down to their essential nature because you have to meet that deadline. Things that earlier you would have investigated, now you can't. In those times, I rarely dream. The film itself so preoccupies the dreaming part of my mind that it's as if terrorists had come and taken control of the airport. All the dreams that are waiting to land can't land.
When I finish a film, there's a blank period of about a week. Then, very quickly, particular kinds of dreams start coming, and for about a month I live in a state where the dreams are so intense and so real that I'm exhausted when I wake up in the morning.
O: Are these dreams anything to do with the film you've done?
M: No.
O: It's all new material?
M: New stuff. What's striking about the dreams, and what's also exhausting about them, is that they don't have the lightness of dreams. They are anti-filmic dreams. Dreams and film share the ability to skip from one place to another with great levity. Suddenly we're in the Grand Canyon! Before, we were walking through the jungle, but here we are in the Grand Canyon. Why? What's the story?
These postfilm dreams have a plodding reality to them. If I'm dreaming that I'm in a room this big, when I cross the room every step is acted out, laboured over. Step, step, step, step. Then I'll talk to you over in that corner. Then we'll get a cup of coffee. Then step, step, step, step, step, step back again. I guess the dreams are compensating in a way for the “lightness” of film, which is that skipping around.
O: Maybe during the edit you have been the Tin Woodman cutting off all those extra limbs of human time.
M: Yes!
O: Now you're back in a slower reality.
M: The dreams become impatient with me. They're waiting to come in, and they can't, because something else—the film—is occupying that space. Only when that space is empty can they come in. And they come in to redress the situation. They are, it seems, relentlessly temporal….
THE END
MISCELLANY
MURCH AND THE MOVIES
The Rain People (1969), sound montage and re-recording mixer. Ameri
can Zoetrope/ Warner Bros. Written and directed by Francis Ford Coppola; starring James Caan, Shirley Knight, Robert Duvall, Marya Zimmet, Tom Aldredge
Gimme Shelter (1970), camera. Maysles Films/Cinema 5. Directed by Albert Maysles, David Maysles, and Charlotte Zwerin; starring the Rolling Stones, Ike and Tina Turner, Jefferson Airplane, the Flying Burrito Brothers, The Grateful Dead
THX 1138 (1970), co-writer, sound montage, and re-recording mixer. American Zoetrope/ Warner Bros. Written by George Lucas and Walter Murch; directed by George Lucas; starring Robert Duvall, Donald Pleasence, Maggie McOmie, Don Pedro Colley, Ian Wolfe
The Godfather (1972), supervising sound editor. American Zoetrope/Paramount. Written by Francis Ford Coppola and Mario Puzo, from the book by Mario Puzo; directed by Francis Ford Coppola; starring Marlon Brando, Al Pacino, James Caan, Richard Castellano, John Cazale, Diane Keaton, Talia Shire, Robert Duvall, Richard Conte, Sterling Hayden, John Marley
American Graffiti (1973), sound montage and re-recording mixer. Lucasfilm/The Coppola Company/Universal. Written by George Lucas, Willard Huyck, and Gloria Katz, and directed by George Lucas; starring Richard Dreyfuss, Ronny Howard, Paul LeMat, Charlie Martin Smith, Cindy Williams, Candy Clark, Mackenzie Phillips
The Conversation (1974), film editor, sound montage and re-recording mixer. American Zoetrope/The Coppola Company and The Directors Company/Paramount. Written and directed by Francis Ford Coppola; starring Gene Hackman, John Cazale, Allen Garfield, Frederic Forrest, Cindy Williams
The Godfather, Part II (1974), sound montage and re-recording mixer. American Zoetrope/ The Coppola Company/Paramount. Written by Francis Ford Coppola and Mario Puzo, from the book by Mario Puzo; directed by Francis Ford Coppola; starring Al Pacino, Robert Duvall, Diane Keaton, Robert De Niro, John Cazale, Talia Shire, Lee Strasberg, Michael V. Gazzo, Troy Donahue
Julia (1977), film editor. Twentieth Century–Fox. Written by Alvin Sargent, from the book Pentimento by Lillian Hellman; directed by Fred Zinnemann; starring Jane Fonda, Vanessa Redgrave, Jason Robards, Maximilian Schell, Hal Holbrook, Rosemary Murphy, Meryl Streep, Cathleen Nesbitt, Maurice Denham
Apocalypse Now (1979), film editor, sound design and re-recording mixer. Omni/American Zoetrope/Paramount. Written by John Milius and Francis Ford Coppola; directed by Francis Ford Coppola; starring Marlon Brando, Robert Duvall, Martin Sheen, Frederic Forrest, Albert Hall, Laurence Fishburne, Sam Bottoms, Dennis Hopper
Dragonslayer (1981), re-recording mixer. Walt Disney/Paramount. Written by Hal Barwood and Matthew Robbins; directed by Matthew Robbins; starring Peter MacNicol, Caitlin Clarke, Ralph Richardson, John Hallam, Peter Eyre, Albert Salmi
Return to Oz (1985), co-writer and director. Walt Disney/Silver Screen Partners. Written by Gill Dennis and Walter Murch, from the books Land of Oz and Ozma of Oz by L. Frank Baum; directed by Walter Murch; starring Fairuza Balk, Jean Marsh, Nicol Williamson, Piper Laurie, Matt Clark
Captain Eo. (1986), editor. LucasFilm/Disney. Written and directed by Francis Ford Coppola. Starring Michael Jackson, Anjelica Huston, Dick Shawn
The Unbearable Lightness of Being (1987), supervising film editor. Saul Zaentz/Orion. Written by Jean-Claude Carrière and Philip Kaufman, from the book by Milan Kundera; directed by Philip Kaufman; starring Daniel Day-Lewis, Juliette Binoche, Lena Olin, Derek de Lint, Erland Josephson, Daniel Olbrychski
Call from Space (1989), film editor. A Showscan Co. film. Written by Chris Langham and Sarah Paris; directed by Richard Fleischer; starring Bill Campbell, James Coburn, Charlton Heston
Ghost (1990), film editor and re-recording mixer. IP/Paramount/Howard W. Koch. Written by Bruce Joel Rubin; directed by Jerry Zucker; starring Patrick Swayze, Demi Moore, Whoopi Goldberg, Tony Goldwyn, Stanley Lawrence, Christopher J. Keene, Susan Breslau, Martina Degnan
The Godfather, Part III (1990), film editor and re-recording mixer. Paramount/Zoetrope. Written by Francis Ford Coppola and Mario Puzo, from the book by Mario Puzo; directed by Francis Ford Coppola; starring Al Pacino, Diane Keaton, Talia Shire, Andy Garcia, Eli Wallach, Joe Mantegna, George Hamilton, Bridget Fonda, Sofia Coppola, Raf Vallone, Franc D'Ambrosio, Donal Donnelly, Richard Bright, Helmut Berger, Don Novello
The Godfather Trilogy: 1901–1980, editor. Paramount Pictures. Re-edit of The Godfather(1972); The Godfather, Part II (1974); and The Godfather, Part III (1990) into one film. Written by Francis Ford Coppola and Mario Puzo; directed by Francis Ford Coppola
House of Cards (1993), film editor and re-recording mixer. A&M Films/Penta. Written and directed by Michael Lessac and Robert Jay Litz; starring Kathleen Turner, Tommy Lee Jones, Park Overall, Shiloh Strong, Asha Menina, Esther Rolle, Michael Horse, Anne Pitoniak
Romeo Is Bleeding (1994), film editor and re-recording mixer. Working Title/Polygram. Written by Hilary Henkin; directed by Peter Medak; starring Gary Oldman, Lena Olin, Annabella Sciorra, Juliette Lewis, Roy Scheider, David Proval, Will Patton
I Love Trouble (1994), co–film editor. Caravan/Touchstone/Buena Vista. Written by Nancy Meyers and Charles Shyer; directed by Charles Shyer; starring Julie Roberts, Nick Nolte, Saul Rubinek, James Rebhorn, Robert Loggia, Kelly Rutherford, Olympia Dukakis, Marsha Mason, Charles Martin Smith
Crumb (1994), re-recording mixer. Artificial Eye/Superior. Directed by Terry Zwigoff; starring Robert Crumb, Aline Kominsky, Charles Crumb, Maxon Crumb, Dana Crumb, Beatrice Crumb
First Knight (1995), film editor and re-recording mixer. Columbia/Zucker Brothers. Written by William Nicholson; directed by Jerry Zucker; starring Sean Connery, Richard Gere, Julia Ormond, Ben Cross, Liam Cunningham, Christopher Villiers, Valentine Pelka, John Gielgud
The English Patient (1996), film editor and re-recording mixer. Saul Zaentz/Miramax/Tiger Moth/Miramax. Written by Anthony Minghella, from the book by Michael Ondaatje; directed by Anthony Minghella; starring Ralph Fiennes, Juliette Binoche, Willem Dafoe, Kristin Scott Thomas, Naveen Andrews, Colin Firth, Julian Wadham, Jürgen Prochnow
Touch of Evil (1998), restoration film editing and sound. Universal International. Restoration of 1958 film written and directed by Orson Welles, from the book by Whit Masterson; starring Charlton Heston, Janet Leigh, Orson Welles, Akim Tamiroff, Ray Collins, Dennis Weaver, Marlene Dietrich, Joseph Calleia
The Talented Mr. Ripley (1999), editor and re-recording mixer. Mirage/Miramax/Paramount. Written and directed by Anthony Minghella, from the book by Patricia Highsmith; starring Matt Damon, Gwyneth Paltrow, Jude Law, Cate Blanchett, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Jack Davenport, James Rebhorn, Sergio Rubini, Philip Baker Hall, Rosario Fiorello, Stefania Rocca
Apocalypse Now Redux (2001), film editor and re-recording mixer. American Zoetrope/ Miramax
K-19: The Widowmaker (2002), film editor and re-recording mixer. First Light/Intermedia/Paramount. Written by Christopher Kyle and Louis Nowra; directed by Kathryn Bigelow; starring Harrison Ford, Liam Neeson, Peter Sarsgaard, Joss Ackland, Ravil Issyanov
Cold Mountain (2003), film editor and re-recording mixer. Bona Fide/Mirage/Miramax. Written by Anthony Minghella, based on the novel by Charles Frazier; directed by Anthony Minghella; starring Jude Law, Nicole Kidman, Renée Zellweger, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Kathy Baker, Brendan Gleeson
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to thank Shelley Wanger and Louise Dennys who worked with me on this book almost from the start, and also Aggie Murch who inspired me with that first three-way interview, and who later helped find and clarify many of the personal photographs in this book. Thank you to George Lucas, Francis Coppola, Rick Schmidlin, and Anthony Minghella for their personal thoughts about Walter Murch. The remarks by George Lucas and Rick Schmidlin are drawn from their comments made at a tribute to Walter at the Academy of Motion Pictures in Los Angeles, in October 2000. The statement by Francis Coppola is made up partly from comments at that event and partly from an interview he gave me. Anthony Minghella's remarks were written especially for this book.
I would like to thank all at Knopf in New York and Vintage Canada in Toron
to, especially Kathy Hourigan, Susan Roxborough, Carol Carson, Kapo Ng, and Deirdre Molina. Also Rick Simon, Darren Wershler-Henry, and Stan Bevington at Coach House Press in Toronto. For transcribing the many hours of taped conversations, thank you to Donya Peroff. For photo research, thank you to Ann Schneider; also to Fantasy Films, to Miramax, and to Phil Bray for the photographs from the set of The English Patient. Thank you also to Walter Murch, Jr., for his work on obtaining “pulls” from various films, and also Sean Cullen.
Thank you to John Berger, to Donald E. Westlake, to Dai Vaughan for the use of quotes from The Invisible Man (BFA), to Sharon Thesen, Atom Egoyan, Alexandra Rockingham, Gill Dennis, Davia Nelson, Kim Aubrey at Zoetrope, Ellen Harrington, The Directors Guild of Canada, and Ellen Levine and Tulin Valeri.
Finally thanks to the following who helped me with the manuscript at various times during the early drafts: Esta Spalding, Griffin Ondaatje, Linda Spalding, Liz Calder, and Sonny Mehta.
And to Saul Zaentz.
PHOTO CREDITS
Frontmatter by Phil Bray © 1996 The Saul
Zaentz Company. All rights reserved/ © Miramax Films Half-title page courtesy of Archive of Modern
Conflict Title page left by Kim Aubry © American
The Conversations: Walter Murch and the Art of Editing Film Page 28
