Directing for Film and Television
Page 9
Perhaps the most famous film mise-en-scène shot is the opening of Orson Welle’s Touch of Evil, in which at least seven minutes is spent in one continuously moving shot, so well choreographed that camera and people come in touch with each other in close shots, then disappear into wide shots, only to return close again. In the director Robert Altman’s The Player a similar opening seems to mimic Welles and creates a unique feel.
I doubt if you will ever sit down and say, “Shall I do this film mise-en-scène or montage, with a lot of movement or not?” The look that has come to you in your head with this particular script, the kind of filmmaking training you’ve had, the basic nature of your personality, and your artistic vision will dictate whether or not you are—almost by birth— a mise-en-scène kind of director. This statement sounds almost mystical, I realize, but it’s based on a good deal of experience with a variety of filmmakers and directors. How and when you move the camera will have a lot to do with your inner vision as well as some basic rules that seem to work well for most of us, whether endowed with a passion for mise-en-scène, or rooted firmly in montage.
I said before that moving without “purpose” is considered anathema by many. But what is a good reason for moving the camera? That depends on many things. If you are a mise-en-scène director you will probably answer that differently than if you believe strictly in montage. (By the way, just wanting to move the camera doesn’t make you a mise-en-scène director; most of us, due to practical circumstances, use a mixture of mise-en-scène and montage. A director who philosophically believes in mise-en-scène will shoot his film in such a way that a preponderance of the shots are created to avoid any intercutting.) As a mise-en-scène director, you might say that camera movement is justified in order to keep the screen “fluid.” Others, who are less mise-en-scène oriented, might issue a set of rules that looks something like this:
Rules of Movement
Rule 1 If you have a character who is moving, moving a camera to keep up with this character is legitimate, whereas moving arbitrarily is probably not.
Rule 2 Try to keep your move at the same pace as the person or people who are moving.
Rule 3 Don’t pan away from one set of actors to another set of actors if neither is moving. It looks bizarre.
Rule 4 If actors aren’t moving, use a cut to get from one place to another, unless the move (pan, tilt, track) is an intrinsic part of your filmic approach and style.
The sum of these rules is: don’t move without motivation—a motivation that comes from the scene, not one that is imposed upon it.
These rules may seem self-evident, but it’s amazing how many beginning directors break them time and again, ending up with a film that gives a new meaning to the term, “motion pictures.” Such movement need not be large to be distracting. Even a slight pan can disturb a beautiful shot. Try thinking back to the still photographs you started with; sometimes, a series of still frames, cut one to one, can be the most impressive kind of filmmaking. Imagine an exquisitely framed shot of a riverbank, close in on an exposed tree root, as a single drop of water is poised to fall from it into the river. It falls—the only movement in the frame. Now, imagine a slow panning shot along the same riverbank where any such detail of movement would be lost. Which do you prefer? Of course, I’m now verging too close to matters of taste, which I shall leave to your discretion. Every rule in filmmaking was made to be broken by someone; every choice by one director is anathema to another. The question of movement, however, is one that you must decide early on, whether by careful examination or by instinct; and you must write your decisions into your script, along with your other notes.
A Couple of Practical Notes on Movement
Hint 1 You need not be a mise-en-scène director to want to get from one shot to another without making cuts. You may simply want the scene to flow a little more. The easiest way to do this is to move your actors. But having said that, you have to realize that an arbitrary move may be more harmful than an arbitrary cut. Use dialogue and the content of your scene to make your moves make sense.
Look at the accompanying drawings. In the first (Drawing 1), a man and a woman are arguing. She is restless; he plants his feet and won’t move. You could shoot the scene with a series of static shots of each actor, planning to cut back and forth between them in the editing room. But if the woman moves around the man, and the camera pans and tracks with her (Drawing 2), it is possible to get a “tie-up” shot involving both of them (Drawing 3), and for the camera always to be “featuring” the actor who is talking (Drawing 4), or, conversely, from whom you want a “reaction shot.” This is more complicated than simply setting your camera down and getting static shots of each from which to make an edited scene, but it is also more interesting; it is powerful to keep two participants in an argument in full view, without giving up the necessary close-ups. (The over-the-shoulder shots involved in such a camera-actor move give you both people; they give you movement, realism, and close-ups all in one.) In order to observe this kind of move, pay attention the next time you go to a feature film or watch a high-budget movie-of-the-week. There are always shots like this in such films. They are quite elegant. Of course, they have to be well rehearsed so that the pace and timing of the scene is all there, and they often require a large number of takes to get right. You will sometimes find, by the way, that such a tie-up shot requires a couple of extra close-ups to “punch up” the action, but this doesn’t ruin the basic effect of the “combination” shot itself (so called because it combines a series of close-ups or two-shots with moving shots).
Hint 2 When a character leaves a scene, make a decision early on whether you are going to follow the character (that is, pan with him) or let him go. If you follow, then you will have to be a lot more careful when you “pick up” the same character in your next shot. He or she will have to “match” movement and pace in the next shot, whereas if you let a character go out of a shot, you can pick up that character in a new shot with a different background or time frame and no one will be the wiser. In other words, it is easier to let people exit the frame so that you are free to pick them up in your next shot wherever you wish.
Hint 3 It’s generally more pleasing to cut from a moving shot to another moving shot, and to cut from a static shot to another static shot, though people break this rule all the time. Take a look next time you’re editing, and see which you prefer.
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2 As woman moves to position 2, camera moves to its second position, keeping both people in a well-framed shot
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A FINAL NOTE ON MOVEMENT: HANDHELD OR TRIPOD?
I suppose there is almost no director who hasn’t experimented with handheld camera movement, even before the invention of the Steadicam and other gyroscopic devices. The conventional wisdom is “Don’t cut from tripod or dolly movement to handheld and don’t go handheld unless you’re absolutely forced to.” This has led a lot of us down a difficult road. Even in high-budget dramas, there are times when the laying of dolly track is too difficult or too time-consuming, or where the space we’re using is too confined and we are forced into static shots, using a tripod because we’re afraid of the handheld camera. But as cameras become lighter and more flexible, as more and more camera operators are trained in handheld work, and as lenses become wider and less distorting, the use of handheld movement becomes more and more useful. A tracking shot on dolly, which might take a half hour to set up and another half hour to rehearse to perfection, might produce a shot only half as exciting as a good handheld shot on a wide-angle lens. Again, this is one of those areas where consultation with your D.P. will produce a quick answer that you might agonize over for hours alone.
Handheld Rules
Rule 1 Try not to plan a handheld shot where there’s a great deal of movement of camera and no movement of people. You can walk alongside a jogging horse with a handheld camera and never notice the camera movement; the same shot of a static figure seated on a bench will produc
e a picture in which the camera seems to be jogging, which is likely not to be the effect you wanted.
Rule 2 Try not to use a long lens on a handheld shot, even if the camera isn’t moving. Jiggles do show up on camera. Your D.P. (especially in documentary work) may think that he or she can easily hold steady with a long lens, handheld, but experience shows that when you come to edit such a shot into a sequence of shots, some of which are handheld and some of which are on tripod, the shakiness of the long-lens, handheld shots, renders them useless.
PLANNING THE LOOK
Plotting Shots
Once you have a look in mind, you will want to know how to translate that look into film. Start by plotting your shots directly onto your script. Some people do this by drawing actual pictures of the shots as they will appear on the screen, others do it by making diagrams of the camera angles with the way the characters will appear (see script page). Still others will actually paste the still photographs they’ve shot into the script. (Even if there are no actors in those stills, they convey a great deal.) Whichever you do will have to do with your artistic ability or your energy.
One or the other approach is almost mandatory. If, for instance, you’ve planned a whole series of wide shots to begin your film, conveying the sense of open space, you’ll want to show that in your script with something other than “series of wide shots.” What better way than to specifically draw the shots and label them clearly? Similarly, with a series of close shots, each shot—let’s say, of a tree trunk—could be filmed in a dozen ways. Remind yourself of your particular vision by diagramming or sketching it carefully. (When you get to the shoot itself, it’s remarkable how many details of your vision go completely out of your head. Then, you’re left with improvising, a sure way for your look to change without your knowing it.)
Using Storyboards to Plan Shots
Another way to jog your memory is to use a “storyboard.” As the name suggests, a storyboard is a large sheet of paper, broken down into frames, onto which you can draw as many shots as you need to tell your story. Some directors, especially in commercials, plot every shot. For animation, the storyboard is even more complex, illustrating moves within a shot. For longer films or tapes, you may choose simply to put down the major changes in the picture, or the beginning of every shot, or the shots that involve complex camera moves, or, you name it. If you can draw fairly well, a storyboard is a lovely way to show your shots to D.P.s or producers. If, like me, you can’t keep a straight line from turning wavy, you may not feel comfortable doing them. I use line drawing in my scripts, as suggested above, but as seen from overhead (see next page), not from the camera’s point of view, unless a very complicated visual effect is desired. But I happen to have a very good visual imagery mechanism working for me, so that how a shot looks is very clear to me without any drawing; the note in my script is merely a reminder of the shot that I can clearly see in my mind. For those who don’t have such imagery, some form of drawing, from a camera’s point of view, is a marvelous aid. It’s not only useful for you, but also for your team. Imagine if you could show a version on paper of all shots, as you planned them, to your D.P. and producer. Those who can do this tell me it gives them a rich environment in which to “swim” while they’re planning a film. There’s no doubt that some of the best directors in the world use storyboards of every major shot as a way of mulling over the shots and of showing art directors, prop persons, D.P.s, P.M.s, and costumers just what they have in mind.
My doubts about storyboards center on two things: (1) a fear that those who cannot draw will believe they can’t visualize just because they can’t put the images on paper, and (2) my belief that what lenses can do just can’t be shown properly in a drawing or watercolor. Still, storyboards have a venerable and useful role in film and television, and you might as well give them a try.
Choosing Lenses
Among the things you will want to indicate to yourself in your notes is the kind of lens you wish to use. I don’t mean a 2” versus a 3” or a 28mm versus a 75mm. I mean whether the distortion that your shot demands is the kind that makes the background out of focus (a long lens) or one that stretches focus out into infinity (a wide lens).
“Distortion,” I said, and distortion I mean, for the idea of a “normal” lens is really a fiction. Sure, books on lens use will tell you that the 50mm lens in 35mm format or the 25mm lens in 16mm format is a “normal” lens, and they’ll give you a lot of technical reasons why this is so. But consider the following: the camera shoots with one eye, while humans have two; humans see in three dimensions, cameras in two; the human eye has almost complete depth of field, but camera lenses must be “racked” or stopped-down to achieve anything similar. In point of fact, any lens on a camera is a distortion of “normal” human vision. How much further you wish to distort, then, is a choice of the director, but distort you must, in order to focus the attention of the audience on the precise part of the scene that interests you. Here is a brief example.
Merce Cunningham, the American choreographer and dancer, made many videotapes and films about his dances. He used to use a man named Charlie Atlas to do the films. When they used the Steadicam, they usually used a wide-angle lens. This allowed a large number of dancers to be on-screen at the same time; it also allowed the camera to move in a small room and to be very close to the dancers and still hold focus with a low amount of light (wide-angle lenses have greater depth of field at lower f-stops). All this probably does create a certain “distortion” in the look of the dancers compared to, say, a 50mm lens. So what? Messrs. Cunningham and Atlas were achieving what they wanted, and so can you—by fitting your lens to your imagination.
Lighting
With your basic shots written down so you can visualize and revisualize them, move on to the second part of the look: how the scene will be lit. Overall, you will have seen a kind of lighting as you previsualized the film. (This is not the same as what I call “mood,” which has to do with atmosphere, or “style,” the manner in which actors will play the film.) You are not interested here in how your D.P. will light the scene, or how the gaffer will place the lights, but in what the light looks like. Is every scene overcast? Does the sun shine through brightly? Are there very noticeable shadows (à la Bertolucci)? Is the light without any sense of direction, as if the sun were bounced off soft fabric? You may even think of the color you want to dominate, using lights or fabrics or costumes or set pieces. (Think of how Antonioni must first have visualized The Red Desert.) A young filmmaker envisioned a film shot entirely around sunset, because she loved the idea of that golden glow that you get. Everything was to be “burning up.” This required not only a wonderful vision, but all sorts of technical preparations: “gels” on windows to cut out most of the blue light; lots of backlight, with careful attention to direction of light at all times (a sunset is very directional, while noon sun seems to emanate from many directions at the same time). Attention was paid as well, too, to costumes and makeup so that everyone wouldn’t appear to have a fever with all the red light being cast around.
Lighting is exciting. Think about it. Dream about it. Observe the world around you. In preparation for his seminal black-and-white film The Seventh Seal (1957), the Swedish director Ingmar Bergman and his director of photography, Sven Nyquist, went to the North Sea and stood there for hours looking at the light at all times of day. This is very good preparation for the shoot. Look at the light coming into your bedroom when you awaken, at midday, and at sunset. Does it create an effect? Can you re-create that effect on the set? On location?
What kind of lighting do you want? Beginners—in still photography as well as in film and video—think of the “key” (that is, main) light as coming in from the front, the “fill” (supplementary light to smooth out shadows) as coming in from the side, and the “backlight” (light that hits the top of the head and the shoulders) from above or behind. But take a look at the real world and, the next time you’re watching a boring film where the story d
oesn’t interest you, look at the lighting used by most professionals. In fact, in the real world, light almost never comes straight in at the front of people. The strongest light in a room is often from the windows or from an overhead light. Depending on which way people turn, they may get that light from behind, the side, or, sometimes, the front. What does that do? What effect does it have?
Do you remember the first time you saw someone use a flashgun for still photography outdoors? That’s called “fill-in” flash, and it’s used to soften the shadows on a person’s face when the sunlight is providing a strong backlight. That’s done by D.P.s and directors, too. And it can create marvelous effects. In fact, as in still photography, direct flat light from the front isn’t very attractive (though it’s used throughout much of television and in comedies on the big screen). But sidelight, backlight, filtered light, alternating shadows and light, can all have the effect of making a two-dimensional screen seem three-dimensional. The human eye, having as it does a partner, creates depth by the use of stereoscopic vision. It is aided by distance cues, such as color, falling off of light, and so on. The camera has fewer cues and can’t use stereoscopic vision at all. But we do have light, and the real world—that is, the world in which we move daily—has an extraordinary variety of forms of light. The color changes, the saturation changes, there are shadows in corners, there are backlights and highlights, filtered light on walls (as when the sun comes in through venetian blinds or trees)— the list is endless. By using the same techniques in filmmaking, the real world can be created, or at least, re-created.