Directing for Film and Television

by Christopher Lukas

  Another solution to mismatches is the “cover” shot: a wide shot that is wide enough to allow almost any action to go on, and to which you can cut when there aren’t enough varied closer shots to cut to or when a mismatch on those closer shots can’t be solved any other way.

  Another way to help your editor handle mismatches is to “overlap” action. You will be shooting various angles of each scene (close-ups, medium shots, low shots, two-shots, and so forth). Each time you do so, make sure you repeat some of the action of the previous shot, especially at the beginning and end of the new one. For instance, a boy enters a room and moves to a couch, sitting on it and opening a newspaper he finds there. You may shoot such a scene, first, in a wide shot, showing everything, then in a medium shot as he reaches the couch, and finally in a close shot as he is seen reading. If each new shot repeats none of the action of the previous one, you may have a difficult time matching action, but if the medium shot repeats some of the previous action and the close-up repeats all of the previous action (that is, as much as can be seen from a close-up) your editor will have some options.

  By the way, let your actors not only overlap action, but enter shots cleanly. Start with an empty frame, and end with an empty frame when they exit. Even though you obviously can’t use an entrance to the couch in both a medium and a close shot, having clean entrances and overlapped action gives your editor an option. All “coverage”13 of a scene should be similarly handled. I don’t mean shooting every bit of action in a scene in every shot—an obvious waste of money and time. For example, the entire ten-minute dialogue should not be shot in wide, medium, close-up, and ECUs—that’s overdoing it! But I do mean that some action should be overlapped in every shot. Then, when your editor is worried about mismatches of speed, movement, or behavior, the repeated action allows him or her to edit at a point that minimizes the mismatch. If you shoot without overlapping action, there are no options!

  Of course, all this technical talk should not obscure the fact that shots are to be chosen primarily for the effect they give, not just to solve grammatical problems. The fact that you will want to shoot a variety of cover shots—especially for quick, low-budget films, where planning isn’t as feasible as on more carefully organized films—gives you a wonderful chance to pick an angle and view for that shot that also serves you aesthetically.

  The lovers go off into the bedroom; we shoot from a high angle. The door closes. We imagine them going to the bed. Our camera pans left, and we discover a window. Out the window is a brook. By the brook, two kittens are playing. The comment being made is that our two lovers are nothing more than playmates, ingenuous children. On the other hand, tilt up with your camera and discover the ornate chandelier above our heads and then cut from that chandelier to the candles on the table of the poor family who lives across the tracks, and another kind of comment is made.

  And so it goes. Long shots can be beautiful, ornate, symbolic, delicate, panoramic, or simply “covering yourself.” Technique serving the cause of the story, the story serving the cause of technique.

  In chapter 4, we talked about an argument between a man and a woman. In this chapter, we talked about a love affair being consummated offscreen. We also talked, earlier, about storyboards and how useful it can be to sketch out the ideas you have for shots. There are two basic ways to do this: the storyboard and the “schematic” (a kind of line drawing that allows you to see where the camera is going to be in relationship to actors, how it moves, and so on). Let’s take a look at a few schematic drawings and the same moves in storyboard form. This will give you an idea how to vary the basic shots we’ve been discussing, and two ways to visualize them, not only for the sake of variety but in order to accomplish your many artistic goals.

  Using the same two people, let’s look at Drawing 1. Here they are in a two-shot as the argument begins. We are going to let the woman, swinging her arms, move about the man, who is fairly stationary. As she moves, the camera has a number of choices. It can pan with her, eliminating the man entirely (Drawing 2); it can let her leave the scene, staying with the man (Drawing 3). Choice 2 gives us the “single” shot we would probably want to take of him anyway; the first one gives us the “single” on her. Another choice is to let the camera dolly to the left as it pans to the right, thus keeping her in the screen—facing us—and keeping him in the screen—with his back to us—and creating an over-the-shoulder shot (Drawing 4). Now as she walks back the other way, the camera can track to the right as she moves to the left, giving us a different over-the-shoulder onto her (Drawing 5). If the woman holds still for a while, and the man’s dialogue is important, you will want to shoot an additional over-the-shoulder shot “onto” him (Drawing 6).

  Or, if the desire is mainly to keep the shot open, with the woman’s moves being predominant, you may let the camera dollies handle most of the scene, and “punch up” the medium moving shot with two “singles,” when the woman settles down.

  As you can see, it’s hard to get in close on either person when one or the other is moving, forcing the other to turn (away from camera). But when they are static, it’s wonderful to get in close, cutting back to the wider, moving shot for energy. Two over-the-shoulder shots are also useful, allowing us to have some movement in them (because they are wider than close shots), but giving us more detail of faces than the wider shot, which shows the woman circling the man. Complicated? Only a little. A lot of directors would prefer to keep the man and woman static the whole time, thus making it much easier to shoot—no camera movement, no tricky timing of lines and moves—but how boring!

  Let’s have an ending to that scene—in storyboard form. (Note the schematics next to the storyboard.) After a short period in which they argue with each other, he decides to walk out. This can be very dramatic, since he has seemed to be the passive one in this scene. Look at Drawing 7. We have this choice: he simply walks out to the right, leaving her looking after him (the look is left to right) in a medium shot. After he leaves, the camera moves in on her to a close shot. For variation, after he leaves, the camera moves quickly to the left, that is, behind her, showing him going (Drawings 8 and 8A). Now, she turns to us, indicating that she is rejecting him (Drawing 9). Or, she could do the turn first, so that as he leaves, we track left, showing him leaving in the background and her in a close shot in the foreground, with tears in her eyes (that’s why she turned away).

  7. He leaves the shot and we “push” in on her.

  8.

  8A.

  9. Or—see schematic—camera tracks left and shows him leaving in background. Then, as she turns to us we have a big close-up of her unhappy face. Some people would think this is a more elegant way to shoot the scene. It’s your choice.

  The simple move that ends or begins a scene is not mise-en-scène directing per se, but it does give you some indication of why directors like the fluid camera move. Let’s look at another scene. Our two lovers—having reconciled their differences—are going to meet. He is seated, waiting for her. As she enters in the background, he rises to meet her (Drawing 10). We have a number of choices here. The camera must, at any rate, rise on the dolly to “carry” both of them in the shot. (The need to “carry,” that is, to keep both people equally or aesthetically framed, is a constant worry when people sit or stand, or when a camera, on a low or high angle, moves closer to people.) Now, suppose the camera were to move to the left and—as he turns to greet her—move into an over-the-shoulder shot “onto” him (Drawings 11 and 11A). This movement creates a sense of excitement that a simple “cut” (to her or to him) could not and would not do. Whether it’s too swift and complicated a move is something you can decide only by trying.

  10. The camera is shooting up from low angle.

  11.

  11A. Now—it sweeps around to the left as woman walks toward man (careful, don’t hit her!) and gets an over-theshoulder shot as he turns on the couch.

  12. Or—he sits waiting in a wide shot.

  13. . . . as sh
e enters and he rises, we cut to a closer shot.8A.

  A simpler, also effective move, one traditionally done, would be to “tighten” (that is, dolly in) on the two of them as she comes down to the couch and he rises. An old-fashioned way to do this is to take a wide shot of him sitting there (Drawing 12), then film a separate shot of the two of them when she comes in, but tighter (Drawing 13). Not only does this take more time (two shots instead of one), but it’s just not as attractive a way of making films. The earlier move emphasizes their union and is more fluid. An even more contemporary way of shooting this scene would be to use a very low angle as he sits waiting, waiting, waiting (Drawing 14). Then, in the background of his shot, we see her blurred image appear—blurred because we’re using a “long” lens, with low depth-of-field (Drawing 15). He rises, and we show her coming around the end of the couch, holding the two of them in a very tight over-the-shoulder shot (Drawings 16 and 16A).

  VARIATIONS. CHOICES. THAT’S WHAT IT’S ALL ABOUT

  Here’s still one more look at this business of combining a move with a series of static shots. Again, we’re looking at the end of a sequence. Our two lovers are having dinner, alone. He is at one end of the table, she at the other. During the dinner, we have resorted to a fairly standard set of shots. Wide shot of the table, with each one seated at the extremes of the frame (Drawing 17), and close shots of each as they look off camera at the other (Drawings 18 and 19). But as the scene ends, she rises (Drawing 20), and we pull back from her close shot, pan with her as she walks to his end of the table, and push in on a tight two-shot as she hugs him from behind (Drawing 20A). We could, of course, have waited, let her exit her close-shot, and simply picked her up as she walked into his close shot, but that’s not as fluid, or as meaningful, as following her on the move to him. There are, of course, dozens of variations on these themes. Your D.P. will have some ideas, but you should think of which moves make sense, and when you want to use them, how they keep the sequence of shots from becoming boring, and how they add meaning to your sequence.

  14. Or—he sits waiting in a close shot...

  15...and she appears (slightly out of focus because of the “long” lens) behind him. [End caption]

  16.

  16A. In a tricky camera move—he rises and turns partway toward her as she comes down around the end of the couch. More choices!

  Now that you have all these shots down, prepare a shot list. Your script is marked up, but that’s a fifty-page document. Make a list—to carry with you at all times—of those shots that you must have. This means special shots for special effects; it means those long “cover” shots we discussed above; but it also means the everyday, mundane, bread-and-butter shots you intend to get. Make notes as to which ones you must have and which you can eliminate. This shot list is a very valuable tool. You may have the best memory in the world, but when it comes to the pressure of time and your script is all marked up with other notations (how the actor sloughed off that line and how you want it read, for instance), you need this list of essential shots in front of you.

  17.

  18.

  19.

  20. Here, the camera “echoes” the woman’s movement, swinging left as she goes right. Because we are watching the woman, the wide swing in movement of the camera is barely noticeable. We end up with the shot above and then move in (not shown on the schematic) for a tighter two-shot.

  20A.

  SETUPS

  There will be limited time in which to get your essential shots, so how can you be efficient? Answer: by limiting the number of setups you use.

  Let’s take a crazy example to illustrate what not to do. Here we are at the dinner table, with our two lovers. The camera is framed on the man as he asks the woman whether she wants to go out afterward or whether they’re going to stay in. We frame them in a two-shot (Setup 1). We know that we want his next line to be in a close shot—or maybe a medium. So we move the camera (Setup 2) to his end of the table, moving all the lights at the same time. He says his line. We now know that—in editing—we’d use her medium or close shot, so we move the camera and lights to her end of the table (Setup 3). Obviously, this is ridiculous. We aren’t going to change setups on every line. We know that we’ll be shooting three major shots, so we have three major setups: the two-shot and the two close shots (or two medium shots). Fair enough. But do we always have the same number of setups as shots? Not necessarily. Here’s an example.

  We finish the scene with our two lovers. A few scenes later, they are again in the dining room. This time, in a bitter argument. Why not get the wide shot of that next scene while our camera and lights are set for this scene’s wide shot? Why not, indeed? That would be a saved setup. (It’s easier and faster to change costumes than it is to change camera and lights.) And, while we’re at it, why not do the close shots from the next scene while we’re doing the close-ups from this scene? There are good reasons why not: here are two actors, trying their best to surmount the problems of doing close shots, with a camera staring at them from a few feet away, and delivering the lines and the emotions of a complex scene; and you’re going to ask them to do the lines from another scene before they’ve completed this one? This is an example of where saving a setup is not worth it.

  But how do you decide when it’s worth it and when it’s not? When a setup can “grab” some shots that don’t require actors to do double somersaults, but where lighting and grip time can be substantially saved, then it’s worth doing two in one. When, on the other hand, a setup saved is a scene harmed, don’t. In general, moving lights and camera all the way to the other side of the set (reversing directions) is a long undertaking. To get a shot or two from this side of the set while lights are here can save precious time that you need for rehearsing or for that seventeenth “take” later on. If in doubt, ask your D.P. “How long would it take to move lights?” Tell him or her your dilemma: you want to get the close-ups while the actors are “in” the scene (emotionally tuned), but don’t want to waste a lot of time later on by moving lights back again for another wide or medium shot, which could be gotten now. The D.P. will assess the situation and tell you which will cause more trouble: moving twice or getting the shot in this setup and risking disturbing the actors.

  Your production manager and your A.D. will not make these decisions for you. You will be expected to come to the set with your mind made up about precisely which shots you will do, and when. This is a technical responsibility that you have to shoulder, and I can assure you it’s one for which many directors have gotten good (or bad) marks from producers and the crew. Look at it from their point of view. If they have to move lights and camera back and forth unnecessarily, they are going to think of you not only as disorganized, but as thoughtless. On the other hand, you don’t want to waste time with more setups than are needed, so planning just which shots get made first and which second, and how many can be shot from this setup (maybe with a few minor adjustments) makes sense.

  It’s not always an easy decision, I’ll grant that. After all, your primary objective is to get scenes that are well acted and well shot. Judging whether you should use a setup for two or more shots and risk confusing the actors isn’t easy. Conversely, there are times—especially outdoors with long shots, where moving camera and crew can be arduous—when you know immediately how to “knock off” two, three, or maybe four shots from the same basic setup. And if you’ve got this all planned beforehand, labeled in your script, and on your shot list, then you’re gaining not only shooting time, but thinking time on the set as well.

  Where does all this leave “spontaneity”? This is a question asked by students who think that all this planning puts them in a bind of being committed to too much. On the contrary. Having things well-organized and planned allows a director to leave the path, stray far and wide (given time and money and a cooperative crew), and return to the same path. Sure, you can be spontaneous “all over the place” if you wish to, but without some skeleton to your film, spontanei
ty is a risky, if not stupid business. John Cassavetes loved improvisation, but he began his films with carefully thought-out story lines. His improvs were woven in and around strong plans. For beginning directors, spontaneity often seems to me to be a way of escaping the careful planning that, in fact, gives freer reign to creative ideas.

  Give a little, get a little. Some of the previous discussion will appear absurd to low-budget filmmakers. They don’t have the option of using a dolly every time they want to make a shot more exciting. Similarly, directors with even a modicum of experience in creating moving shots will rightly note that they take a tremendous amount of time to set up, to light, and to rehearse. One answer to that criticism is that a complicated dolly shot may in fact save time—by combining two or three shots in one smooth move. But that doesn’t eliminate the fact that time and money will, once again, be a very important determinant of when—and if—you get to use the kind of mise-en-scène or simple dolly shots you want.