What about film schools? Will experience there help you get a job? I think this depends on how resourceful you are, and how well trained. At least once a week my telephone used to ring with some inquiry by a college student about how to “break into” the industry. And, often, the student asked about graduate school (NYU, UCLA, USC, Columbia, and others have reputable graduate schools in filmmaking). If the student has already made a film or two (by hook or by crook) and has a lot of contacts in the commercial or noncommercial film and television world, I’m not likely to suggest graduate work. If the student has no experience, but has a good liberal arts background, I more often suggest that, expensive as such places generally are, they do offer a good grounding in technical and creative approaches to making film and television. The same is basically true for undergraduate film and television studies, though my own eclectic background makes me much more cautious about suggesting that someone actually major in film as an undergraduate. What about all those other wonderful subjects that can be studied in college: English, history, psychology, mathematics, physics, archaeology? Wouldn’t you rather learn those and make films later? If not, then major in film or television, but pay heed to my remarks in the beginning of this book about the breadth of experience.17
If you graduated from college or graduate school with a B.F.A. or M.F.A. in film or TV, what will it do for you in the outside world? That depends, in part, on what you did at school. If you used your time to make contacts and to make films or videotapes, then you’ve used your time well, but it’s not a simple magic trick to get work in the industry. Francis Ford Coppola and George Lucas came out of the Los Angeles film schools; Martin Scorsese came out of NYU, but so what? Does anyone really believe that those men wouldn’t have become directors if they hadn’t gone to film school? They would have found other ways. And there are scores of directors of commercials and of nonunion films who never went near a place that educated filmmakers.
In short, as I suggested in the Introduction, there are many kinds of directors and, equally, there are many roads to becoming one. You must know your craft and find your own path. What I’ve given here are hints that have worked for many, but they may or may not work for you.
17Of course, astute observers will have noted that I used to teach film and video production in an undergraduate department of a major American college. How do I square this with the statement made here? Partly, by being honest with my students and telling them how I felt about undergraduate majors in film. Partly, by spending a lot of time urging my students to take wonderful courses in other departments. As I said a few pages back, the new, inexpensive digital cameras—even the camcorder-under-900-bucks types—can now be edited on your Mac or PC and deliver to the world your creative insight. So, if you’ve got insight, an education, and storytelling ability, it’ll show even in a home video.
Afterword
WHAT IS A DIRECTOR?
Some of you may think I’ve answered this already, and some of you may think this chapter belongs at the front of the book. I did describe the primary work of the director (“making choices”) in the Introduction. And I have given you thirteen chapters on some of the ways a director spends his or her time. On the other hand, nowhere have I spelled out the philosophical nature of what a director is; you know, the “I know what a director does, but what is a director?” kind of question.
There are usually two approaches to this kind of question. The first revolves around script and the second around image. Script, first.
Scripts tell stories—good ones, if you’re skillful. They also convey meaning, which is different from story, by which I mean that a fine script, a fine story, has some deeper message to convey. It need not always be a symbolic one, or a political message, or even a serious one, but something beyond “fluff.” You Can’t Take It with You, the Kaufman and Hart comedy, is filled with firecrackers going off, women doing pirouettes, and G-men bursting in, but underneath is the idea that we spend most of our lives working, not enjoying life. That’s not an uncommon or a startling message, but the play would come down to the final curtain a little less funny and a little less enjoyable if it weren’t there. And if the director didn’t understand that message, didn’t know how to convey it, the play wouldn’t carry its audiences nearly as well. Now, with You Can’t Take It with You, it’s not very hard to get that extra little meaning out of the play, since the playwrights have written it into the final speech of the lead character, but with many plays and with many film scripts, the underlying meaning isn’t read out loud at the end by a character. It’s carried somewhere—or everywhere—in a line here, a character delineation there, in the basic story, and so on. If a director has a good grasp of that underlying meaning, then he or she is well on the way.
But there’s more to it than that. How do you get your actors to convey the meaning? Here, the pit suddenly opens wide and you have more alternatives than you can possibly imagine or want to deal with. A perfect example is Hamlet, where scores of directors have tried to find a way to deal with the play’s theme(s). Young Hamlets, old Hamlets, female Hamlets; modern dress, Victorian dress, Elizabethan dress; swords, pistols, daggers; Freudian Hamlet, full-length Hamlet, half-pint Hamlet.
But even with a common, everyday television film, there are decisions to be made. Made correctly, the film will convey something more than the bare words on the script. Done incorrectly, they will give the wrong impression—or worse, no impression. Take two quite different series, NYPD Blue and The West Wing. Brilliant as they are, they are brilliant in different ways. The use of the handheld “jerkycam” style, lots of intercutting between actors, the cramped quarters and the streets of New York, actors with varying ethnic backgrounds and varying styles of acting—all give a feel of NYPD Blue that transcends any individual director. Yet one assumes a director, some director, designed all of this, in cooperation with the executive producer/writer; but does anyone doubt that it was the result of some long nights of decision-making?
Now, The West Wing. Here, too, a sense of reality, of actually being in the White House. But not at all like NYPD Blue: a very different use of camera—long, long takes with a Steadicam, actors moving in mise-en-scène fashion; opulent sets, eloquent speeches, always impelled by intelligence and some sense of comedic presence. Again, we don’t doubt that lots of thought and planning went into this methodology, into each and every detail, down, I suspect, even to which actors should be minorities, which should be women—not with the aim of being politically correct, but of being believable: Would the Administration (any administration) hire this person for that job?
So, what will you do about the style of your movie? About casting, costumes, sets, accents, and all the things discussed above?
To even begin to answer those questions requires a good deal of training and a good deal of thought. First, a director has to understand everything about the script. All the nuances of the lines, the reason each character is there to begin with (and if he or she doesn’t belong, should that character be thrown out), why one scene is in that place and another scene is in that place in the script, how the scenes sound to you in your inner ear, and how you, in the audience, will react to them. If this is your approach to scripts, then you will certainly want to insist upon having rehearsals before you put your actors in front of the camera. You will want to listen to them and then explain each and every nuance of the script, letting them know how you want scenes played. And, in the editing phase, you will think over and over again about which scenes to reorient and where to cut a shot so that the dialogue emphasizes the proper point in the script.
What if you start with image? Is it any easier, any more straightforward? And why would someone start with the picture rather than the words? After all, isn’t everything in the dialogue?
Some people start with images because it’s easier for them. Others, because what they feel first about the script is best translated into pictures. Still others, because they don’t have a firm grasp on the meaning o
f every line of dialogue but can conjure up hundreds of pictures. Others, because working with actors isn’t their strong suit, but looking through a camera is. Finally, there are those who assert that because a film is made up of images, if you don’t start with pictures, you’re left with nothing but words, which in their minds is boring.
And then there are some directors for whom the frame, the image, or the shot is easier to deal with than those funny people, the actors. I’ve heard them say, “I really don’t like actors.” Does this make it impossible for them to direct? Strangely enough, no. For what some people lack in their ability to work with humans, they make up in their ability to conjure up images. But this has its drawbacks; for the image alone, without a tie to the meaning of the script, cannot convey anything more than a pretty picture. Remember my discussion in chapter 4 about The Long Riders? One gorgeous image after another, but—for me—tied to very little meaning. You can come away from such a picture thrilled with the images and bored with the film. But, strangely enough, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t direct. It simply means you have to make one art serve the other. And it means you have to have colleagues who are strong in the facilities you lack. For instance, as an imagist, you wouldn’t want to rewrite the script yourself. Conversely, as a brilliant stage director, you might want to have a fantastic D.P. to create images for you.
Isn’t this simply saying that a half-talented director needs to surround himself with talented people? Not quite. While it’s true that many great directors have ability in every facet of the field—dialogue, image, writing, working with actors—many a good craftsman has one or two strong suits and can not only get work in the field, but can contribute some important films or videotapes to the craft. Of course, a wise director knows his or her own strengths and defects. It would be foolhardy for a director strong in images alone to take on the direction of a work of Shakespeare or Ibsen. It would be equally ridiculous for a director whose strong suit is mainly directing actors to direct a film in which there is almost no dialogue, where the story hangs on pictures.
What is a director? A man or woman who is good at creating or translating images, or dialogue, into film or videotape.
What is a director? Someone passionate about details. Not meaningless ones, but details that shine on the screen, or fill in the background so that one feels the three-dimensionality of the picture, of the people “up there.”
What is a director? As you can tell from the chapters in this book that are not about “vision,” a director is someone who can learn to be organized and who understands that organization is an aid, not a detriment, to vision.
What is a director? Someone with a great knack for storytelling. Someone who notices framing and where the light is coming from. Someone with an “eye” and an “ear.” Someone with knowledge about a great many things, and with a thirst for knowledge about a great many more.
A director is also someone who can tie together the various strands of the art; who “sees” something that few others see and who knows how to make what he or she sees fit a pattern. The craft, as we have seen, is important, but so is the vision.
I am not suggesting a genius when I outline these characteristics. But neither am I suggesting that a director is simply anyone who wants to put a camera in front of a subject. Directing is “paying attention” and leading and seeing and hearing and caring and knowing and, well, directing.
Glossary
NOTE: In this glossary, terms found in the book that are of special importance to the work of a director are defined. Unless special mention is made, all terms should be considered as applying both to film and to videotape productions. All of the following terms can be found in chapter 3, so no definitions for these will be given in the Glossary: Producer, Associate Producer, Executive Producer, Writer, Story Editor, Production Manager, Unit Manager, Location Scout, P.O.C. (production office coordinator), Assistant Director, Second Assistant Director, Cinematographer, Camera Operator, Assistant Camera, Mixer, Gaffer, Juicer, Boom Operator, Recordist, Grip, Continuity, Best Boy, Makeup, Hairdresser, Wardrobe, Costume Designer, Art Director (Scenic Designer, Production Designer), Property Person (“Props”), Film Editor, Assistant Editor, Lighting Director, Audio Person, Videotape Operator, Associate Director, Cable Puller, Videotape Editor, and Dialogue Coach. In addition, various technical terms are sprinkled throughout the chapters.
Auteur A French word that means “author.” Used by the French director François Truffaut in an article in Cahiers du Cinéma (“film notebooks”), it set into motion the notion of directors as “authors” because it was mistranslated when the article appeared in the United States. Truffaut, apparently, did not intend readers to believe that directors eclipsed all other creative forces on a film, but American critics used the term in that way for at least a decade.
Avid This is the trade name of one of the first and still most used nonlinear (digital) editing consoles. It—and others like it—have transformed the editing of video from a cumbersome process into a fascinating blend of magic and film-style editing.
Beat (1) A pause in time. Used in scripts to indicate that the actor should halt briefly before his next line. (2) More importantly, a portion of a scene that should be considered an integral part all by itself. Thus, each scene will have a number of beats, just as each script will have many scenes. Rehearsing beats helps actors feel the scene as it is broken into meaningful parts. Similarly, it helps to film or videotape beats in their entirety, retaining the integrity of the moment.
Bounce light See Lighting.
Camera Angle A term that conveys both how high or low a camera will be and the direction from which it will be shooting. Thus, a director may ask for a low-angle shot that is done shooting over-the-shoulder.” Over-the-shoulder” is as much an “angle” as is the “low” shot the director asked for.
Clapstick The flat wooden board upon which information relating to each scene (in film) is written and that is held in front of the camera before each take. Now there are electronic slates that put a flash onto the film itself while the number of the scene and take are spoken by the audio man into a microphone and transferred onto audiotape without putting a clapstick right in front of the actors’ faces.
Close-up See Shots.
Coverage How many shots you’ve taken. More specifically, the concept that any scene should be covered from a variety of angles, so that an editor will be able to cut it together without problems.
Crane Refers to a large four-wheeled vehicle, with a large, movable “tongue” that will hold a camera and operator(s). The flexibility of the crane allows the camera to be held at ground level or high in the air.
Cut The most basic way of getting from one shot to another without overlap or fade. Sometimes called a “direct cut.”
Cutaway The term used, or misused, for shots that can be employed as buffers between two other shots that don’t “work” because of mismatches or “grammatical” problems. (See chapter 11, “The Print and the Film Laboratory” and chapter 12, “The Documentary.”)
Dailies The film footage that was shot yesterday. Usually shown in the afternoon (it has been rushed through the laboratory, hence the alternative word “rushes”), so that producers can decide if anything needs to be reshot today.
Depth-of-field A technical term of great importance to filmmaking and video productions. Every lens has its own properties in terms of focus. When focusing on any object at a particular distance, a 50mm lens will be able to show other objects (behind and in front of the primary object) in greater focus than a 105mm lens focused at the same primary object at the same distance from the camera. How great the span is through which a lens can hold two objects in focus is called the depth-of-field. It varies with the distance from the camera and for each particular f-stop being used. A chart is necessary to determine a particular depth-of-field.
Directors Guild of America (DGA) The bargaining unit (union) for all directors, production managers, and assistant directors in
film; and for directors, associate directors, and production assistants in television.
Dissolve A simultaneous fade-in/fade-out, whereby one shot disappears from view as another appears. These overlapped shots can be varied in length either in the laboratory (film) or through a special effects generator (video).
Documentary A nonfiction film or videotape in which a point of view about an issue takes the producer-director through an investigative route toward a product that presents that point of view. In television, the point of view has often been traded in for a “balanced” presentation.
Dolly A kind of small, open-bodied cart, which runs on “track” and has wheels that can turn in various directions. The camera (and, sometimes, crew members) sit on it. For use in trucking (or “tracking”) shots. There are many kinds of dollies, starting with the smallest that weighs only two hundred pounds, and going up to large ones that hold mammoth cameras and three or four crew members. They have a variety of names such as “crab,” “cricket,” and so on.
Double system Refers to the separate recording of sound and picture onto two different media—the film and the sound track—and also to the projection of the finished product using either two separate pieces of equipment (a projector and an audio tape recorder) or a special projector. Videotape is never double system, since the sound track is always wedded to the videotape itself. Film editing cannot be accomplished with finesse unless double-system recording is used.
Directing for Film and Television Page 23