JEAN (Natalie Skye) and GEOFF (Zak Santiago)

With a long history in television, news and short films, and as a cinephile herself, Desiree brings a unique dimension to her feature debut. It is imaginative in both style and story; complex and dark, but at the same time whimsical and hopeful. Working with her was great first and foremost because she was very decisive in the cutting room. We would review all the takes together and choose the best performances, then find creative ways to "make it play" as they say. This lent to a very efficient process, and after only 5 weeks we had a pretty solid 2-hour rough cut.

The cast of The House is a diverse mix of some of Vancouver's top actors, and each role was very well executed; they gave us a lot of character depth and variation to play with in the cutting room. I could see the mark of a great director in the footage, as Ms. Lim always knows what she wants and is skilled at getting the right performances from her actors. Something editor Michel Arcand told me long ago was that the most important thing for a director is to know what film he or she wants to make. And he is absolutely correct. Without clear direction from the very beginning, you end up 'fixing it in post' a little too often and the whole project suffers. Instead, we were able to focus our energy on making the intended story the best it could be.

As an editor, you never know how you will work with a director for the first time. There's always the worry you'll be treated as a button-pusher. And I've heard horror stories. But I have always been treated with total respect and appreciation, and Desiree was no exception. I would go as far to say that we gelled. I think once an editor shows that he is capable of giving the director what she wants, or better, and eventually mind-reading, then the director can relax a bit, knowing they can trust your work and give you the freedom needed to do your job.

But of course "writing the final script," as Stanley Kubrick famously referred to film editing, is a challenging, collaborative process, and one that requires all parties be patient, understanding, able to compromise, and open to new ideas; a marriage of sorts. As with any marriage, there will be disagreements, but when there are, I feel that you are fighting more with the material than with each other. In fact, since the goal is to find the best solution, not to be right, you actually need to challenge one another and at the same time not hold on to your own opinion unnecessarily. If you can keep that in mind, you will get through the editing process more steadily and with better results. To that end, Desiree and I are both very happy with what we created, and we have had lots of very positive response so far. I don't get to say this about every project I work on, but with this film we made art.

Here is the Trailer. Here is the facebook page. 'Like' us, let us know what you think, and please spread the word.

THE HOUSE - a feature film - trailer from The House on Vimeo.

The School of Athens by Raffaello Sanzio, 1509

I just came across a doctrine that rings true, called Platonic epistemology. It is a theory that because our souls are reborn, all knowledge already exists within us, and that through the journey of life we are simply reawakening that innate knowledge. I would also call this wisdom, which I have always felt comes from within a person's deepest sense of self. Well it may seem like a stretch to apply a 2400 year old philosophy to film editing, but bear with me.

One of my earliest childhood memories is sitting alone in a car with the radio on, and noticing how all the people walking by would fall into and out of sync with the music. It was the early 80s, and I was probably 3 or 4 years old. At that point I had never seen a music video, so the concept of piecing life together in that way was completely foreign. But what I did was essentially that. In my imagination, I started editing together the images I was seeing, "cutting" from one "shot" of someone walking in sync to someone else walking in sync, then to a car whizzing by, traffic lights swaying in the wind, a flock of birds on a wire then flying off in a burst of chaos, back to people standing and talking, then more walking in and out of sync. It must have been a pretty important realization for me: that all life has rhythm and sequencing.

Flash forward fifteen or so years, when I began linear editing with VHS decks, and it all started to make sense. They say do what you love, and I would only add, do what comes natural. So call it aptitude or call it a reawakening of an innate sense of rhythm and visual storytelling passed down from past lives, I do what comes natural, and I love what I do. Back to that childhood epiphany, the moment ended abruptly when my mother jarred open the car door, breaking the spell I was under. But I had seen the world in a new way, and life would forever have a soundtrack.

Bob Ross, master of happy accidents

Most editors are familiar with the happy accidents that almost create themselves as they work, which I called accidental editing in an earlier post. For me, the "Oops, oh wait that actually works!" is always an exciting moment of discovery. While I find these anomalies happen more in the early stages of a cut, when one works more loosely, they can occur at any time, keeping the editor of all people on the edge of his/her seat.

It is also a question of time. These beautiful mistakes happen more often during the assembly and rough stages because that is when we have the most time ahead of us (as opposed to the lead up to the deadline). But as I evolve as an editor, I seem to "play around" less, and make my editorial decisions more deliberately and quickly, treating the NLE more like a Moviola or Steenbeck than a digital wonderland of choices and experimentation. And so as a faster, more refined editor, I have mostly abandoned the haphazard, reckless throwing of shots onto the timeline to "see what happens". Don't get me wrong, there is still something to be said for experimenting: layering clips, moving shots a frame this way or that, splicing, trimming, ripple editing to your hearts content, and just plain trying things. But no one seems to want to pay for that, so you have to kind of do it all in your head, then actually do what you think is the best choice. "No wait, one more frame... There it is."

Well, there is another phenomenon I would like to turn your attention to, as I recently experienced it at a whole new level, and that is what I would call "lucid editing". In short, when editing, occasionally things have a tendency to go very right. I have found many such occasions, where a cut (or more likely a series of cuts) works better than I possibly could have imagined. Then I move on and something else magical unfolds that likely would not have presented itself had I not done exactly what I did in the lead up to that part. It's really an exciting feeling, even more so than the accidents. But then usually that feeling, that lucid moment, comes crashing down, caving in, as I find myself quickly buried in the normalcies of problem-solving (which I admit is rewarding in a different way). It's inevitable really and part of the art, some sequences fall into place, and others have to be worked, re-worked, then re-worked some more.

I consulted the dictionary, and one definition of 'lucid' related to dreaming, which is what I had intended for the term in editing, because like in a lucid dream, you "take control of an environment that is often illusive, disorienting, murky, and out of control." The other definition specified: "showing ability to think clearly, esp. in the intervals between periods of confusion or insanity." I would say both definitions are fitting.

On a recent film, Journey of a Dream, I had one of the best editing experiences of my career, and not surprisingly it is one of my best works. It wasn't all fun and games though— there were a lot of scenes that were incredibly difficult to pull off— but the fruits of my labor seemed to compound as I went along, like an undefeated, young Ali knocking out one opponent after another (not saying "I am the greatest" though by any means). The closer I got to the final scenes, the higher the stakes and greater the pressure... and I have always performed well under pressure. So there I was in the home stretch, the proverbial bottom of the ninth. One week to go, and the final Act to cut. The director and star of the show, Shenpenn Khymsar, had a lot riding on the final sequences of the film. In fact, it was make or break. And naturally it was up to me to make it work.

For a little background, the documentary is part rockumentary, part refugee story, part travelogue, and part human rights protest. Shenpenn, himself a contradiction of lifestyles between Rock/Metal and a traditional Tibetan Buddhist upbringing, found himself through music, then became an activist for the Free Tibet movement. A firm believer in human (and animal) rights, I felt it was my duty to bring my A-game to this project. As I went into the 11th hour of the edit, I had a very diverse array of footage that I somehow had to fit together; let's just say I had some concerns. Without giving too much away, the goal was to juxtapose completely opposite genres of music, relating them to the Western and Eastern cultures of which they originated and to one another, then connect the cultures and lifestyles of each through a framework of spiritual values, family ancestry, and social/political commentary, while somehow driving home a call to arms for a Free Tibet. Sounds easy enough, right? A simple juxtaposition would have been easy. To give it meaning and intelligence was the challenge.

I began editing with the right intentions, and what transpired was a somewhat zen-like feeling, as one thing after another really fell into place. One interview would say something related to the last, which gave me an idea of how to use something that I previously had no idea how to use, then it naturally transitioned to a song, then at the instrumental break, the next sound byte I wanted just so happened to fit perfectly... It was one surprise after another. It got to the point where I didn't even feel like I was doing the work, like the film was self-directing the edit. And honestly at times I felt like I was floating up out of my chair a little bit; lucid indeed.

If you've never lucid dreamt before, it's pretty amazing. Within the dream, you become aware that you are dreaming, and with that awareness, you can make anything happen. Crazed lunatic running full speed at you with a knife? Not a problem. Simply turn him into a butterfly and catch him in your net. Trapped underwater about to drown? Fear not, you can actually breathe underwater if you just try (a personal recurring theme of mine). While I may not have performed miracles of that caliber in those final days of editing, there were some relatively miraculous moments that I think will translate to the viewing experience. As we forged our way through the final scenes, we approached the ending. We tried the obvious first, then tried something different and original, and went out with a bang. Journey of a Dream premieres April 16th at the Chicago International Movies and Music Festival. A lucid journey for a lucid dream.

Although most folks don't know good editing when they see it– because afterall that's the goal, for them not to see it– a film editor on the other hand has the ability to appreciate and deconstruct all the elements on screen. But at the same time, an editor has to be able to let go of the minutiae and experience the film from a viewer's perspective. So the trick to observing good editing falls somewhere between conscious and subconscious– like recalling a funny line or thinking after the fact about how great the acting was. Good editing should make an impact on your subconscious without being distracting.

Mirrione spoke at length and with great passion about his contributions to the films he has edited, including Swingers, Go, 13 Conversations About One Thing (one of my faves), Traffic, Ocean's 11/12/13, 21 Grams, Babel, and his latest Biutiful, by Inarritu. Stephen showed many specific scenes, even various versions of the same scene, as support for his statements, which were a real treat, because we really got to understand some of his thought process and to what degree he made his mark on the films he worked on.

I first became familiar with Mirrione's work when I saw Traffic, which I embarrassingly caught late on DVD. But this was actually a blessing because in one of the bonus features, Mirrione recounted his process of editing a particular scene, showing his Avid timeline and giving insight into the process of building that scene. At the time, I was cutting my first feature, and I was covering a lot of new theoretical territory; it's a lot different cutting a feature than shorts and event videography. So in the process, often I felt like I was making it up as I went along. So when I watched Mirrione's special feature, I was very encouraged to find out that his techniques and mine were very much alike, some of which is outlined in my "accidental editing" post.

If you are not familiar with Stephen's work, I encourage you to go out and watch/re-watch his films, and this time try to pay attention to the editing in a self-reflective sort of way to better understand how editing affects your experience. You might not enjoy the movie quite as much as a viewer, but it will likely give you an insight into what editors do: keep you from seeing our work, yet reaching you on a subconscious level. And if you are an editor and know exactly what I'm talking about, go rent his movies and enjoy the ride!

(from left) Eliot Piltz, Stephen Mirrione and Mary Frymire at VIFF 2010

Hey Stephen, perhaps we can co-edit Mary's next feature! A kid can dream. And good thing I do.

He hurried along like a shadow, until he reached an iron gate, so thick it could guard the finest of jewels or sickest of criminals. He fumbled his keys, drawing too much attention from the beggars nearby, and hurried in, slamming the doors behind with a reverberating rattle. Up the stairs he ran, and found a dark, lonely room where he sat himself in front of a strange machine with an ominous glow that only a crazed individual would choose to operate for long hours, days on end. There he found the world of Omni Post, in the heart of Gastown, Vancouver.

I am a tv/film editor, Avid by day, Final Cut Pro by night... actually sometimes I work night shifts on Avid, so it could go either way. When I started at Omni, I hadn't cut on the Avid for about two years. I was looking forward to getting back on that bronco. Oddly just before I reverted, fellow editor Shane Ross went through the same transition and posted about his experience making the switch. I enjoyed his comparisons, switching vicariously at the time. I knew I was a bit rusty, so before starting, I installed Avid Free DV on my system at home, and brushed away all the cobwebs. That really made the difference, and I hit the ground running, working on a lifestyle series called She's Crafty.

For a little background info, I learned Avid in school without prior knowledge of Final Cut Pro, and I really worked hard to learn how to edit quickly and efficiently, to know the system inside and out. When I graduated, I thought I better learn FCP, or have difficulty finding work. It took about 15 minutes to figure out the basics, and within a couple days I felt like I was equally strong on both systems. They are each great in their own right, but Avid is far more unruly when it comes to media management, I find, mainly because all media has to be in one place and file names are in Greek, whereas Final Cut Pro you can keep media separated per project and easily identify files just by looking at them. That's when it's invaluable to have a great Assistant Editor, and that we did!

This is kind of a random entry, so I can't think of any valuable conclusion, but I will say this: love your work, live your life. They go together, but need a separation. I am currently on vacation, and it is so nice to have some time off.

When initially cutting dialogue (or audio-driven scenes in general), I often close my eyes and just listen to my cuts. Sound is the first thing I consider when cutting dialogue, so I usually try to cut it the way I want it to sound, then go in and arrange the picture accordingly. In that process I discover how all the great visuals will support the sound, and how the continuity problems will make my job that much harder. Then the wrestling begins until the picture and sound are harmonious and create the desired effect.

The technique I found to solve this problem is to cut with playback at a very low volume, so that I can only hear major audio, such as dialogue and music. This leaves those distractions unnoticeable, and allows me to better feel the rhythm of my cuts. Of course you don't want to cut like that all the time, because you do need to consider those problems before handing it over to the sound mixer- don't just assume everything can be fixed! I usually reserve the low volume technique for fine-cutting, when attention to detail is critical, and really feeling your visual timing will make or break a moment or scene.

Play/Download Interview (Audio, 12min, 11 MB)

In fact, I would later find out that a lot of my radical ideas about the cognitive process of editing, which often come to me via napkin scribbling-- though once on the "do not remove" label of a tent while camping at 3am-- were almost verbatim to some of Walter Murch's communiqués. That was somehow more frightening than flattering to think that a young editor like myself could be having the same theories about film editing as one of the most profound editors in the industry. But I am just following my instinct, so I can't take full credit.

Don't get me wrong, editing is not a playful joyride; it is the most challenging job I've ever had, and has pushed me to my limits in more ways than one, through sleep deprivation, tight deadlines, hardware troubleshooting, massive data loss a week before the locked picture was due! Heh, that's a week I'd rather not live again. My point is that editing should not be a confined, restricted, assembly-line process, and I think any good director or producer acknowledges this, let alone the need to give the editor freedom to work and put his/her own creative twist into the story.

Fortunately up to this point, I have only worked with directors and producers who value my input and creativity. This is certainly a blessing, considering a lot of editors I know are treated as button pushers on a regular basis. But really I think the industry is changing. More and more good editors are given the room needed to do their best work. It is no doubt thanks to people like Mirrione and Murch, who not only perform the craft, but speak their minds and share their battles, for the sake of elevating awareness of the film editing process. Play on, good editors, play on.