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| Al
Pacino and Andy Garcia in The Godfather Part III (1990). |
One part painter, two parts prestidigitator, Walter
Murch is, quite simply, one of our greatest living motion picture
editors. He has a long and storied career as both a picture and
sound editor, and has authored one of the most insightful little
volumes on film editing ever published. "Blink of an Eye" should
be required reading for every film student.
Murch's credits include sound mixing on The Conversation,
The Godfather Part II, and American Graffiti; editing on: Ghost,
The Godfather III, The Unbearable Lightness of Being and First
Knight. He also collaborated on the screenplay for THX-1138 (directed
by George Lucas) and directed and co-wrote the 1985 Disney release
Return to Oz. Murch's work has been recognized with many international
awards, including an Oscar for sound editing on Apocalypse Now.
In 1997 he was honored with an unprecedented double Oscar for film
editing and sound mixing on The English Patient-the first digitally
edited motion picture to receive an Oscar. Just before this interview,
he supervised the re-edit of the Orson Welles classic Touch of
Evil, based on Welles' own 54-page memo. The "new" Touch
of Evil was released this fall to much critical and popular acclaim.
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| Gene Hackman in The Conversation (1974). |
Victor Wishalla interviewed Walter for MovieMaker
at the sold-out 4th Annual Sedona International Film Festival in
northern Arizona, where Walter was on the faculty of the festival's
filmmaking workshop.
Victor Wishalla (MM): Walter, how can filmmakers
with limited budgets get the most out of the editing process today?
Walter Murch (WM): Well, the most recent thing
I've worked on was The Apostle, a $5 million film directed by Robert
Duvall, using his own money. Basically, he took over the same crew
that shot Slingblade, a $1 million film. There was considerably
more production value in the The Apostle, but they used the same
methodology. They videotaped directly from the negative, looked
at dailies on tape and digitized into an Avid from the videotapes.
Then they cut everything on the Avid and cut the negatives, using
the Avid output. They never printed work prints at all. Without
seeing it on film, of course, you never know quite what you're
going to get, but it turned out very well for them.
Working like this, you have to rely more on the lab
reports for what may or may not be in focus.
Somebody has to look at it critically very early
on. Once it's on the Avid, if something is wildly out of focus
you see it, but if something is lightly out of focus, it's hard
to tell-especially at the numbers you'd be resolving at as an independent.
We did The Apostle and the The English Patient at [a digitized
resolution level of] four. Thelma [Schoonmaker] did Kundun at 60,
but they had a much bigger budget than we had.
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| Jane Fonda in Julia (1978). |
MM: While working on a small monitor, how
do you visualize the final picture on the big screen?
WM: One of the main risks of using the Avid
without work prints is not seeing it on the big screen before the
negative is cut. You have to find ways to work around this problem.You'll
find that many of the mistakes you make as an editor come from
the problem of looking at a television screen rather than into
the image of a motion picture. I set up a 27" Sony monitor
to look at either the Avid, as I'm doing it , or videotapes. Out
of 3x5 cards, I cut out two little people, full-body silhouettes
of a boy and a girl.
I place these so that it seems like they're looking
at the screen. I calculate how big they are to make sure that if
this screen was 30" wide, they have to be proportionate to
that. #That's a reminder to me that I'm not making something for
TV, but for the big screen.
Once you get used to this it becomes second nature.
On the big screen, you're not aware of the frame as such, you're
more deeply sucked into the story. The rhythms with which you tell
the story will be different. Sometimes you'll stay longer on shots,
sometimes you'll cut away sooner. A lot of editing is instinctive.
You feel when you are ready to cut away from a shot.
MM: How do you apply your feel for the film's
rhythm to transitions and dialogue?
WM: Ultimately, I want a dialogue scene between
two actors to have the feel of a natural ebb and flow of exchanges
of information, threats, love or laughter between two people.
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| Robert Duvall in Apocalypse Now (1979). |
Watch two people talking. As they talk, they reach
a point where they've made their main point, but still continue.
For instance, if I say: "It's very hot out here today, don't
you think?" The portion "I think it's very hot out here
today" is really the key line. I'm just being polite by adding
an extra phrase. You'll find yourself looking at one person until
they've made their essential point. Then you'll find yourself looking
at the other person, wondering what their response is.
The first person's dialogue will overlap into the
reaction shot of the second. Then you look at him until he's had
what he has to say and cut back to the first person reacting. So
there's this ebb and flow, the dialogue dances with the issues/31/images.
This is a wonderful, often unnoticed-but critical-part of what
makes a scene come alive.
In contrast to that would be holding on a person
while they talk, then cut to the other person. You're on them until
they're finished, and so forth. That produces a staccato; I call
it "Dragnet Style," after the old TV series, which used
it very effectively.
Like any style, it can be overused and you have to
find what's appropriate. Under normal circumstances, your reaction
to what's being said has a much more fluid feel to it. We try to
capture that fluidity in how we manage overlaps with dialogue.
MM: How do you use sound overlaps in transitions?
WM: We use that a lot. Look at how we use
sound in The English Patient. Many times the sound for the scene
that's about to happen starts to bleed into the end of the earlier
one. You are aware of something happening, but you don't quite
know what is is. Then, when you cut to the second scene, you find
out.
It's like what happens when the alarm clock goes
off and you don't wake up, but incorporate the sound of the alarm
clock into your dream. Then you wake up and say "Oh, it's
just the alarm clock." We used that technique a lot in how
we moved from one scene to another.
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| Ron Howard and Cindy Williams in American
Graffiti (1973). |
MM: How does a film's genre influence your
editing style?
WM: I take my cues from the director, from
the script, from what the actors are doing and the rhythms they're
doing it in. I try to find the one or two key actors who are setting
the tone for the film-usually the stars. I find the rhythm that
they're doing things in and use that to influence my own rhythms.
Once you begin to really feel these rhythms, you can extend them
into areas that may have few or no actors in them. For example,
say you have a shot of a landscape, how long should that shot be?
It depends on what the rhythms of the film have been up until then.
MM: What happens before you accept a project?
WM: Typically I read the script, and I'm like
an actor, wondering if he should take the part. An actor wants
something that both reveals his strength and, hopefully, also asks
him to do something new. Asking the actor to do something completely
new is occasionally interesting and challenging, but it can be
risky, because you're out of your depth. And we've all seen films
in which actors have been cast who are out of their depth.
On the other hand, a film that only asks the actor
to do what he's already done before, that's a limiting thing. You
want a certain degree of familiarity and also expansion.
When I read the script, I ask myself: "Do I
respond to this material? Are there certain things about this that
I've never done before that might be interesting to see?
That's the basis. Then I'll type up a series of six
to 10 pages of notes about the screenplay-what I thought of it,
what I thought its strengths and weaknesses were, where I thought
they might get into trouble, any ideas that might be good to incorporate
in the screenplay-sort of a free association on that level. I then
send this to them with a little note, 'this is what I thought,
let's see if we're on the same wavelength.' Sometimes people will
read that and respond with 'we don't want any criticism from you
at all.' That's fine. I'm glad to know that soon because I don't
want that job.
On the other hand, if they hear what I have to say
and respond something like "well, we have a lot of interesting
things here. I disagree with this this and this, but these other
things are good"-that's the beginning of a good relationship.
Already I'm beginning to commit to the project in an interesting
way. They're hearing what I'm saying and are beginning to incorporate
what I think about the project.
MM: Let's say you've agreed to act as a project's
editor. What comes next?
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The English Patient (1996) |
WM: At that point I start timing the script.
I sit down with a stopwatch and try to visualize everything in it
and the amount of time it will take per scene. I put a number next
to every scene: this one is 30 seconds long, this scene is two minutes
and 55 seconds long. I do this three or four times. An involved process,
it takes a couple of days. You go into sort of a dream state to do
it. Then I list all these figures and compare them. If every time
I've thought that scene #37 was 30 seconds long, that's a good indication
that there's something solid about that scene.
On the other hand, if I timed a scene three times
and each time it comes out at different lengths, that's an indication
that there's something hard to visualize about that scene. I then
send those timings to the director and the producer so they can
begin to thinking about it.
For an independent filmmaker that would be absolutely
crucial to do, because you're trying to save money wherever you
can.
If the timings of the script come out to be two and
one half hours, and you know you want this film to be one hour
and 45 minutes, it's clear that you'd be better off cutting your
45 minutes now, rather than spend all that money shooting it.
Film editors are very good at doing this; after all,
that's the world we live in-the world of timing.If you, as an independent
filmmaker, hire an editor, one of the things I would ask is "are
you good at timing films?" If an editor is good at timing,
it's an indication that they're a good editor. It's not always
true, because it's a knack and you have to visualize something
that isn't there yet, and be able to read with imagination. Once
you have those timings, you can talk about things in a much more
informed way with the director.
MM: What else is important to remember when
it comes to stretching production dollars
WM: Also in terms of timing, a good number
to keep in mind is 30 percent. Say you time a scene. It lasts 120
seconds, you estimate. Inevitably, when you shoot the scene, entrances,
exits and all, it'll come out slightly longer-that's good. You
want it to be slightly longer than it will finally be. But you
don't want it to be too much longer. If it's more than 30 percent
longer, that's a red flag.
If it's under 30 percent, with good editing, you'll
find ways to compress that scene, while keeping everything essential
in it. If it's over 30 percent, if all of your scenes are over
30 percent-and this is just my personal experience, -you won't
be able to get the film down to it's length by compressing. You'll
have to lose whole scenes. You'll have to lose chunks of flesh,
sometimes whole characters. Elements of the story will have to
be abandoned.
MM: As further explained in your book, "Blink
of an Eye"?
WM: Yes, although "Blink of an Eye" is
not a technical book. It gets into the artistic-and some technical-reasons
for why I do certain things and how to get the maximum out of the
process of creative editing, based on my experience. MM
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