Many of us have made films (short films, long films) and we take great pride in saying, “I made that.” But did we really? We say we’re “directors.” We say we “make films.” We may even call ourselves “moviemakers.” But what do we really do?

Think about it: You had a script, maybe you wrote it, and you decided to turn it into a film. You found some money and then you began the process. You worked with the writer, found yourself a producer, hired or begged for the services of a cinematographer, production designer, casting director and a crew. You cast some actors and found an editor. Then you went into rehearsal and production. You shot for as many days as you could and then there was post-produc-tion. By the end, you had worked with many people: Writer, producer, cinematographer, actors, sound mixer, production designer, wardrobe, hair, make-up, special effects, editor, composer, mixer, etc. When it was all done and up on the screen you pointed at it and said, ‘I did that.’ But what did you actually do?

Chances are you did not operate the camera, play all the parts, build or dress all the sets, find all the locations, do all the lighting, mix all the sound, do all the editing, composing, mixing and color correcting. In fact, there’s a good chance you did none of these things, yet you get to say ‘I made that film.’

The real challenge of being a director is that you have to do so much—yet you get to do so little. It is your vision that is shaping the movie. It is your passion that is guiding and inspiring all of the other artists. You are a storyteller and you have elected to tell this story through the medium of film, which means you must collaborate. You must rely on the skills and artistry of others in order to achieve your goal.

So the question is: What do you do? Well, mostly you talk. That’s it. A voice is the director’s main and most powerful tool. You talk to actors, writers, producers, designers, cinematographers, editors and composers. You can literally “talk” a film into existence. Your job is to inspire each artist to do his or her best work on your film, with your vision as the guide. But in order to do that, you have to understand these artists’ language.

How do you talk to a writer? A producer? A designer? An editor? An actor? It’s a virtual tower of Babel. This is the challenge that you face every time you make a movie, whether it’s your first, fifth or fifteenth effort. How do you articulate to all of these talented artists what it is you see and hear in your head and feel in your heart?

I make films in order to make an emotional connection with my audience through a story. I know that in the moviemaking process it is my sensibility, my emotional connection to the characters and the story, that is the guide for every choice made.

Rather than tell my DP that I need a low angle, 50mm shot framing the house on the right and the lamppost on the left, with the moon cutting through the trees… I tell him ‘I need this shot to scare me. I want to feel that I am not safe, that no one in that house is safe.’ I know the audience doesn’t care about the camera angle, lens size, framing or depth of field. They care about the emotional ride. The audience is an open vessel, ready to respond. And they will respond to every-thing I put up there on that screen. My job is to stimulate that response as best as I can, using myself as the surrogate audience during the process of making the film.

You must communicate the result you want to your creative team. Let the costume designer know how a particular dress should affect the audience’s perception of a character. Let the production designer know how the audience should feel when they are first inside the boss’ office. Let the editor know how you want the audience to react when he cuts to the lead actor’s reaction to some devastating news. Let the composer know how you want the audience to respond to the music in connection with the events of the scene.

“What do you want?” is the most difficult question to answer—ever. Do you really know what you want? Not the shot, the angle, the performance, the texture or color. But do you know what you want to happen in the hearts and minds of the audience at this particular moment? This is what directing is really all about. As directors we are storytellers, and as storytellers we are constantly manipulating the audience. The audience expects it and we had better deliver. If you know what you want, if you know the results you want, you will be fine, as long as you can articulate your desires to the individual artists.

This is “result directing” and this approach will work well for almost everyone. Tell the cinematographer how you want a shot to impact the audience and he will be able to deliver. Tell a production designer how the set needs to affect the scene, the characters and the audience and she can deliver. (The same holds true for editors, composers, sound mixers, etc.)

But there is one area of cinematic storytelling where result directing will not work. In fact, it will be totally counter-productive—perhaps even disastrous. That is with the actors. Working with actors is arguably the single most important aspect of directing.

At the core of every film is a story and it is the characters in the story that captivate us, hold us and take us on a journey. This fact makes the actors the most important element in your film. All directors know this to be true and many directors struggle with the complex challenge of working with actors.

Here are some realities of working with actors that cannot be ignored:

1. Actors have the most difficult and the most dangerous job on the set.

2. Actors, in order to do their best work, must be working in a safe environment.

3. “Safe” means that only one person will be talking to an actor regarding his or her work—and that is you, the director. All actors will look to you for direction, guidance and inspiration and will expect you to protect them from the comments, criticism or suggestions of everyone else.

4. Result directing does not work with actors.

The reason that result directing does not work with actors is clear: We do not go through life trying to create emotions and responses. We go through life trying to achieve our personal objectives, to avoid as many conflicts and obstacles as possible and to remain in areas of comfort. To ask an actor to simply express the result of a frustrated or foiled attempt to fulfill an objective is to ask him or her to focus only on the result of the action, not on the action itself.

The solution to this challenge is difficult to achieve yet always delivers the most powerful performances imaginable. Stop directing the actors and learn how to direct the characters. Only then have you earned the right to call yourself a “moviemaker.” MM

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