”We use examples from classic and modern cinema to illustrate points for filmmakers about how things work,” Explains David K. Irving. “The best thing to do is find movies that themselves work. There are a bunch of classic films that we often refer to for filmmakers to study. Every great filmmaker constantly looks at films over and over again in order to see what got them excited about cinema and what works for them.”

One of the great films in cinema that Irving always encourage students to look at is Carol Rice’s film The Third Man. The Third Man is a fantastic film because the script is so tight. It’s a wonderful story that takes place in war-torn Vienna. The allies have divided the city into four distinct areas, so there’s a lot of illegal trade going on.

“What’s beautiful about the film is that Joseph Cotten comes to Vienna to find his friend Harry Lime, whom we talk about through the entire film. He’s talked about, talked about, talked about. He’s the third man, and we don’t reveal him until very, very late into the film. The arc of the story where we’re trying to find out who this third man is, who the third man finally gets revealed to be, and the twist on why the third man isn’t this wonderful character, which was cast as Orson Welles because he’s such a jolly fellow to play against type. It made for a wonderful arc in the film,” Irving says.

There are so many things about the film that are worth pointing out. One is that the final chase sequence takes place in a sewer. What better location to have a character who’s really displayed as a rat than in a sewer? The reason Irving likes to show this particular sequence is it’s a long chase sequence, but the director does such a wonderful job creating pace in this chase.

There are fast sequences, slow sequences, close-ups, long shots, breathing space, up, down. It has a rhythm that can’t be beat, and all of it takes place in the sewer. One of the other advantages of shooting in a sewer is that the camera gets this wonderful forced perspective down these long tunnels. At the end of the sequence, the character trying to escape the tunnel brings his finger up through a sewer grating, and the close-up of the hands trying to escape speaks volumes about the character.

Another scene Irving likes to show from the film when Harry Lime is revealed for the first time. Harry Lime is revealed through light. He’s hiding in a doorway. An inebriated Joseph Cotten is yelling at this character who he doesn’t know is in the doorway.

His yelling at night causes a woman on the second floor to turn her bedroom light on, which shines light down on Harry Lime. At that moment, Joseph Cotten knows that’s the main character. The use of cinematography and lighting to be able to illuminate character is very exciting for filmmakers to study, so you can apply these lessons that you learn from historical references in film, modern references in film, and what you’re going to do when you become a filmmaker.

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Thinking of the magic and beauty of early filmmakers, it’s like they were pioneers. They were creating the technology while capturing their stories! And they were fearless because it was an untapped territory.

The limitation of black and white film? Let me tell you: art, creativity, and film are all created within constraints. It’s these bounds that help up create, not hinder us.

In this black and white medium, filmmakers had to think about lighting differently. Their lives were (obviously) in color, but their equipment only shot black and white. Everything is going to appear different.

Let’s say I’m wearing a blue jacket and a yellow shirt. In black and white? All you see is shades of grey, no actual pigmentation.

Now, you can control the lighting and create slits and angles. By controlling light and shadows, you can make an image look more interesting. In some of the earliest films, you can see when filmmakers started understanding this dynamic.

For example, the first iterations of Dracula and Nosferatu were scarier, all thanks to careful lighting. You can see how they can make a room look vast or small by collapsing the space with an entirely black background. You can see how they could paint something on a wall and make it look like it was miles and miles away. Because they were only working in black and white, its limitations were liberating.

Particularly in the silent era, when filmmakers didn’t have to think about sound or color, they got incredibly innovative just focusing on the visual image. There’s a saying that people forgot to be cinematic again as soon as sound came into film. These early black and white filmmakers led the charge for what was possible in cinema.

It wasn’t until I saw a particular film that I had a different respect for black and white. The original Imitation of Life (1934) was a black and white film that was risque, intense, and complicated. It was deep. It was heavy.

Here you have a Black woman and a white woman working together to start a business. There were some complicated tensions, both racially and in the relationship between the characters.

But for what it was — a story about two women, with no men, building a life together — it was magical. Seeing a film like that? It was about the story.

Janet Grillo thinks that the relationship between visual storytelling art and technology is integral. The technology informs the art. The art informs the technology.
“Think for a minute about the evolution of movies,” says Janet. Back in the day, they used very big, clunky, huge cameras. You couldn’t move them very quickly. You couldn’t move them in the space. You had to position them in one spot and construct an environment to capture the imagery and the sound around it, explains Janet.
You would have created a soundstage. The environment, the lighting, and the sound could all be controlled. And you had this monstrous piece of equipment flat in the middle.
Janet says soundstages dictated the way that stories were told. You had very formal settings. You were basically moving from theater into film, so film was highly theatrical. The film tradition came from a spoken, executed tradition of the theater and the theater’s proscenium arch stage, in Janet’s view.
You can see that in the very stylized work of Alfred Hitchcock. He grew up in that system of studio filmmaking where it’s highly formal and very structured, Janet notes. And you can see it in how the actors are moving in and out of the frame and their movements are blocked. It’s almost like a stage play.
This is an excerpt from the Alfred Hitchcock film Vertigo (1958) which demonstrates Hitchcock’s theatrical style of filmmaking:
GALVIN ELSTER: I asked you to come up here Scottie, knowing that you’d quit detective work. But I wondered whether you would go back on the job as a special favor to me. I want you to follow my wife. No, it’s not that. We’re very happily married.
SCOTTIE FERGUSON: Well, then-
GALVIN ELSTER: I’m afraid some harm may come to her.
SCOTTIE FERGUSON: From whom?
GALVIN ELSTER: Someone dead.
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The lexicon of filmmaking started with editing, according to Alrick Brown. “In the early 1900s, this film thing became real,” Alrick says. “And after people started telling some amazing stories, the next big innovation was editing.”

Over time, editing evolved and became more complex. The camera did more than just capture a movement. “So now we’re like ‘What if you did this? What happens if the camera starts to move?’” explains Alrick.

From the first filmmakers to DW Griffith, cameras did what Alrick calls “magical things.” Audiences experienced film in ways they had never experienced it before.

These early editing techniques began building off of each other, and the techniques came from all over the world. “My film education was focused on what was going on in America,” explains Alrick, “but film really was going on around the world.”

Filmmakers borrowed from each other. DW Griffith, for example, watched films from Germany. Einstein’s early audiences used some of his editing techniques.

“There was this communication across cultures from Latin America to Europe, where people were telling their stories. These things evolved into the techniques you would later see in the earliest Hollywood films,” says Alrick.

DW Griffith built his techniques from things he had learned from around the world. “It’s the same way a student would make a film today,” Alrick points out. “A lot of their approaches will come from things they’ve already watched and experienced.”

Film students aren’t the only ones who use this approach. Directors like Tarantino and Scorsese have spent their careers studying other filmmakers.

“We call them geniuses,” says Alrick. “And some of them deserve that title, but it’s because they’ve spent so much time looking at the history of film. They understand what techniques to keep and what techniques to throw away.”

Compared to other art forms, film is a new medium. “Filmmakers had to lean on other art forms for inspiration,” says Alrick. “So they looked at other forms of communication to build this lexicon that would become filmmaking.”

The film movements were happening, and they were informing one another. A young American filmmaker who saw Godard’s work for the first time would get excited because Godard is playing with time in a way no one else had played with it.

Melvin van Peebles made independent, experimental films in the US. Then he studied and made films in France. Van Peebles was influenced by the French New Wave. He was influenced by all of those films that he saw, but he was equally influenced by what he didn’t see. Later, he became one of the first Black filmmakers to get a deal with Hollywood, along with Gordon Parks and Ossie Davis. They were the first three black filmmakers to be given an opportunity to make films in Hollywood. Hollywood needed some token people. And so they brought these three black filmmakers in, during the late ’60s and early ’70s.

These filmmakers were going to the cinema and seeing racist images that mirrored and impacted how they grew up. They wanted to change those images. They wanted to show people that there was more to the Black community than what Hollywood was representing.

In 1972, Melvin van Peebles stepped away from his Hollywood deal and made Sweet Sweetback’s Baadasssss Song. In doing so, he shook up the system. It was one of the first times a person used their own money to make an independent film. His film showed police brutality and a black man taking his handcuffs and beating a police officer to death.

Given the history of film that had been created before 1972 and how the Black community was portrayed in those films, van Peebles crew was left divided. Some were not happy seeing that type of imagery. Yet these were filmmakers who were subverting Hollywood because they knew that there wasn’t a place for them. Eventually, Sweetback was a success.

That movie made money. People wanted to see the movie where this black man kills a cop, and runs away, and gets away with it, and the community protects and saves him. Audiences were eating that up.

What did Hollywood do? They saw an opportunity. Shortly after Sweetback was released, the blaxploitation movement began. Hollywood saw a way to make money off of stories where there was a protagonist who was black. For example, the initial Shaft character was written for a white man. It wasn’t until the success with Sweetback that they adjusted it, and the film was made with Richard Roundtree in the lead role.

“The 1930s and 1940s were kind of the heyday of the American studio system. It was the heyday of Japanese filmmaking—many amazing filmmakers were doing so much work; however, the studio systems were still being established. And when Alrick Brown says the system, he means these things are built to just create and crank out stories. So, filmmakers became adept in storytelling because they had to constantly kick out stories,” Brown explains.
These were the filmmakers Brown first watched—Hitchcock, Orson Welles, they all came from that system. Brown continues, “Filmmakers like Ozu and Kurosawa also started their careers. It’s when I started seeing films that came before them; it was Buster Keaton, and it was Charlie Chaplin.”
Now, this new generation of filmmakers who grew up watching Keaton and Chaplin were making films. But these filmmakers functioned more independently and had a system that supported them.
Brown explains, “Films were often made while being written in these studio systems because they were just cranking out material. They put stars under contract—you are under contract; you made a certain number of films. They put directors and producers under contract.”
“And so, it was a film studio—with filmmaking machines. And in that machine system, some people were excluded. A lot of stories were excluded, as well as a lot of people who weren’t included in that part of the journey. European filmmakers who grew up on some of these American films, and were like, that’s not about them,” says Brown.
There were formulas to filmmaking. You had to believe that the French New Wave had some filmmakers trying more innovative things, that they were looking at the formulaic approach to some of the romance films that were coming out of Hollywood.
“Film noir was another popular genre in the 1930s and 1940s. This genre focuses intensely on a particular style or look. Film noir was a genre that had certain conventions it practiced. The audience always knew who the hero and villain were. They knew who the femme fatale was. This formulaic type of filmmaking, although entertaining for the masses, bred populations of filmmakers who thought of doing something different. They forgot about the narrative in the same way,” Brown states.
Brown further explains, “The filmmakers thought to loosen up the storytelling just a bit, where they were not going have this person be the hero, but instead, make them kind of a haunted hero, particularly after the war when many men came back with ailments from the war.”

 “World War II comes along, and they have to develop a camera. They develop a camera in World War II to be on the battlefield and capture the action. This was a revolution,” Says Janet Grillo.

It was a revolution in the way that newsreels were being made and showing people what was really happening on the front lines. If you went into a movie theater in those years, in the ’30s there’d be a newsreel because people didn’t have TV’s back then. You’d go into a movie theater, and there’d be a newsreel with footage of what was happening on the Western front, and then you’d watch your movie.

Things evolved even further. Those cameras were more lightweight. They could be carried and brought into the field. After World War II, a lot of filmmakers started to think ‘what if I took that camera and that technology. What could I do with it? Where could I go?’ They took these lighter cameras, and they went into the streets.

Important Italian filmmakers started the birth of Italian cinema in the 40s and 50s right after the war. They were telling very authentic, true stories about their experiences. Vittorio De Sica, the Bicycle Thieves. Open City, Rossellini. Really important, beautiful movies. Umberto D., Vittorio De Sica. They’re taking these lightweight cameras, and they’re moving into the world and the post-World War wreck that was Italy. They’re poignant, human stories, and oftentimes they’re not using actors. They’re using real people.

This knocks the film-going audience off its feet. This is a revolution in terms of what cinema is. What it can be. The French picked up on this right away, and they created the whole Cinéma Vérité. The truth. The truth of cinema. It has related to documentation and documentary film. The kinds of ways that cameras can move fleetingly, fluidly, naturalistically to capture moments and do weird things in weird places.

Then you have Auteur theory coming up, with this whole birth in the ’50s and ’60s that the French filmmakers were enthralled and respectful of the films that are made in the studio by Alfred Hitchcock. They respected what he was doing, but they were also very excited with how they could change things. The Auteur film is the author. Auteur means author. The camera is the pen, and they can use that fleetingly and quickly.

Part of an editor’s responsibility is to take the material and understand what the editor’s vision is, but also, bring to the table their own particular perspective.

“A really good editor understands that, what he or she feels about the material, how they respond to the material, is just as important as trying to do what the director wants,” says Sam Pollard.

Sometimes, it’s about re-editing somebody’s interview or taking an actor’s line and finding a different note, a different word, or something that they might have said in a different way, in a different take, and using that instead.

“Some people call it sleight of hand. To me, it’s part of the practice, it’s a part of what I call the nuts and bolts of editing,” says Pollard.

“I see myself in a very funny way. I see myself as not so much as a magician, but as a professional craftsperson, like a master carpenter where my job is to take all these pieces of wood, or sculptors, they have all these pieces of clay, and give it shape and form and art.”

Sometimes, editors have to try something different: that tool or that piece of clay may not work.

“I see myself as a craftsperson. I always have. And to me, that craftsperson, if he or she does their job properly, they make it rise to the level of art,” adds Pollard.

One thing that everyone needs to understand about filmmaking and film editing is that so many components are necessary to make a good film.

It’s not just shaping performance in a fiction film. In a dcoumetnary, it’s also understanding how to figure out the best pieces of an interview and make different segments come together.

It’s also understanding how to create the soundscape of the film and how to create the titles.

What’s the opening Title Sequence and what should look like? Or should there be no titles at the beginning?

How should it unfold?

Should it be at the beginning?

Should it be at the end?

“There’s some films I’ve worked on, like the title sequence in Mo’ Better Blues, a wonderful company, Balsmeyer & Everett, they created this wonderful title sequence that they gave me all these beautiful elements of Denzel and Joie and Cynda Williams, that I was able to shape to make it
work.”

“They did, also, a wonderful sequence for Jungle Fever that’s really very nice, using the landscape of Brooklyn to create the titles,” notes Pollard.

Titling is a very important part of this shaping of the filmmaking process and telling the story.

Pollard mentions a film about Martin Luther King and the FBI that he recently finished. When working on it, a company in California created a raw-ish title sequence with Martin Luther King using both imagery that we shot on a soundstage, imagery of archival footage of Dr. King with stills and other elements to create a very textured opening.

If you’ve got the budget and the money, you can do extraordinary title sequences. Sometimes, if you don’t have the budget and money, you can still do extraordinary title sequences.

Everything about filmmaking is going the extra mile, using your imagination and your sense of technique, and finding good collaborators to make the story come alive.

 “Being an editor gets you to understand the whole process of what a script needs, what production needs, and then, ultimately, what you need in the editing room in order to make your film effective,” David K. Irving explains. “The editor will want to spend a lot of time with the director thinking through how they want to do the story. They usually do their first cut, which is called an assembly, based on the script, and then they’ll eventually cut it down. Their most important job is creating a rhythm or a sense of pace in the film, so the film moves along.”

“I know when Shakespeare would write his tragedies, his first act always ended on a very tragic note, but he would always start the second act with a little comic scene for relief, so the audience could relax and then build up their tension for the tragedy that would happen at the second act.”

An editor, too, is looking for all those rhythms. They’re built into the script. Ideally, the director has given the editor everything he or she needs to put it together, but the editor is not on set. The editor is only making a movie out of the material they have in front of them.

“For example, many times, with an editor, I’ve seen them take a shot from an early scene and put it in a later scene as long as the wardrobe matched because it’s what they wanted in terms of their eyeballs going left to right. There’s a lot of freedom in the editing room. You have to let an editor be freeform in order to make sure they make the best movie possible,” Says Irving.

“As directors, we often get very stuck on the material we shoot. I shot a single take scene where at the end of the scene, one of the actor’s wardrobe got connected to another actor’s wardrobe and got dragged off the set. The actor was smart enough to come back on the set, but I didn’t print that take because I said I can’t use the shot if the continuity doesn’t work.”

“My editor said ‘the audience will never see the continuity problem’. That’s the take with the most energy, and that’s what’s in the film now. I, as the director, cringe every time I see it, but the editor made the right decision.”

In Midnight Cowboy ,the very famous movie with Dustin Hoffman and John Boyd, they almost get hit by a taxicab in the middle of the street in the middle of a scene, and Dustin Hoffman stayed in character as “Ratso” Rizzo, banged on the front of the taxi, and said, ‘I’m walking here! I’m walking here!’ That was never planned in the script, but in the editing room, we’re able to put it together and get this great moment that wasn’t planned, but the editor was able to use it to great effect.

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In the 21st century, the editing process is very different between fiction and nonfiction. For Sam Pollard, the nonfiction editing process depends on whether or not the film contains interviews. “If it’s an interview-based film, I will make sure that the director has transcribed all the interviews, which I can read to make selects,” says Sam.
“Sometimes I just read the interviews. Sometimes I read and watch them at the same time, so I can hear the cadence of the person who’s being interviewed.”

Once Sam makes his selects, he uses a step-by-step system. If the filmmaker has shot B roll or verite footage, Sam starts by watching that. He pulls the things he likes and the things that work in terms of look, feel, and relevance.

From there, Sam determines the film’s structure. He writes down the interviewees’ themes on 3×4 cards. On a poster board, Sam lays out a three-act structure for the film based on those themes. He arranges the cards into these three acts, and that’s how he builds the film.

Of course, Sam’s editing process looks different for films with no interviews. “If it’s just raw footage that’s been shot on location, I’ll just make selects from that footage,” Sam explains. “Instead of using the storyboard structure, I’ll just edit sequence after sequence. Fo example, someone shot me today, getting up and doing my activities. I would just edit that sequence in order.”

After Sam edits his sequences, he starts thinking about the beginning of the film. “How do I want to start this film?” he asks himself. “Do I want to start with Lizzie having the idea? With me getting an email about this program?” Then, Sam moves his sequences into place.

This editing process lets Sam create order and structure. “That’s the way I work with documentaries,” Sam says, “because 90% of documentaries have no scripts.”