After finishing a bunch of website interfaces, I turn from my computer screen to daytime TV and there before me – was the legendary Barry Crocker. I know he’s getting on, but my personal disillusionment with the Australian Film & TV industry seems never-ending. There was THE infamous Barry McKenzie, dressed as an old wizard in an afternoon kids’ TV show called “Magic Tales”. (more…)

I’ve worked with noob editors and seasoned professionals. Some newbies who’d rather be directing and others born with a burning desire to cut. One thing is for sure – all editors approach editing differently. (more…)

Cupid geoff

Ed says: I don’t earn a living making films. I wouldn’t dare. It would kill the love and passion I have for filmmaking. No. I teach and build websites for a living. But I do make films regularly.
(more…)

Perth’s not exactly Hollywood, but it is on the West Coast . . . of Western Australia that is. This is where we live. The heat is dry and the air, sandy. It’s possibly the most conservative town in the whole of Australia. Maybe that’s not a bad thing. And it’s where some filmmakers choose to make their movies.

But . . . Perth?

Sure – in Perth, every time you go location scouting, you get a call from the cops. One or two km’s over the speed limit, and you’ll be chased down – while your house is being robbed.

But that’s Perth. We roll with the bogan king-hits and the random, alcohol-fuelled stabbings.

It’s your life, pal. I’m chasing the stars. I’m off to Sydney first . . . or Melbourne. And then it’s Hollywood or Bust.

Good luck to you!

There’s one really great thing about Perth, besides it’s small population (1.5m), only 245 rain-free days per year, magnificent unpopulated beaches and an average yearly temperature of around 24°C . . . Nobody knows it’s here.

So – shhhhhhhhhh!

You don’t have the money for the London Philharmonic and you can’t afford the rights to Air’s Walkie Talkie – but you do have a small budget (or grant, or sponsor) and you’ve decided you want someone to score music specifically for your film.

There are several ways to go about this.

Approach a professional composer

Composers who do really good work are often good because they are very particular about their compositions. They may be used to working in isolation and, in effect, are already directing music in the same way as a director is directing a film – or a novel writer their book. It’s possible that a musician will frown upon the idea of sitting in the same room with Herr Direcktor whilst seeking audience with their muse.

So how do two brilliant and yet temperamental animals work together? Well – the director has two choices; Show them the finished film or don’t show the film.

The first choice can often result in the musician re-writing the director’s work in musical form. This might be okay if that’s what you want. But hearing the same story that is being told can sometimes come over as tautological. This doesn’t always happen. Some musicians understand that music has to assist or even ultimately take back seat to story – illuminating some aspect of character or even running counterpoint to your protagonist’s emotional journey.

What you don’t want is the tautological retelling of the emotional story in sound. It’s a horrible thing to watch.

The second method is to just sit with the composer and describe the scene in detail. There’s no pressure for the composer to perform and the environment is familiar. Scoring to nothing (essentially) can result in a more natural, less pointed and unencumbered piece of music.

I recently rocked up to a composer’s studio without a cut of the film (in fact – there was only a rough draft) and the composer was able to – freely – create a piece of music. I knew I wanted a 1 minute uninterrupted piece and several 10-15 second transitions. The composer enjoyed working this way and was able to score for a variety of moments in the film just by picking up on body language and brief verbal character sketches.

Admittedly, this was a series of short films and so the rigors of constructing a (non-derivative) melody for an entire feature film or TV series are quite different – but at least the filmmaker can get a taste of what is possible.

It’s also important to have some boundaries when you sit in with the composer (such as segment length, rough story shape) as the session can end up, basically, becoming a jam session which can go endlessly on into the night or day.

But, as life is short, that may not actually be such a bad thing.

In my 25 years as an emerging filmmaker, I’ve worked with many film editors – some experienced, some not so. Some newbies who would rather be directing and others born with a burning desire to cut film. One thing is for sure – all editors approach editing differently.

As a director, I think it’s polite to ask how a person likes to work – whether they have a tried and true process or not. “How do you like to work?” I ask. In many cases, the question is met with a blank or even perplexed stare. “I usually get the footage and start cutting,” comes the (often embarrassingly predictable) reply. “What other way is there?”

Obvious? … Maybe. But we directors have to listen carefully to our creative accomplices, which often means learning to read between the lines.

Here are a few other responses an editor might give you.

1. Process? Just give me the script and the original footage.

This always works well with very experienced editors. Hand the script and the footage over.

I once had the opportunity of working with Tim Wellburn – an Australian feature film editor with over 40 years of feature films to his credit. He knew how to read scripts and get to the core of the character via editing. As a general rule, it’s always polite to leave the experienced editors to do their thing. There’s no need to look over his/her shoulder.

You might get the same reply from an inexperienced editor. Perhaps let them have a go at it and see what they come up with. But make sure they know that you will, ultimately, want final say and that it may have to be done again … and again … and again (and in my case … again).

2. Give me the footage. I don’t need the script.

Okay. For me – this answer rings alarm bells. The story (providing the Director has captured it on film) should be in the script. It’s the blueprint. It’s what attracted the actor/money in the first place. Something there has already worked – especially if you are in production.

Respect the script!

Having said that – many beginner editors have shown me new and interesting things when I’ve left them to it. I try not to hover. In most cases, we eventually come back to the screenplay. If you have an iconoclastic editor on your hands, it might be a nice idea to see what they come up with. Sometimes the Director’s intentions weren’t manifest on the day and throwing things up in the air like this may be a good way to solve coverage problems.

3. I dunno. What do you want?

Good. Here is an editor willing to open lines of communication. Or – they might be tired or suspicious because they’ve heard this question before – hearing it as I’d like you to do it my way. And there’s nothing more annoying for an editor than a director looking over your shoulder while you make – every – single – cut!

Be sensitive, Directors. Or – choose an editor who (you think) is better than you are at editing in the first place.

In other words, Directors, find a way to trust your editor. Editors should be adding something to a work – maybe even fixing director’s mistakes!

4. I have no idea what I’m looking at. I need your script, notes, camera sheets etc.

The admirable answer. This editor knows that his time will be cut in half if he gets inside the director’s head. In most cases, directors don’t know what they want. Giving the editor as much information as possible cuts time and frees up the editor. You want your editor involved! Although this answer will mean more work for the director.

5. Let’s have a cup of coffee.

Another good answer. But beware. It could be another alarm bell.

Getting along with your editor doesn’t guarantee great work. Even though an afternoon coffee may turn into an all night pub-crawl and finding your new best friend, it doesn’t mean that you are both on the same page. The first rough cut will tell you that.

Make sure, if you do have coffee and biscuits with your editor, that you talk about the film. Don’t talk too much about life and philosophy. The person you are talking to may not be a good listener – or what you are hearing makes sense in a different way to what your editor intends.

You really need to get into the cutting room after the editor has had a go at the film.

Whoever said that a director’s job finishes at “It’s a wrap”?

NB: The knife cuts both ways. An editor might ask the director how he/she likes to work. Each and every film – whether drama or documentary comes with its own cutting-room challenges. Ask the right questions, be nice to people and don’t treat your editor like a splicing machine.

I directed a 5 minute film for DADAA on Tuesday. We are documenting the lives of mentally challenged and disabled people living in WA for the Lost Generation Project. I must say, it was a very lovely, humbling experience and the finished film should be amazing to watch.

I originally wrote a narrative screenplay – but actually sticking to it for the doco format – was tricky. We really had to go with other things that happened on the day (as one might expect). We managed to capture the essence of the screenplay, however, and some of the scenes are very moving and emotional.

Technical

I shot 1.5 hours of HD with a Sony HDV camera throughout one day. What a lovely, easy-to-use camera. We literally switched it on and started shooting. I had to ride the exposure and focus a little, but the automatic functions allowed me to, literally, interrupt what the camera was doing by touching a dial and going manual – something like cruise control on a car. I was worried about sound (we used a simple RODE directional mic. and camera sound) but it came out nicely and the images are lovely.

I am very humbled to think that the films we make for DADAA are copyright “the subject” (ie. the person we are filming) and I can’t wait to see what the various editors and musicians do with the finished film.

All in all – it made me realise that I really do love filmmaking. Sometimes you lose track of why you are doing such a difficult thing. And then it hits you. Like it did for me on Tuesday.

Tomorrow I start filming the first Lost Generation project film for DADAA and I’m really looking forward to it. We’re filming in a pool, in a bus, in the streets, in houses. And we’re not quite sure how comfortable our subject will be. Hmmm.

Zeitgeisters,

As Edwin saith, he will not wait by the ‘phone. Well, nor am I; I’m doing bunches of other writing, for other people. Some of whome will pay me cash money. I am attempting this in the four days that I do not work for a salary.

So my weekly financial set up is this: three days working for wages, four days freelancing as a script writer with the occasional magazine article thrown in.

I don’t even think about film funding in between times, I leave that to the director and the producer. Concentrating on what might be is quite pointless. And a waste of energy.

The downside of my 3/4 weekly split is that sometimes the projects pile up. Hence,my being awake at 3.45am writing this blog when I need to be up by 6.30am. Deadline stress just adds to my unnatural insomnia. And I’ve got a paying project really pressing in right after I shuck the present monkey on my back (a short film script).

This is actually a typical dilemma for any freelancer. Suddenly you have too many paying jobs to do all at once. Woe is me.

The upside is suddenly I can afford a new Sunbeam Cafe series 2 slice toaster – the old TA9200. Go here to discover more.

Many in the arts in Australia make their money with a ‘patchwork quilt’ of teaching and freelancing. It can lead to many hours of soul-searching. Teachers and arts administrators who began as artists often discover they are devoting most of their time to pulling down a wage and sending their kids through school.

This leads to the age old questions. Am I a ‘painter (or whatever) if I am not actually painting. This is dealt with by people such as Julia Cameron in books like her 1992 blockbuster The Artist’s Way.

So, not waiting by the ‘phone, taking on too much freelance work and that affecting the stable paying job. That’s this particular artist’s way and I know through many conversations over the years I am not alone.

Crack The Script!

Mr Trivia

Well. I’ll eat my hat!

After submitting BTS to the AFC and Bluecat, I started struggling with a sci-fi no-budget screenplay, Yellow. I was scheduled to shoot in Feb / March, but the script wasn’t exactly writing itself.

Then. Life took hold.

Cancer in the family and a new job writing screenplaysfor DADAA saw Old Father Time disappear.

Last week, I had coffee with a mate of mine who says, “I’ve got a really good idea for a film”. He saw the irritated look in my eye and backed down. But I needed the distraction and, two sips into a strong long machiatto, heard myself say “Go on.”

It was a beauty. Story, character, locations – everything. He told me a riveting story about something that happened to a friend of a friend. It had a complete screenplay structure – turning points, mid-points, Voglerian call to adventures – everything! On a plate.

I wrote an outline with my mate in about two hours and we’re shooting it at the end of the year. I’m already saving money.

The AFC makes decisions about this year’s Indivision projects on May 3rd. I refuse to wait by the phone.