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Words: Ije Ndukwe
Illustration: Chris Dickason
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It’s the spectre that hangs over programme-making; the veiled process that turns endless footage into coherent narrative. But how authoritative is the edit suite? Meet three editors who between them have cut some of the industry’s most challenging genres.

 

Documentary Case Study: Louis Theroux

Stuart Cabb has directed and produced a range of films fronted by Louis Theroux, including Louis And The Nazis and Louis Theroux: Behind Bars, which attracted nearly 6 million viewers. He explains how he uses the edit suite to “create a heightened version of the story.”

 

 

For me, the edit suite tells you what your film is really about. When working on Louis Theroux, we tend to follow experiences through Louis’ eyes. This means that during the edit, you have to find the narrative when there really isn’t one. It’s rather like a puzzle. If you don’t crack it, it’s completely demoralising.

The prison [Louis Theroux: Behind Bars] was hard because people are always coming and going. So if anyone perks your interest, you hope the next time you see them something new would emerge and then the edit hones in on that story.

One funny thing I noticed in the edit is that every time I walked through the lower ground floor of San Quentin prison, the prisoners would call me everything from ‘English ponce’ to ‘Gimp boy’. ‘Camera wimp’ was the favourite. After several weeks of hearing that in the edit, you somehow feel less of a man for not being able to turn around with the confidence to express your masculinity to them, knowing that they’re locked behind a cell door.

We did a casino film [Louis Theroux: Gambling In Las Vegas]. There was this woman, Martha, who was 80 years old and had lost $4m. Every time Louis met her, you got to know her a bit better, so the audience felt they were on a bit of a journey. The edit brought that together, like there was a continuing narrative.

In all the edits I’ve ever done, we have always played with structure more than anything else. We know the characters are good, we know the story is there, but we play with how to structure it so it’s fascinating and unpredictable. We start the story in a place you don’t expect.

The very first thing we do is a synch pool in the first week. Everything that we think is any good, we quickly cut together. That usually runs at around five to six hours. We watch that through all in one go, and straight away the characters that are really interesting leap out.

It’s great to cut all the best stuff out of your film, see it and say, ‘The life of my film is here.’ The worst thing to do is to walk in with a paper edit. Generally you lose the life of the story that way, because you’re trying to predict it before you edit it.

You have to remember what the story feels like the first time you edit it, and log it purposefully in your brain: I’m horrified by that quote; I’m shocked by that experience; that makes me feel emotional. You have to remember these things, because in about five weeks time you’re going to completely distrust it. You can’t over-think it. It’s like romance. If you have to give yourself reasons to stay with someone, as opposed to really wanting to, it doesn’t work. It’s the same in an edit. Your gut tells you when you’ve got a great moment.

 

Comedy Case Study:
Tonightly and The Sunday Night Project

Spencer Doane has nearly twenty years’ experience editing live TV shows. His most recent projects include Tonightly, The Sunday Night Project and 8 Out Of 10 Cats.

 

 

You edit the show in the way you think is funny. Then everyone comes in and puts their tuppence in. You hope that it’s still funny, but I don’t think anyone knows in the end. Each stage is hopefully enhancing it. You have to believe the process will achieve the results.

As the editor, you become really close to the show because you’ve watched it a hundred times over the past few days. How the hell do you know if it’s funny? You don’t. The people on The Sunday Night Project think I only like knob jokes.

It’s important to have someone make a decision who’s not caught up in the day-to-day process. It’s easy to get swept away with an idea, and because you’ve just seen it so many times you can’t be objective about it.

You have to do the best you can, but you can’t be precious about your work. I’ve been thrown out of an edit-suite before. The truth is, if you don’t do what the Series Producer wants, you won’t last very long.

There’s so much more to being an editor than just cutting things together. With Tonightly, I watch the first part of the show and have a system of marking footage. That stuff goes straight into the edit. Jason [Mansford] sometimes says, “Hang on, I’ve just thought of a new joke.” They’re literally coming up with jokes as they’re recording it. So to make the edit faster, I have an assistant marking points where anything was taken out or where they stopped and started again.

Tonightly is quite good because you could always save a joke and put it in the next day. This will happen less on a weekly show, because obviously the material isn’t new anymore. All these things get marked, so you can find it later.

One of the hardest things to do is make live and as-live shows seem and look live. The last thing you want to see is an edit and go, ‘Urgh, that was weird,’ which I see all the time. It’s something you can only learn by doing it. Three years ago, I didn’t have those skills at all. I didn’t know I didn’t have them; I thought I could edit anything. Three years on, I realise it’s a difficult thing to master.

 

Advertising Case Study: KFC, Vodafone and Pantene

Jonathan Pearson is an award-winning director who’s shot commercials for the likes of KFC, Pantene and Vodafone. He’s currently working on an online drama project.

 

 

You make a film three times. Once when you write it, once when you shoot it and once when you edit it.

With commercial editing, you’re working with an agency with their own agenda. There was one brand who, after we shot their advert, came to us with a completely different script and said, “Now make this film.” We had to use a lot of voiceover and pictures and edit around the person speaking, so you couldn’t see them speaking. Fortunately I’d covered it with a lot of cameras, so had a lot of footage.

One of the things you learn when you work for a production company is to pick your battles. The nature of our work is that someone is paying for it. There are always going to be people putting in their ten-pence worth. You have to get used to that. There’s no point getting into deadlock over it.

With editing, some things are so fine that either of two options can work. But then conversely, one little cut can make all the difference. There’s no rule of thumb when judging whether something is funny or looks great. You just need to know what it’s in your head and think, ‘Is that what I was aiming for?’

So many times I’ve shot a film in one way, but gone a different route in the edit. In the edit you can explore other avenues, but you need to know what you’re aiming for because every frame counts. Every second is like gold. You’ve got something like 60 seconds to get the message across.

Sometimes you get attached to one tiny little shot that you’re so proud of, and you have to discipline yourself to let go. Sometimes full scenes need to be chopped out. You have to be ruthless. It goes back to the idea of making a film for the third time. You have to approach it with fresh eyes.

The best adverts are great films. So you need to have a good sense of story-telling, and understand how narrative works. Also a good sense of pace and rhythm is important. You can completely muck up an edit by jarring it at the wrong time. Sometimes I’ve watched a rough-cut and it’s like, ‘Oh God, that’s horrible. Why did they cut there?’ It’s like a needle screeching across a record.

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Words: Claire Spencer
Images: Courtesy of BAA

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Animation in the UK is constantly subject to change. Always up for a challenge, the British Animation Awards (BAA) have tried to keep pace: we chat to some of 2008’s talented crop to gauge the state of the UK scene.

 

Images courtesy of BAA Images courtesy of BAA Images courtesy of BAA Images courtesy of BAA

Images courtesy of BAA Images courtesy of BAA Images courtesy of BAA Images courtesy of BAA
Click to enlarge/shrink. Left/right arrows cycle through images.

 

You don’t need super-sensitive radar to pick up that at a time when computer-aided animation can be produced so quickly, slower techniques have fallen out of favour with many major studios.

This general trend continues despite of the efforts of studios like Aardman, and major film-makers like Tim Burton, who have continued to reap success with audiences through the tried-and-tested methods of stop-motion and replacement. Their success is encouraging, as it shows a real willingness on the part of global audiences to accept animation as a multi-faceted medium: so long as you have the scripts to back-up your chosen technique. And the popularity of ads like Sony Bravia’s Play-Doh, winner of the Commercial Craft and Commercial Direction categories at 2008’s BAAs, suggests that even the biggest global brands can harness the value in variety.

As such, many animators see the BAAs as a useful yardstick to gauge the UK scene. Aardman director Luis Cook praises Britain’s current crop of animators: “The UK, to my mind, produces some of the most original and interesting animation in the world.” He should know, having both won the Craft Award and been a runner-up in the Best Short Film category.

“It’s quite disparate, ranging from kids’ shows to commercials, short films to music promos. Every two years the BAAs bunch it all together, get it screened around the country and then celebrate it with an awards ceremony.” Luis stresses the face-to-face aspect of these kinds of meet-ups as key in what can be a lonely industry: “It also gives animation folk the opportunity to surface and say hello to each other which is great as we don’t get out much.”

In mid-March, this year’s finalists were invited to attend the ceremony at the BFI South Bank. But winning and losing seem to be alien concepts to those involved.

“It’s weird to think about this ceremony as a competition,” muses Tibor Banoczki, a runner-up in the Student Film category. “Who do I compete with? We are really different directors with different tastes and approaches. It’s like a strange Olympic Games where every kind of sport competes with one another. It would be impossible to decide which category was better.”

This attitude is typical of animators, particularly as compared to industries like music or film, where auteur culture can attract hefty egos intent on hogging the limelight. Animation is usually more collaborative, with its devotees seeing themselves as sharing a common passion.

The animators we spoke to believed that animation’s current strengths revolve around its diversity as an industry, which allows animators from all areas to come together and enjoy each other’s work. An event like the BAAs is an ideal opportunity to get the thoughts of a variety of animation talent, and that’s exactly what we’ve done, hunting down insider tips and tricks from the finalists.

 

Craft

Luis Cook’s comically macabre piece, The Pearce Sisters, was a worthy winner of the Craft Award. The piece tells the tale of two charmingly grotesque sisters, whose desire for human contact leads them down a slightly grisly path. The process for producing the piece was, in true Aardman style, painstaking in its precision and attention to detail – and not a piece of clay in sight. Cook and his team started off by animating the blank characters and the set in 3D, before printing out the frames and animating the details in 2D. Both strands were then matched up in After Effects to achieve a hand-drawn finish. It took 18 months to complete.

The worthy runners-up were Ian Mackinnon with Adjustment – his combination of flip-book animation and live action – and Joanna Quinn with Dreams and Desires: Family Ties, showcasing her refinement with deceptively complex pencil-on-paper animation. Ian’s film follows a close relationship as it degenerates in a world where the line between an artist’s animation and live-action ‘reality’ has become increasingly indistinct.

We grilled both Ian and Luis for their views on what it takes to be a successful animator in the modern market.

Both parties assert that inspiration for their work comes from a wide variety of sources – within animation alone, Luis cites everyone from Philip Guston and Saul Steinberg to Pee-Wee Herman as having had an impact on the way he works.

For The Pearce Sisters, he did a lot of research into outsider art, particularly St Ives artists Ben Nicholson and Albert Wallis. The resulting rough-around-the-edges effect frames the tale perfectly.

Ian, who graduated from his Masters course 18 months ago, has found plenty of mutual inspiration in classmates and colleagues. “We keep in touch,” he says. “Collaboration is so important; there’s a real community element.”

Luis agrees, asserting that the industry couldn’t survive without that sense of community. “A smart director simply surrounds himself with people far more talented than himself – writers, editors, designers, animators, and sound people. He pulls it all together by keeping everyone happy with money and cake and then takes all the credit at the end,” he chuckles.

Luis’ journey from student to animator has been a varied one, passing through Berkshire College of Art and Middlesex Polytechnic before becoming a freelance illustrator and teacher. Subsequently, he produced pieces for the BBC and Royal College of Art (RCA) before becoming part of the Aardman family.

“I never intended to be an animation person; it was an accident really,” he muses. “However, as I was working as an illustrator I obviously drew a lot, so a friend of mine threw me in at the deep end and got me to work on a series for the BBC called Small Objects of Desire. That got me into the idea of moving illustration, so I applied to the RCA and VSO at the same time. VSO didn’t get back to me, so I ended up doing animation.”

Ian is also an RCA alumnus, but his path to the BAAs had a more technical base, kicking off with a degree in Computer Animation – which involved a great deal of mathematics. “That opened up a lot of ideas to me,” he recalls, suggesting that the conceptual end often comes first for him as a result.

“With Adjustment, the medium definitely inspired the story,” he admits. Indeed, the two are inextricably interlinked – the animation is the story.

From Luis’ point of view, the industry has a way of restoring balance, just when it seems as though one medium is reigning supreme. “I think it ebbs and flows. A few years ago we thought 2D was being killed by computers, but it seems to be coming back as a response to the masses of CGI features. Maybe it’s more of a cross-fertilisation. All these ways of working seem to reinvent themselves, forming a collage of old and new technologies.”

There may seem to be less sand animation, or oil-on-glass, such as Clive Walley was making in the early 1990s, in the mainstream in 2008. But rather like the winklepickers, tank-tops and drainpipe jeans of decades gone by, just when you think a trend’s been rightly ditched in the dustbin of history, suddenly it’s everywhere again, perhaps under a new name, or more interestingly, having evolved into a slightly more complex beast.

 

Short Film

Osbert Parker seized the award for Best Short Film firmly in both hands with his technically-precise masterpiece, Yours Truly. Using a combination of miniature 3D environments and camera-manipulated magazines and movie stills, Osbert has created a thrillingly dark tale of love and murder.

His is a fine example of how to use stop-motion technique to its full effect, as the slightly awkward, jerky movements impart an air of film noir to the proceedings.

The equally compelling runners-up were Elizabeth Hobbs with The Old, Old, Very Old Man, and the aforementioned Pearce Sisters. Elizabeth plumped for watery blue ink on white tiles, inspired by the images of Charles I on the Delftware at the British Museum: “I couldn’t have made the piece in any other way,” she asserts.

Alongside Craft, the award for Best Short Film is one of the most highly-regarded at the BAAs. Elizabeth Hobbs shares how it feels to be recognised in such a category. “I was surprised and delighted,” she smiles. “I often feel a little bit outside the animation industry because I work mostly on my own at home, only really emerging to have a drink with my producer by the canal, or to do the sound design at Fonic. Having invested so much in a film and persuaded other people to do the same, it’s nice to have the film noticed.”

The variety within even a single category emphasises the varied backgrounds that these animators have. Elizabeth, like Luis, started her journey as an illustrator. “I was writing and making artist’s books and prints, and developed the desire to make the narratives work over time. I started by making flip-books and Jacob’s Ladder books, and then took it to the next level by borrowing a camera and making two films using fuzzy felt,” she recalls.

This eventually led her in 1998 to a postgraduate degree in Electronic Imaging at Duncan of Jordanstone College of Art in Dundee, where she started to make films using the familiar materials from her printmaking days. However, Elizabeth’s different background and approach makes her consider the process of animation in a slightly different light. “I have the feeling that the best animations come from single-minded, slightly bonkers people working on their own in the dark,” she laughs. “But I do appreciate that it is slightly different for adverts, pop videos and features.” Some types of animation do lend themselves to solo flight, and Elizabeth’s delicate techniques are among them. Ultimately, it comes down to preference, media, and how much you are willing to undertake.

 

Cutting Edge

This category is perhaps one of the most important, as it represents the crème de la crème of the industry’s most daringly innovative artists. Semiconductor’s Magnetic Movie was the overall winner: shot at the NASA Space Sciences Laboratory in California, this stunning short film unleashes itself on reality, exploring magnetic fields by bringing them into a dimension that we can sense and appreciate.

Set to a backdrop of NASA scientists discussing their techniques, Magnetic Movie is a marvellous marriage of sound-controlled CGI and 3D compositing.

The runners-up in this category were Osbert Parker’s Yours Truly, and Interstellar Stella, produced by AL and AL. The latter sees a child model exploring the mystery of herself and her contrasting lifestyle via the advertising stills in which she’s featured. The film is a visually-stunning combination of high definition live action and 3D/2D CGI composited video. As one might expect, the techniques demonstrated by all the finalists were quite extraordinary, making it incredibly difficult to narrow it down to a single winner.

Getting in at the ground floor, we spoke to winners Ruth Jarman and Joe Gerhardt of Semiconductor, finding again warm words on the subject of diversity in animation: “The scope of the awards has definitely opened up the field of what is considered animation,” Joe notes. Things that were once products of the underground can use the BAAs to emerge into the mainstream – Magnetic Movie itself would not look out of place as an advertisement, and the techniques it showcases have limitless potential. However, both Ruth and Joe consider themselves to be artists over animators, and Magnetic Movie was the result of introducing time and space into their art. AL and AL also have a background in Fine Art, which they studied at St. Martin’s School of Art, graduating in 2001.

Like many of their contemporaries, the idea came before the medium, but the media bring ideas of their own. For their next project, Ruth and Joe are working on a multi-screen installation drawing on the movement of the sun and earth – still animation, but approached in a completely different, more interactive way. Of course, comments-enabled video-sharing sites like YouTube have provided a platform from which the artists can interact with the audience if they choose to do so. But is it a good idea?

“It’s nice to establish a dialogue,” admits Ruth, “and we’ve always aimed to get our work out to people. We released material on a DVD in 2001, and this is just another way of achieving that effect, only faster.”

It doesn’t seem to have harmed their success, although several of the animators we spoke to admitted to having had their hands burned by particularly harsh audience feedback – in such an subjective artform, with so much time and effort invested, criticism can cut deep.

“To an extent, you have to make up your own rules,” Joe asserts. “You have to bring yourself into everything you do, and you have to be willing to spend a lot of time on it. It’s probably one of the most time-consuming things in the world.”

As such, he warns against rushing to get your work out there for its own sake. “Don’t expect it all now – just work through your ideas, work hard, and the results are their own reward.”

 

Student Film

As the most grass-roots of the awards on offer, it is in the Student Film category that we may peer into animation’s future. “I think it’s good for people to collectively recognise achievements within the industry, as new standards can be set making for better things to come,” asserts George Gendi, the creator of Pingpongs, a runner-up in the category.

“Awards ceremonies also do a pretty good job in bringing everyone in the industry together in the same place at the same time. Everywhere you look you see someone you’ve met or slightly recognise. I think to give awards is to say that this is what people are enjoying at the moment, but it also highlights the direction in which things are going.”

The winners of the Student Film award (and joint winners of the Public Choice Film Award) were Tom Brown and Daniel Grey, with t.o.m., the uncomfortably curious tale of a young boy’s unusual daily routine. Originally produced for their final year project at the International Film School of Wales, the plot revolves around Little Tom’s decision to remove his clothes in order to get out of a day at school.

Using the 2D frame-by-frame effect on the computer, Tom and Daniel have demonstrated how truly flexible animation can be if you’re willing to put the hours in. Short-cuts could have been taken, but the resulting piece sympathises with the young protagonist in a way that a hastily-constructed Flash movie never could.

The runners-up in the category were Pingpongs and Milk Teeth, and we spoke to their creators, George Gendi and Tibor Banoczki, to see how they feel about their future as animators.

Also using a mixed-media technique, Pingpongs deals with the intimacy of relationships in an easily accessible manner, which is undoubtedly what has brought it to the attention of the BAA board. “Its selection affirmed for me that there are certain aspects of the film that are really strong,” George says cordially. “Ultimately, making work that lots of people can enjoy is very important to me.” This represents one of the greatest strengths of the BAAs – by recognising the quality of the work being made by students, or anyone who is at the beginning of their journey into animation, it encourages them to continue working towards their goals.

Tibor on the other hand combined photo-realistic 3D backgrounds with 2D paper cut-out characters to create the eerily tense Milk Teeth. The lack of dialogue is a masterstroke, as it sets the scene for the slightly creepy young boy who follows his elder sister to a secret rendezvous one night, and everything that transpires as a result. “We didn’t start with the story,” he recalls. “The first things we wrote down were the character of the place; the atmosphere. After that we started to think about the human characters and the plot. The medium just came after that. It was a long process to find the right visual word for the film.” He also highlights the importance of his Hungarian roots on his work – inspiration comes from life, not just from art.

As the category title would suggest, all of the finalists are recent students. Tom studied animation at the International Film School of Wales, whereas co-director Daniel studied Fine Art at the University of Wales before enrolling on the same course. Tibor graduated from Moholy-Nagy Arts University in Budapest, and more recently attended the NFTS in London, with Milk Teeth as his graduating film. So, how do the bright hopes of animation characterise the industry facing them today? Nominees in other categories have identified genres that have been less popular in recent times, but like his contemporaries, George is not too worried about what lies ahead.

“Although some sub-genres have become less popular, they can’t be replaced and they can always be found. As long as we make an effort to look for what we like if the mainstream isn’t living up to expectations, then there will always be variety, and nothing will totally die unless technology goes backwards.” Tibor agrees, and asserts that as long as animators care about the message they are putting across, the medium and its surrounding techniques will fall into place.

“Keep your talent busy,” asserts Tibor. “It’s important to have talent, but it’s equally important to keep on working. If you finish a film, start another one. It doesn’t matter what kind of film it is, or whether you have money. Just keep your mind and hands busy.”

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