Thursday, 18 February 2010

Discovering 'Nemo'

Take a scene of your choice and deconstruct it with relation to sound, cinematography, editing, or art direction.


The pre-titles scene of Pixar’s Finding Nemo (2003) gives context to the rest of the story, and I find it to be an emotionally stimulating piece of filmmaking. To look at this objectively, I intend to deconstruct the editing of this scene by analysing decisions made by the filmmakers and, using well-regarded editing theories, discussing their effect. There are four primary areas of interest with regards to this scene; motivations behind the editing, the pacing of the scene, breaks in continuity, and the repetition of imagery. I will look at these areas in detail and explore their purpose. However, as this is an animated film, and particularly because Pixar are renowned for their unique workflow, it is important to first establish just how Finding Nemo was edited.

As the film went through an impressive storyboarding and full pre-visualisation process, the editor, David Ian Salter, was not solely responsible for all editing decisions. The editing process used (further explained in Appendix 1) meant that the editor worked together with storyboard artists and animators to create the edit, and this was perfected over time as parts of the film were reworked to produce the best possible cut of the film.

In his book In the Blink of an Eye, Oscar-winning editor Walter Murch explains that each and every cut should be motivated by a number of factors. Murch provides a list with each factor weighted in terms of importance;
Emotion (51%), Story (23%), Rhythm (10%), Eye-trace (7%), 2D Plane of Screen (5%), 3D Space of Action (4%)
In Finding Nemo, this first scene is about seeing Marlin happy with all he has, before seeing him lose everything apart from his unborn son. In-keeping with Murch’s ideas, the editing of this scene very clearly follows Marlin’s journey, and is heavily reflective of his emotional state – with which the audience is to empathise, according to director Andrew Stanton, in order to set-up Marlin as an overprotective character with whom the audience can still relate. Murch’s other criteria are also met by almost all of the cuts in the scene (though I will go on to discuss the exceptions later). Of particular interest is the use of rhythm in the scene, which features a dramatic pacing arc.


The editing of the scene is visually represented in the diagram above, and I have highlighted the main pace-changes using colours. Initially, the rate of cutting is quite slow (the blue area). This creates a relaxing and gentle introduction to the characters and world of the film, and reflects the mood of the protagonist, Marlin. As we build familiarity with the characters, we move to a faster pace of cutting (the green area). This, again, is representative of the emotions of the characters. However, it serves this purpose in two ways. The first part of this section is playful, but it suddenly turns into a sequence of tension. Whilst the pace here does not change, editing decisions such as shot-choice play a big part in creating this tension. The sequence changes from busy close-ups to motionless wideshots, as shown here:


The tension erupts into a ferocious attack (the red area), which is cut incredibly fast, before returning to a sedate pace – but now one of loss, not optimism. This change in mood is achieved using visual repetition, but first I will return to an earlier point, regarding the attack sequence.

As I discussed, not every cut in the scene keeps to Murch’s hierarchy of editing. On a live-action film, Murch says that the lesser rules should be sacrificed for the more important ones if necessary – but on an animated film such as Finding Nemo, the editor would have to meticulously and purposefully break continuity, and this is exactly what happens during the attack sequence. Here, when viewed at the proper frame-rate, the editing appears to be seamless. However, when you play it back slowly and look at the positions of the characters, there are clear errors in continuity, geography, and even the observance of 180° rule (or the “2D plane of screen” as Murch calls it). For instance, the following 12 frames are sequential in the scene – with the separation representing the cut.


Marlin is hit twice here, breaking the basic principle of continuity editing. To explain this, we return to Murch’s top priority in editing: emotion. Marlin is very disorientated and confused here, and in order to subliminally replicate this in the audience there has been a purposeful breaking of the very rules that are to prevent confusion and disorientation.

Sergei Eisenstein, one of the forefathers of editing, had theories which primarily related to the creation of ideas through editing. Whilst Eisenstien’s theories were originated with regards to montage editing, there are several instances in this scene where new ideas are generated. For instance, there is very clear visual repetition in the scene. Three particular camera angles that are used throughout the optimistic opening of the scene are repeated towards the end, as shown here.


The filmmakers are using what Eisenstein referred to as “intellectual” editing, in which shots can elicit an intellectual meaning to the audience. In this instance this is not created by use of montage, but by returning to a previously seen image. By having the audience associate strong positive emotions with the image the first time it is presented to them, this heightens the feeling of loss when we return to the images in the new context. Just as the collision of two images creates an idea, returning to a previous image in a different context creates an idea through juxtaposition. This elaborate effect has similarities to the Kuleshov experiment – regarded as one of the most important ideas in the history of film editing – which proved that an audience will find meaning in a shot based on its context within the scene.

In conclusion, in what some dismiss as just a film for kids, I have found the use of some very elaborate and sophisticated editing techniques. I truly respect this quality in Pixar, and I think that this is the sort of dedication that truly helps to create inspiring films. This scene is a perfect example of Murch’s editing principles in play, and also proves that it is okay to break rules if you do so with a purpose. In deconstructing this scene, I am able to better understand how my initial emotional response was triggered by the filmmakers, and I can now acknowledge the practical applications of theories from the very genesis of editing as an art form, such as those of Kuleshov and Eisenstein.



Word count: 1,094

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Appendix 1: Pixar's Editing Workflow

As the story-team develop ideas, they storyboard them to see if they work. At this early stage, the artists are not only deciding on the story, but they also decide what they cut to and when. The film goes through this process many times, until the team are satisfied with the story. As scenes get finalised, they move into the animation process. The editor is given a low-quality and very basic render, and they then edit the scene in accordance with the storyboards, finessing the edits. This then feeds back into the animation and original story development until everyone is satisfied.


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Bibliography

DVD

Finding Nemo 2 Disc Collector's Edition (2003)
- Original Feature Film
- Extended Commentary
- 'Making of…' Featurette

WALL-E 2 Disc Special Edition (2008)
- 'The Pixar Story' Feature-length Documentary


Books

'To Infinity and Beyond!: The Story of Pixar Animation Studios'
by Karen Paik

'Grammar of the Edit'
by Roy Thompson

'In the Blink of an Eye'
by Walter Murch

'The Film Sense'
by Sergei Eisenstein

'Film Form'
by Sergei Eisenstein


Websites

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Finding_nemo

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0266543/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Soviet_montage_theory

http://introtoediting.com/

http://www.pixarplanet.com/


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Wednesday, 10 February 2010

Macro-Reviews

Dear Blog, sorry I broke my promise to post more. Here's a massive set of mini-reviews to make up for it, starting with the academic screenings.

Rome, Open City - In my head I thought Rome, Open City was very similar to The Battle for Algiers. So much so that I'm having trouble differentiating between them now. However, I do remember that I saw something very unique in the film, and whilst I wasn't entirely captivated by the story or the filmmaking, I could see that there was just something "new" about it. Of course I can now say with confidence that I was seeing the genesis of Italian Neo-Realism. You could feel that what was being presented was more honest and real than the rose-tinted world seen in many films that had come before, and it was certainly a very important turning-point in film history.

The 400 Blows - I really liked The 400 Blows. Again there was clearly something different about it. Visually, the most notable difference was seeing handheld footage, something which made me truly believe I was watching a modern film graded to look old. This, along with some strong acting from the young Jean-Pierre Léaud, and several iconic images and themes, really clearly define this film as an important part of the French New Wave.

Saturday Night and Sunday Morning - Parts of this film were quite enjoyable, and other parts of it were very soap-like. I suppose this is appropriate, given that it is part of the rise of "kitchen-sink dramas," but I do think the story's inclusion of extra-marital affairs would have been rather shocking for the time and revolutionary in its own way.

This is England - You could definitely see the similarities to The 400 Blows, and the visual references were a nice touch. The young Thomas Turgoose was very impressive in the lead role, and - as much as I have hated every character he has ever played - I think Stephen Graham was very appropriate for his role. This film also has a particular resonance at the moment, with all this BNP nonsense going on. Hopefully, though, there's far less support for nationalism now than was depicted in this film. I would also like to point out that I found several similarities between This is England and Billy Elliot - both using youth culture to reflect on Thatcherism (possibly because the filmmakers were in their youth during this time, which is in-keeping with the generational theory).

The Lives of Others - I thoroughly enjoyed this, and I will admit this film had the additional challenge of involving me because it was subtitled. The main reason this is a hurdle for me is because films are all about escapism, involvement and suspending-disbelief. In theatre there are primarily two main approaches; the more Brechtian style, where you are reminded that you are in a theatre, watching an performance, and the more believable and real performances, such as Stanislavski's approach. In film, only the latter is ever seen (with perhaps the exception of Dogville), and if a film has subtitles I find it a constant reminder that I am watching a film. However, The Lives of Others was so engaging that it managed to make me forget, which is pretty powerful. I only pray that a Hollywood remake is not in the works. The film is an important reflection of German history, told by Germans. Let's not go all Kevin Spacey on it.

And now some brief reviews on my recent cinema escapades.

Avatar - I was worried that there was a whiff of "boy-who-cried-wolf" when it came to Avatar's advertising, and that the film they were billing intensely as the best movie of all time would be a major and disastrous flop. And whilst I would never call it the best film of all time, I did really enjoy Avatar. Very few films allow me to immerse myself entirely in their world, but Avatar is one of them. Pure escapism.

Where the Wild Things Are - It was wrong. A good film with a nice story, nice cinematography, and brilliant monster-puppety-things, but it was wrong. It was not a film for children, and it was not a film for adults. Frankly, I don't know who it was for. Possibly people who liked the books, but are now all growed-up. I thought it was going to be like the Neverending Story; made like a proper fantasy, enjoyable for children, but also terrifying. Nope. Again: it was not for children.

Me & Orson Welles - The trouble with this film is that the only potential audience it has are the sort of people who will get incredibly irritated that the title is grammatically incorrect. The only other audience it has are tweens who love Zac Efron, of whom there were a few in my screen (they got very bored, I hasten to add). I liked the story, and I loved Christian McKay's portrayal of Orson Welles, and I think Zac Efron and Claire Danes were very believable. I'm sure that all three have great potential careers ahead of them.

Sherlock Holmes - I thought they were gonna pull a Pirates-of-the-Caribbean with Sherlock Holmes, and I wasn't far off with that expectation. It was very much trying to be the same sort of period action/adventure, and it was rather enjoyable. London seemed rather CG in parts, which was a little disappointing, and I didn't like that the audience were allowed no clues to work out the plot for themselves. It's always fun trying to do that.

The Princess and the Frog - An enjoyable and well-balanced film. They have the classic style of animation, story and music, with a good blend of humour and a more diverse collection of characters. I particularly liked the inclusion of a couple of cutaway gags (as modern audiences have grown to understand from Malcolm in the Middle through to 30 Rock), and I think this could be a classic Disney film to the children of today.


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