I often see movies where the makers think they have delivered more than is actually on screen. I call this the Ed Wood syndrome after the famous horror film director revealed in the affectionate biopic which bears his name.

It all depends how you respond to abstracts.

If I write: "A girl was crying ..." most of us, in the right mood, may start to feel sympathy. Yet the words have done nothing to deserve that response. A sympathetic reader grasps the concept and immediately projects onto the anonymous girl a series of characteristics of their own devising, builds a back story for her and anticipates one, two or more situations which might have brought her to this emotional crisis.

That willingness of an audience to imagine more than is actually said is invaluable to the artist in any medium and an aspect of humanity that we all use from time to time. But it is not enough to sustain a narrative. It does not give a single, clear picture of what is happening. We don't even know if she is crying for joy or sorrow.

Legitimate Use

We deliberately exploit this characteristic of humanity to speed up movies. A character needs to get from A to B ... but we do not need to show the whole journey. A single shot of them driving a car, parking a bicycle or coming puffing through the door ... does the trick. You can even ignore the journey and jump to another location, leaving the audience to make whatever assumptions they like about how the character got there. (Unless the means of transport is important for plot or characterisation purposes this is probably the best approach.)

Illegitimate Use

Character looks left in horror. Shot of burning building. Character runs left out of frame. Burning building. Character runs from left back into frame clutching baby. Cut to medal ceremony. We mentally assemble the story. We get the message. But it is an emotional cheat.

To justify the medal cinematically we need to see the heroine dashing into the fire, crawling through smoke-filled corridors, leaping over patches of flame and so on. Of course we do not need to see every documentary detail of every second such a rescue would take ... one virtue of cinema is the art of condensing time ... but we need more than the bare concept of heroic behaviour.

And yet such movies turn up in competitions at all levels.

Taken to the extreme you could stage a drama with each character carrying a sign saying "browbeaten spouse", "heartbroken lover", "reckless daredevil", "forgotten child" etc and just bring them into shot in various combinations! It sounds ridiculous, but how often have you seen a movie that offers very little more? Instead of a signboard the character will wear distinctive clothes, style their hair a particular way and move in a stereotyped way. Within moments we mentally peg them as "downtrodden", "snobbish" or whatever ... and the whole drama consists of little more than putting those abstract ideas together.

Work for it!

Perhaps it helps to think in terms of earning the audience's applause. The narrative has to work to win.

This has little to do with how hard the movie maker has to work to make the film. All those hours of preparation, favours called in, phone calls, letters, rehearsals and planning do not count for this purpose. All that matters is what is on screen or in the loudspeakers. Have the characters as portrayed actually earned our interest, affection, respect, hatred or whatever?

Try watching your rough-cut as though you were a tired, bored cousin watching a primary school play ...

In an analytical way you appreciate the work that was required to organise the performance, the fact that parents have made costumes, children learned lines and so on. But when a blushing kid shuffles on stage and mutters that they have raced across land and sea to bring the news ... you do not for one moment believe. Yet in a professional theatre performance a fine actor, staggering, sweat-covered, disshevelled and panting on stage might make you believe - at least for a moment.

That's the difference. Your audience has to believe, for the moment, while your drama unfolds. Part of their mind will always know they are looking at an artificial depiction but if it is good enough they will suspend that critical understanding and go with the flow.

Make the abstract, concrete.

How you achieve this is down to all the old issues: script, lighting, direction, performance, angles, music and effects.

Usually you aim for realism, though occasionally a very stylised movie can somehow become credible. You must make sure your actors become their characters during each shot. This means they should not simply know what to say and so, but understand why their character is behaving in that way. They must feel the emotions and operate within the limitations of their character. In movies it is not the outward gestures that matter but the inner performance which makes the actor's body respond appropriately.

When the live action has been edited into shape, consider which moments may need to be underscored emotionally to make their point quite unambiguous. Those are where you aim your music - put the musical score under those points. Often it needs no more than a hint of a wistful, happy, romantic or tragic musical sound - you do not even need a recognisable melody.

Check It Out

In commercial cinema they often test a version of a movie by showing it to an audience and asking them to fill out short questionnaires about it. That might be going too far - but you should certainly try to discover what real audiences make of it.  A few gentle questions can uncover their views on particular aspects - but  just listen, don't argue!

You know what you thought you had brought to the screen ... try to discover if you made the film you intended.

- Dave Watterson Dec 2002

Page updated on 21 March 2008

Authors' views are not necessarily those of The Institute of Amateur Cinematographers

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