Liveblogging from The Edit
Sitting in the editing suite in Soho, looking down at the unfinished plank wood floor, littered with hundreds of printed out stills. Arranged and rearranged. Representing bits of action and discussions that have been going on for the past four months. We step back, if only for an instant, to examine what it all means.
I’m excited about the process in what it has shown me about attention to detail. I love being surrounded by people with an obsessive eye over every single frame. I love the range of questioning, from re-examining the worthiness of the last two frames in a particular sequence, to letting the whole thing play through and feeling what it all is saying. What could it be saying more? What does it not need to say? What gets in the way? What would be ideal? What are the best things we can do to push this to an even better place?
I like all the different names of the places we deal with over here. This whole editing/post production/sound design part of the process is fascinating to me. It’s like joining this new fraternity. Everyone besides me already knows everyone else.
‘Oh is that Jeb from the Quarry? Oh yeah, he’s great.’
‘Wait, who are you working with at the White House?’
‘Has Sound Tree been contacted yet?’
And then there are the names of the pubs and restaurants and secret clubs. The Slug and the Lettuce. The Pea and the Pendulum.
Back to the present. The room is surrounded by large sheets of foam core, with scripts and storyboards and indecipherable scrawls, and little printed out thumbnails of stills and mood board pictures. This is our war room. Our job is to make all these disparate pieces cohere. To tell a story. To mess up and start over. To make it better. The work comes first and all of a thousand different aphorisms that people compile to sell books stuffed with their ‘truths.’
Thirty minutes later. Bento boxes arrive. Sound effects and sound design arrive via email. Pour more ingredients into the machine. Gently sift and pull out the rough pieces that go chunk. Sip of miso soup. Comment on the nice lens flare. Keep that bit.
Look through some 1960’s football books. One about King Pele. One about Arsenal FC. Love those old sports illustrations. And that clunky awkwardly spaced cursive lettering.
Alright let’s keep making an advertisement.
No sleep till Portland.