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The Editing Style of Edgar Wright

12/30/2021

by Joel Cowart

Up until watching the film Hot Fuzz (2007), I believed that the editing style and techniques used in a film were largely determined by the editor of the film. However, upon watching this particular film, directed by Edgar Wright, I realized that the director has a profound impact on the editing of a film. When a director has a clear vision for how they want the editing to affect the mood of a film, the film is greatly enhanced. Wright is one example of such a director, which is evident in the numerous films he has written and directed in the past 20 years, including Shaun of the Dead (2004), Hot Fuzz (2007), Scott Pilgrim vs the World (2010), The World’s End (2013), Baby Driver (2017), and most recently Last Night in Soho (2021).
The main editing techniques that define Wright’s genre-breaking films are dramatic, jarring, often comedic cuts as well as interesting and unique transitions between shots. In addition to this, he is also meticulous in editing pre-production, that is, in storyboarding everything. This style of editing developed from his early days of filmmaking. At the start of his career, Wright didn’t have enough coverage for his film Dead Right (1993), and, as a consequence he didn’t have many choices when it came to editing (Edgar). In order to combat this problem and keep his films interesting, he had to use quick cuts and creative transitions, techniques that he continues to use and have become a defining characteristic of his films today.

Wright’s animated storyboard compared to the shot used in The World’s End (2013)

In addition to his initial filmmaking blunders leading to one of his greatest trademarks, Wright also learned the importance of pre-production editing, more commonly known as storyboarding. Wright uses his storyboards to jump start the editing process, animating them before shooting, which is not unique to him as a director, but is necessary for his vision of how he wants the editing to impact the film. In order for all his cuts and transitions to hit at the right time, he edits these animations, which includes dynamic shots and effects, to plan out the timing of each shot as well as the major movements in the shot, which is important, as almost everything, both performances and cuts, is in time with music. This is nowhere more apparent than in his film Baby Driver.

Paul Machliss at his editing cart on set of Baby Driver (2017)

Baby Driver follows a young getaway driver named Baby (played by Ansel Elgort) with tinnitus who constantly plays music to drown out the ringing in his ears. It is this music that drives the film. Everything, from characters walking to camera movements to car chases to gunshots, every detail, no matter how small, is timed to Baby’s soundtrack. This was achieved through editing on site as production was going on. After each shot, Wright would check with Paul Machliss, the editor of the film, to make sure it fit with the music as seen in the animated storyboards. Machliss, who brought with him a mobile editing cart to be able to keep up with the quick pace of the production, would immediately put the shot into the edit to make sure all the visual beats matched with the music. This mesh of music and visuals brings the viewer into the film and gives them a sense of awe. Through his precise style of storyboarding and editing, Wright works with the editors and crew of his films to create beautiful, driven pieces of art.

Edgar Wright (Left) working with Ansel Elgort (Right)

In addition to making his films more visually stunning and compelling, Wright’s editing style is also versatile. Whether the genre of a film is a rom-com set during a zombie apocalypse, a satirical mystery thriller, or a time-travelling horror commentary, Wright’s use of editing accentuates the strong points of that genre. For instance, Hot Fuzz follows a serious London beat cop sent to a small town where almost nothing goes wrong. At first, Wright’s signature jarring cuts seem almost out of place, as there is no notable action in the first half of the film. However, upon re-watching the film, I realized the brilliance of this choice. Hot Fuzz is a satire, not of some problem in society, as one would expect from a satire, but of the modern action film genre itself. As small town cops are chasing down petty criminals down small town roads, Wright uses his quick cuts and transitions, similar to those seen in almost all action films today, to parody the fictitious nature of action films which makes the film all the more hilarious.

Nicholas Angel (played by Simon Pegg) and Danny Butterman (played by Nick Frost) track down a criminal with a goose in tow in Hot Fuzz (2007)

This is the main reason the works of Edgar Wright are so brilliant. Film is a form of art, not just a means of telling a story or sharing a message, and Wright understands that. He uses film to tell a story, instead of simply telling that story through film. All of his edits and shots have a purpose. In many of his films, comedy fills that purpose, as he uses the full extent of cinematography and editing to create comedic content. Instead of simply putting characters in comedic situations or relying on witty banter to make his films comedic as many modern comedy films do, he chooses the look and feel of each shot and cut to make those choices in and of themselves as funny as they can be. The framing or focus of a shot, jump cuts, and camera pans can be hilarious when used to their full advantage, something Wright does magnificently.
In today’s filmmaking world, many filmmakers do not have a specific vision for how they want the editing of their film to add to the feel or mood of the film as a whole. In contrast, Edgar Wright takes the time to plan out every cut and transition in his film in order that each one adds to a theme or a mood he wants the film to portray. Wright uses the medium of film to its full advantage, creating some of the most innovative, entertaining, and beautiful films in modern cinema, something I hope to see more filmmakers utilize in the future.

Works Cited
“Edgar Wright on How He Writes and Directs His Movies | The Director's Chair.” YouTube, uploaded by StudioBinder, 7 December 2020, https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=fa_lP82gAZY

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I'm Thinking of Ending Things: Analysis

12/17/2021

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by Sebastian Tow

Director Charlie Kaufman’s I’m Thinking of Ending Things is a film that will leave some viewers feeling like they experienced a bad acid trip. Others may be unsatisfied, even angry after sitting through two hours of confusing pseudo-thriller cinematography and countless plot derailments. Others may try to theorize about what it all meant, but the unifying feeling among every viewer will be one of perplexment.

The film begins with a long ride through a snowstorm. In the car is a young woman named Lucy (Jessie Buckley) riding with her boyfriend Jake (Jesse Plemons) on their way to meet his parents. The film mainly follows Lucy and Jake’s narrative, but it cuts back and forth between seemingly unrelated scenes of an old janitor. First he is in his home, eating breakfast, watching TV, and getting ready, but for the majority of the film his scenes take place in the highschool where he works. The film’s structure continues in four discernable parts, each part descending further into plotlessness and consequent confusion. After arriving at the parents house, an uncomfortable dinner occurs between the couple and the parents, constituting the second part. After the couple leaves, they stop for ice cream, even though they are in a blizzard. After driving further, they stop to dispose of the ice cream in the parking lot of a highschool. The couple shares a moment outside of the car in the snow, and when Jake sees a man inside the building spying on them - the janitor - he goes in to confront him. This is the bridge to the fourth part of the film, the denouement, when Lucy goes in after him, and the plot following her breaks down completely, ending in a series of surrealist scenes centered around Jake and the janitor. This is a vastly simplified summary, since the complexity of signs and metaphors contained within the movie is immense.

The general verdict on the meaning of the film is that it is only a portrait of the inner workings of Jake’s mind, that all the symbols of the film are merely extensions of a distorted and lonely male psyche. But I think that this interpretation leaves out a secondary orientation at work in the film, the orientation of Lucy. We see the film through Lucy's eyes, and as she realizes that she is really just a projection of Jake's mental space, we do as well. I’m Thinking of Ending Things could be read as a more elaborate version of the standard Hitchcockian story of a woman who intrudes into the psychological world of the male protagonist, as in Psycho and The Birds. Lucy enters into the psychic space of Jake as it were, materialized by the parent’s house.

The basement symbolizes his subconscious, or his Id, just as the format of Norman Bates house in Psycho. At a closer examination, Jake’s parents house is akin to the Bates’ house as the representation of the three Freudian levels of the psyche often portrayed implicitly in films: the Superego, the Ego, and the Id. The Superego being the upstairs where the parents reside, their presence acting as a force detached from Jake, and the Ego being the middle floor of (somewhat) normal appearances. The parallel is clear when Jake attempts to stop Lucy from going into the basement. Like in Psycho, when Marion finds Norman’s mother’s corpse in the fruit cellar, once Lucy finally goes down to the basement she finds janitor uniforms in the washing machine. This symbolic object is what Jake tries to hide from her, tries to stop her from finding. It is the traumatic object that holds the key link between Jake and the janitor, who are two sides of the same coin. The basement, a mix of Jake’s Id and subconscious drives, is the reservoir of repressed symbols.

There are constant binary symbols that connect along the timeline of film, symbols that act as the central metaphors for Jake and the janitor’s subjectivity. For example, Lucy recites a poem of her own composition for Jake during the car ride at the beginning of the film. Later on, she finds a book of poetry in Jake’s childhood bedroom that contains the same poem, making her, and the viewer, unsure of whether she is just a figment of Jake’s mental space. Jake’s parents seem to age during the dinner, and at the end of the film Jake stands on stage in front of an audience of everyone he knows, all wearing highschool level production age makeup. This bears reference to the highschool production of Oklahoma that is referenced throughout the film. One of Oklahoma’s central characters is Jud, the dumb, disliked outsider who fails to win the affection of the heroine. The janitor has consistent fantasies about the musical, and Jake sings Jud’s depressing solo about failed dreams in the last sequence of the film, when he’s up on stage caked in age makeup. In the janitor’s last scene, he walks naked down the highschool halls following an animated pig filled with maggots, making reference to the earlier scene when Jake explains to Lucy that maggots ate his parent’s pigs alive. All these connected signifiers point to Jake and the janitor's feeling of being the lonely outsider, and this is the central concept aimed at by the film.

What if we are to invert this and orient towards the meaning of the film through Lucy’s eyes? The obvious question of what is reality and what is not is not so important. Once it is understood that all the events of the film take place in the fantasy space of (Jake and) the janitor, what is interesting is to see how this is symbolized. Despite the whole landscape of the film residing in the mind of Jake/the janitor, it is nonetheless explored through our gaze via Lucy. Lucy is both a symptom of Jake/the janitor’s psyche, and the intruder in it. She is the object cause of Jake/the janitor’s desire, and yet she is autonomous of them, and the schizophrenic finale represents this deadlock in Jake/the janitor’s relation to Lucy as the signifier of a lack of love. From Lucy’s point of view, Jake and the janitor’s inadequacy and loneliness is a projection of Lucy’s low opinion of her boyfriend, and doubt about his personality. In this way, Jake’s attempts to cover up his inadequacies and Lucy’s persistence at finding them constitute the psychoanalytic notion of ‘the abyss of the other’, the unbridgeable gap between the psyches of two people. So while ‘I’m Thinking of Ending Things’ signifies the janitor’s breakdown towards death in the end, and ultimately his and Jake’s despairing loneliness, ‘I’m Thinking of Ending Things’ to Lucy signifies her doubt about her relationship, and ultimately the irreparable gap between the desires of two people. Lucy is the perspective central to our experience of the film, but external to the meaning of it. She is the ex-timate core of the film, both within and without the central semantics of the film’s structure; this can be seen clearly by reading the cinematography closely. The disorienting form of the film is paradoxically reliant on the oscillation between Jake/the janitor’s and Lucy’s perspectives, leaving I’m Thinking of Ending Things open for a plethora of interpretations.

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Demon Slayer Movie Review

12/10/2021

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by Aaron Argot

Spoiler Warning for Demon Slayer: Kimestu no Yaiba: The Movie: Mugen Train.
Trigger Warning: Depictions of suicide.

Demon Slayer: Kimestu no Yaiba: The Movie: Mugen Train (Haruo Sotozaki, 2020), which will be shortened to Mugen Train for all intents and purposes, is a film filled with action and emotion, great story elements and themes, and beautiful animation and sound direction. This Japanese film, at least visually, supports my belief that animated films carry the most freedom and potential to be the best that they can be. The story is set in Japan at the turn of the 20th century, in a fantasy world with a population of demons lurking in the shadows. Demons are former humans who feast on humans to get stronger. They all have the power to regenerate, and some possess a wide array of supernatural abilities. It is the job of the Demon Slayer Corp to ensure the safety of humanity by destroying demons through the use of decapitation or sunlight.
Mugen Train follows the main cast of Tanjiro, his sister Nezuko (who has turned into a demon, but is docile), Zenitsu, and Inosuke, as they join the Flame Hashira (one of the most powerful Demon Slayers) Kyojuro Rengoku on the Mugen train to investigate and hopefully stop demon attacks that leave people missing. Despite following mainly Tanjiro, this film is about Rengoku. If you had seen the series beforehand, which is definitely recommended, you actually do not know that much about Rengoku, and his character is explored in the film. Also if you have not seen the series and go into the film blind, the first 15 minutes of the film give audiences a pretty clear view of each major character as well as the world they live in, and is done in a way not to make the viewer who has done their homework bored. As the film progresses you do get to learn deeper aspects of characters.

One of the things that I appreciate about this film is that it takes place almost entirely on the train. But, it still manages to have diverse locations so it doesn’t get stale. There is a long sequence at the end of the film that takes place off of the train and right next to it. The train also shifts halfway through the film to where it looks completely different. The main villain of the film, ends up putting the protagonists to sleep early on in the film, so a major part of the film are the dream sequences. Speaking of the dream sequences, they serve as great insights into various characters through backstory elements and/or symbolism. In Rengoku’s dream he relives a memory that gives important information into how he is as a character. We also get to see everyone’s “Realm of the Subconscious”, which is like a window into a person’s soul. Rengoku’s realm is filled with essentially fire and brimstone, while Tanjiro’s is filled with water which one can walk on and a bright blue sky with puffy clouds. I love the subtle and stylized nature of things like this, as it takes “a picture is worth a thousand words” to the next step.
A lot of emotion comes out in Tanjiro’s actual dream sequence, where he gets to be reunited with his family, who all had died at the beginning of the series. While this is another great way to fill in first time viewers of the main character’s past, it also serves as a great character moment as Tanjiro starts to come to his senses. The internal struggle he faces when he eventually realizes he is in a dream and has to leave his family behind again is a highlight of the film. Another interesting and particularly heavy note, which also highlights Tanjiro’s character is the way to forcefully exit the dream, which is to die or essentially commit suicide. Tanjiro slices his neck to get out, and then does it more than once as he has to fight Enmu, the demon that put everyone to sleep. He does it so many times that he has to be saved from accidentally doing it in the real world. Even Enmu admits that it takes incredible mental fortitude and says that Tanjiro is “out of his mind.” Despite what it may look like to some, I do not think that it glorifies suicide and instead does the opposite. To make someone have to kill themselves in order to leave the dream is cruel and incredibly hard, which is why Enmu looks so surprised and exemplifies how motivated Tanjiro can be.

Mugen Train is filled with a lot of spectacular action sequences, and it all ends up being satisfying. Every sword swing or punch is fixated upon and holds weight. This is due to the direction, animation, and sound design. Animation as a genre lends itself really well to having near perfect direction, as you aren’t framing and filming the shots in the real world, which makes it way easier to do what you want to do. The animation of the action is a major part of what makes this film a true work of art. Everything is so beautifully crafted and really takes you into the story and into the world. Even the 3D CGI elements blend well with the 2D elements. The sound design of every hit also makes each impact feel, well, impactful. Paired with the background music that plays throughout the film, this film is an aesthetic masterpiece. During the fight against Enmu is where a lot of the action of the film is. It is where each of the main characters can shine with their attacks and it is also where the animators can shine. However, I feel like every aspect of the film is exemplified in the last and best sequence, the final fight between a new demon who shows up, Akaza, and Rengoku.

This last part of the film takes place after an event that one might think would end the film, with the train getting derailed. But this takes you beyond your expectations by bringing you past the Mugen train so it feels as if it is almost a bonus sequence. However, this makes the whole film. As previously stated, the animation and direction teams can set up shots very precisely. This allows for some of the hardest closeups you can imagine to really get the emotion in a character’s face. This fight has every aspect of the film that I like, only elevated. The deeper battle Rengoku and Akaza are having also makes it that much better. Both combatants are very steadfast in their beliefs. Akaza believes demons to be superior due to their strength and regeneration, while Rengoku believes humanity as well as the fact of death are beautiful things and does not take Akaza up on his offer to become a demon. The fight ends with essentially both of them being proven right, as Akaza basically takes a net zero damage, and Rengoku ends up dying but holds him off long enough for him to have to escape, with zero casualties. The film ends along with Rengoku’s arc as he fulfilled his duty and inspires the next generation. This fight puts the nail in the coffin for why this is a film about Rengoku. With him being the first in the film to make an attack, having a dream sequence that was actually a memory, and seeing as how Mugen Train encapsulates almost all of what we see of Rengoku in the Demon Slayer series. You go into the film not knowing much about the character, to come out of it absolutely loving and missing him.

Mugen Train is a beautiful, fun film with themes of humanity, perseverance, responsibility, and death. It is a fantastic continuation of a great series as well as being incredible as a stand alone film. A lot of things happen that will satisfy both veterans and newcomers to the story. The story and characters are simple yet don’t feel one-note, and everything aesthetically is almost perfect. I would highly recommend watching all of Demon Slayer, but even if you just watch Mugen Train, you will not be disappointed.

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The Power of the Dog: A Review

12/3/2021

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by Mason Leaver

The Power of the Dog is a film that understands the importance of simplicity. The story is straightforward, the cast small, the performances understated - powerful, but not “flashy.” This emphasis on simplicity lends The Power of the Dog a “slow-burn” tone, allowing the drama and tension to build between the four main characters over the entire two hour runtime. It is an adaptation of a book by the same name, and director Jane Campion has delivered a film with a distinctly literary quality. The Power of the Dog is a western which takes its time to focus on the simple and intimate story of a handful of characters, and it’s intensity of focus leaves the audience with a deeply rewarding experience.

Power is the story of four individuals living on a cattle farm in 1920’s Montana. Phil (Benedict Cumberbatch) and George (Jesse Plemons) are brothers, the owners of the cattle ranch. We are given a sense that the brothers were once close friends, but have drifted apart as George has grown more accustomed to a comfortable life and a desire for a family. Phil, meanwhile, is strictly dedicated to the ranching life, and is often very cruel towards others. The film frequently references the story of Remus and Romulus, the brothers from the ancient Roman myth. The brothers’ relationship is further strained when George falls in love with Rose (Kirsten Dunst), who runs a small inn that the brothers stop at. After marrying Rose, George invites her and her son Peter (Kodi Smit-McPhee) to stay at his and Phil’s home. Tensions rise as Phil seeks ways to make the lives of Rose and Peter miserable, and as Rose’s mental health begins to decline.

The four central characters of The Power of the Dog

Without much exciting spectacle or action to lean on, The Power of the Dog relies heavily on the performances of its main characters. Thankfully, each actor rises to the occasion. Cumberbatch has played villains in the past, such as his performances in Star Trek: Into Darkness or The Hobbit, but this is the first role I have seen him in where he feels genuinely frightening. The intensity with which Phil hates Rose is detailed subtly in Cumberbatch’s performance. In a similar film such as There Will be Blood, Cumberbatch would be given a scene in which he explodes dramatically in anger. However, in this film, Phil is much more reserved, only shouting occasionally to scare others off. Most of his time spent is subtly manipulating Rose and going out of his way to bully her. Plemons and Dunst (who are married in real life as well as the film) play off of each other remarkably well. Plemons manages to capture a certain kind of melancholy stemming from his utter devotion to Rose. Dunst, meanwhile, demonstrates a different sort of melancholy as she slowly slips into alcoholism and depression.

Besides its performances, the film also has a great deal of artistic merit in its visuals and music. The cinematography of the film is sprawling and vast, featuring beautiful landscapes filmed in New Zealand, passing as Montana. Cinematographer Ari Wegner has an excellent understanding of when to pull the camera wide to show the gorgeous vistas that the characters occupy, and when to punch in for a closeup on an actor’s face that communicates a great deal without ever speaking a word. Much of the interaction between the characters happens in silent gazes and stares, and Wegner captures these movements with precision. Another stand out aspect of the film is the score. Written by Jonny Greenwood (of Radiohead fame), the score builds an atmosphere of dread and tension throughout the film. The music is mainly composed of instrumentation that would be typical in a Western, but Greenwood spins these leitmotifs in such a way that the listener is always just slightly on edge, slightly unsure of what is next.

Benedict Cumberbatch stands in front of the vast New Zealand landscape

The Power of the Dog is a film which shines in every aspect. Beyond its technical mastery of the art form, the film’s pacing allows for a fresh tone not often seen in modern westerns. It’s slow and brooding pace creates a world which feels lived in and real, a sense that the characters that we see are complex individuals. Director Jane Campion has arranged a compelling drama that strikes a balance between visual beauty, nuanced performances, and an intriguing story.

The Power of the Dog is available now on Netflix

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