DOCUMENTARY Editing Book
DOCUMENTARY Editing Book
com
Documentary Editing
Robb Moss
Director, The Same River Twice and Secrecy
The Rudolf Arnheim Lecturer on Filmmaking
Department of Visual and Environmental Studies
Harvard University
“A concise and invaluable guide to the editing process that will serve the novice and
veteran alike. Karen Everett covers everything from finding and structuring your story to
hiring an editor to making a fund-raising trailer in language that is precise and
inspiring. This is an invaluable text from someone who knows.”
Susi Korda
Producer, William Kunstler: Disturbing the Universe
“In simple language, Karen Everett offers a prescription for emerging filmmakers to
translate their ideas into film. By following the exercises at the end of each chapter,
filmmakers can save themselves untold hours of frustration, by foreshadowing some of
the problems we create for ourselves from lack of foresight in pre-production and
production.”
Ken Schneider
Editor of Peabody Award-Winning Regret to Inform
Biography 168
APPENDIX 169
The nervous director sitting across from us invariably spent most of his or her precious
time and chutzpa trying to convince us that the topic of their documentary was worthy of
funding. In most cases, their films were social-issue docs that I deemed worthwhile in a
liberal knee-jerk second. The issue that my cohorts and I were most interested in was this:
Are you, dear director, the right person to bring this film to fruition? Do you have the
editorial know-how and right structural vehicle? In short, do you know how to tell a
story? If the directors in the class convinced me of that, I forked over the imaginary cash
every time.
So I set my New Doc Editing research team on a mission to determine which structural
models attract the most funding. We talked with grant agency managers and acquisition
Top funding entities like the Ford Foundation, the Sundance Institute and the MacArthur
Foundation have differing mission statements, but the recent documentaries they funded
all had similar traits: they expose an important social, political or human rights issue;
they are often set abroad or portray minorities living in America; and they are character
driven. That’s noteworthy when you consider that Ford gave away nearly $4 million to
documentaries in 2007 alone and most of that went to independent producers who were
making one-offs (not series).
What about the other big funders? Many films featured in the program guide for ITVS
(International Television Service), which funds dozens of documentary projects every
year, read like a synopsis of three-act structure, featuring a protagonist on a quest against
great odds. For example, Last Chance Journeys follows brothers Sergei and Sasha as they
set off on a long journey through frigid temperatures on handmade wooden sleds, sleep in
tents and struggle for survival off the land. We empathize with the protagonists as they
face obstacles on their journey to the Arctic Ocean. These character driven synopses are
commonplace in ITVS’s online program catalogue.
However it would be a mistake to assume that ITVS is primarily seeking character driven
documentaries. According to senior executive Richard Saiz, while there is nothing wrong
with this structural vehicle, ITVS is more interested in funding innovative stories that
showcase innovative structural approaches. He points to Herskovitz, a documentary
broadcast in 2010, as an example of a film that adds interesting storytelling twists to a
tried and true model.
Government Funding
Let’s not forget U.S. governmental organizations like the National Endowment for the
Arts (NEA) and the National Endowment for Humanities (NEH), which are natural first
stops on the documentary filmmaker’s journey to fundraising. In 2008, the National
Endowment for the Arts awarded $140,000 to the Sundance Institute and $40,000 to the
Hartley Film Foundation. Projects that do get funded often feature an obligatory climax
scene. For an examples, see election film Journeys with George (2002) or a performance
film Mad Hot Ballroom (2005).
NEA has two principal funding initiatives for filmmakers: The Arts on Radio and
Television (Sept deadline) and Access to Artistic Excellence (August deadline). NEH
runs the 2-deadline per year initiative called "America's Media Makers" (August and
January deadlines). This is probably the single largest pool of funding available to
filmmakers through an application process.
Finally, a glance at the top ten box office hits (as of June 14, 2009) reveals that essay
films are running neck and neck with character driven docs in terms of theatrical revenue.
Michael Moore’s trilogy of essays (Fahrenheit 9/11, 2004; Bowling for Columbine, 2002;
and Sicko, 2007) skew the figures slightly, but it’s interesting to notes that structurally,
these films are centered around ideas, with characters filling in as mini portraits and
vignettes rather than full-blown character arcs. In my opinion, essay films that succeed
require the well-honed voice of a master narrator, such as Moore or Werner Herzog
(Encounters at the End of the World, 2007) or Morgan Spurlock (Supersize Me, 2004).
First-time filmmakers tend to be drawn to essay-style films because they want to explore
an idea, but if they want funding, they may be better off pursuing a character on a quest
or at least adding a quest to an idea-based film. Note that Supersize Me is a great example
of a complex documentary that marries a character driven arc with a compelling essay
about nutrition.
As recent box office hits like Supersize Me ($11.5 million, 2004), Mad Hot Ballroom ($8
million, 2005), and March of the Penguins ($77.4 million, 2005) lure more documentary
filmmakers to seek a risky theatrical release, audiences are drawn, too, by the promise
that nonfiction cinema can tell stories that are as dramatic and entertaining as feature
films. Intensifying a trend that began a decade ago when the acclaimed 1994 film Hoop
Dreams began its $7.8 million run, commercially released documentaries are more often
satisfying a universal human craving for a good story. The late philosopher Hannah
Arendt wrote that storytelling reveals meaning without committing the error of defining
it. Were she alive today, she might have continued her quest for meaning with a bucket of
popcorn and a slate of story-driven documentaries.
Clearly not every documentary filmmaker sets out to tell a story. Historically, PBS-style
documentaries often favored a didactic essay format, structured around a central
hypothesis. This tradition thrives today in the films of Michael Moore, whose agitprop
opus Fahrenheit 9/11 (2004) generated a whopping $119.2 million--the highest theatrical
revenue of any documentary to date. Sicko (2007) is number three in box office revenues
at nearly $25 million, and Bowling for Columbine (2002,) an earlier Moore film essay
structured around a series of questions, grabs the number five spot for box office
revenues at $21.6 million.
Robert McKee, author of the book Story (Harper Collins, 1997) and mentor to countless
Hollywood screenwriters, built his career on his claim that “the art of story is in decay.”
His crusade to revive the craft of storytelling in “razzle-dazzle” Hollywood films may
have rubbed off. In the past five years, the development of dramatically structured
documentaries has accelerated, with the success of films like Capturing the Friedmans
(2003), Tupac: Resurrection (2003), and Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room (2005).
Oddly enough, some producers credit reality TV with paving the way. Others say that the
newsmagazine format perfected the three-act structure for nonfiction moving pictures.
Many filmmakers begin by editing a rough cut, then a second rough cut and then a third.
This process of fine-tuning continues until the film is deemed done. The problem with
this is that it may take twice as long and cost significantly more to find the story than the
more professional and refined approach outlined here.
I recommend that the director and editor begin their collaboration by completing the
DOVES™ exercise at http://newdocediting.com/client-resources/doves/. See Chapter
Two for a detailed explanation of the Director’s Outcome, Vision and Editorial
Statement. This exercise alone may allow the director and editor to create a first draft of
the Doc Plot Map™, a customized diagram that outlines the general story arc of the film.
An example is included in a later chapter.
As contemporary directors shoot more footage than a cinema vérité old-timer like
Richard Leacock could ever have dreamed possible, the process of viewing and logging
that footage has become more laborious. Whereas previously the director of a standard
40-hour PBS documentary would view every frame of footage in the stretch of a single
week, it’s not uncommon now for directors who have accumulated several hundred hours
to outsource not only the transcribing and logging, but also the initial culling of best
scenes and sound bites. Directors of longitudinal docs (shot over many years) also
frequently begin the logging and selecting process as they shoot, in order to avoid facing
a mountain of unseen footage at the end of production. If your limited budget requires
logging shots yourself, you may decide to transcribe only the dialogue and sound bites
that you think will make it into the film, rather than every word of an interview or
However you decide to abbreviate this initial process, at some point you need to start
exercising editorial judgment. Begin by noting scenes that move you -- moments that
evoke laughter, contempt, interest, or empathy. You may not see yet where they fit into
your overall plot map, but don’t worry too much about structure now. Go for the juice.
For interviews, note sound bites that make compelling points, either emotionally or
intellectually.
Distinguish between scenes in which something actually happens, and scenes that will
primarily function as b-roll over voiceover (VO). In the scenes in which something
actually happens, identify the actions that are relevant to the plot, i.e., to the protagonist’s
quest. If it’s not relevant, ask yourself, should it be in the film? Stay alert to potential plot
points as well: what scenes might work as the inciting incident, an act climax, a back-
story, a reversal, and the final film climax? Here’s one final logging tip that I learned
from master documentary editor Kim Roberts. Note quiet moments and close ups of
character’s faces. Kim has successfully used these “portrait” shots of a teen watching TV,
a man stroking a cat, even a man looking out the window, to allow the viewer to imagine
the interior world and character traits of the people in her films.
After logging, update the Doc Plot Map (a fluid tool described in detail later) and move
on to the paper edit.
When editing projects that are talking-head heavy, editors often employ transcripts that
are cut and pasted into a paper edit. The strength of the paper edit is that it can help
organize ideas, and it is excellent tool for an essay-style film. The potential weakness of a
Traditionally, documentary scripts are formatted differently than narrative scripts. You
can buy software to help script your film or simply use a two-column table in word
processing software like Microsoft Word. In the left-hand column type a description of
the visual content and, in the right-hand column, word-for-word sound bites and
narration. Some people like to put the sound bites in all caps.
Assembly
An assembly edit is your first cut, designed to clarify the film’s structure. Construct an
assembly edit after ninety percent of your footage is shot, digitized, logged and you have
etched a structure out on paper. This could be a paper edit, an index card outline, or a
simple, preliminary timeline of your three-act structure, such as a customized Doc Plot
Map.
The assembly cut should not be shown to anyone outside the film’s family of editors,
directors, and creative advisors. Why? Because it looks terrible to the uninitiated eye! Its
chunky look actually helps the postproduction team see the big picture, the film in broad
strokes, when shooting is winding down. The chief questions that the assembly should
answer are “Is there a story here?” and “Is there a film here?”
For this reason, the assembly edit should be no more than 40 percent longer than the final
film. If longer, it becomes difficult to assess the film’s pace and rhythm. Therefore, for a
60 minute documentary, the assembly should be no more than 84 minutes. Again, the
assembly is your best first guess at structure. If you don’t know where to start, try a
strictly chronological approach.
Edit the assembly quickly, within a few days. Sequences should be bulky—represented
by two or three long unedited shots. Resist the temptation to finesse edits. You don’t need
to cut a traditional scene with a set-up shot, reaction shot, cutaways, etc. Edit with sync
sound, meaning no L cuts, J cuts or voiceover. Why? This level of fine cutting is a waste
of time because you will probably change things. Also, you don’t need to see cutaways,
etc. to determine whether a film’s structure is working.
What else should you leave out of the assembly cut? Narration, music, dissolves,
cutaways, inserts, and special effects. Jump cuts are fine. It’s important to use cards for
missing interviews, archival footage, etc. because those are important factors in judging
structure.
After viewing the assembly, determine what characters can be dropped. Whose role is not
pertinent? Whose role is repeated by a better character? Which characters work well as
foils and should be kept?
If you film is talk-heavy, what ideas and themes can be dropped? What scenes are not
needed? Once the assembly cut has been assessed, update your Doc Plot Map if you are
using one.
Rough Cut
Unlike the assembly cut, your rough cut will be seen and evaluated by test audiences and
funders. For this reason the length should be within ten percent of the estimated final
While J and L cuts (audio starting before video, or video starting before audio) with
voiceover are OK, don’t finesse your edits too much. You’re likely change things and
shouldn’t waste time fine-tuning scenes that may change. The rough cut is not a time to
begin your audio mix but, by all means, lower distracting ambient sound. It’s very
irritating to try to zone out loud ambient audio during a screening.
Include a first draft of narration as either on-screen text or a scratch track (temp)
narration. Include temp music, borrowed from available CD’s or a sound library. If you
have a composer in mind, try some of their tracks, but don’t worry about cutting beats to
images at this point. Credits are also unnecessary at this point.
Aim for the correct proportion of the materials that will appear in your final film: live
action footage, archival, narration, reenactments, still photos, flat art, etc. If some element
is missing, an interview that hasn’t been shot, for example, then use a text placeholder.
When showing a rough cut to creative advisors, include an accurate film transcript that
they can mark up. Use the left column for listing visuals and the right column for word-
by-word dialogue and narration. Include page numbers.
You should show your rough cut to test audiences and, since this is such an involved and
important process, I’ve dedicated an entire chapter to conducting a successful rough cut
screening.
After the rough cut screening, you need to determine the following:
After these questions have been evaluated and structural decisions have been made,
update your Doc Plot Map. You may decide to try a second rough cut in order to nail the
structure before heading on to the fine cut.
Fine Cut
In composing the fine cut, I recommend rescreening your rushes if you have time, or at
least rereading your transcripts. Footage and sound bites that escaped your attention the
first time around may jump out at you now that your know your structure and sequences.
The fine cut will be viewed by advisors, funders, and test audiences. Give them an
accurate, updated transcript.
The film’s structure should now be in place, and for this reason the length of the fine cut
should be within three percent of the final TRT. Now’s the time start bringing in the sexy
goodies, including the film’s title treatment, temp music, temp narration, placeholders for
every single forthcoming shot, graphic treatments, and window dubs of archival material.
Include special effects (visual and audio) to make sure they work, and micro cutting.
It’s a good idea to do your fact checking at fine cut stage, as you are finalizing your
narration. Update Doc Plot Map if needed.
Locked Picture
Locked picture means just that: from now on there will be no more changes to the video
part of your film or to the length of your timeline.
After you lock picture, you will overlay the following video:
• master archival material
• final graphics;
• animation
You will lay back the following audio:
• final composed music
• final narration recording
• final sound FX
Once the fine cut is complete, you are ready for what used to be called “onlining”, or
these days, “finishing.” That means adding the final audio mix and color correction.
Films with adequate budgets will frequently phase out their editorial staff and move their
project to a high-end editing facility where technicians finesse the EQ, brightness,
contrast and color saturation, as well as output and transfer to various tape and digital
formats.
EXERCISES
1. List the key stages of postproduction that are critical for your documentary:
A. ___________________________________________________________
B. ___________________________________________________________
C. ___________________________________________________________
D. ___________________________________________________________
E. ___________________________________________________________
F. ___________________________________________________________
G. ___________________________________________________________
2. List the names of everyone who will view the various cuts:
A. Assembly Cut (viewers are film’s editorial staff, including editor and story
consultant)
_________________________________________________________________
_________________________________________________________________
_________________________________________________________________
_________________________________________________________________
B. Rough Cut (viewers include film’s editorial staff, advisors and test audiences)
_________________________________________________________________
_________________________________________________________________
_________________________________________________________________
_________________________________________________________________
_________________________________________________________________
_________________________________________________________________
_________________________________________________________________
_________________________________________________________________
ACTION STEPS
1. Calculate the estimated length of each of the four main cuts (Assembly, Rough Cut,
Fine Cut, Locked Picture) based on the estimated TRT of your documentary.
(Recognize that your Total Running Time may change if you don't have specific
length mandates from a broadcaster.)
DOVES is an acronym that stands for the Director's Outcome, Vision and Editorial
Statements. Created by New Doc Editing to kick off the editing phase of the film, its
purpose is to clearly establish the director at the helm, define the director's goals and
vision, and act as a compass that keeps the entire postproduction team working
harmoniously on the same film. A well-composed DOVES will foster harmony.
1. Outcome Statement
The Outcome Statement defines the director's tangible, quantitative goals for the film. It
specifies the demographics of the primary audience, the projected release date, desired
film festival screenings, specific broadcast outlets. It may also include the film's
influence on larger tangible goals such as policy or legislative changes.
2. Vision Statement
The Vision Statement describes the psychographic profile of film's ideal viewer as well
as the film's emotional effect on them. Specifically, how does the director want viewers
to feel after watching the film? What does the director want viewers to feel motivated to
do? The film's tangible outcomes (above) depend on the successful realization of the
film's emotional vision.
3. Editorial Statement
The Editorial Statement specifies the storytelling strategies the director is choosing to
achieve the emotional vision and tangible outcomes. In the Editorial Statement, the
director defines such things as the film's genre, the protagonist's quest, the structure, the
central question and length.
Outcome Statement
I want to complete An Inconvenient Truth by May 24, 2006 and I want it to premiere at
major documentary film festivals, win awards and air on HBO in order to reach its
primary audience of American viewers between the ages of 18 and 65. At a societal level,
I want the film to put global warming on the forefront of everyone's mind, persuade
people to conserve energy, pressure politicians into passing laws that severely limit
carbon emissions, and inspire businesses to use green materials and develop renewable
energy.
Vision Statement
I envision An Inconvenient Truth as a wakeup call that highlights an impending global
crisis that cannot be ignored. I want the film to speak to ordinary, somewhat informed
American citizens--people in the vast middle of the political spectrum who may have
heard about global warming, but who are too busy with their work and family lives to do
anything about it. After watching the film, I want them to feel jolted into awareness.
Viewers should feel inspired to take immediate action, contact their politicians and
demand more sustainable policies.
Editorial Statement
In order to reach large audiences, effect policy changes and awaken people to this crisis, I
will create a powerful essay-style film that will make the case that global environmental
disaster is looming. The film has one central question: "Is global warming real and
dangerous?" And it answers with a resounding "Yes!" The six chief aims of this film’s
structure are: 1) to establish that the earth is "sick with a fever"; 2) to debunk the
EXERCISE
Create a DOVES compass for your documentary using the following template:
In order to ___________________________________________________________
(highlight two or three major goals from the outcome and vision statements), I will create
a powerful __________ ________________________ specify genre: such as essay-
based, character driven or hybrid) film.
NOTE:
If your film is essay-based, describe the case you want to make, the central question (and
your answer), and the chief components of the essay structure.
Example:
If your film is character driven, describe the protagonist's quest, the challenges faced, the
central plot question and the climax scene. I recommend the following template:
In pursuit of t his g oal, he /she faces _________ _________, ____________ ______, and
__________________ (list three challenges).
1. Using the prose written in the above exercise, turn your DOVES document into a
one-page, visually pleasing PDF file.
2. Email your DOVES PDF to each member of your team. Explain that this document is
the guiding compass that will create the documentary you want to make. Instruct your
team members to post the DOVES over their desk and read it daily in order to keep
everyone focused on your vision.
3. Print your DOVES statement and post it over your desk. Read it daily.
An informal survey of documentary directors showed that the most important quality
sought in hiring an editor is shared sensibility. Filmmaker Sam Green, who advised the
Another good way to zero in on your potential editor’s sensibility is to ask her to describe
her ideal client or her ideal project. For example, your potential editor might say that she
likes to work on films relating to social justice, spirituality and the environment. If asked,
she might tell you that for her, the perfect director is someone with a refined awareness
and appreciation (i.e. sensibility) for the power of one’s mindset to influence outcome.
An intelligent optimist with good communication skills. Humor is a plus.
And like a first date, if it’s not a good fit, you’ll feel it in your bones. Trust your intuition.
Please note that this doesn’t mean personality trumps talent. You need both. You’re
entrusting this editor with your baby, and you’ll be working together for several months.
Why make yourself miserable?
Imagine that you’ve found an editor who understands your vision, listens well and has
more awards than you as a director can ever hope to win. With a sense of relief you
prepare to sign on the dotted line, but discover that your editor is reluctant. “We really
can’t put deadlines into the contract,” says your potential editor. “We don’t know how
long it will take to edit the film.”
Five months later you are only at rough cut stage. Your postproduction budget is
spiraling out of control. The invoices keep coming. And your editor trusts you to pay
them.
It’s easy to feel gleeful about getting on with the creative aspect of filmmaking, and
directors may be tempted to let down their guard when it comes to sound business
practices with their editor. Don’t. Expect that your editor will respect your business
enterprise, your budget and your fundraising efforts with good boundaries.
While some of the following stipulations are controversial in the independent world,
expect your editor to agree to the following:
While this may seem like common sense, it’s amazing how many directors and editors
operate without a written contract. Don’t get stuck wondering how long the next cut is
going to take, and then feeling resentful when it’s not delivered when you expected. Your
creative comrade should be just as business savvy as you are. After all, you’re paying
their salary.
One of the biggest reasons directors fire their editors is role confusion. Either the director
thinks they’re an editor, or the editor is a closet director. In the indie world, job
descriptions frequently overlap, but it’s useful to envision the director as the film’s
One way to do this is to check references. Ask fellow directors how your potential editor
was to work with and how they handled conflict. Speaking of conflict… it’s inevitable.
When ideas jostle about in a creative brew, ideally your editor will have the courage and
conviction to make her case--more than once if needed--and the grace to leave the final
decision to you. Be aware that ego-deflection can be difficult given that your editor’s
name will be attached to your project.
Editor Vivien Hillgrove, who will retire from a 40 year award-winning career next year
to consult on both Deann Borshay Liem’s In the Matter of Cha Jung Hee and Deborah
Garcia’s documentary on Soil, says that she tries to “read” what the director really wants
and to stay focused on that. Each director has a theme or arc that she has to intuit. “But
I’m a pretty bossy doe and will fight for what I think is deep in the director’s heart,” says
Hillgrove, “and some directors may not like that. The bottom line is that I have their baby
in my hands and I want to be sure that they are not humiliated or embarrassed when they
go out there and that the film is what they truly want to say.”
Another way to observe your editor’s sense of boundaries and decorum is to audition
them first as a story consultant. Before spending thousands of dollars to have them watch
your 150 hours of footage and edit an assembly cut, hire them for one day to give you
advice on story structure. Assess their reaction when you question or disagree with them.
Do they listen to and engage with your ideas? Or are they stuck on their own story?
You too, my dear director, need to watch out for role confusion. One of the saddest
stories I’ve heard about a malfunctioning relationship involved a director who went
through four editors, blaming each for not listening to his ideas. I had to wonder if he was
Finally, if the film has two directors, watch out for dysfunctional triangle dynamics, such
as your editor playing favorites or directors playing good cop/bad cop. Most of these
dynamics can be diffused if your editor knows how to leave his ego at the door. A
supportive editor will encourage the two of you, thank you both and make it clear she
appreciates your roles as the vision-holders and driving team behind the film.
The first thing most directors ask upon finding a potential editor is, “What’s your fee?”
Then they check their budget to see how many weeks of editing they can afford. To really
make a great hiring decision in today’s economy, you need to ask a few more questions.
I don’t mean that you should exploit your editor by demanding 10-12 hour days. In a
recent thread in Doculink, editors railed on directors with unreasonable expectations:
dozens of DVD’s of various cuts, twenty email responses in a day, and extensive
handholding throughout reshoots. Getting more than your money’s worth really means
looking at what your potential hire can offer beyond editing acumen. In business speak;
feel confident that your editor is bringing “abundant value” to the table.
Ask your editor about other things they offer. Maybe it’s equipment that they’ll lease at a
discount. Maybe it’s their cutting edge technology or their skill with special effects
software that will save you from needing an After Effects designer. Maybe it’s their
address book and contacts. Do they know someone who can help you with fundraising or
Another possibility is to keep your eye open for editors who generate ideas for giving
value to their director/client. One way I’ve done this, for example, is to provide directors
not only with an experienced editor, but also a day’s consultation with an independent,
seasoned story consultant. That way the director doesn’t have to hunt for a story doctor,
plus they get several hundred dollars worth of quality professional work at no charge.
Another idea gaining some currency is to give the director guidelines for culling the
footage himself, especially if the project contains more than a hundred hours of footage.
If the director or an experienced subeditor can cut down the amount of footage the editor
handles, obviously that lowers the bill.
Creative conflicts are fine as long as they don’t deteriorate into personality conflicts. The
most deadly personality clashes will cost you big time, because you will either be stuck
with miserable rapport or foot the bill to hire someone else. Most directors suffer with the
former because after investing in an editor to watch hundreds of hours of footage, they
can’t afford to start from scratch. All this can be avoided if you make the right hiring
decision.
How will you know if someone is a good communicator? In your initial interview,
determine if they listen well. If they seem confused, do they ask clarifying questions? Do
they seem capable of expressing a divergent viewpoint? Are they able to intuit your
vision? Ask them to repeat it back.
Editor Vivien Hillgrove (The Devil Never Sleeps, The Future of Food) admits to “giving
good phone for the initial conversation.” She says that before cutting a frame for The
Devil Never Sleeps, director Lourdes Portillo played Song for Athene sung by Celilia
The need for terrific communication skills increases exponentially in situations where
two directors are co-creating a film and hashing out structural issues with an editor’s
voice in the triangle. Director Nancy Kates, who co-directed Brother Outsider with
Bennett Singer, says that “no matter how sincere and committed everyone is, having
more than one director is always going to be a lot more complicated than a single
director, especially for the editor.” Kates recommends setting up ground rules for dealing
with communication issues before they arise. “When I was in film school,” she says, “I
cut out a quote from one of my documentary books and pasted it above my editing bench.
It said something to the effect that documentaries are only as good as the relationships
that allow them to be made. This is usually thought of in terms of one’s relationships with
interviewees, but is just as true among members of the team or crew.”
So, what kinds of ground rules or preliminary communications are important for your
potential editor to know?
Written documents may include deliverable and deadlines for assembly, rough cut, fine
cut, etc. (see Tip #2), but also your goals for the film. Communicating your goals in
writing establishes you at the helm of the film and gives the entire postproduction team a
compass to keep everyone working together harmoniously. At New Doc Editing, we offer
a free writing exercise called DOVES, which stands for Director’s Outcome, Vision and
Editorial Statement. Additional DOVES copies are available at
http://newdocediting.com/client-resources/doves/. The password is climax. The Outcome
Statement outlines the director’s tangible goals for the film, such as projected release
Of course, not every producer/director will take a few minutes to outline their objectives
in writing, but if you do take this safeguard to ensure that the people you hire stay with
you, you’ve made an important investment during an economic downturn. Your team is
waiting to hear from you!
How do you like to work with editors? Do you want to be in the edit room (on your
premises) and sit with your editor several hours a day? Or do you prefer to hand off the
digital files and leave your editor to work in their own space for several days at a time?
Knowing your collaboration style and hiring someone who synchronizes with it will save
you the nightmare of having an unhappy editor resign mid-project.
To delve a bit deeper into the psychology of communication and work habits, let’s define
a couple terms. In self-help jargon, an introvert is someone who gets their batteries
recharged by being alone. They love to think things through in the solitude of their own
minds and then present their findings—which are often perfectly thought out. Extroverts,
on the other hand, get jazzed by being around other people. Their creative juices flow
That doesn’t mean a marriage of opposites can’t work, but it’s important that you know
your preferred collaborative style and hire accordingly. When considering where your
editor will work, keep in mind that “location doesn’t equal craft”, as Doculink subscriber
Gregory Singer put it. Just because your editor works out of her home doesn’t mean she’s
an amateur. These days many veteran editors, who used to work in post-houses or on the
director’s premises, prefer the solitude and ease of their own surroundings.
How will you know how to judge your editor’s and your collaboration styles? For the
truly curious, there are several personality tests available online, including the famous
Myers-Briggs test at http://www.humanmetrics.com/cgi-win/JTypes1.htm. But the
simplest question you can ask yourself is this--do I want to consult with my editor every
day or two--or every week or two? Then ask your potential editor, “How often do you
like to check in with a director? What arrangement is conducive to your best work?” Hire
someone who is clearly comfortable with your working style. Know, too, that it doesn’t
have to be a perfect match. In my experience, the editing profession tends to attract
introverts. But even directors who are deeply social beings can work with introverts. Go
chat up some HBO execs, do pre-interviews for your next project, have a cup-o-Joe with
an angel investor--and give your editor space to create.
One of the biggest reason postproduction budgets spiral out of control is because the
editor is still hunting for the film’s structure. What should be a 5-part postproduction
cycle--paper edit, assembly, rough cut, fine cut, locked picture—gets bogged down at
In her excellent workshop on film structure, expert Fernanda Rossi, urges directors not to
hand over the structural work of the film to the editor, but rather to own the editorial
approach by doing the hard work of figuring out the story yourself. Sage advice. Any Joe
with FCP loaded on their laptop is calling himself an editor these days.
To make the best hire, bring on board a qualified editor who specializes in storytelling
and can talk structural shop as your equal. Beware of hiring a hard-headed structural
purist who approaches every film with a pre-conceived formula within which your
content must fit. As Sheila Bernard Curran says in her highly-rated book Documentary
Storytelling, films about real life approximate the three-act structure. Having said that,
your editor should know the classic three-act structural model inside and out, particularly
if you are making a character driven film.
So grab the bull by the horns and ask your potential hire some tough questions… such as
“I’m curious--how does each act in the three-act structure differ from the other acts?”
(For the answer, see http://newdocediting.com/resources/.) In their opinion, what makes a
good opening? How would they deal with a sagging middle? If the film had too many
characters, what criteria would they use to cut some? What makes a good climax? Ask
them to explain the difference between an essay-based doc and a character driven doc.
Then check their work. Are their films well-composed in your opinion (did you get
bored)? Have they written or taught about structure? The more your editor knows about
structure, the less likely you will waste money funding their discovery process.
EXERCISES
Begin to identify the ideal editor for your project by working through these 7 e xercises
based on the 7 tips.
In order to share your sensibility, you first have to identify it. What characteristics define
you and the film you are making. Choose from the list below and create your own.
1. _________________________________
2. _________________________________
3. _________________________________
4. _________________________________
5. _________________________________
6. _________________________________
To demand business savvy, you must be savvy yourself. Identify the specific details you
require in a legal agreement with your editor. Some examples include:
• a clause assigning copyright to you
• an addendum t hat outlines a postproduction timetable specifying t arget delivery
dates for assembly, rough cut, fine cut and locked picture
• a non-disclosure clause
My legal requirements for working with an editor:
1. _________________________________
2. _________________________________
3. _________________________________
4. _________________________________
5. _________________________________
6. _________________________________
How do you want your editor to act if they strongly disagree with you about something,
such as cutting a particular scene or including a particular character? Write 2-3 sentences
describing your ideal scenario for conflict resolution.
List 3 things that the ideal editor for your project would bring to the table, in addition to
superior editing skills. For example, she might bring an address book listing an extensive
network of documentary professionals who could help your project.
How will you know if a potential e ditor is a good communicator? List t hree questions
you could a sk during an i nterview t o solicit that i nformation. For e xample, you might
ask, “What was the director’s vision for the last film that you worked on?”
My Three Questions:
1. _________________________________
2. _________________________________
3. _________________________________
1. Do you tend t o get your batteries c harged by working alone or by working with
people?
____________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________
4. Do you require that your editor have a top-notch production studio (and the
associated extra fees)?
____________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________
5. Could you be comfortable working with an editor on the other side of the country?
____________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________
Compose 3 key questions that you will ask during your interview with an editor to
determine whether or not they are experts at structure. For example, “What are some
techniques you use to fix a section that is boring and needs more momentum?”
Question 1
_________________________________________________________________
Question 2
_________________________________________________________________
Question 3
_________________________________________________________________
ASSIGNMENTS
1. Contact 5 respected documentary directors and/or editors and ask what the going rate
is for editors for your area. (If you are working with a virtual editor, then geography
may not matter.) Tell them you are looking for an editor and ask them for referrals.
2. If you don't ha ve an attorney, now is a great time to get one. Begin b y contacting
some of the legal resources mentioned in Chapter 3 and start asking for referrals.
3. Using the above exercise, create a list of questions for your potential editors.
4. Using the information from Assignment #1, contact and interview at least five editors.
5. Identify the editors with whom you had the best interpersonal connection. Delete the
others from your l ist. Of t he remaining editors, which ones have t he best skills set?
Watch their documentaries. Making your hiring decision based on 1) the best
personality fit, followed by 2) the best skill set and then finally by 3) the best rate you
can get.
Ingesting Footage
The majority of non-linear editing systems employ a bin or folder method to help editors
organize their footage. This chapter displays screenshots of the Final Cut Pro Studio
Browser window, but it is easy to duplicate this strategy in other software programs.
Planning out your organizational strategy before you start ingesting footage is critical,
and for the anal, left-brained editing geeks among us, myself included, this will be fun.
For the rest of you, remember that having a clear structural hierarchy for your clips will
save you time and money in the editing process, particularly if you have to change editors
midway through post.
The following recommendations are based on years of experience as well as tips from
several top editors. Take what works for you and feel free to improvise.
Before formatting my Final Cut Pro project, I like to keep a footage guide during
production. At a minimum, whether you are shooting tape or on cards, I recommend
tracking the name of your source material, the location, date and contents. Note that in
the sample guide on the next page, each folder is labeled with a 7-digit name. Before
shooting, I recommend creating folders on your external drive to transfer footage to.
Folders should be labeled very specifically with a 7-digit name: the date, plus a letter for
each P2 card cycle. For example, the first card shot on September 11, 2008 would be
labeled 080911A. This naming protocol will keep your files chronological.
Note: The data on P2 cards is stored as .MXF files (Material eXchange Format). MXF
files are made up of two parts, a folder named “CONTENTS” and the
“LASTCLIP.TXT.” NEVER CHANGE THE NAME OR CONTENTS OF THESE TWO
ITEMS! Copy the “LASTCLIP.TXT” file first to speed up data transfer. Then copy the
“CONTENTS” folder.
Eject the P2 card, undo the Write Protect tab, put in camera, reformat card in camera (to
avoid mistakenly reformatting card in computer before transfer is complete.)
If you are shooting tape, I recommend labeling each tape with a three digit number, for
example, 001, 002, etc.
PROJECT NAME:
YOUR NAME:
In naming your new NLE project, I suggest using the 6-digit date, again in this order: the
year, the month and the day. For example, a Final Cut Pro project slugged “school” that
was created on September 11, 2008 would be called 080911School. This new naming
policy assures that all projects and sequences will appear chronologically. I borrowed this
technique from a postproduction supervisor at Current TV and found it very helpful in
tracking multiple projects and sequences for both my clients and students at UC
Berkeley.
Bin Hierarchy
Organizing your bins is not that difficult. In the protocol suggested below, note that I’ve
created a bin for every type of footage: interviews, graphics, vérité footage, etc. I also
have two very important bins appear at the top of my Browser
I like to keep an unadulterated version of my master clips in a Master Clips bin. I name
that bin with a “+” prefix so it will appear at the top of the Browser. If I am ingesting
footage from P2 cards or a similar device, I will retain the name and metadata from that
Once all my bins are created and organized (more on that in a minute), I will duplicate
my master clips and place a copy in the appropriate bin. Note that in Final Cut Pro, you
cannot simply duplicate (Option D) and rename a clip without changing the name of the
master clip. Instead, control click on the clip and choose “Duplicate as New Master
Clip.” That way you can rename the clips without changing the name of the original
master clip. In the example below, sub bins keep original clips organized by date.
Knowing the date and name of your master clips, you can always refer to your Footage
Guide to find out the location and content of the footage.
I also label my Sequences bin with a “+” prefix so I will not have to hunt for this
frequently used bin. It appears at the top of my Browser. Within the sequence bin, I
recommend creating four sub bins for the four stages of postproduction: Assembly,
Rough cut, Fine cut, Locked picture. Note that within these sub bins, sequences are
labeled with a six-digit date (year, month and day) and then a short description. While
this may appear anal or like too much work, the payoff is that your sequences will always
appear in chronological order, no matter what descriptive name you give them.
In this example, the date appears at the end of the name, thereby undermining the ability
to list sequences chronologically.
Many projects will feature an “Archival” bin, which can be subdivided into types of
archival footage for easy access.
The interview bin features sub bins for each character. If you’ve interviewed your film’s
participants more than once, you may want to separate out these clips, as in the example
below.
I recommend keeping your Soundtrack Pro files (or any special audio files, such as sound
FX) in a separate bin. If you have multiple special video effects, create a special bin for
these as well, separating out color correction filters applied to specific interviews if
appropriate.
Finally, I recommend creating a b-roll or vérité bin, and making sub bins within to
categorize each scene, generally by character. If you have several characters whose story
arcs do not overlap, you may want to create sub bins by character, and then a third tier of
sub bins within each character bin that contains scenes pertaining to that person. The
following example does not display that level of complexity.
EXERCISES
1. List t he bins t hat you w ill need f or your project. Keep in mind additional f ootage
particular to your project like archival f ootage, animation, police radio recordings,
etc. Modify your list into a hierarchy of bins. For example:
A. Archival Footage
1. Man on moon
2. NASA footage
3. Newsreels
B. Interviews
1. Ken Sparks Interview
2. Kerry Baker Interview
_____________________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________________
3. Using th e e xample below, list the c olumns of information that you deem important
for your own film’s Footage Guide:
Example:
FOLDER name Shoot location Contents
080910A San Francisco Jon Brown interview
080910B San Francisco Jon Brown interview
080911A Berkeley Misty Crow at office
Misty C row at office;
080911B Berkeley
Exteriors of office
1. Create a Sequence bin in your non-linear editing system. If you want it to appear at
the top, add a “+” before it. Within the Sequence bin, create 5 sub bins titled:
A. Sequences-1Selects
B. Sequences-2Assembly Cuts
C. Sequences-3Rough Cuts
D. Sequences-4Fine Cuts
E. Sequences-5Locked Picture
2. Create (or modify) your project’s bins using the information from Exercise #1. If you
like, create a “+Master Clips” bin that will appear at the top of your project window.
Include the original clip of your tape or card data.
3. Ingest all your footage into your Master Clips bin. Then duplicate and transfer copies
of the footage to the appropriate bin.
“We’ll fix it in post,” may work fine when you forgot to white balance or turn off a noisy
air conditioner, but if you forgot to vet your story potential, constructing a narrative arc in
the edit room may prove challenging.
I recently worked with a director who took advantage of my free initial consultation, in
which I rate the story potential of a director’s documentary. I watched her trailer and read
her synopsis the night before, and while the protagonist of her film was clearly admirable
for her compassion and generosity, I was, well, bored. I was watching a profile, not a
story. The profile was a pleasant slice of life--devoid of obstacles, but containing myriad
words of praise for the main character. The combination made the trailer Pollyannaish.
On a scale of 1 to 10, I rated the story strength at a 3. How was I going to break this to
the director? First I congratulated her on gaining access to such a talented and spiritually
evolved musician. I then asked her what she felt she most needed to move her film
forward, having already shot sixty percent of the principal photography. Fortunately, she
said she needed help with dramatic structure.
So I gave her a mini-tutorial on story structure. She needed: A) a character who deeply
desires something (Act One) that is B) difficult to obtain (Act Two) and C) calls forth the
character’s deepest reserves in a final emotional scene (Act Three) that answers the film’s
central question-- did the protagonist get what he wanted?
My client was all ears. She realized that her protagonist needed a clearly defined quest
and had to face conflict in obtaining his goal. Working with such an open-minded
director, our next task would be fun: using well-developed strategies to elicit and shape
the poignant stories that live in everyone’s life.
is an essay-style documentary.
Why has the character driven form dominated the market, becoming the genre of choice
for funders and acquisition editors at HBO, PBS and other broadcast outlets? And what if
your film doesn’t fall into a story?
First realize that you may have a theme-based film. If you have a “story” in the classic
screen-writer sense (which Hollywood guru Robert McKee articulated in his seminal
book Story), your film will naturally fall into the three act structure that has enthralled
audiences on stage, in literature and in narrative films since Aristotle first laid them out.
With a little guidance from a story editor, you don’t have to manipulate reality or make
something up. The truth is that character driven films are popular because they are fun to
watch. They’re entertaining--a good antidote for delivering the depressing social-issue
message that we American documentarians do so well and often.
If you don’t have a story--a character in pursuit of a desire against great odds--then you
will probably curse the popularity of this dominant genre as you do backbends to fit your
idea into “narrative structure” (inciting incident, plot twists, climax, and denouement). If
it’s any consolation, every significant documentary trend (ethnographic films, historical
biography, direct cinema) has waxed and waned, and the character driven film someday
too be eclipsed by a fresher documentary form.
Now, what exactly is a character driven film? How do you know if you have one? A
recent discussion on Doculink, a popular online forum, revealed that many filmmakers
think “character driven” means following an interesting character around. But that’s only
the start. The character must want something, and the more specific the object of desire,
the better. For example, “making it to the border of Mexico” is a more concrete and
riveting goal than “escaping the law” (to use an example from the classic three-act
narrative film Thelma and Louise).
In the example below, the story synopsis for Home (Sundance Channel, 2005) identifies
the protagonist (Sheree Farmer), her goal (to purchase her own home), and the obstacles
she will face in pursuit of this goal (drug-infested streets, looming debt and a fight with
her daughter).
What if your protagonist has a great goal but the story is yet to emerge? I recently worked
with a frustrated director to re-cut a documentary short that featured a great quest. We
were trying to “fix it in post.” I was initially perplexed that the film was being rejected by
festivals and distributors. The director followed a young woman who competed in the
male-dominated world of windsurfing as she pursued the state title. He had a classic
built-in goal, the race, and his cinematography was remarkable. But once I watched the
film, the problem was evident: there were no obstacles. With the support of her parents,
Compare that to the synopsis for Cowboys in India, a recently-funded ITVS project
which emerged from some 385 submissions in the 2008 International Call to become a
riveting character-based film:
“Aided by two inept locals (already we sniff conflict), director Simon Chambers goes to
the poorest area in India (conflict) where a tribe is fighting to save a sacred mountain
from multinational mining moguls (conflict featuring mighty opponents) who say its
resources will bring prosperity to the people. Cowboys in India explores accusations of
murder (dangerous obstacle) and whether the company-built hospitals and schools
actually exist (more challenges)--landing these investigators in bigger trouble than
expected (promises of even more conflict).”
If you’re not sure if you have a story, try the following simple, story-focusing exercise
that I use in my documentary editing seminars. Fill in the blanks for these three
sentences. Note that each sentence represents the gist of each of the three acts in classic
narrative structure. Remember, Aristotle gave us a form, not a formula, so there’s endless
variation within these three simple guidelines. If you have more than one protagonist,
then focus on just one character for now:
Now you have an easy way to rate your story potential on a scale of 1 to 10. If you’ve
shown a bit of your footage to other people and they think you have an interesting
character, give yourself 3 points. If you were able to fill in the first sentence with a
specific object of desire, such as ousting a corrupt tribal leader (Wounded Knee, 2009
Sundance selection), winning an American-idol type contest (Afghan Star, 2009
Sundance World Audience Award) or swimming past the guards to expose a dolphin-
slaughter pit (The Cove, 2009 Sundance Audience Award), give yourself 3 more points,
bringing you to a 6. If you can find three obstacles that your protagonist faces (and that
you can capture on film), give yourself an 8. Congratulations, you have a story--almost!
If you have a protagonist with a desire for something that is difficult to achieve, you’ve
probably got enough mojo to get funding and start shooting a vérité film.
I have a friend who is directing a documentary about a 7-year-old boy who dresses like a
girl, acts like a girl, and wants to play the part of a girl in the school play. Does my friend
have a story? Yes. Assuming she has access to the people in the child’s life, it’s highly
likely that conflict, and even a climax scene, will emerge given the clash between this
child’s emerging gender identity and societal norms. Maybe the conflict is with the boy’s
parents (who think it’s time Billy stopped playing in mommy’s high heels). Maybe it’s
When will you know if you have a climax? You’ll feel it in your bones. But for the more
left-brained among us who seek a clearer definition, the climax of a character driven film
is the most riveting emotional scene in the film, because it requires a supreme effort from
the protagonist. It’s the final hour, the heat of the battle, the dark night of the soul that
summons one’s deepest reserves. That’s half the equation. The other half is that the
climax scene must answer the film’s central question—did the protagonist get what they
want?
EXERCISES
If you ha ven’t already done so, complete the f ollowing exercise to determine if your
documentary can evolve into a character driven, three-act structure.
Rate your documentary’s story pot ential on a scale of 1 -10, based on the a nswers you
gave in Exercise #2 above.
Aristotle’s three-act structure has withstood the test of time for centuries. But how does
this enduring dramatic structure apply to nonfiction films about real people and events?
Novelists and screenwriters are free to design scenes into a scrupulously plotted three-act
structure. They are limited only by their imagination and the credibility of their
characters’ actions. Documentary filmmakers, however, must design scenes based on real
life.
The tension between “what was filmed” and “real life” presents special challenges. The
documentary editor selects from a finite audio and/or visual recording of real
conversations, actions, events, and images. If the bona fide event—what filmmaker Jon
Else calls the “genuine article”—wasn’t filmed, then substitutions must be found. The
editor then attempts a meaningful ordering of real life.
Whether the editor is using a three-act storyboard or some other narrative design, she
must stay true to actual happenings while simultaneously coaxing and contorting them
into climaxes and plot turns. “I’ve spent a lot of my career,” Jon Else writes in
Documentary Storytelling (Focal Press, 2004), “trying to make real people in the real
world behave like Lady Macbeth or Hamlet or Odysseus or King Lear.” In this chapter, I
outline the principles of classic three-act structure as taught by professional screenwriters,
and examine how documentary filmmakers can adapt these structural demands to the
limitations of their medium and the random unfolding of real life.
Many first-time documentary filmmakers are stumped as soon as they enter the editing
room. They had set out to explore an issue by telling a story rather than narrating an
essay-type film. They had heard that, unlike fiction films, documentary stories are often
composed during the editing process. As they assemble footage from even the rosiest
production scenario--brilliant interviews, stunning cinematography, and never-before-
seen archival footage--these filmmakers discover in postproduction that they are adrift.
Their instinct to hire an editor, or at least a consulting editor, is a good one. They are too
close to the material. Sometimes, however, after reading the treatment and looking at the
footage, an editor will determine that the project has a fundamental flaw: a story was
never present from the beginning.
A story, in the screenwriter’s sense of the word, is not a profile (for example, a film about
an eccentric uncle who farms nuts), a condition (human rights abuses in Haiti), a
phenomenon (the popularity of multi-player video games), or a point of view (Social
Security should be privatized). Robert McKee defines story as “the great sweep of change
that takes life from one condition at the opening to a changed condition at the end.” The
key question in defining this “great sweep of change” is: “What does the main character
want?” The answer to that question launches the film’s narrative arc.
Unfortunately, many novice filmmakers wait until postproduction to come to grips with
this question. Seduced by cheap technology and the thrill of directing the camera like a
fire-hose, they amass hundreds of hours of footage but fail to capture the launching point
and plot turns of a story. Straddled with expensive transcription costs, they hope a
miracle-working editor can cure their postproduction paralysis. Sometimes a few pick-up
shoots and a well-written narration can do the trick. Sometimes the best advice is to move
on to the next film. Screenwriters understand that defining the hero’s quest is the
foremost dramatic requirement of a three-act structure. For documentary filmmakers,
EXERCISE
1. Identify the function and specific purpose of each act in the three-act structure.
Act One:
_______________________________________________________________
_______________________________________________________________
Act Two:
_______________________________________________________________
_______________________________________________________________
Act Three:
_______________________________________________________________
_______________________________________________________________
2. Articulate your protagonist’s desire in one sentence. For example, “Debbie wants to
find a suitable nursing home for her mother who is sffering f rom Alzheimer’s
Disease.”
Of the aboveh circle three that seem most true. Now brainstorm possible events or
circumstances that indicate your protagonist met their g oal. For instance, imagine that
your protagonist is a transsexual male (born female) who wants to cope with a diagnosis
of terminal ovarian cancer. Maybe one way of reaching that goal (for him) would be live
long enough t o attend an inspiring conference for transsexuals. This in fact is the
narrative arc of the award-winning documentary Southern Comfort.
ASSIGNMENT
If you are editing a character driven documentary, flesh out the specific goal of each of
your three acts, by adding the particulars of your characters lives and events. For
example, Act One f or the Oscar-nominated documentary Story ofthe Weeping Camel
might have read: “Act One will s et up the Gobi herders’ desire t o pe rsuade t he m other
camel to nurse her newborn calf.”
Act One:
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
Act Three:
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
The function of Act One is to establish the world of the film, introduce us to the
characters, and launch the protagonist’s quest. In a two-hour dramatic film, Act One (also
called the “setup”) runs about 30 minutes, or a quarter of the film. At the start of the act,
the audience is introduced to the film’s setting and characters. The audience doesn’t yet
know whom to root for. When the world of the film is “normal,” meaning without life-
altering conflict, all characters have relatively equal value in terms of audience empathy.
A true protagonist emerges at the “catalyst” or “inciting incident,” when an external event
upsets this character’s world. This mandatory structural device kicks off the real story, as
the protagonist begins her quest to restore equilibrium to her life. For example, in the
action movie Jaws (1975), a woman is killed by a shark and the town sheriff finds her
decaying body. This horrific discovery is the inciting incident, or catalyst, because it
begins the sheriff’s quest to kill the shark and thereby restore tranquility to the terrorized
resort town.
The inciting incident does not have to be a negative event. In a love story, for instance,
the inciting incident is falling in love, which launches the lovers’ quest to stay together
against the odds. The passion between Romeo and Juliet in Shakespeare’s play, though
euphoric, uproots life as they knew it. Falling in love, like any catalyst, throws life out of
balance and initiates these two characters into the story as “protagonists.” While many
people use the word “protagonist” to simply mean “main character,” screenwriters define
the protagonist as a character who possesses a yearning or desire for something. In
Romeo and Juliet, two protagonists share a common quest.
The inciting incident plays such a critical function in the overall story structure that
Hollywood screenwriters follow a rule: the inciting scene must be visually depicted on
screen, preferably in present story-time. In other words, the story cannot be launched
through exposition (boring) or back-story (too removed). This imperative presents a
major problem for documentary filmmakers. Frequently, by the time a documentary
filmmaker gets interested in a film, the inciting incident has already happened. Equally
problematic, this rousing scene was probably not caught on film.
Sometimes filmmakers get lucky. They set out to film one story, and a more powerful
story unfolds in front of the camera. In The Revolution Will Not Be Televised (2003),
Irish filmmakers Kim Bartley and Donnacha O’Briain set out to profile Venezuelan
president Hugo Chavez. Well into production, the directors suddenly found themselves in
the midst of a coup. They caught the violent political upheaval on camera, the film
shifted gears, and the filmmakers had a visually riveting catalyst for their first act.
Other filmmakers get lucky by discovering home movies or archival footage that will
portray the inciting event. But these instances of serendipity are the exception. If a
documentary filmmaker does not have footage of the actual inciting incident, how does
she bring it to life on screen? One common solution is to comb through interviews for a
sound bite that reconstructs the inciting incident. Sometimes even a periphery character
can recall a particular moment that will change the lives of the characters forever. In
Capturing the Friedmans, an 88-minute documentary, the inciting incident occurs seven
minutes into the story, when a postal inspector appears on screen for the first time. He
recounts that in 1984, U.S. Customs had seized some child pornography addressed to
Arnold Friedman. The postal inspector describes how he then entrapped Friedman by
dressing up as a mailman. He delivered Friedman a magazine for pedophiles and returned
an hour later with a search warrant.
If an interviewee is going to relate the catalyst event, an editor should choose the most
detailed and charismatically told incident possible. Remember, this moment is when the
story is supposed to take off. If a lackluster sound bite can’t fuel the launch, an editor
may need booster material like narration, location footage, reenactments, or animation.
Whereas a screenwriter can start the story with a single inciting scene, the nonfiction
storyteller must often construct an inciting sequence. As long as the sequence gets the
story off the ground, it’s fine to employ a slow burn rather than pyrotechnics.
To reconstruct this inciting event, Jordan (also the film’s editor) begins with a shot of her
mother tallying the family’s troubled accounts and her father bottle-feeding a calf after
sundown. She uses voiceover narration to explain what’s at stake financially. She cuts to
her father telling a joke about heartless bankers, followed by her brother who gives an
incensed account of the meeting with the new banker. Finally, Jordan takes us into the
imposing bank building itself, where we meet the clean-cut young banker. As he instructs
The inciting incident gives rise to the protagonist’s quest--alternately called the “hero’s
journey” or “object of desire” --and articulates the film’s central question. Will Romeo
and Juliet stay together? Will the sheriff kill the shark? Will the Jordan family save their
farm? The central question is always some variation of the question: “Will the
protagonist reach her goal?” After a long period of struggle in Act Two, this central
question is answered for better or worse in Act Three--at or just following the film’s
climax.
Each act in the three-act structure concludes with a climax--an emotionally charged plot
point that takes the story in a new direction and determines the ensuing events. According
to Robert McGee, the first act climax may or may not be the inciting incident. In
Metallica: Some Kind of Monster (2004), the inciting incident and the first act climax are
two separate plot points. The inciting incident occurs a slim four minutes into the 140-
minute movie, when an MTV news clip announces that the bass player has left the band.
This incident launches the narrative arc of the movie, as the remaining three members
seek to improve their interpersonal relationships and, by extension, their next album. The
first act’s climax, however, is a separate event. It occurs 32 minutes into the film, after a
series of creative quagmires and arguments prompt singer James Hetfield to enter rehab.
Sometimes the inciting incident is the first act climax. In the Oscar-nominated film The
Story of the Weeping Camel, the first 20 minutes of the 88-minute film introduce us to a
family of herders in the Gobi Desert. Their quest for survival is not the dramatic arc, but
EXERCISES
Note: Even if you are editing an essay-style documentary (organizing ideas rather a
character’s quest), the exercise and assignments for the following few chapters are
highly recommended. Adding narrative devices wherever possible will enhance the
viewer’s experience of your film. In the essay-style documentary An Inconvenient Truth,
for example, the death of Al Gore’s son serves as an inciting incident for the former Vice
President’s mission to sound the alarm about global warming. There may be more
narrative potential than you realize in your own documentary and these exercises will
help you flesh out plot elements currently lying dormant.
1. If you think you know what your film’s inciting incident is, move to #2. If you don’t
know your film’s catalyst s cene, t hen l ist pos sible reasons t hat your protagonist has
the desire they have.
For example, let’s say your protagonist wants to scale a tightrope between the Twin
Towers in New York City. What could have possibly given rise to that desire? Did he
see a performer at a ci rcus when he was eleven that inspired him? Did someone put
him up t o it? Did he visit the Twin Towers in his past? List your ideas. Be creative.
Think like a screenwriter.
A. __________________________________________________________________
B. __________________________________________________________________
C. __________________________________________________________________
D. __________________________________________________________________
E. __________________________________________________________________
A. __________________________________________________________________
B. __________________________________________________________________
C. __________________________________________________________________
D. __________________________________________________________________
E. __________________________________________________________________
2. List t he pos sible e vents (actual h appenings) t hat could serve a s your f ilm’s i nciting
incident:
A. __________________________________________________________________
B. __________________________________________________________________
C. __________________________________________________________________
D. __________________________________________________________________
E. __________________________________________________________________
3. Circle the events from the above list that are A) the most logical inciting incident and
B) the easiest to convey visually.
ASSIGNMENTS
1. Write one sentence identifying your documentary’s inciting incident and how to
portray it.
3. Write one sentence identifying your film’s first act climax scene. Make sure it meets
the following criteria: A) it is an event and B) it is the highest emotional scene in film
so far.
In Act Two, the protagonist encounters obstacles as she pushes toward her goal. In a two-
hour feature film, the second act will typically last 60–70 minutes. This vast stretch,
known as “progressive complications” or simply “development,” lacks the guiding
mandates of Act One (setup, inciting incident, defining the central question) and Act
Three (climax and resolution). Many screenwriters rely on the help of a guidepost
halfway through the long act called the “midpoint.”
The Midpoint
The midpoint is a crisis, often of life and death proportions, that provides the second act
with momentum and direction. In action films, the hero often faces death or his nemesis
at the midpoint. In the first Star Wars movie, Luke Skywalker nearly dies in a contracting
galactic garbage bin. In character driven films, the midpoint may spell hazard to a
character’s old way of being, or to the life of a relationship. Screenwriting teacher
Jeannine Lanouette illustrates this concept with the movie Thelma and Louise, a narrative
film about two women whose weekend getaway turns into a run for the border (Release
Print, November/December 2002). Halfway through the film, a drifter robs them of the
money they needed to make it to Mexico. This catastrophic event transforms Thelma, the
true protagonist of the film, from a docile housewife into a formidable outlaw.
In Capturing the Friedmans, the internal transformation of Elaine Friedman marks the
midpoint. In the first part of the documentary, Elaine is a dutiful mother and faithful wife.
She asserts that the pedophilia charges against her husband were “hard to believe,” and
she defends him saying, “He wasn’t proud of the porn.” Even when she calls her
marriage a “big mistake,” she laughs and gives a self-effacing shrug. Then, 53 minutes
into the 105-minute film, Elaine reveals the dynamics that will doom her devotion to her
family when she complains that her husband and three sons “were a gang” in which she
had no membership. A minute later we see Elaine at a family dinner looking depressed.
At 57 minutes Elaine calls her husband Arnold “a rat.” At 58 minutes, home video of a
family dinner shows Elaine getting angry for the first time. At 59 minutes, she explodes
at her son David, “Why don’t you try for once to be supportive of me?”
As Elaine’s passive persona dies at the midpoint, a new aspect of her character is born.
By the second act climax, when she discovers that her husband has lied to her, she says,
“I went berserk.” At the end of the film Elaine screams at her sons to leave the house. “I
cannot put aside my anger,” she shouts. “You have been nothing but hateful, hostile, and
angry ever since this began.” After her son Jesse is sent to prison, Elaine divorces her
husband. “That’s when I really started to become a person and started to live,” she says.
Her transformation from long--suffering housewife to self-actualized person is complete.
The midpoint marked the tilt.
Having gauged the film’s direction with the help of a midpoint, many editors’ biggest
challenge in Act Two is sustaining momentum. Since Act Two is the longest act (a little
more than half the film), the editor needs to ratchet up conflict. Ideally, each barrier the
protagonist faces should be more daunting than the last. A screenwriter can plot
progressive complications without being constrained by journalistic ethics, but what can a
documentary filmmaker do if the actual chronology of conflict ebbs and flows rather than
steadily escalates? How can he ramp up the action while staying true to the facts?
One solution is to shuffle the order of events, recognizing, in the words of Jon Else, that
“a chronicle does not have to unfold chronologically” to be true. For example, an editor
can begin Act Two with events unfolding in the order they actually took place, and then
reveal a crisis that happened years earlier. The back-story is revealed when it provides
maximum impact, raising the stakes for the protagonist and contributing to an escalating
sense of crisis.
The film Metallica doubles back to earlier years on several occasions. In one instance late
in the second act, archival footage from MTV introduces an important back-story. In
April 2000, Metallica drummer Lars Ulrich sued the music-trading web company Napster
for copyright infringement. Ulrich criticized Napster for selling technology that allowed
fans to download the band’s music free of charge. The so-called Napster controversy
made headlines worldwide, and turned Metallica into a target for angry fans. This back-
story, placed well into the second act, achieves two important structural goals. First, the
stormy incident steps up momentum at the required time--as the story approaches the
climax of the second act. In addition, the Napster back-story raises the stakes for the very
next scene, in which band members discuss going on tour and whether their album will
be a hit or not. With the recollection of hate mail and irate fans in the viewer’s mind, the
stakes of the band’s album tour become even higher.
Another way to create escalating suspense is to allow the protagonist a taste of success, or
a respite from the fray, just before a particularly stormy turn of events. The “reversal,”
writes Linda Seger in Making a Good Script Great (Samuel French, 1994), “catapults the
story by forcing it to take a new direction.” In her personal documentary Complaints of a
Dutiful Daughter (1994), Deborah Hoffmann uses a reversal in the portrayal of her
struggle to come to terms with her mother’s Alzheimer’s disease. In Act Two, the
ruthless progression of the disease supplies a predictable structure of increasing tension,
but the truth is sometimes life seems to get better for Hoffmann and her mother. As a
filmmaker, how could Hoffmann stay true to what happened while satisfying the
structural demands for increasing conflict?
In Act Two difficulties mount. Hoffmann tries to correct her mother’s jumbled memory,
but despite a rash of reminder notes, the declining woman begins showing up for medical
appointments on the wrong days. In the middle of Act Two, life gets harder when
Hoffmann’s mother expresses shame at being her “stupid mother,” then forgets she’s
Hoffmann’s mother, and eventually directs hostility at her daughter. Finally, Hoffmann
has what she calls “a liberating moment” when she realizes she doesn’t need to insist on
reality. If her mother thinks that the two of them went to college together, what does it
matter? Hoffmann’s acceptance of her mother’s version of reality makes things easier for
a while. Then, at the climax of Act Two, Hoffmann retrieves a frightening phone
message from her. The 84-year-old woman has locked herself outside her San Francisco
apartment at night. Hoffman must face that her formerly independent mother cannot
continue to live alone. The placement of the second act climax directly on the heels of
Hoffmann’s reprieve is a clever “calm before the storm” juxtaposition. It compresses yet
stays true to the times when Hoffmann’s life was relatively tranquil (the length of the
reprieve in real life is unknown). Equally important, the reversal satisfies the dramatic
requirement that Hoffmann’s life, in her words, was growing “out of control.” By
abruptly reversing the languid mood, the second act climax jolts us into Act Three.
EXERCISES
1. Brainstorm possible scenes that could serve as your film’s midpoint. Ask yourself:
Is there a life and death crisis in your film? Does someone nearly die? Who?
If so, what moment (in what scene or sound bite) does that character begin to show
signs of changing?
Possible midpoints:
A. __________________________________________________________________
B. __________________________________________________________________
C. __________________________________________________________________
D. __________________________________________________________________
E. __________________________________________________________________
2. List the challenges and obstacles your protagonist is likely to face in pursuit of their
goal:
A. __________________________________________________________________
B. __________________________________________________________________
3. List the above-listed obstacles in order of increasing difficulty. Put the most
difficult last. Could it serve as your Act Two climax?
A. __________________________________________________________________
B. __________________________________________________________________
C. __________________________________________________________________
D. __________________________________________________________________
E. __________________________________________________________________
F. __________________________________________________________________
4. Write a sentence identifying your second act climax. It must be the most emotional
scene in the f ilm up to this point. For example, “ The second act climax is when
Debbie’s mother locks herself outside her apartment and wanders aimlessly along the
streets of New York.”
ASSIGNMENTS
1. If you t hink your f ilm has a midpoint, then write one sentence dexcribing it. For
example, “The midpoint is the first time that James Hetfeld sits calmly and asks
questions when his bandmate Lars is yelling at him.”
2. Using your answers in Exercise #2 above, construct a chronology of your film, listing
the key events and dates. T hen turn your chronology into a chronicle (a separate
narrative timeline) in which you identify the scenes that could be told as back-stories
and reversals. If any o f your b ack-story scenes are intensely emotional, circle them,
and consider using them late in Act Two.
Comedian George M. Cohan said that in the first act you chase your man up a tree. (His
“quest” is to get down safely.) In Act Two, you throw rocks at him. And in Act Three,
you force him out onto a limb that’s ready to break before you finally let him down.
Screenwriters know that at the end of Act Two, things should be as bad as they can
imaginably get. Then in Act Three, they get even worse. The function of the third act is to
ramp up suspense to a crisis that is so unbearable that the protagonist must summon a
supreme effort. This crisis, the story climax, will conclusively answer the film’s central
question: Did the protagonist get what she desired?
Screenwriters often begin plotting a film with two points in mind: the inciting incident
and the story climax. With these two coordinates in place, they can chart progressive
complications from inception of quest to quest pinnacle. In the documentary world, only
backward-looking films can provide a treatment with a conclusive climax. For example,
in the Oscar-nominated Tupac: Resurrection ($7.7 million, 2003), a film made after the
rap star’s death, MTV producer Lauren Lazin could pinpoint the film’s climax as the
1996 drive-by shooting murder.
In cinema vérité (or direct cinema), the ending is impossible to predict. By extension, so
are the production schedule and costs—which is why observational films are unpopular
with funders. Vérité films that are good bets for funding are likely to be structured around
a contest, an election, a performance, or a challenge of some kind, i.e., having a baby or
organizing a trade union. These measurable endeavors furnish predictable obstacles and
While difficult to portray in words, this climactic scene captures the real-life dramatic
complexity that makes documentaries, and particularly vérité films, so compelling.
According to critic Nigam Nuggehalli, writing in the online journal Culture Vulture, the
suspense of this climax scene is palpable because “no one, including the filmmakers, has
a clue about what’s going to happen next.”
Whatever form the denouement takes, it should not drag on. After the story’s climax, the
audience is ready for the film to wrap up. Allow protagonists a minute to say what it all
means, give significant updates, then roll the credits. Ambitious attempts to spell out the
Audiences today bank on the promise that nonfiction cinema will thrill them with the
hero’s call to adventure, bringing them into a real world they have never visited before,
and then safely guide them through the obstacles, reversals, and climaxes of a meaningful
story. While screenwriters aren’t the only ones who can deliver good narratives, their
stories can provide invaluable structural guidance to today’s documentary storytellers.
EXERCISES
1. Write one sentence identifying your film’s final, third act climax scene. Make sure it
meets the following criteria: A) it is an event; B) it is the highest emotional scene in
film; C) it leads to a resolution (answer) of the film’s central question.
2. From the scenes you l isted i n #3 a bove, w rite one sentence identifying your f ilm’s
denouement scene. It must be short and snappy and provide a glimpse of the
protagonist’s life now that they have their quest has ended.
How do you structure a documentary with multiple story lines? I get asked this question a
lot in my story consulting practice. Many filmmakers fashion documentaries with more
than a single protagonist.
Ask yourself, do you have a dynamic duo such as Thelma and Louise, or the mother and
daughter as in the Daughter from Danang, or the Ecuadorian attorney and American
lawyer in the documentary Crude? These pairs essentially act as one protagonist pursuing
a single goal.
Is your documentary about many people, such as the group of coal miners in Barbara
Koppel’s Harlan Country, USA? Or the Yuppies in the documentary Chicago 10, who
fight for one cause--to improve working conditions for coal miners? In these cases you
are essentially constructing one story line, although the characters may come to their
shared purpose from different inciting incidences. In other words, you may need to craft a
different compelling catalyst scene for some of the key characters in the group. But
generally by the end of Act One, members of the group should be united in their object of
desire.
Are you editing a documentary with a classic antagonist such as Batman and the Joker, or
Joe and Dupan in Murder Ball? The shared goal (to win the game, for example) dictates
one single story line (again, with differing inciting incidences).
If your protagonists truly have separate goals, then you will need to structure multiple
story lines. For example, the documentary American Teen reveals four archetypal
teenagers: the jock, the popular/pretty girl, the misunderstood artist, and the nerd. Each
Your first decision is whether to “clump” their stories (i.e. tell one at a time) or
checkerboard the stories, that is weave them together. If you can, it is preferable to
checkerboard the stories because inter-cutting narrative arcs tend to give your
documentary a more cohesive feel. There are some specific situations in which inter-
cutting will not work, and your best strategy is to tell one complete story after another.
Reasons for “clumping” include:
1. Your characters’ journeys are too intricate and complicated to follow when
inter-cut. For example, the four stories in the documentary film Long Night’s
Journey into Day are such detailed crime investigations that only a genius
could follow the plot twists if the four stories were inter-cut.
2. The geographic or temporal setting of each of your stories differs remarkably.
In Iraq in Fragments for example, filmmaker James Longley tells the tale of a
boy in central Baghdad, militants in southern Iraq, and Kurds in the north.
Each location is filmed with its own look and soundscape. This artful film
required a clumping structure.
3. You have tried checker boarding and your characters look so similar to test
audiences that they have trouble telling the characters apart. In this case, I
advise either clumping or adding frequent lower-thirds (supers) to identify
your characters within a checker boarded structure.
If you determine that you can inter-cut your storylines, the next step is to separate out the
storylines. Plot each character’s journey within the three act structure. Do this on paper
first (at New Doc Editing we use a Doc Plot Map) and then actually cut a separate
assembly cut for each character. I advise limiting your documentary film to no more than
four characters. Several documentaries feature the magical number four (Long Night’s
Journey into Day, American
Teen, Hurricane on the Bayou,
Transgeneration, Four Little
Girls) as this seems to be the
ideal number of character arcs
that audience members can
follow in a single viewing.
Ideally each of your character’s
journeys will have an inciting
incident and a first, second, and
Long Night’s Journey into Day, 2000
third act climax.
Once you have separated out your character arcs, determine which arc has the strongest
climax. Which climax shows the character digging deep to overcome an obstacle? Which
climax scene contains the requisite footage to bring viewers to the single highest moment
of emotional intensity in the film? Which climax conclusively answers the film’s central
question: Does the protagonist reach their goal?
Having determined this ultimate climax scene, place that character’s climax scene 95% of
the way into your documentary. (See the Three Act Timetable in an earlier chapter). Then
place the other characters’ climax scenes before this most powerful one.
The goal is to ensure that some scene peaks in emotional intensity at the quarter way
mark (Act One) and at the 80% mark (Act Two). Editing documentaries is not the exact
science that screenwriters have developed for the Three Act structure. The point is to get
as close to those marks as possible. It doesn’t matter a whole lot which character’s story
peaks at the 25% and 80% mark. In your viewer’s mind, the film will feel well paced if
there are three points of emotional intensity at the requisite times as well as a steady
escalation in Act Two.
Adding a subplot
EXERCISES
3. If you circled A, B or C, then your protagonists share one narrative arc, though they
may have different inciting incidents. If so, list them here for each character:
A. __________________________________________________________________
B. __________________________________________________________________
C. __________________________________________________________________
D. __________________________________________________________________
E. __________________________________________________________________
4. If you circled D, map out separate story arcs for each of your main characters. (You
may start with more than four, but place an asterisk next to the four most promising
story a rcs). Use the f ollowing template to identify the core material f or Acts O ne,
Two and Three.
ASSIGNMENTS
1. If you have more than one story arc, determine whether to inter-cut (checkerboard) or
clump (tell one entire tale after another) your stories based on the following criteria:
Write a sentence explaining your structural decision. Realize you can always change
your mind if this approach doesn’t work.
3. If your main “story” lacks a real narrative throughline (a character with a goal in the
face of da unting obs tacles), then brainstorm at least three possible subplots or
accompanying plots. Consider historical stories ( army doctor’s j ournal i n Yosemite:
Fate of Heaven), tangential characters who have a real goal (school administrator in
Lalee’s Kin), or a com pletely separate narrative plot that could be added to an essay
film (the unhappy photographer in What The Bleep Do We Know):
Arc Diagram
A plot map is a simple diagram that allows you to see the film’s rising arc and climax
peaks. The timeline of your film is laid out along the horizontal X axis, and the film’s
emotional intensity is charted along the vertical Y axis. Traditionally, each of the three
acts has a climax, hence three arcs, with each higher than the previous. So as the film
proceeds, the high points get higher.
At New Doc Editing, we have developed this notion into a customizable Doc Plot Map
that allows users to specify in minutes the approximate time that each act climax should
occur. For example, the Act One climax, which occurs about one-quarter of the way into
the film, can be easily calculated if you know the final length of your film. Take the
estimated TRT (total running time) and multiply it by .24. If your TRT is 60 minutes,
then multiply that by .24 to get your first act climax at 14.5 minutes.
If the first act climax occurs ¼ through the film, why multiply by 24% rather than 25%?
Frankly it probably won’t matter to the pacing of your film, but I chose 24%, or just
under ¼ of the film, to remind editors that the Act One climax is not over until there is a
slight dip in emotional intensity. This is true for each act climax. Follow peaks with a less
suspenseful scene, to give viewers time to absorb the action.
You may be asking yourself a bigger question: Why is it important that my documentary
peak at these three prescribed times? First, remember that applying the three-act structure
to documentaries is always an approximation, since we don’t have the luxury of crafting
scenes out of thin air when they are convenient for our act timetable. But the real answer
The following chart will give you the approximate times for a number of TRT’s. You can
easily calculate your own by multiplying the estimated length of your film by the
percentage for each key scene: inciting incident, midpoint, and the three act climaxes.
Note that screenwriting mentor Robert McKee counsels placing your inciting incident as
early as possible in the first act, as soon as the audience understands enough about the
setting and characters to care what happens to them. The midpoint happens halfway
through the second act (not halfway through the film)--hence it occurs 54% into the film.
At or At or At or At or At or At or At or
before before before before before before before
Inciting Under
First First First First First First First
Incident 24%
Act Act Act Act Act Act Act
Climax Climax Climax Climax Climax Climax Climax
Act One 24% 3.5 5 6 14.4 21 24 29
Midpoin
54% 8 11 14 32.5 48 54 65
t
Act Two
80% 12 16 21 48 70 80 96
climax
Act
Three 95% 14.25 19 24.5 57 84 95 114
climax
What if you don’t know how long your film will be? Good question. If you’re not
beholden to a broadcaster’s prescribed time, you will determine the length yourself. Most
filmmakers understandably overestimate the length of their film because they are in love
with the material and topic. These days, docs are getting shorter. Whereas a 90-minute
doc might have intrigued audiences five years ago, today I would shoot for 75-minutes.
I’ve always admired director Deborah Hoffmann for making her highly successful
personal film Complaints of a Dutiful Daughter just 44 minutes long. When asked why
she chose that length, she replied “that’s as long as the story needed to be.” Judge the
length of your film by test audiences’ reaction as well as the less biased opinion of your
editor, story consultant and advisors.
EXERCISE
1. Use the last column of the Three-Act T imetable to calculate the estimated TRT of
your documentary. For example, to calculate where the first act climax should peak,
multiple the estimated length of your doc by .24.
Your
TRT % 15 20 26 60 88 120
TRT
At or At or At or At or At or At or At or
before before before before before before before
Inciting Under
First First First First First First First
Incident 24%
Act Act Act Act Act Act Act
Climax Climax Climax Climax Climax Climax Climax
Act 1 24% 3.5 5 6 14.4 21 29
Midpoin
54% 8 11 14 32.5 48 65
t
Act 2
80% 12 16 21 48 70 96
climax
Act 3
95% 14.25 19 24.5 57 84 114
climax
Credits
100% 15 20 26 60 87 120
end
Using the data collected in the timetable above and the preceding chapter exercises, draft
a Doc Plot Map for your film.
The essay or topic-based documentary is the second most popular art form dominating
today’s independent documentary landscape. Although it shares in the festival accolades
and box office commercial success of the character driven documentary, structurally the
essay doc is a different beast entirely, usually organized around a central idea rather than
a protagonist on a quest. It looks different too, often employing talking heads, text,
statistics, man-on-the-street interviews, educational graphics and slide shows to make its
points. Popular examples include An Inconvenient Truth, Religulous, Bowling for
Columbine, and The Corporation. Other essay films, such as Werner Herzog’s
Encounters at the End of the World, Chris Marker’s Sans Soleil and Jean Marie Teno’s
Sacred Places (edited by Christiane Badgley), are more introspective tomes or poetic
profiles than quantitative or data-heavy docs.
All of these skillfully crafted essays belie the chief difficulty that sinks many topic-based
films: how do you keep your audience engaged rather than putting them to sleep? We are,
after all, dealing with an essay (yawn). And yet most first-time filmmakers instinctually
gravitate toward topic-based films because they are excited about exploring an idea.
Filmmaker Jean-Pierre Gorin said that “at the core of all essay is an interest so intense
that it precludes … filming it in a straight line…The essay is rumination in Nietzche’s
sense of the word, the meandering of an intelligence.” This chapter offers editors and
directors three specific strategies you can use in the edit room which I believe are in line
with the contemporary trend in essay films--to reign in excessive “meandering” and keep
your viewers glued to the topic until the credits roll.
One way to make an idea-based film as gripping as a character driven doc is to meld the
two forms. But let me first distinguish what I am calling the “hybrid documentary” from
the term “hybrid narrative film.” The latter refers to a film that is part narrative (fictional)
and part documentary (real life), which is not what I’m talking about in this article. A so-
called hybrid documentary weaves together two structural models. As structural experts
like Fernanda Rossi, Sheila Bernard Curran and (in the narrative world) Robert McKee
have outlined, the character driven aspect will follow a protagonist (or several) on a quest
to achieve or gain something in the face of great difficulty. The essay or idea-based
aspect will present arguments that support a central idea (see “Structural Strategy”
below). Structuring the hybrid doc is not an easy feat, so I recommend that editors create
an initial assembly cut of each model before combining the two. A great example of a
commercially successful hybrid doc is Supersize Me, ranked the 9th highest grossing
theatrical documentary release with more than $9 million in revenues. Director Morgan
Spurlock attempts to stay in good health while eating only McDonalds’ food for an entire
month. In the course of his various difficulties (vomiting, high blood pressure,
impotency), Spurlock presents stunning evidence of the dangers of America’s fast food
diet in the form of experts, lawsuits, anecdotes, research and other data.
The beauty of the hybrid approach is that you can construct an elegant, complex
documentary that demands both left-brained analytical engagement and right-brained
emotional immersion. Done right, your viewer is held rapt. Other successful examples of
hybrid docs include Hip Hop: Beyond Beats and Rhymes, No Impact Man, and King
Corn. Note that the last two are personal documentaries in which, like Supersize Me, the
director/protagonist has the advantage of contriving a narrative arc (living for one year
without leaving a carbon footprint, growing an acre of corn) upon which he can hang his
intellectual arguments. Plot points pave openings for cerebral proof.
On the visual side, essay films are now employing animation (Bowling for Columbine),
humorous vérité scenes structured as character vignettes (Religulous and Sicko), and most
refreshingly, spectacular graphic gimmicks. I recommend studying such fine examples as
the psychological profiles in The Corporation, the clever timelines in I.O.U.S.A, and the
guilty/innocent verdict “stamp” in Who Killed the Electric Car? The other chief reason to
use graphical representations in your editing repertoire, in addition to adding visual
verve, is to convey complicated information. Witness the funny ballooning timeline in
I.O.U.S.A, which helps us wrap our heads around economic theory and all those zeros in
a trillion dollars. If you can afford it, develop both animation and graphic treatments for
your more knotty concepts. If your budget is tight, then aim to convey ideas through
simple reenactments, vérité scenes in which some genuine action unfolds, or spectacular
landscapes heightened with simple Motion filters such as the “lens flare.” The bottom
line: give viewers a reason to watch your film, rather than read a magazine essay on the
same topic.
What about the sonic landscape? Definitely hire a composer. Essay films are notoriously
talking-head heavy, so the idea of introducing what filmmaker Jon Else calls more
Structural Strategy
While there are plenty of exceptions, most idea-based films can be divided into three
parts. I use the word “parts,” rather than “acts” intentionally, to distinguish the powerful
essay we are crafting from the classic three-act narrative structure first articulated by
Aristotle. (For an excellent primer on how to construct a fundraising trailer for each of
these two types of films, see Fernanda Rossi’s innovative book “Trailer Mechanics.”)
In Part One, which runs no more than one-quarter of the film’s length, you introduce your
viewer to the film’s topic and ethos, or intellectual sensibility. What is the film about? Is
your approach critical, affirming, and investigative? Most importantly in Part One, you
present your hypothesis, or central idea. Let me stress that your film’s premise should be
a remarkably simple idea, i.e. “global warming is real”, to really grab your viewer.
Filmmakers with multiple dissertations and agendas make the mistake of diluting their
vision and diverting their viewers’ attention. Another way of presenting your essay film’s
single thesis is by asking a central question. For example, in Bowling for Columbine,
Michael Moore asks Charlton Heston at the climax, “Why does America have the highest
homicide rate from handguns?” All the other questions he poses in the film lead to that
central question. For a great scene-by-scene case study of Bowling for Columbine’s essay
structure, check out Sheila Bernard Curran’s excellent book, Documentary Storytelling.
In Grizzly Man, Werner Herzog poses the question about humans’ relationship to the
In Part Two, the bulk of the essay film, you craft arguments in support of your thesis and
then organize these claims in a way that keeps momentum building. In An Inconvenient
Truth, Al Gore (and by extension, director Davis Guggenheim) puts forth several
contentions to support his now rarely contested thesis—that global warming is an
impending crisis. First, he debunks the naysayers’ research. Then he presents scientific
evidence that temperatures and sea levels are rising, species are drowning, water
shortages are creating arid farmland, food shortages are becoming epidemic, etc.
If your central idea is posed as a question, then Part Two explores different answers to
that single question. Why did the Grizzly Man get so close to the Alaskan bears? Was it
because he was a fearless advocate for four-legged endangered species? A showman?
Was he a man with an intuitive, non-verbal, bear-whispering talent? An egomaniac? Was
he insane? Likewise, in Who Killed the Electric Car, director Chris Payne cross-examines
one suspect after another to find who should answer for this crime against the
environment. Was it the car company CEO’s? The marketing executives? The American
consumer? Technology?
How do you order your arguments or answers into an escalating format? Generally, you
save the most intellectually powerful and damning evidence for last, although this will
depend on whether you have the footage to illustrate it. Sometimes spectacular
cinematography trumps the power of points made by talking heads. In other words, you
may decide that great visuals accompanying a less powerful argument merit placing it
toward the end. Or, your organizational strategy may be chronological, if your timeline
naturally builds suspense. Or, you may hold for last the arguments that are best illustrated
through moving character vignettes. I say “vignettes” because essay films are more likely
to feature character snapshots rather than full-blown character arcs. Michael Moore
excels at this strategy in Fahrenheit 9/11 and Sicko.
In Part Three, you need to decide on how you want to end your film in terms of tone.
What is the emotional takeaway? Do you want your audience to leave feeling hopeful?
Outraged? Troubled? My instincts tend toward the hopeful, particularly if you’ve spent
most of your viewer’s attention span in a critical analysis of the status quo, as many
social issue documentaries do. The Celluloid Closet,
a terrific essay film that indicts Hollywood for its
homophobic erasing and vilifying of gay people,
ends with a flurry of hopeful signs: gay characters
appearing in television sitcoms and dramas, straight
actors playing gay characters, gay actors coming
out. Give your attentive audience a dessert for their
denouement--such as a sweet montage of success
stories--and they just might honor your film, as
evidenced by Fields of Fuel, an ultimately buoyant
documentary about bio-fuels that won the 2008
Audience Award at the Sundance Film Festival.
Finally, a great exercise to help focus your essay film is to write a logline for your
documentary during pre-production, production and post. This will help you clarify your
film’s central thesis. Editor Ken Schneider says that, “A clear thesis, clear title and clear
poster, all of which are related, will help people experience your film.
EXERCISES
1. Brainstorm ways of stating your documentary’s central idea, either as a short sentence
or a short question. For example, “Global warming is real” or “Who is responsible for
the demise of the original electric car?”
2. Looking through your transcript and footage, identify a soundbite that most succinctly
states your film’s central question or idea. Type it below. If you can’t find one, then
state the central idea in a sentence or two of narration (either verbal or text on screen):
4. Reorder the arguments in above in order of escalating importance. Put the arguments
that are most significant, or for which you have the most dramatic footage, toward the
end of your list.
A. __________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________
B. __________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________
C. __________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________
D. __________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________
5. Imagine you have proven your central thesis beyond as shadow of a doubt .
Congratulations! Now, what do you want your audience to think or feel or do about
it? S tart by describing h ow you want your audience t o f eel at the end of your film.
Elated? Outraged? Afraid?
What do you want your viewers to consider? What possible morals or meanings can
be derived from the arguments you’ve made?
A. __________________________________________________________________
B. __________________________________________________________________
C. __________________________________________________________________
D. __________________________________________________________________
What do you want your audience to do? What calls to action might you include?
A. __________________________________________________________________
B. __________________________________________________________________
C. __________________________________________________________________
D. __________________________________________________________________
For example, if your film is about the imploding American tax s ystem, can you use
the image of a piggy bank to represent the U .S. Treasury? Whatever image you
choose, how can it change over time to represent the ideas in Part Two of your essay
structure (arguments pr oving your central i dea)? D oes t he piggy bank grow? H ave
babies? Morph into a bull or bear? Now is the time to be creative. Allow your ideas to
be as outrageous as possible.
Brainstorm at least ten possible visual methods of illustrating the ideas in your
documentary film:
A. __________________________________________________________________
B. __________________________________________________________________
C. __________________________________________________________________
D. __________________________________________________________________
E. __________________________________________________________________
F. __________________________________________________________________
G. __________________________________________________________________
H. __________________________________________________________________
I. __________________________________________________________________
J. __________________________________________________________________
K. __________________________________________________________________
L. __________________________________________________________________
1. Edit an Assembly Cut based on the information in the above exercises. Realize that
this “radio cut” is likely to be talking-head heavy.
2. Collaborate with your film’s core team, including a story consultant, to determine
which visual approaches to illustrating your ideas have the most potential. P ick two
ideas.
3. Produce a pick-up shoot(s) a nd/or assign graphic artists t o execute your two most
promising visual approaches.
Are you feeling unsure about which interview bites to choose? Where to begin your
story? How to build suspense? Which sequence of scenes will bring your climax to a
successful conclusion? Whether you are editing your documentary yourself, or hiring an
editor, bringing a story consultant on board will save you time, money and a lot of angst.
Let’s first assume you have a low budget documentary and to save money you are editing
it yourself. While many people have learned to “edit”, i.e., operate a non-linear software
program and successfully cut and move footage, only a fraction of those that call
themselves “editors” have honed actually their craft over several years. Hiring a story
consultant (also known as a “story editor”, “story doctor” or “documentary doctor”) will
not only help you craft a tight narrative structure, you’ll do it in half the time.
A post in the online forum Doculink entitled “Story Consultants Gone Wild” points to the
growing popularity of using story consultants (the proper term from the narrative world is
“story editor”) for structural advice. This trend has grown in reaction to the large number
of filmmakers who are now editing their films themselves. While the practice of editing
one’s own documentary is still frowned upon among seasoned pros, the reality of funding
cuts and the large influx of people using affordable digital cameras have spawned a new,
do-it-yourself generation of “one-man band” documentary filmmakers. While many of
these filmmakers are intelligent and experienced, the majority can benefit enormously
from the expertise of a story editor. In fact, for a low budget director who is adept at
Of course, if you can afford an editor, this is preferable. And if you are already working
with an editor, a story consultant will support your existing collaboration. While some
editors may fear being replaced by a story consultant, this is rarely the case, unless the
editor isn’t very good to begin with. Many editors moonlight as consultants, but they
rarely want or have the time to usurp the editing role on a documentary project for which
they are consulting. If your editor’s ego is threatened, reassure them once, and hopefully
they will be confident enough in their skills to welcome the perspective of an outside
consultant.
You may be wondering why you need a consultant at all if you have a professional editor.
There are three reasons. First, your editor will eventually lose perspective too, just as the
director or anyone who works with the material long enough does. You’ll need a fresh
perspective, someone who can view the material anew, as your viewers will see it. The
second reason to hire a story consultant is to help mediate the often volatile and
creatively chaotic director/editor relationship. A story consultant provides a valuable
third opinion, and he or she can marry the best of two conflicting structural approaches--
or provide a third approach that works even better. Finally, a story consultant is
experienced at seeing the big picture and can quickly hone in on structural issues that
may blind an editor who has been busy cutting scenes at a micro-editing level.
Ideally you’ll hire a consultant for ½ day during pre-production, when you are
determining the story potential or essay components of your film. They will be able to
assess the story strength of the film you have in mind, and offer suggestions for the kinds
of scenes and sound bites you need to elicit during filming. Television acquisition
executives and audiences want compelling stories. Story consultants understand what it
takes to craft a story. They may even tell you that you don’t have a film--yet. Heed their
advice and keep digging.
If you like their work, hire them again before cutting your first assembly, when you can
show a bit of footage and communicate on paper what you actually ended up capturing
on film. A good story consultant can see plot points on paper, thus saving you the
expense of hiring them to watch several hours of footage. On the other hand, you may
want to show them four hours of your best footage. If you have a film with multiple
protagonists, I suggest cutting separate “character cuts”, or 20-30 minute sequences of the
best material for each character. Viewed separately, these clips will help your consultant
evaluate the story arc of each protagonist.
For best results and continuity, I recommend hiring the same consultant periodically
throughout postproduction at assembly cut, rough cut, fine cut and locked picture stages.
If you are stuck on a particular problem, for example, how to cut your film’s opening
scene, ask for a quickie consultation. Remember that story editors are much more adept at
troubleshooting structural pitfalls and generating storytelling solutions that will keep your
viewers glued to the screen than are members of your advisory team, or participants at a
rough cut screening.
Rates vary widely, from $40/hour to $250/hour, and you usually get what you pay for.
(More up-to-date rates can be found online). Many story consultants have a package or
day rate, which is cheaper than hiring them by the hour. The good news is that you are
not hiring these professionals for weeks at a time. Budget for ten days of story consulting
and you’ll be in great shape. You may not even need that much.
Keep in mind that since story consultants don’t need to work with high-resolution
footage, you don’t need to hire locally. In other words, you can upload or email low-
resolution cuts anywhere on the planet. Many story consultants use video streaming
software that allows you to watch the cuts together, though you may be thousands of
miles apart.
One of the great things about the independent documentary community is that colleagues
are frequently willing to help one another. They’ll view a rough cut and offer advice at no
cost. We filmmakers applaud this community spirit. But realize that a colleague
volunteering time will not give you the detailed story guidance that you need to edit your
documentary over time. Imagine getting valuable outside perspective, reassurance about
where you are on the right track, trouble-shooting from assembly cut to locked picture,
To help you in your quest for the ideal story consultant for your film, imagine working
with a story consultant who knows precisely when momentum should build in your
documentary. A good consultant will be generous with their know-how, and you will
learn (for your current film and your next one) the essential elements that your film must
have to grip viewers straight out of the gate. Wondering how to open your film? Your
story consultant can give you ideas on how to edit an inciting incident to launch your
story. Picture yourself learning several strategies to ethically ramp up suspense at just the
right times. Now you know which scene to choose and where it belongs. You are gaining
an understanding of how to reverse-engineer a scene, beat by beat, and how to craft each
act, down to the minute. You’re receiving detailed directions on how to construct a
satisfying climax and how to avoid a prolonged ending. You’re learning how to close
your film in a way that will leave viewers feeling deeply moved.
You’ll want to get clear on your story arc as early as possible in the filmmaking process,
ideally, before you shoot a frame. Now that you know the benefits of working with a
story consultant, begin your interviews from that state of mind. As the old saying goes,
the right teacher appears when the student is ready.
EXERCISE
1. List three potential benefits of hiring a story consultant for your film:
A. __________________________________________________________________
B. __________________________________________________________________
C. __________________________________________________________________
ASSIGNMENTS
1. Hire a story consultant. To find a consultant that’s right for you, consider using these
three methods:
A. Inquire on an online forum such as D-word or Doculink;
B. Ask veteran documentary filmmakers and editors for referrals;
C. Check to see who is teaching classes on documentary structure at nonhprofit
organizations such as the San Francisco Film Society (SFFS) or the Independent
Documentary Association (IDA).
2. List a nd s hare w ith your s tory consultant t he objectives you ha ve in mind f or your
collaboration, including troubleshooting specific structural problems, brainstorming
solution and tightening your film’s structural pacing.
A. __________________________________________________________________
B. __________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________
Over the years I have picked up a great deal of lore about editing aesthetics. Had I been
able to learn these editing tips at the start of my career, from a book or a mentor, I would
have been very grateful indeed! I offer these tips to emerging editors, knowing that they
will add their own exciting innovations to the field as well.
While Walter Murch’s popular book In the Blink of an Eye is a great introduction to
video or film editing, his examples and teachings come from the world of fiction films.
This chapter will reveal the fundamental “do’s and don’ts” for the micro editing stage of
documentary filmmaking. I will reveal ways to transition smoothly from one shot to
another and one scene to another. Look for the following opportunities to make great
transitions while logging your footage and at rough cut stage, and then hone them during
fine cut and locked picture stages.
In Kirby Dick’s documentary This Film Is Not Yet Rated, for example, the editor uses
occasional jump cuts and audiences seem to take it in stride. Multiple uses of jump
cuts within a short period of time, however, should be avoided because the constant
cutting is jarring to the viewer. Note that jump cuts used within a vérité scene, in
which action is unfolding in front of the camera, can be used to speed up the process
as well as convey a humorous effect.
So if you are looking to add humor to a scene, consider ways in which you can
incorporate jump cuts. A great example of this is in the personal documentary Blue
Vinyl by Judith Helfand. The director/protagonist uses jump cuts in a scene of a
family conversation around the dinner table to add a funny effect to her efforts to
persuade her parents to remove the vinyl siding from their home.
2. Don’t cut on motion. Motion in this context is defined as camera motion, not the
motion of the subject in front of the camera. The camera can make the following
possible motions: zooming (moving in), pulling back, tilting (moving vertically up or
down), or panning (moving horizontally left or right). The rule states that if the A
shot (the first of two adjacent shots in a timeline) is moving, it is bad form to cut to a
static B shot. The A shot should first stop movement and “resolve” itself. Of course,
this rule is being broken all the time as newbie filmmakers who are not aware of the
rule introduce new aesthetics to the documentary field. (Similar to how shaky footage
has gained a following as a popular “gritty” look). We shall see later in this chapter
some legitimate reasons for breaking the rule not to cut on motion.
Split edits
Split edits, also known as J cuts or L cuts, have the harmonious effect of stitching
together two shots. Technically speaking, either the video track is preceding the audio
track in the timeline, or vice versa, the audio track is preceding the video track. For
example, imagine watching a vérité scene of a rock band on stage. We see the band
performing and hear them singing. Then the sound of the song lowers and we hear a new
voice say, “After his first concert tour….” Then the image cuts from the visual of the
band to the visual and audio of the rest of the person delivering a sound bite. “…Pete
never looked back.” If you examine the shape of this cut in a non-linear editing timeline,
the sound bite resembles a “J” shape, hence it is called a J-cut. If the editor had begun
with the sound bite and then covered the last part of it with the vérité footage of the rock
band, the shape of the sound bite would resemble an “L.” Good editors use split edits
liberally.
Split edits are not the only way to knit your shots together. The following 8 methods are
professional tricks to transition from an A shot to an adjacent B shot. Make sure to put
them into your own documentary editing toolbox.
1. Cut on motion. Cutting from one shot in motion to an adjacent shot that is also in
motion is aesthetically pleasing. For example, shot A pans from left to right as the
camera moves along with a football player jogging across a field. The player never
2. Cut on gesture. Cut on gesture simply means that a gesture made in the A shot is
mirrored in the B shot. For example in the personal documentary film Super Size Me,
there is a shot in which director/protagonist Morgan Spurlock shakes hands with one
nutritionist to say good bye, which is then cut with another shot of Spurlock reaching
out to shake hands with a second
nutritionist. Another example, from the
documentary film Indiana Aria, features a
sound bite in which a man is gesturing with
his hands to indicate “large breasts”. It is
cut with a shot of an opera singer onstage
Indiana Aria (2002)
who is making a similar wide-armed
Indiana Aria, 2002
gesture. You may have also seen the cliché
cut on gesture when the A shot shows one door closing and the B shot shows another
door opening. It is a great way to transition fluidly from one scene to another. Look
for opportunities as you log to cut on gesture.
3. Cut on wipe. A wipe can be fashioned when an object passes in front of the camera so
close that it completely fills the camera for a flash. Typically the scene turns black for
a split second or, in the case of a vehicle moving in front of the camera, there is brief
blur that fills the frame before the vehicle passes. The moment in which the passing
4. Cut on action. This is an old golden rule from the Walter Murch era that will never go
out of fashion: You will produce a more dynamic cut if you edit in the middle of the
action. For example, imagine watching a shot of a man sitting in a chair, talking to a
companion. He reaches in his pocket and then strikes a match to light a cigarette. The
best place to cut to the next shot is the moment he strikes the match. The action
“hides” the cut into the next shot. This technique is much more dynamic than cutting
from one still shot to another.
5. Cut on blink. Cutting on The Blink of an Eye (the title of Walter Murch’s book) is a
variation of a cutting on action. It simply means that when you are cutting away from
the human face, the transition from one shot to another will appear seamless if you
cut when the eyes blink. Try it. And start paying attention to those kinds of cuts in
both documentary and narrative films. You will be amazed at the results.
6. Cut on swish. A “swish” in this sense is when the camera quickly moves away from
its framing, as if the camera person is suddenly turning to refocus on something else.
That quick blurred motion is a great way to transition into the next shot. You only
need 30 frames of the swish to gracefully lead us to the next shot.
7. Clean entrance. Look for opportunities to cut on a “clean entrance.” In other words,
start your shot with nothing in the scene and allow something--a person, animal, or
object--to enter the scene.
Motion effects
Speeding up, slowing down or even reversing your shots can convey a variety of moods
and even fix problems. For example, let’s say that your shot pans from left to right. But
you need the pan to move from right to left. Simply reversing the shot will achieve this
result. You need to be careful, of course, that there are no people, vehicles, or other
moving objects that would start to look strange if they are moving backwards!
SLOW MOTION
Slow motion can be used for dramatic effect as well as to solve technical problems. In
general, slow motion adds a serious, weighty tone to a scene. You have seen this
dramatic, sometimes somber effect before in slowed archival footage. (By the way,
slowing archival footage saves you money because you don’t need to buy as many
seconds).
If your footage is shaky, you can sometimes use slow motion to stabilize the shot. For
example, let’s say you have a close up cutaway shot of an audience member that is too
shaky to use. Try using two seconds of the most stable part of the shot and slow it down
by 15-25%. Just be sure that the motion does not appear to be slowed.
FAST MOTION
Fast motion is a great way to infuse a scene with humor. For some reason, the image of
people moving quickly reminds us of a Charlie Chaplin scenario and conveys a funny
effect. Fast motion can also be used, of course, to condense an activity that takes a long
time. For example, you can speed up the preparation of an apple pie either through jump
cuts or through the use of fast motion.
Dissolves
Dissolves should be used judiciously and with a clear purpose in mind. In general,
dissolves add a softening effect. So if you are going for a hard news feel, an investigative
feel, or any kind of tough gritty mood, you want to avoid dissolves.
There are three good reasons to use dissolves. First, use a dissolve to indicate that time is
passing. For example, let’s say that you show four scenes from a baseball game and each
scene transitions with a dissolve. The overall effect is that innings are passing by.
A second great reason to use a dissolve is to transition from an interview or vérité scene
into flat art, such as a photograph, a newspaper headline, or some other two dimensional
graphic element. And if you are going to use a dissolve to transition to flat art, you’ll
probably want to dissolve out as well. Dissolves used between a series of photographs,
for example, will often convey a pleasing effect. But again, ask yourself, what mood am I
A third reason to use a dissolve between two shots is to transition a hard cut. For
example, let’s say that the A shot is tilting vertically and never comes to rest. The B shot
is an interview sound bite. Use a dissolve to transition and essentially soften the breach of
the rule not to cut on motion. Dissolves can also be used between jump cuts to soften
them.
Note that fading to and from black typically conveys the sense that a new scene or
segment is beginning. As such, avoid dipping to black within a scene.
Length of shots
In the last decade, cuts have gotten quicker. Much quicker. Whereas shots used to stay on
screen 6-8 seconds, these days 2-4 seconds is the norm. While cuts (and sound bites) are
getting shorter, at times it’s appropriate to keep a shot on screen for a longer than normal
time. Obviously if there is action unfolding on screen, you want to let it unfold without
cutting away. This is particularly true in scenes involved with human drama. In Daughter
from Danang, the climax scene shows the protagonist involved in a difficult conversation
with her family. Editor Kim Roberts allowed long uncut shots to convey to the viewer a
sense of authenticity about what was unfolding. Viewers understand at a subconscious
level that long takes mean we are seeing the real thing unfold. There is no manipulation
of time via cutaways distorting the experience.
While it is fine to experiment with “temp” music during the rough cut stage, save your
fine tuning of music for fine cut and locked picture. Otherwise, you’ll find that you have
wasted time on scenes that you will either move or dump later.
Music is a great way to not only convey emotion but, in a pacing sense, to transition from
one scene to another. A music “sting” is a few notes, lasting only a brief moment, that
convey the movie is shifting from one scene to another. You see it all the time in reality
TV shows. The music sting usually accompanies an external shot of the new location.
Music underneath a vérité scene can be used to guide the editing if you start out cutting
shots based on the beat. But it is important to mix it up a bit and allow a few beats to go
by before making a cut. Cutting on the beat is fine for a short time, but it can lead to a
repetitive, monotonous experience for the viewer. So vary your cuts on and off the beat
within a scene. Your composer, if you have one, will fine tune the music once he or she
possesses your “locked picture”--meaning every frame of video will stay where it is. The
composer needs the locked picture version of your documentary film to compose frame-
specific music.
Photographs
When editing your rough cut, I suggest not taking the time to put moves on your
photographs-- just place them to indicate the visuals that you will require. However, at
fine cut stage, it is time to try out some moves and effects on your photos. While the so-
called “Ken Burns effect” of slowly zooming into a photo is now a cliché, it is still a very
useful technique to add drama to the visual experience of still art. Watch the documentary
Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room for some great examples of conveying character
through moves on photographs. Take care that you don’t zoom in too close and loose
video resolution, unless you’ve scanned the images at a very high resolution and start off
Titles
It is amazing how few variations there are in the look of titles in documentary films.
Some titles serve as exposition, a kind of written narration. Generally these appear as two
to four sentences on the screen and the colors are off-white on a black background
(though black backgrounds seem to be falling out of vogue). When editing titles, leave
them on screen long enough to read. My rule of thumb is that you should be able to read
them through twice before cutting away from the title. This gives even the slow reader
enough time to absorb the meaning.
Another type of title is a subtitle. Subtitles are used when translating from one language
to another or to clarify dialogue that is difficult to discern due to an accent or speech
impediment. Again, off-white or pale yellow is the preferred color for titles because they
pop against almost any video background. Be sure to add at least a drop shadow and
perhaps an outline to your titles/subtitle to help them further stand out. I suggest font size
30 for subtitles, making them large enough for your middle aged and senior viewers to
read easily.
Subtitles should not exceed two lines per shot. It is fine to add five-frame dissolves to
either end or, if you prefer, just cut from one subtitle to another. If you are using subtitles
to translate a foreign language, it is not necessary to translate word-for-word. Just make
sure to check with an expert to convey an accurate translation. If you’re using subtitles to
make clear someone’s accent or speech other than proper English, it’s usually fine to tidy
up the grammar of the subtitle rather than include grammatical errors.
EXERCISE
Watch your rough cut with an eye toward crafting the pace to strengthen the moment. For
example, toward t he e nd of t he film, you may want t o quicken t he cuts t o pace your
climax w ith more s uspense. O r, you m ay w ant t o add s ome breathing r oom after a s ad
death scene at the midpoint, to give viewers a moment to absorb the gravity and compose
themselves.
Brainstorm at least five scenes that you could fine tune with micro-editing tools such as
quicker cuts, music stings, scenic wide shots, cuts on m otion, slow motion, fast motion,
dissolves, sound effects and other visual FX:
A. __________________________________________________________________
B. __________________________________________________________________
C. __________________________________________________________________
D. __________________________________________________________________
E. __________________________________________________________________
ASSIGNMENTS
1. Work w ith your e ditor t o e dit your Fine C ut w ith a n e ye t oward a voiding t he t hree
editing “don’ts”, and including as many “dos,” as possible.
2. Try out di fferent s tylistic tr eatments o f photographs a nd ot her s till a rt i n your f ilm,
ranging from simple zooms to high-end motion effects. Decide on the look that works
best for your vision of the film and your budget.
Let us first distinguish between trailer types, because the word “trailer” can mean a few
different things.
There is the movie trailer that we see when we go to the theater-- typically a short 1-3
minute video that entices us to watch the entire film. These days, screening trailers for
documentary films are increasingly common. Typically they are under three minutes and
viewed online. A fundraising trailer is a different beast entirely. Generally longer,
ranging from 3-7 minutes, the fundraising trailer attempts to entice people to give money
to support the development of a work-in-progress.
Note that acquisition executives at HBO have counseled documentary filmmakers who
want to pitch their film to the premium cable station not to spend a lot of money on an
expensive fundraising trailer for their sake. They would rather see 20-30 minutes of select
scenes or a rough cut. So before spending a lot of money on cutting a trailer, make sure
that your intended audience wants to see it. Also noteworthy industry lore: some grant
agency executives are required to only watch the first minute of a trailer--which leads to
our discussion about production values.
Production Values
My rule of thumb is to A) show your best shots in your trailer (in fact the first 60 seconds
should showcase your very best footage) and B) do not include any shot that is poorly lit,
shaky, or otherwise unacceptable broadcast quality. Your trailer should also feature
signature stylistic elements. For example, maybe your film features graphics of an
animated time line as in I.O.U.S.A, or maybe you have developed a unique camera angle,
like the one in Murder Ball. In Murder Ball, the camera is mounted onto a wheelchair
If your documentary is going to include archival footage, reflect that in the trailer. It’s
generally OK if you haven’t obtained the rights to archive clips yet, if you’re screening
for a small audience. In fact, you can even substitute and borrow from other documentary
films--as long as your funders know what you are doing and you’re not passing off the
footage as your own. The same is true for music. Generally speaking, you temporarily
use the music without rights as long as the fundraising trailer is meant for a small,
specific group of people and not for a large audience or viewing online.
Set Up
The first few minutes of your trailer needs to set up the film’s subject. Who is the
protagonist and what do they want? What is the central idea of your film? What are you
trying to prove? What case are you trying to make? It’s a good idea to use a title card, or
even a few cards, within the first minute of the film to explain to the viewer what the film
is about. You can simply state, for example, “This film is about one woman’s efforts to
construct the first off-the-grid public housing in Seattle.” Don’t waste time contorting
sound bites to explain background information when a title card can convey the
background exposition quickly and simply.
In addition to setting up what the film about, the protagonist(s) and what the main
characters want, you need to let your audience know where and when the film takes
place. And, if possible, include an inciting incident. For example, maybe your inciting
incident is news footage of a nuclear power plant leak which then created enormous
political will in city hall to restore the adjacent wetlands.
Remember, your audience has a lot to assimilate in 4-7 minutes. Your trailer should be
laid out simply. I recommend plotting a linear timeline. In a short trailer, there is no time
Obstacles
Present an obstacle midway through your trailer. We should already know what your
protagonist wants, so throw something in their way to bring them to a halt. If your trailer
is for a topic-based film, then perhaps you present a challenge the central premise you are
trying to prove.
The point is that, midway through your trailer, you need to add some sort of story twist or
intellectual wrinkle that changes the trailer’s direction. For example, let’s say your film is
about a non-profit agency executive who wants to create an eco-center in the city’s most
neglected neighborhood. Halfway through the trailer, African-American community
leaders call a press conference charging that the Executive Director, a white woman, is
not hiring enough community members to work on the project.
Ending
End your trailer on an unresolved note to leave your audience wanting more. For
example, imagine watching a documentary trailer about a woman who is climbing Mt.
Everest, with the help of her husband who is stationed at the base camp. Midway through
the trailer, she falls and breaks her leg. Now, at the end of the trailer, the radio connection
with her husband goes dead. What’s going to happen next?
Another example would be a film about a national spelling bee. At the end of the trailer,
we see two finalists. One of them fails to spell a word and the remaining contestant is
struggling to spell it correctly. Leave the trailer unresolved to create a feeling of suspense
so the audience will want more. If you can’t find a way to leave your trailer on a
Yet another way to end a trailer is to either pose a question or expand a particular
situation to reflect a wider cultural, historical, or political context. For example, in a film
about a man who wants to create a groundbreaking mentoring program, we find out
halfway through the trailer that the state cut his funding. Toward the end of the trailer, we
get this question: “What will happen to his project and to all the other city projects
coming to a halt because of the state budget crisis?”
The end of your trailer should include a title card with contact information, possibly a call
to action, a note that it is a work-in-progress and your copyright information.
EXERCISES
1. Brainstorm five ways to convey to potential funders the central idea of your film in
the first two minutes of your fundraising trailer. Methods may range from title cards
(articulate what the cards say), to an interview bite, to a vérité moment.
A. __________________________________________________________________
B. __________________________________________________________________
C. __________________________________________________________________
D. __________________________________________________________________
E. __________________________________________________________________
2. Identify the five most beautifully composed shots in your film. These can be
interview setups, scenes, vérité moments, a reenactment, etc:
A. __________________________________________________________________
B. __________________________________________________________________
C. __________________________________________________________________
D. __________________________________________________________________
E. __________________________________________________________________
ASSIGNMENTS
1. Create a paper cut for your trailer according to this simple outline:
A. Central idea. State the protagonist’s goal or your central thesis idea in a visually
compelling way.
B. Obstacle. What obstacle or story wrinkle will emerge in the middle of your
trailer?
2. Create a bin for your Trailer footage. Copy your most compelling clips into it,
including the five most beautifully lit and well-composed shots you identified in
Exercise #2 above.
3. Edit your trailer according to the paper outline designed in Assignment #1. Find a
way to use at least three of your most beautiful shots in the first minute of your film.
4. Go through your trailer and eliminate (or cover) any footage that is shaky, poorly lit,
inaudible or otherwise displays shoddy production values.
5. Get feedback from professionals and lay people. Reedit where necessary.
Getting feedback on your rough cut is critical to the postproduction flow. This guide will
explain the steps to prepare for and conduct a successful rough cut screening.
Fernanda Rossi, a.k.a. “the Documentary Doctor”, has written a wonderful primer on
screening trailers in her excellent book “Trailer Mechanics”, available at
www.documentarydoctor.com. You’ll find additional ideas about screenings in the highly
recommended section, “Tips for Test Screenings”.
One thing to keep in mind: if you showed a perfectly edited film (for example,
Encounters at the End of the World) to a test audience and asked for feedback on your
rough cut, they would instinctively find something wrong with it. In other words, people
tend to think giving feedback means pinpointing what’s not
working. This guide will stress the importance of getting
feedback on what’s already working with your film in addition
to what’s not. As a director, you need to know both.
PREPARATION
Who to Invite
There are three types of people you should invite to view your
rough cut: 1) experts on the topic who serve as your advisors, 2) seasoned documentary
professionals, and 3) people representative of your film’s target audience.
Each audience should be handled differently. This guide is geared more toward showing
your film to a group of everyday people who will likely want to see your film when it’s
released. But let me first say a word about the first two groups. Experts on your subject
While it’s OK to give advisors and documentary professionals a copy or link to your
rough cut and ask them to get back to you, filmmakers with a budget for screenings may
want to rent out a screening room at a local filmmaking agency.
This arrangement builds esteem for your film, encourages invitees to take the event
seriously, and creates a nice pre-release buzz for your film. In addition, filmmaking
professionals will appreciate the face-to-face networking opportunity.
For our third group, the everyday people who will see your film, it is fine to hold a
screening in the living room of a friend who has agreed to host you. In fact, a host is
advisable--given that you will likely be a bundle of nerves. Your job will be to listen
(more on that later) so don’t burden yourself with the traditional tasks of hosting: taking
coats, offering refreshments, cleaning up.
Enlist your staff and friends to help out. You’ll need a greeter, cook, host, and cleanup
crew. You may also need audio/video technical assistance if your gathering is in a
screening venue. I highly recommend getting a note-taker. Having someone other than
you to take notes during the verbal feedback part of the screening allows you to stay
present to absorb all the comments.
Refreshments
Feed people before the screening. Not a lot, just some light refreshments (protein will
help keep people alert) to encourage conviviality and boost blood sugar for the requisite
concentration. I advise against serving alcohol, again because you want people to stay
mentally sharp, but if you do serve alcoholic beverages just open a bottle of wine rather
than mix a blender of cocktails. Appearances matter and this is not a party.
Sign In Table
A sign in table at the front door serves two functions: it gears the guests toward the
seriousness of the event and it pads your mailing list with people who are likely to donate
and who will want to know about your film’s release.
Transcripts
Before your screening, write up a 1-2 page questionnaire to hand out directly after the
screening. An anonymous questionnaire will solicit people’s truest feelings since they
won’t have to worry about hurting your feelings. Begin the questionnaire with an open-
ended question like “What did you think of the film?” For the second questionnaire, I like
to ask, “What did you like about this film?” or “What’s working well in the film?” Since
people tend to focus on giving criticism and forget that you need to know what’s working
well, this question is important to include. It’s also helpful for the filmmaker’s delicate
ego to have positive feedback near the top of the questionnaire. Ask how the film could
be improved and then ask about areas you are specifically concerned about like, “Do you
like the music?”, “What did you think of the old man character” or “Did the film take too
long to get going?”
Greet, thank and mingle with guests for 30 minutes before the screening. Then ask your
host to announce that the screening will begin and guests should get settled. Have your
host introduce you, and then it’s your time to shine. Since this will be the only time
during the evening when you will seriously transmit information, I recommend practicing
this 5-minute introduction.
First, thank your guests and let them know how valuable
their feedback is. Explain that you need to know what's
working in the film as well as what's not working.
Explain that you specifically want to know if there is
anything in the cut that is confusing.
Finally, tell your audience how long the cut is and inform them that immediately after the
screening you will be handing out anonymous questionnaires. The questionnaires are
designed to solicit their honest, first-impact impressions. They should used this quiet time
to reflect, write and share their feedback on what worked and what didn't. Ask them if
there are any questions and then press play.
When the film is done, turn off the TV, raise the lights and have
someone immediately hand out questionnaires and pens. Quickly
stand in front of your group, quietly thank them for their attention
and ask them to take 15-20 minutes to give their feedback on the
questionnaires. Explain that this is an introspective time and that
group discussion will follow. If they need to use the restrooms,
that's fine. Keep your announcement brief. Your audience needs to
hear their own thoughts, not yours.
After fifteen minutes ask if anyone needs more time, allow five minutes more, and then
begin the group discussion. Remind people that it's very important for you to know what's
working as well as what's not working and suggest that they begin their comments with
something they liked about the film. Throw out an opening question to get things started
such as, "What did you guys think of the film?" Then sit back and listen. If you are a
first-time filmmaker, listening may be the hardest part of the evening for you. Your
To curb the tendency to justify our rough cut, keep in mind the following observations.
First, if your viewer is confused or if they didn't like something, they are right. You can't
argue with someone's taste or lack of understanding. Do you really want to waste your
time justifying and explaining what you meant to convey in a scene? Of course not! You
certainly won't be able to do that with the tens of thousands of future viewers. So say
“thank you” and ask for clarification if you're confused by their comment, and then shut
up. Let your note taker take notes.
The second thing to keep in mind is that, while your test audiences are usually right about
what's not working in the film, they are rarely right about how to fix it, says veteran
filmmaker Jon Else. So graciously accept their feedback (this is valuable information)
and know that later you and your expert postproduction team will tackle solving the
editorial problems. Don't take viewers' fix-it advice too seriously unless your viewers are
seasoned filmmaking professionals. But do pay attention to any problem that’s mentioned
more than once.
Third, remember that people from whom you solicit feedback can't help but put most of
their energy and attention into what's not working. They think that's their job. Knowing
this, you can tell the defensive little voice in your head to cool it and keep mum. Allow
20-40 minutes for discussion. Half-way through, announce how much time is left and ask
to hear from people who haven't spoken--especially if a few people have dominated the
discussion. Be alert for discussion dominators, because they can easily skew the group-
think towards a certain "take" on the film (fortunately you already have their first
impressions documented on the questionnaires). If you feel certain voices are dominating
or skewing the discussion, thank them and change the subject. For example, "I'd really
like to know what people thought about the pacing. Did the film move along at a good
At the appointed time, graciously thank everyone for their valuable feedback. At this
point, the host should take over, invite people to have more food (or not) and tell people
when the gathering will end. I suggest ending fairly quickly because you have some
serious work head of you.
In an ideal world, your clean-up team dives into tidying the house while you, and
possibly a trusted co-worker, squirrel away to review the questionnaires. No doubt you're
anxious to read viewers' first impressions but if you can't find the privacy to do this, then
wait until you get home. Remember as you head into this exciting and vulnerable
moment--your viewers invariably stressed what's not working and, to make matters
worse, you are likely to focus 90% of your attention on the negative comments. So I
suggest reading your questionnaires with a grain of salt and every time someone says
something good about your film, read it twice, feel it, circle it, and let it sink in,
congratulate yourself and then move on. The purpose of this initial reading is to get an
overall sense of reaction to your film and satisfy your curiosity. It's important to limit the
evening's reading to that. It's been a long day, likely full of emotional ups and downs.
Bottom line: this is not the time to start solving problems. Your job is to get a general
impression of the state of your film. Tomorrow you can focus on troubleshooting
structural issues and decide whether or not you need a story editor (consultant) to help.
EXERCISES
1. Who would you like to invite to your rough cut screening? What mix of film
professionals, advisors, and lay people? In the space below, list 15-30 potential
invitees.
2. Brainstorm venues for your rough cut screening (free and fee-based), based on your
guest list:
A. __________________________________________________________________
B. __________________________________________________________________
C. __________________________________________________________________
D. __________________________________________________________________
E. __________________________________________________________________
Note that many of these tasks can be delegated to your host and/or film team member.
2. _______________________________________________________________
3. _______________________________________________________________
4. _______________________________________________________________
5. _______________________________________________________________
7. _______________________________________________________________
8. _______________________________________________________________
9. _______________________________________________________________
10. _______________________________________________________________
C. For each problem, brainstorm 3 pot ential fixes in the space provided above. Ask
your story consultant and/or editor to do the same.
D. Share your ideas with a story consultant and your editor. Work together to fix the
problem areas in your next cut.
Structural pitfalls will appear frequently at both the assembly and rough cut stages. With
the help of test audiences and a story consultant, these can be identified and fixed. For a
more exhaustive do-it-yourself structural analysis, I recommend the “Story Doctoring Kit
for Documentary Rough Cuts,” available at http://newdocediting.com/products.
Before you begin, gather all the feedback you’ve solicited from members of the film’s
family (assembly cut screening) and test audiences (rough cut screenings). If you have a
lone criticism with which you disagree, I wouldn’t worry about it too much. But if more
than one person makes the same comments, for example, “the film takes too long to get
going,” then take this concern seriously.
For identifying and fixing structural problems in a character driven documentary, I like to
use an Act Timetable (example below) and a Doc Plot Map (the customizable,
copyrighted plot diagram from New Doc Editing). The Act Timetable will tell you where,
in minutes, the act climaxes should fall for each of the three acts. If your film is not
peaking at these times, then you are not in sync with Aristotle’s classic story rhythm.
At or At or At or At or At or At or At or
Inciting Under before before before before before before before
Incident 24% First First First First First First First
Act Act Act Act Act Act Act
Act One 24% 3.5 5 6 14.5 21 24 29
Midpoint 54% 8 11 14 32.4 48 54 65
Act Two
80% 12 16 21 48 70 80 96
climax
In the example of a Doc Plot Map illustrated below, the blue arcs show ideal arc lengths
and where the peaks for a three act narrative structure should fall. Notice that the X-axis
displays the film’s timeline, while the Y-axis shows emotional intensity. Ideally, the first
act climax occurs ¼ into the film, the second act climax peaks a little over ¾ of the way
through the film, and the third act climax makes the highest peak just over 7/8 into the
film.
In this example, the green arcs show where a particular rough cut’s arcs are appearing.
Notice that the first act takes too long to get going, the second act climax peaks just after
the film’s midpoint, and the third act climax is not only too soon, it isn’t the film’s
highest peak. In other words, this film takes too long to get going, never recovers
momentum after the sixty percent point, and takes forever to end. That’s a prescription
for comatose viewers, who are glazed over rather than glued to the screen!
Is your doc-in-progress suffering from S.A.D. (Structural Affective Disorder)? Here are
ideas for diagnosing some of the most common structural maladies and prescriptions for
fixing them:
Inciting Impotency.
Is your opening scene limp? Do test audiences complain that your film takes too long to
get going? Here are three ideas for fixing this problem. First, make sure that the first few
minutes of your film employ your best production values and hook the viewer with an
interesting scene, idea or visual. Within five minutes, the viewer should have a good idea
of what the film will be about.
Second, check to see that you have either an inciting incident in the first act or a central
hypothesis at the beginning of your topic-based documentary. The central hypothesis
should be one and only one simple idea. If it’s too complex, or if you’re proposing more
than one thesis (or none at all), who can blame the viewer for feeling lost? For character
driven docs, the inciting incident is an event that throws the protagonist’s world out of
order and gives rise to their goal or quest.
Third, if you already have an inciting incident, see if you can move it earlier. The sooner
the story starts, the better. Robert McKee advises bringing in the catalyst scene, or
unexpected moment, as soon as the audience has a reason to care about the main
character.
Sagging Midpoint.
How do you escalate suspense in Act Two? Proper use of back-story, reversals and a
midpoint are three solutions. A dramatic back-story placed late in Act Two will rev up
A reversal works like ice-skating. Your plot pushes one way (for example, a negative
polarity) and then it pushes the opposite way (positive polarity). Ideally, a reversal is an
abrupt 180-degree turn in action. Again, placing this device late in Act Two ramps up the
action at the required moment.
Can you craft a midpoint for your film? Midpoints have a few different functions, as
explained in Chapter 8, and one of them is to bolster a sagging middle or Act Two. For
this to work, you need to portray a life-and-death crisis for either 1) a character; 2) a
relationship; or 3) a person’s way of being. In this third type of midpoint, the personality
crisis, we see the first signs that your character is undergoing a profound transformation.
Climax Constipation.
When the great push is on, don’t plug up the climax. There’s a reason Act Three is the
shortest act in the film. Shorter means tighter cuts, raised stakes and a sense of
accelerating action. Time out your third act and if it’s longer than 20 percent of your film,
review carefully for places to cut. Remember, the rhythm of this act is more important
than getting every last treasured scene in your film.
Deadly Denouement
If test audiences complain that your film takes too long to end, you either have a
constipated climax or a deadly denouement. The latter means that you are taking too long
to wrap up the film after the climax scene. Once we know whether or not the protagonist
has achieved their goal, it’s time to show a brief glimpse (2-3 minutes) of how this
outcome has affected the protagonist’s life. The temptation with both character driven
There’s nothing wrong with tackling a depressing social issue, but if you don’t do it in an
engaging and even entertaining way, you have only yourself to blame when your film
gets pulled from the theaters after a short run. Who wants to spend a Friday night at the
movies watching a kill joy doc? Here are some solutions for treating depressing
documentaries.
First, find a way to be entertaining. Think Morgan Spurlock in Super Size Me or Michael
Moore in all his films. Assembly stage is not too late to craft an engaging and funny
narrator/persona (on or off camera). Where else can you provide comic relief? Where is
the film particularly grim? Ask test audiences about this issue. They won’t be able to tell
you how to fix it, but they can certainly spot a prolonged downer. You may need to
revisit your transcripts to recall funny comments or scenes. Remember that comedy often
has its roots in anger, so channel your outrage in a way that disarms your viewer and
tickles their funny bone.
Second, consider using animation to craft a lighter tone. Two great examples of how
animation is used to temper what are essentially angry indictments are the South Park clip
in Bowling for Columbine and the MPAA rating board phone scene in Kirby Dick’s This
Film Is Not Yet Rated. I recommend watching these films for inspiration.
Third, if your essay-based film’s sensibility is a loud wakeup call (An Inconvenient
Truth), a nail-the-bad-guy investigative piece (Enron) or an agonizing look-at-the-mess-
we’re-in (No End in Sight), it’s a good idea to make the ending hopeful. I know you
don’t want to make a “feel-good” movie, and that’s not what I’m advocating. But
consider this: if you spend the bulk of your film proving an essentially negative thesis,
Are test audiences getting your characters confused? There are a couple standard
solutions. The simplest and perhaps most effective is to simply identify your characters
frequently (rather than just once at the start of the film) with liberal use of lower-thirds.
Sometimes more drastic measures require de-lacing a film in which multiple storylines
are woven together. In other words, rather than checker boarding multiple protagonists,
separate the arcs out and tell one story at a time. This technique worked well in Iraq in
Fragments, a film that profiles three Iraqi characters, one after another.
Do your first-impression visuals require reshoots? This isn’t a structural problem; it’s a
significant cosmetic one. If your cinematography is dark, shaky, soft or otherwise
visually flat, you may need to bolster your production values with some powerful shot-in-
the-arm visuals, such as aerials, animation, graphics, dramatically-lit interviews and even
beauty shots at the magic hour. Hire a cinematographer for one day and knock off two or
three of the items from this list. Hire a graphics student to create a title treatment. Your
film will shine from the face-lift.
Information Overload.
If your test viewers say they are confused, that can mean a lot of things. First, don’t
argue--find out more information. You may need to clarify a specific reference or explain
jargon. Or, maybe they’re confused in the sense that they don’t know what the film is
Go through your film and eliminate instances in which voiceover competes with
simultaneous text on screen. This is a common mistake. Understand that viewers cannot
process both written text and voiceover at the same time, unless there are only a couple of
words on the screen.
Can you take some of the burden off your overly verbose cast of talking heads by
creating animation or graphics that explain concepts that the left-brain will grasp quickly?
See I.O.U.S.A for a great example of how graphics (ballooning timelines) can portray
visually what the heavyweights attempt to impress upon us with words.
Finally, check to see that you haven’t either repeated ideas or made a non sequitur. It’s
amazing how repetition can confuse viewers. They often feel like they are going in
circles—because they are. You get to make your point once, but then it’s time to move
on. If moving on means a transition that doesn’t make sense (the non sequitur), you’ll
have to craft music, narration or rearrange your footage to fix it.
EXERCISES
1. If you think the length of your film will be different than your original
estimate, revise your Three Act Timetable based on the revised TRT.
2. Use the Doc Plot Map to identify where your three act climaxes ideally should
be, and where they actually are.
3. Brainstorm ways to shift your climax scenes to unfold at the ideal time.
2. Do the arguments that make up the bulk of your film unfold in an orderly and
suspenseful f ashion? If not , brainstorm ideas for shifting these segments
around, so you end with the most impactful argument.
ASSIGNMENTS
Based on feedback f rom your questionnaires and story consultant, take the f ollowing
action steps:
1. Hire a story consultant if you don’t have one.
3. If you need to add momentum or clarity to Act Two, find ways to:
A. Add a midpoint as guidepost or dynamic spike
D. Add more dramatic arguments and end with the most powerful (for essay films)
C. Clarify your call to action and craft an uplifting tone (for essay films)
Multiple Protagonists
If your challenge is how to structure multiple protagonists, you basically have two
options. You can inter-cut the storylines, as American Teen's Nanette Burstein did so
effortlessly, or you can "clump" the stories by telling one after another. Most directors
and editors prefer to inter-cut storylines--if they can get away with it--because it gives the
film a more cohesive feel. Two of my favorite examples of how to do this are Robb
Moss's Same River Twice (2003), a portrait of five former hippies hitting midlife, and
Johnny Symons’ Daddy and Poppa (2002), in which
editor Kim Roberts interweaves three stories of gay
fatherhood.
Now, for all you filmmakers with multiple protagonists, there are two reasons you may
want to clump your stories. Either the storylines are too complex to inter-cut or your test
audiences have a difficult time telling your characters apart. These criteria can usually be
diagnosed upon watching the assembly cut, but certainly no later than rough cut.
For a great example of the "clumping" method watch Iraq in Fragments (2006--the first
documentary to win Sundance's award for excellence in Documentary Film Editing.
Director James Langley tells three tales separated by location and artistic style.
Another stellar example of a film that tells one story after another is Long Night's
Journey into Day (2000). I remember weeping at the climax of this amazing film about
South Africa's Truth and Reconciliation Commission. The film's theme of reconciliation
embodies the sensibility of films that we at New Doc Editing love to work on:
documentaries which ultimately inspire rather than depress. I took a long walk in the
cemetery off Kearns Boulevard afterwards to meditate on the film's meaning. Directors
Deborah Hoffmann and Frances Reid decided to tell their four amnesty stories separately
because the storylines were too complex for audiences to follow when inter-cut. The
filmmakers took a lot of heat for starting the film with the story of a white American
woman, Amy Beale, who was murdered by apartheid protestors. I think they made the
Along those lines, if you're struggling with how to start your film, check out my all time
favorite historical documentary, The Times of Harvey Milk (1984). Also edited by the
legendary Hoffmann, this four-act film starts with a news clip of a chaotic press
conference in which then San Francisco supervisor Dianne Feinstein announces to the
horror of the crowd that Mayor George Moscone and Supervisor Harvey Milk have been
assassinated. In addition to griping the audience, another important objective achieved by
this opening was to orient heterosexual viewers who may not have been familiar with or
particularly cared about a gay activist named Harvey Milk, but who admired Mayor
Moscone.
Starting your film with a point of familiarity, a reference point, is particularly important
for films about minority experiences that aspire to cross over and move mainstream
audiences. (It's interesting to note how closely the structure of the narrative film Milk
mirrors the Academy-award winning documentary. Both films start with Feinstein's press
conference and Milk's tape-recorded will and both films employ the same act climaxes:
his election, the Brigg's initiative, and his assassination. The documentary has a fourth act
climax, the White Night Riots).
Structuring Act Two can be one of the most challenging tasks of editing, and if you're
wondering how to keep momentum escalating during this long act, check out Tommy
Walker's God Grew Tired of Us. This 2006 Sundance Grand Jury Prize winner does a
nice job of pacing the increasingly difficult obstacles faced by two African boys after
Climax Considerations
Your film's climax scene may be obvious, or it may take some deliberation. One of my
favorite Sundance films is Josh Tickell's Fields of Fuel, which won the 2008 Audience
Award. While I think the storytelling is remarkable and again epitomizes the kind of
stirring, solution-oriented docs that I love to work on, I wonder if the film ends with just
too many success stories. Perhaps if one of these served as the climax, the rest could have
been massaged into a short montage, effectively serving as a denouement. Once a film
hits its final emotional peak, audiences will be eager to wrap up so they can mull over the
film's meaning.
If you're still shooting a vérité film and don't yet know your film's climax, take heart by
watching Gail Dolgin's Daughter from Danang. This 2002 winner of the Sundance Grand
Jury Prize answers the film's central question (will a young Vietnamese American
woman successfully reunite and bond with her birth mother?) with an astounding "no" at
the climax scene.
Finally, check out the denouement in Capturing the Friedmans for a great example of
how to wrap up your film--and avoid a deadly long ending. The denouement should serve
three purposes: 1) give viewers a breather after the climax; 2) wrap up unanswered
questions; 3) provide a snapshot of what life is like now that the protagonist has achieved
her goal or not. Many documentaries achieve these objectives through an epilogue. In the
“two years later” epilogue of Capturing the Friedmans, Elaine Friedman reunites with
her son Jesse, who has just been released from jail. The scene is moving but brief, an
important factor in crafting in denouement. After the climax, audiences want to think
about the film’s meaning on their own.
If you found this book valuable (and we trust you did!), you’ll want to check out our e-
course, “Editing the Character driven Documentary.” An “e-course” is an online class
that you can access anytime, anywhere. This 6-module online class reveals even more
methods for crafting an engaging documentary film.
• Devise a narrative arc that will keep audiences riveted to the screen
• Craft the pivotal scenes that will add momentum and build suspense
• Gain the backing of funders and broadcasters by satisfying their #1 criteria: to
support a good story
• Provide clarity about which scenes to include and where they belong in your
sequence
• Navigate the critical director/editor relationship through the five different stages
of postproduction
“The information is so helpful and unique in its approach. Karen gave me a thoughtful
and strategic workflow.”
-- Amanda Larson
“I’ve taken several film/doc related classes before, and this is by far the best I’ve taken.
It far exceeded my expectations! Karen’s personality and professionalism made me feel
like I was taking a class from a master in the field.”
-- Scott Hackenbery
“I feel like I have gotten a graduate level course in character study and can confidently
attack the structure of any documentary that I would work on in a very productive way.”
-- Kelly Riggio
“This class was fantastic—very clear and practical advice which was exactly what I
wanted and needed.”
-- Kevin Gordon
“I thought the class was excellent and it succeeded expectations. Gave concrete
ideas/items to leave the class with.”
-- Scot Robinson
“This class was invaluable for bringing into crystal clear focus how one brings a 3-act
structure to a documentary film. Karen is inspiring and the documentary clips she
screens are extremely useful.
-- Paige Bierma
“I thoroughly enjoyed taking your workshop this past weekend. You are an amazing
instructor who thoroughly engages with your students and allows them to believe, ‘We
can do this!’”
--Jean Phleger
“Loved the class. Great tools were given to build a character-driven documentary. The
fill-in-the-blank questions for each act really solidified the concepts.”
--Eric Chong
“I loved the class! I didn't know what to expect. I didn't really think it would apply to a
film I am currently working on. I am completely re-inspired to shoot more footage and
re-think how to put my own project together.”
--Robert James
“This was a fantastic class. I wish it would continue next weekend. The instructor has an
excellent command of this subject matter and has a very organized and well thought out
“LOVED it! I heard that Karen was great and that is what I experienced.
The description of the "Character driven..." in the list of classes was accurate and my
expectations in terms of content were met. Really helpful live in-class "ah-has" and
course correction on my own work.”
--Amy Schoening
"Karen will really help you focus on what your story is really about, what kind of film
you are trying to make, and how to map out your story/character arcs."
--Maria Yatskova - Miss Gulag (2007)
“Your class gave me renewed confidence to enter the documentary field again.”
--Ian Mciver
The f ollowing t hree e xercises are designed t o help you draw f rom bot h right a nd l eft-
brain thinking to generate new ideas for your documentary-in-progress. Ideally, set aside
2 hours of c reative time to immerse yourself in these brain-storming a nd vi sualization
exercises.
This exercise will help you first identify the “doc boxes”, so we can begin to break out of
them. Start by listing as many documentary conventions as you can, t hat is, common
techniques used in documentary shooting and editing. Add to the list of examples below.
Narration
Expert interview
Character interview
Title cards
Establishing shot
Vérité footage
Tracking shot
Car conversation
Credits
This exercise will prompt you to think outside the conventions of your film’s genre. Start
by listing typical strategies employed by filmmakers for each of these sample
documentary genres. Here is an example:
For example, Life, Death and Dickinson, a historical biography, e mploys a convention
from t he pe rsonal documentary genre. T he f ilmmaker narrates hi s own quest t o answer
the f ilm’s central question, “ How could this artistic recluse know so much about the
human condition?” He takes us on a journey to answer that question by interviewing
therapists, asking academics t o interpret D ickinson’s poetry, and casting actors t o play
Dickinson and interviewing them. He is playing with the “expert interview” convention.
This exercise calls upon your imagination to foresee your audience’s reaction to your
documentary. Imagine giving them an unprecedented, fresh film experience. Find a quiet
place and set aside at least ten minutes to spend on this visualization. If you can, have
someone read this to you. Otherwise, read a paragraph and then meditate on it.
Turn off all distractions and make yourself comfortable. Breathe deeply a few times and
close your eyes. Watch your thoughts come into your mind and let them go.
Now…visualize your audience. Who is watching your film? What age are they? Where
are they? What part of the country or world? Are they with friends or alone with
strangers? Are they in a dark theatre, a classroom, in front of a television, or a computer?
Are they required to watch this documentary for work or school, or have they chosen to
watch it?
Imagine the opening credits. Do they already have an opinion of the film? Or the film’s
topic? What are they feeling?
Something is catching their attention. Something is filling them with a sense of novelty.
What is it? Hope? Wonder? What do they see on screen? What are they referencing?
Imagine the film you want to make, maybe even certain scenes or interviews you’ve
already shot. What are viewers seeing that they’ve never seen before? How is it new?
What are they hearing? Dialogue? Narration? Music that parallels the images? Oblique
music that is open to interpretation? Or music that runs contrary to what their eyes are
taking in?
Now imagine that the film is wrapping up. Visualize your viewers. What’s on their faces?
Is the audience leaning forward? What are they feeling now as the credits roll? How does
the film impact their actions in the next 24 hours? The next six months?
And most importantly, as they tell their friends and family about this groundbreaking
documentary, how do they describe it?
After hearing their impressions, let them sink in. As the voices fade, come back to the
present.
Then jot down what impressed your imaginary audience the most. Keep in mind that
before the film is five minutes old, you have, ideally, established the “grammar” of your
cinematography and editing. What makes up this grammar? Is it that the interviews are
shot in a certain way? Are the edits purposely jarring and choppy, or seamless? What’s
the rhythm of the cutting that’s coming their way? How are they responding to it?
Books
Curran, Sheila Bernard. Documentary Storytelling for Film and Videomakers, Focal
Press, second edition 2006.
Field, Syd. The Screenwriter’s Workbook, Delta; Rev Upd edition, October 2006.
Howard, David Howard and Edward Mabley. The Tools of Screenwriting: A Writer’s
Guide to the Craft and Elements of a Screenplay, St. Martin's Griffin, January 1995.
Jolliffe, Genevieve and Zinnnes, Andrew. The Documentary Film Makers Handbook
Continuum Press, 2007.
McKee, Robert. Story: Substance, Structure, Style and the Principles of Screenwriting,
Methuen Publishing Ltd., July, 1999.
Rosenthal, Alan. Writing, Directing and Producing Documentary Films, Southern Illinois
University Press, fourth edition, 2007.
Schroeppel, Tom. The Bare Bones Camera Course for Film and Video, 2nd Rev edition,
June 1982.
www.avid.custkb.com/avid/app/selfservice/search.jsp?ssdFilterCommunity15=1408 -
Avid support.
www.community.avid.com - Avid users support
www.creativecow.net - Great editing and shooting forum
www.d-word.com - A volunteer-run documentary site
www.doculink.org - A popular forum for documentary filmmakers
www.documentary.org - International Documentary magazine
www.documentaryfilms.net - A superb volunteer-run documentary site
www.dv.com - Great technical material about digital video
www.indiewire.org - Daily overview of independent film production
www.itvs.org/producers - A PBS-specific overview for independent documentary
producers
www.itvs.org/pdfs/ITVSProductionManual.pdf - ITVS Production Manual order form
www.kenstone.net - Great Final Cut Pro support site
www.mediacollege.com - Offers technical tutorials
www.theasc.com - American Cinematographer Magazine
Documentary Programs
Documentary Associations