Q&A with editor Thomas R. Moore (Part 2)

I’m always pleased to hear from professionals who work in the movie and TV business who follow GITS. Recently I exchanged some emails with Thomas R. Moore, who is a producer, editor, and director. Tom received two Emmy nominations for single camera editing, winning for the hour drama, “Northern Exposure.” His TV series credits also include editing “Scoundrels” (3 episodes, 2010), “Monk” (7 episodes, 2009), “Life” (11 episodes, 2007–2009), “Bones” (13 episodes, 2005–2007), “Ally McBeal” (14 episodes, 1997–1999) — Emmy nomination for “Cro-Magnon,” and “Northern Exposure” (37 episodes, 1990–1995). Tom also was a producer on TV series “Judging Amy” (115 episodes, 2000–2005) and directed episodes of “Northern Exposure” and “Judging Amy”. Tom earned an M.F.A. in Motion Picture/Television from U.C.L.A. and teaches a weekend course in Editing Aesthetics with editor Mike Sale at Video Symphony in Burbank.

Part 1 of the interview from yesterday is here.

Here is Part 2 of the interview:

In our emails, you mentioned the importance of “staying ahead of the audience,” both in the writing and editing. Could you tell us what you mean by that?

Generally, editors are trying to pace the exposition as quickly as possible. I never underestimate the audience; if the writing is clear, they absorb the information/exposition and the character’s intentions very quickly. Also, if a good pace is established, the filmmakers can slow down the editing when important information is being conveyed (or there is an emotional moment). We call this “earning the moment.”

Conversely, if the editor puts a “beat” (an emotional moment) before every line (which can happen in low-budget indy films), when the truly important moment finally occurs in a scene, it can go unnoticed. (Rule: A beat or moment before every line = no beats!) By slowing down a well-paced scene at the perfect moment, the editor can “put a lantern on” the key beat to subtly convey to the audience, “this moment is important.” This speaks to rhythm and could be compared to the “gear-shifting” required of a race car driver.

As editors, I believe we have an obligation to honor both the intention of the writer and the “behavior” of the actors. On the first pass of the editor’s cut, I constantly refer to the script to make sure I am maximizing what the writer intended, even if it means including superfluous shots, taking up more screen time than is justified, just to make an idea clear. Similarly, I am obligated to include the majority of the actor’s “behavior” in the first pass. (If the editor doesn’t attempt to incorporate the behavior at least during the trial and error of the first cut, it may never be seen or have a chance of elevating a pedestrian scene.) This includes the actor’s emotional non-verbal behavior: sighs, grimaces, eye-blinks, lip-licking, and emotional “wide-ups” to their dialogue. On succeeding passes (even in the 2 to 6 hours it generally takes for me to edit a scene) it becomes apparent that certain sections seem slow or lacking in tension. Some of this is excised even before the cut is presented to the director.

Generally after the first editing pass, the writer and actor have been honored, but in it’s current state, the viewer “gets ahead of the story.” This can be attributed to overwritten dialogue, slow pace, or including too much unneccessary behavior by the actors. In the problem of “overwritten”, the solution can simply be achieved by removing two lines of dialogue, that is subconsciously feeling repetitious and is not advancing the story. Less obvious and more subjective, is the shaping a performance so it is still captivating, but not labored. I often find some of the behavior I’m trying to maintain is actually included in the dialogue. That is to say, the actor has “married” the emotional behavior to the actual reading of the dialogue and many of non-verbal behavior can be trimmed. This trimming process is very instinctual and is necessary to find a balance between the imagination of the writer and the fascinating choices of actors while moving the story along.

Do you see a relationship between what a writer writes and an editor edits in terms of a story’s tone, tension, and subtext?

On most television shows, there is a “tone” meeting that occurs at the end of pre-production, where the director asks his/her final questions about the script. In this tone meeting, the writer will go scene by scene and indicate what type of emotional information they are attempting to convey. Usually the expositional information is clear, but the emotional state of the character is open to interpretation. I always clarify in the case of comedy the degree of humor (in emotional intensity) to be acheived: varying from very subtle, naturalistic, character-driven humor to zany, physical, “raised-voice” farce. Or in the case of drama, what is the emotional state of the character after a moment of conflict? Is the character trying to cover their emotion or is it a level of despair that is obvious and unmasked?

One of the best examples of tone I learned early in my career is from an episode of “Northern Exposure.” There was a terrific episode (“All is Vanity”) where a patient dies in the office of Dr. Fleischman. It’s a very thematic episode, primarily about how our human vanity interferes with honestly connecting with the people we love. Ultimately this unknown corpse brings the town together spiritually.

Tone is not necessarily the specific dialogue, but the mood in which the information is conveyed by the writer (and filmmakers). In the “Northern Exposure” example, the corpse that ends up on the examination table could have been conveyed numerous moods: dread, creepiness, fear, etc. And yet, in this example, the town sherriff (Barry Corbin) is eating lunch while conversing with Dr. Fleischman and temporarily places his half eaten sandwich on the clothed chest of the deceased. (Neither character acknowledges the physical action as being disrespectful or odd.) I don’t know if it was intentional, but it quickly and brilliantly conveys to the audience that the tone of the scene is fairly relaxed and in fact “concern” or “dread” for the deceased isn’t important. This quirky choice by the actor allows the audience to relax and absorb the exposition that is being conveyed. It’s not about the horror of his death; the body is ultimately just a device to bring the townspeople together.

Tone can be altered by as simple as changing frame size. If I play a mother saying, “you’re going to stop seeing Johnny!” (as her daughter walks away) in a tight shot, it can feel very melodramatic. Whereas, if the same line is delivered in a loose full-body shot, the line can play almost desperate, especially if we see a sigh or bit of regret after the line (the human behavior that will resonate with an audience). Simply by playing the dialogue in a wide shot, the moment and line of dialogue can feel lonely.

Many scenes can be tonally unified with music. Hopefully the tone the writer has established is very clear once shooting begins, but if something goes awry in the filmmaking process, music can connect the beats and cover a “multitude of sins.” On a show I recently worked on (a fairly broad comedy), I had a dramatic moment between two family members. We tried placing an emotionally “neutral” piece of music under the scene. No matter where the music started or the type of family “conflict” music we attempted, it seemed somehow wrong. Finally, we tried a lighter, bouncier cue and it worked perfectly. The tone seemed more true to the universe of the show, but still “put pressure” on the characters in a comedic way, AND mischieviously put a smile on the audience’s face.

Subtext in editing is something that takes years of practice to master. When you first begin a career in editing, there are overwhelming problems to solve: trimming 4 hours of material down to a three minute scene, when to cut in from the master, matching, pace, frame size, etc. Assistant editors usually gain experience by cutting scenes and viewing them with the editor. Usually the last talent mastered by an assistant editor is integrating subtext. Quite often, when an assistant editor presents a scene, it is well-matched with the best performances, but fails to achieve what the writer intended. It becomes necessary to ask: besides the plot points being made, what are we trying to achieve emotionally with the character? More importantly: WHAT IS THE SCENE REALLY ABOUT??

Hopefully every scene revels something new about the characters emotionally and advances the plot. Even in the wildest comedy, I am constantly looking for cutaways that support the emotional state of the characters. By placing the cutaway in strategic places, (usually a reaction to dialogue), they become an important part of the sub-text for a character. I believe cutaways have the luxury of being witnessed by the audience and often not the other characters in the scene. Cutaways can be a “private moment” that exhibit a character’s true feeling, even though their dialogue may be stating the opposite of the behavior (emotional state) revealed in the cutaway.

“Northern Exposure” is my all-time favorite 1-hour comedy TV series and you were fortunate enough not only to work on that series, but also win an Emmy for Single Camera editing. What amazed me about that show was how most of the episodes handled multiple subplots, but all interwoven around a single theme, what I imagine would be an incredibly hard thing to pull off week after week. My question to you is how much of that derived from the writing and how much from the editing?

I am embarrassed to admit, I have edited an entire episode of television without realizing a certain theme that has been interwoven into the A B & C plots! The subtle themes only became evident to me after I finished editing an episode. (I can partly rationalize this due to fact that we edit out of scene order and theme is often subtler in a 50 page script than a 500 page novel!) I have been fortunate to work with some very talented writers who naturally integrate a theme into their work. The writing staff on Northern Exposure was incredible and made it a joy to come to work every day. Barbara Hall, who I’ve worked with on many projects, gracefully integrates a theme in almost every script, regardless of the project. Theme certainly isn’t something created by editing; it can only be protected and supported. I’m the first to admit, an editor’s work is only as good as the writing and the actor’s performances.

When I teach screenwriting and in occasional posts on GITS as well, I urge writers to think like an editor when they write, specifically in terms of scene transitions and cross cutting between action that is happening continuously in multiple locations. Do you like to see that type of thought represented on script pages or would you prefer that we just leave the editing to you?

I appreciate when a writer includes their cinematic/editorial vision of a scene/section of drama. (The example you give from “Butch Cassidy” action scenes is a good example.) The transitions may not end up on screen exactly as written, but the intention or “poetry” of the written word is hopefully clear and inspires the artists that attempt to realize and elevate the writer’s intention.

What do you see as the core of what you’re trying to do as an editor as it relates to the writer and what they’ve written?

There is a wonderful moment in film-making which is (hopefully) at the end of the editing process: when the movie/TV episode is no longer the script, the singular performances or the dailies. And if everyone has done their job, it becomes greater than the sum of it’s parts and takes on “a life of it’s own.” The material is transformed into a separate art-form: film-making/cinema and hopefully casts a spell on the audience and gives them a two hour break from the reality of life. The longer I am involved in story telling, the more respect I have for writers. Editing is a very complex endeavor, but nothing in the filmmaking process compares to the daunting experience of the blank page.

As with yesterday’s post, Tom provides some terrific insight into the story-crafting process. Let me highlight just one point in today’s post:

Quite often, when an assistant editor presents a scene, it is well-matched with the best performances, but fails to achieve what the writer intended. It becomes necessary to ask: besides the plot points being made, what are we trying to achieve emotionally with the character? More importantly: WHAT IS THE SCENE REALLY ABOUT??

This is perhaps the single most fundamental question a writer must ask as they prep and write a scene: What is the point of the scene?And the way I teach it is to break up the point into two parts, reflecting the External World (Plotline) and the Internal World (Themeline).

External World: What is the structural point of the scene?

Internal World: What is the emotional point of the scene?

Virtually every scene should have something going on in the Plotline and something else going on in the Themeline. Someone can grasp what’s going on in the plot — as the example Tom gives of assistant editor — but not have a sense of what’s going on “emotionally with the character,” in other words the emotional point of the scene. Tom started off the paragraph above with this:

Subtext in editing is something that takes years of practice to master. When you first begin a career in editing, there are overwhelming problems to solve: trimming 4 hours of material down to a three minute scene, when to cut in from the master, matching, pace, frame size, etc. Assistant editors usually gain experience by cutting scenes and viewing them with the editor. Usually the last talent mastered by an assistant editor is integrating subtext.

The same is true of screenwriters. They can write Dialogue and Action, but not dig deep enough into the characters or the emotional point of the scene to grasp what should be a character’s concomitant Subtext and Intention. We can push ourselves in this regard by asking these two questions about each scene we write: What is the structural point of the scene? What is the emotional point of the scene?

In general, isn’t it interesting to note how often Tom talks about character, how critical that is to an editor. Absolutely the same for a screenwriter. The more we understand our characters, the more we dig into them and surface their distinctive behaviors and beliefs, and the more all that gets translated onto the page, the more multidimensional the character and the better the script.

I’m curious to see what else GITS readers got out of the Q&A with Tom. And I also encourage you to go into comments and thank Tom for taking the time to do this.

By the way, Tom informs me that his next TV project is “Lone Star,” which GITS readers may remember from this. It’s a new Fox series written by Kyle Killen, who wrote The Beaver, a script I fawned over here, here, and here.

Tom, thanks for the Q&A. And best of luck on “Lone Star” and all your future projects!

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