The Post Saga
Okay, the three hundred and sixty minutes of raw footage has been edited down to 12 minutes, 21 seconds, including credits. With editor, Tom Bullock at the helm, director Delphine Suter and I winnowed, massaged, manipulated and honed our “little” movie down until it was mean and lean: every sequence required, every scene important, every word needed.
From the editing room it went into the capable hands of Jeremy Roland who stabilized three of the shots that were hampered by too much camera movement.
Next the files were turned over to Dave Nelson at Outpost Studios. In the dark recesses of his lair on Folsom Street, the sound of the film came to life. Here the Foley artist heightened the sound of footsteps, coffee being poured, a gun being cocked. The term Foley is named after Jack Foley, one of the earliest and best-known Hollywood practitioners of the art.
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How It’s Made |
| Galloping horses | Banging empty coconut shells together[1] |
| Kissing | Kissing back of hand |
| Punching someone | Thumping watermelons |
| High heels | Artist walks in high heels on wooden platform |
| Bone-breaking blow | Breaking celery or twisting a head of romaine |
| Footsteps in snow | Squeezing a box of corn starch |
| Thunder | Flapping an aluminum sheet |
| Bird flapping its wings | Flapping a pair of gloves |
| Fire | Rapid opening and closing of an umbrella along with the crackle of thick cello |
| Car crash | shaking a metal box filled with wood and metal scraps |
| Grass or leaves crunching | Balling up audio tape |
We spent two days tweaking original music composed by Sam Bass, Kevin Carnes and Eric McFadden. These talented musicians provided a mysterious and edgy score. Sam’s cello speaks for Curtis Brown, the father. Eric’s guitar speaks for Tyrone, the son. In the sound design, the music was mixed to heighten the emotion.
From Outpost our baby was placed in the sensitive hands of Ed Rudolph at VideoArts, a state-of-the-art post house. If a character gets lost in the shadows, with subtle tweaking by powerful computers, the image can be coaxed out to be clearer. In a surreal moment Tyrone sees himself, a shocking reflection of what he has become. Prior to the color correction he looked like a lost kid desperate for protection. After color correction, the blood on his shirt is evident and the moment reads very differently.
At the end of the session titles are checked and repostioned and the film is complete.
Our movie is finished.
I took a deep breath as a damn of tears gathered in my throat. This story I’d been told years ago about this boy and his father had finally found its way out. For me it was a profound moment. This is my movie. I wrote it and produced it, but in reality it isn’t mine any more. It belongs to the actors, the director, the cinematographer, the editor. It belongs to the entire crew, every grip, the sound recorder, the caterer. It belongs to the musicians, the Foley artist, the sound mixer, the color corrector. And with a little bit of luck and a whole lot of timing it will soon belong to an audience.
Here you go, world. Take a look at our baby!
If I were to be asked how I want an audience to react, I’d say: I want you to be left breathless.
