Dear Santa Claus... All I want for Christmas is a Steenbeck

Part of the Post-Mortem series
By Sean Chercover

Mr. Santa Claus
North Pole,
Canada H0H 0H0

Dear Santa,

With barely a month remaining before the Big Flight, I’m sure you are a busy man. What, with elves rushing to finish all those Tickle Me Elmos (or whatever the hell Madison Avenue has foisted upon you this time) and Mrs. Claus darning your red long-johns and the damned pre-flight reindeer anxiety to deal with... well, the point is, I apologize for the tardiness of this letter. I also apologize for having never written a thank you note. You’ve been exceedingly good to me over the years and, frankly, I don’t know why you do it.

I know that the North Pole Mail System is intended for kids only, but my Christmas wish this year is unusual and I don’t think you could guess it without a little nudge. So, I also apologize for sending a Request Letter at such an advanced age. I guess you could say I’ve got a lot to be sorry for.

On a brighter note, I have been a really good boy this year. I think we can overlook the ugly incident that got Gary and me eighty-sixed from the Panorama Lounge. Any bar that serves Wild Turkey without restraint and then subjects patrons to high-volume Latin pop music must accept some share of responsibility for the consequences. In the end, no charges were pressed and it’s best forgotten.

Anyway. What I want for Christmas, this year, is a Steenbeck. You likely don’t get a lot of requests for flatbed editors, so I’ve attached a picture for the elves to work from:

Maybe my sudden desire for a Steenbeck is really just a desire to go back to a simpler time... back to younger days. Whatever the reason, I miss cutting film on a flatbed. I even miss the sounds of the cutting room — split reels clanging together like wind chimes, plastic film cores bouncing on linoleum, the happy ‘flap-flap-flap’ of film tails spinning wildly.

I am not alone. My friend Joe Blasioli cut television documentaries for years on a 16mm, 6-plate Steenbeck, just like the one pictured here. When he directed his first feature documentary, Blast ’Em, he chose to cut it on film, even though nonlinear was available. Now, of course, he works on Avid® Media Composer® systems, just like me and just like the rest of the world.

“What I miss most, is the fondle factor,” says Joe. “I miss holding the film in my hands, looking through it, physically cutting it... when you cut nonlinear, you are one step removed from the image. But when you’re sitting at the flatbed, you look over at the trim bin and you can see your best footage. There’s a good feeling... it’s like looking at a bunch of friends by your side, waiting to be called into service.”

I know what you’re thinking Santa, and yes, Joe is a little odd. Still I must admit, sifting through an electronic “bin” on the computer screen lacks the warm and fuzzy feeling that you get looking at those “friends” hanging in the trim bin. Sure, the Avid organizes footage more efficiently and speeds up the editing process, but there’s something sterile and businesslike about it — it’s no way to make friends with your footage. And I want to be friends with my footage, even if I miss my delivery dates. Any reasonable producer would understand.

“The other thing I miss,” says Joe, “was when ‘tech support’ meant changing a light bulb.” Amen to that, Santa. I don’t see you flying around in some jet-propelled sleigh that breaks down on every rooftop.

“On the other hand,” says Joe, “I’d never go back to it... you couldn’t pay me enough to give up my Avid.”

It seems that I am not making my case very well. I know that your sleigh is overfilled these days, and Blitzen isn’t getting any younger and a Steenbeck is no small addition to your load. But cutting on film offers practical advantages, as well. I would even go so far as to say that cutting on film forces editors to improve their craft.

I submit that people who learned to drive with a manual transmission tend to be better drivers than those who learned on an automatic. I’m sure it’s the same for flying sleighs. And it could be the same for editing machines. When you cut film, there is no ‘undo’ button. And you don’t have unlimited workprints to slice and dice. This forces you to think before you make your cut — to visualize the cut in a variety of places. Then you make your cut in the place you have decided is best.

When you learn to cut on film, you learn that editing is not something you do with your hands — it is something you do with your head. For young editors who’ve only worked in nonlinear, that is an abstract notion. The temptation of technology is just too great, so they jump in with both feet and splash around; putting cuts here and there, laying wipes and dissolves, undoing and redoing like wild ferrets on speed. When they do end up with something beautiful, they often don’t know why it worked out that way.

Of course, when you cut on a flatbed, you can’t even try wipes or dissolves or motion effects or just about anything else. Come to think of it, Santa, it might be difficult to explain this to clients who have been spoiled by Avid editors who can screen the show as it will actually look when finished. Hmmm... well, I guess I’ll have to work with producers who have vivid imaginations.

The operation of the Steenbeck forces the editor to slow down in other ways, too. Let’s say you want to do some work on act three of your work-in-progress. With a nonlinear system, you just scroll along the timeline and go to work. But on a flatbed, you play the show until you get to where you are going. When you get to act three, you will have just seen the show to that point and will have a better sense of context. In the course of cutting a show, you will have reviewed the show many more times than you would on a nonlinear system.

The same thing applies while you’re cutting an individual scene. On a flatbed, you back up to the beginning of a scene and play through to where you placed your edit. By doing this, you review your cut more often and get a better feel for the overall pacing. The speed and ease of navigating your timeline when working nonlinearly can easily lead to tunnel vision — you see the trees, but the forest is forgotten.

Okay, so navigating the show on a flatbed can also be tediously slow. The time wasted running the film back and forth can add up to days. Of course, this time can be used to think about what you’re going to do next, check your voicemail messages, and even make a grocery list. And at the risk of sounding like Joe, I believe there is also a benefit to seeing your show run backwards (which you are forced to do when navigating on a flatbed). It may be that, on some subconscious level, seeing the images of your show run backwards will make you more familiar with your cut. It’s like some clients who want to screen the show while on drugs. No, wait a minute... those clients are idiots.

In a last-ditch effort to bolster my position, I decided to make an example out of a young editor who didn’t get the solid training that can only be achieved cutting film.

There’s an editor at the post house where I’m working who wasn’t even born when Nixon got caught using the constitution for toilet paper. He doesn’t remember the shootings of Ronald Reagan or John Lennon. He doesn’t know who Bob Fosse was and he hasn’t seen Lenny or even All That Jazz. He wears strange pants and has things pierced through various parts of his body. I’ll call him Spike. I’m sure he’s on your ‘naughty’ list, Santa, and if you ask me, a lump of coal is too good for this punk. I figured he’d make a fine subject.

Spike has never edited on film. When he works, his hands are a constant blur. So you can understand my dismay when I saw his finished show and it was good. I mean, really good. I decided to confront him about this.

“Just because I haven’t cut film, doesn’t mean I can’t cut like a film editor,” explains Spike. “Of course I review my show in progress. Of course I think about my cuts before I make them.” He concludes with an eloquent, “Duh.”

Undeterred, I press on, explaining the “fondle factor.”

“Now you sound like an old man,” says Spike. “Didn’t you say that editing was done with your head, not your hands?” Now I really hate this kid... he’s young and smart.

“You’re weird,” says Spike, when I tell him my Subconscious Backwards Screening theory. “I gotta go back to work.”

I realize that Spike is right — you don’t need to cut on film to cut like a film editor. And there’s no reason on earth to give up all the speed, efficiency, tools and toys that a nonlinear system offers. Even if I had a Steenbeck, I would still work on an Avid. But I do miss the sound of split reels clanging together like wind chimes, plastic film cores bouncing on linoleum, and the happy ‘flap-flap-flap’ of film tails spinning wildly.

So please send me a Steenbeck for Christmas, Santa. It’ll make a nice toy.

Merry Christmas,
Sean

Sean Chercover sean@chercover.com is a freelance writer and video editor. He still believes in Santa Claus.

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