JAWS 2 IMDB
JAWS 3D IMDB
JAWS: THE REVENGE IMDB
Cutting For Impact: A Conversation With Verna Fields
From: American Film Institute | By: Verna Fields
EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION | In 1975, Verna Fields won an Oscar for her work editing Jaws, largely due to her discovery that
what viewers created in their heads could be much more frightening than what they could have seen on the screen. By editing
around the shark, Fields maximized suspense by postponing the viewer's encounter until the third act.
In addition to Jaws, Fields made a name for herself editing films such as Medium Cool (1969), What's Up, Doc? (1972) and
American Graffiti (1973). In an AFI Master Seminar held on December 3, 1975, Verna Fields discussed the essentials of effective
Cutting film is really very much a matter of feeling and rhythm, and a cut that is off rhythm will be disturbing and you
will feel it--unless you want it to be like that. That's my favorite story about the cutting of Jaws (1975)--each time I wanted
to cut I didn't, so it would have an anticipatory feeling. You don't know whether those things will work or not, but it worked.
There's a feeling of movement in telling a story, and there is a flow. I think the rhythm, to a certain extent, comes
from the direction and what's on the film, but when you're running it, you kind of have a feeling that now is the time to
I don't know how else to say it. It's a feeling you get, and there's no way to really instill it. A lot of people have
started cutting, and one of the early exercises that I recommend to these people is to get a lot of footage and cut to music.
I don't mean the beat, necessarily, but you'll get what I mean by rhythm, because what you're seeing and what you're hearing
will create a rhythm, and then you'll see it.
The next time you look at a sequence, watch for the choices in pacing. A perfect example is the early beach scene in Jaws.
There's a lot of rhythm cutting there. It's a quick pace. Then, I broke the pace for the sake of maximizing anticipation.
You see a dog go in the water. You see a woman go in the water. You see someone else going in the water, and so forth. And
what I tried--and it worked--was to hold longer than where I would have normally cut.
On making a scene compelling:
A shot with no cutting at all has a tendency to just sit there, so if you're going to just sit there, you'd better make
sure you have something interesting. An example is the Indianapolis speech in Jaws by Robert Shaw. I have two takes on that
speech. A 1,000-foot magazine of film ran out. If it weren't for the fact that it ran too long in the middle of the picture,
it could have played just like that. It was fantastic. It was compelling, and to cut away from it was almost a distraction.
I never cut away from a scene unless I feel I want to cut away, either because it's not compelling me any more or because
there's something else in the scene that I must see. If I'm on a single or on a two-shot that is really telling me everything
I need to know at that moment and is doing it well, why cut away from it?
Teaching effective editing:
When I was teaching, it became a terrible nagging thing to convince students to code and log the film. At that time everybody
had the feeling that all the old methods of editing hampered art and tied their hands. Students would say, "Why cut by
numbers like they do in the studios? I'm not cutting by numbers. I'm cutting by what's on the film." I think the thing
I was able to convince students of more than anything is that in order to achieve real freedom in editing, you have to be
able to lay your hands on the exact piece of film you want when you want it.
There's only one way to do it, and it's really dull, tedious, painful work, but you must log and code your film. Then
you know exactly where to find what. Otherwise, you're not free. All the freedom young filmmakers talked about wasn't really
freedom at all, because they couldn't find that close-up. It was at the bottom of the barrel somewhere, so they had to cut
to a second choice.
You really have to get in the cutting room and practice editing. I can't just tell you that you've got to have rhythm.
You have to feel it. After the fact--after something is cut--you look at it and intuit what's not working. The mechanics of
it are not that hard to learn. When you're cutting from a hand going here and want to pick it up over there, if you don't
know automatically where to cut, you can try every frame until you've got it right. That's the mechanics of it.
To get an impression across or a dramatic point across or a story point, sometimes those things you thought would work
just don't, and you realize you must do something to make it work. After the fact--after it's put together--is when you as
a teacher can be the most help.
In some ways I wish the word 'editing' had never been invented--it's a terrible word. I think it's caused a lot of the
problems with people feeling that there is some kind of friction between the director and the editor, because the word 'editing'
implies correcting, and it's not. In French it's monteur. You're mounting the film.
You need to be damn creative and intelligent and everything else to mount a film well, and you can come up with some great,
creative ideas. I've got stuff in a lot of pictures that I've done that I'm enormously proud of. By God, I saved the picture.
Shooting Jaws at 30
DP Bill Butler talks about shooting the first summer blockbuster-30 years later
by Bob Fisher | Published June 20, 2005
Chances are good that if you saw jaws when it premiered in 1975, you avoided swimming—or even wading in the
ocean for at least a few years. The film was based on Peter Benchleys novel about an oversized shark that terrorizes the seaside
New England community of Amity Island. About half of the story takes place on a boat, where a local police chief, scientist
and sailor (played by Roy Scheider, Robert Shaw and Richard Dreyfuss, respectively) go to war with the shark. Director Steven
Spielberg was only 26 years old, and at the dawn of his career. Thirty years after the making of one of summers biggest blockbusters
(and the film that invented the term, really), cinematographer Bill Butler, ASC recalls their collaboration as pure serendipity.
I did some work with director Phil Kaufman on the Universal Studios lot as a writer while I was still trying to get into
the Los Angeles camera guild; Butler recalls. Thats when I met Steven Spielberg. He had just finished his Night Gallery projects.
I shot Savage and Something Evil, a couple of one-hour TV movies with him.
A few years later, Spielberg and Butler had a chance encounter in the studio parking lot. Butlers career was shifting
into high gear, with The Execution of Private Slovak, a memorable TV movie, and Francis Ford Coppolas The Conversation to
his credit. Butler had heard that Spielberg was preparing to shoot Jaws, mainly at practical locations on Marthas Vineyard
in Cape Cod, Massachusetts. He also knew that the studio wanted Spielberg to hire an east coast cameraman and crew to reduce
Bill Butler, Steven Spielberg and Michael Chapman shoot in the water;and under iton the Marthas Vineyard set of Jaws.
I said,I hear youre making a movie about a fish, Butler recalls. After they joked for a few minutes, Spielberg asked Butler
if he was interested.
During their first meeting, Butler suggested using a handheld camera on the boat.I had used a handheld 16mm camera while
shooting deep sea fishing films for friends, so I had an idea about the freedom that would give us Butler says. Panavision
had just introduced a lightweight (34-pound), smaller camera. It was also quiet, so you could use it to cover dialogue. Steven
thought it would be too shaky; I didnt try to press the issue. If he hired me, I could show him when we got to Marthas Vineyard.
When Spielberg asked if he knew how to shoot day for night on the ocean, Butler tried to look casual when he assured him
that it wouldnt be a problem.
I did some research and found that Conrad Hall had tested five different methods in Hell in the Pacific, Butler says He
tried to light the ocean at night, which didnt work because the water doesnt reflect light it goes black. His best scene was
filmed with a storm on the horizon. He timed the film down a couple of stops.
Butler assembled an east coast crew, including Michael Chapman, ASC (Raging Bull, The Fugitive) as camera operator. To
put that collaboration into perspective, Butler and Chapman have both received Lifetime Achievement Awards from their peers
in the American Society of Cinematographers. (Butler was honored in 2003 and Chapman the following year.)
When they arrived on Marthas Vineyard, Butler showed Spielberg how he could brace a handheld Panaflex camera and take
the roll out of the boat rocking on the waves with his knees instead of using a 400-pound gimbal. Spielberg embraced the idea.
About 90 percent of the shots on the boat were handheld, Butler says.Michael was intrigued by the idea and was very good
at it. We did things that we probably wouldnt have tried without the lightweight camera. Michael even climbed the mast and
shot from the top straight down. We also put him in a small boat.
Butler designed three looks: The opening scenes were to look like an Andrew Wyeth painting; during the Fourth of July
celebration, the issues/59/images were festive with bright, hot sunlight; the encounters with the shark were dreary, ominous
There was a storm a few miles out to sea on one of the first days of production. The sky was black with the sun shining
on the water in the foreground. Butler whipped the camera around and shot a day for night test. Even the timer at Technicolor
labs was amazed by the look. Spielberg was satisfied that Butler knew what he was doing.
When Bruce, the 25-foot, mechanical shark, didnt perform as reliably as anticipated, Spielberg was under enormous pressure.
He was on location with a cast and crew and there were times when they couldnt shoot scenes with the shark.
“A lot of publicity has been given to the fact that the shark didnt work, but thats totally untrue and unjust,
Butler says. Robert Mattey, who made the shark, did an excellent job. But he had to test it while we were shooting the film.
It looked great, and when the shark was working it did amazing things. It ran back and forth underwater on a railroad track
and could dive out of the water and back in again.
Butler has warm memories of evenings around the dinner table at Spielbergs house with the editor, writer and actors discussing
how to keep the camera rolling.
You could feel the creative energy when we spoke about how to make the audience feel the danger without them actually
seeing the shark he says. I had Panavision build a waterproof box that allowed us to shoot at water level. I remembered seeing
Vilmos Zsigmond (ASC) do that when I shot second unit on Deliverance.
The box was made of plastic and glass and could float, which made it possible for Butler to shoot scenes with the water
visible at the bottom of the frame.
Psychologically, it got the audience thinking that the shark was just out of sight,” enthuses Butler. You felt
its presence on a subconscious level. We were also able to dip just slightly into the water to show the audience a scene from
the sharks perspective. The dangling legs of swimmers looked like dinner to the shark. Panavision also provided an underwater
camera. It was enormous, but very stable underwater and easy to operate.
Steven, [editor] Verna Fields and I looked at dailies on a flatbed Moviola every evening,Butler says. We'd talk about
what worked, what didnt and how we could fake a shark. It isnt just the director youre dealing with as a cinematographer.
You also need to get inside the editors head and find out what they like.
Of course, there was no video assist in 1975. Steven was usually right by the camera while we were shooting, Butler says.
Sometimes he would borrow my spot meter. It had a really nice telephoto lens on it, so he could see faces very clearly.
Butler describes a scene where the shark hits the bottom of the boat and rocks it. They bolted a line into one side of
the boat and brought it underneath the hull. Someone in a speedboat towed the rope until it got to the end of the line and
made the ship rock. The actors responded by falling down. It looked like the bottom of the boat had been rammed by something
big and powerful. After a couple of takes, a soundman came up on deck yelling that the ship was sinking. The bolt had partially
pulled out of the side of the boat and water was flowing in. They had the speedboat tow the ship toward the shore. Fortunately,
it sank in shallow water so it could be recovered.
It would be a different experience making Jaws today, Butler says.They'd probably want to shoot it against a green screen
with a digital shark. They could make anything happen, and it would be better, technically. But in my opinion, it wouldn't
be as good a movie. There's a certain feeling of reality that comes through the camera lens that the audience can feel. It's
like an artist painting issues/59/images by hand. CG issues/59/images are harsher and crisper; they lack the mellowness of
film. It's the same with motion control cameras. They're precise, but Michael Chapman handholding a camera was more artful.
If he was doing it again today, Butler says his preference would be to shoot with a handheld camera on a boat in the water
at a practical location. He notes that today's cameras are more portable, mentioning the ARRI 235, and lenses are faster.
Combined with today's faster films, he says that it would be possible to shoot night scenes at magic hour and on cloudless
evenings, possibly augmented by slowing the shutter speed.
Thirty years after Jaws, Butler is still passionate about moviemaking.
I still love what I do every second of every day when I'm shooting, he says. It's a creative experience, whether I'm deciding
to take a prop that doesn't look right off a set, talking with the operator about camera movement, discussing lighting with
the gaffer, suggesting that an actor move a little slower on a shot or talking with the director or editor. Everyone felt
that way on Jaws. That's part of what made it a great film.