An editor splicing together 16 mm film. Photo Credit: Matthew Cavanaugh

Irritated, lost and matted by a tired, cold sweat, I arrived at the Tisch School of the Arts at NYU not fully knowing what to expect. Of all of the intricacies and nuances of film, I had never for more than a few minutes considered the significance of film editing, and how it could so easily make or break a movie. The construction and deconstruction of a film were hardly more than purposeful, passing thoughts that were bound to be stored somewhere around the middle-ground of my mind. I took a seat on the floor of the lobby and did my best to settle into the school’s environment. It wasn’t too hard; the school radiated a bustling, enthusiastic vibe that on most good days matched that of the city it was situated in. Only a minute aura of the school’s true prestige was evident as I quietly observed it. This thought added a bit more comfort. The mild excitement of a new experience, and the raging headache I had slightly obscured my emotions, blurring them. They reminded me that so far– from my overly early exit from school to resorting to call my mother to ask for the directions —  it had just not been my day. Maybe, though, there was a chance that this could improve it.

Jennifer Ruff, from the Department of Graduate Film at NYU, spoke with Film TRaC this spring.

That fragment of a hopeful thought did not disappoint. As I fought to keep my eyes open and a nagging yawn at bay, our instructor and guide took the floor. Ms. Jennifer Ruff, editor at New York University’s Graduate Department of Film and Television, captured my focus simply by her calm composure, and her equally earnest and relaxed approach to describing the process of editing. From the tattoos scrawled down her arms to her clear wealth of knowledge, she was the focal point of the room and my unwavering attention. The overwhelmingly impressive room and its unfortunately comfortable seating would have been enough to hold my attention span on a normal day, but under that day’s circumstances, they would have been smashingly successful at putting me to sleep. Although my body wanted to, the rest of me could not. Ms. Ruff was simply too captivating.

This is not to say that the presentation was the only effective part of the workshop. The dissection of a few scenes from professionally made films, and the “before and after” comparison of a student’s film after some heavy editing were brilliantly effective and hilarious. The idea of accepting failure had never occurred to me. That being said, the notion that all films started as “failures” and that dogged editing would be their only saving grace before Ms. Ruff’s presentation would never have crossed my mind for a split second. The frankness of her tone as she told us this vital information almost startled me. Had the process not been blatantly demonstrated for us through the student’s short film, making such a bold statement certainly would have been a flaw in the presentation, both implausible and impossible to believe for a less informed film buff such as myself.  The presentation brought to life not only tricks of the trade that I hadn’t previously known, such as the bit on how crucial constructing and deconstructing a movie is, but it also shed light on the ones that I had already been aware of. The dissection of one scene in particular has held a spot in my mind since the session. With or without the session, I would have appreciated the opening sequence of the Brazilian film, City of God anyway; however, without our instructor’s approach to emphasizing its intensity and breaking apart the sequence’s structure piece by piece, I would certainly not have appreciated the scene half as much.

At the session’s end, my headache was unrelenting, but my thoughts were even more so. The experience alone of enduring “just one of those days” was well worth whatever inconveniences followed it. Part of the headache was probably from a few stirred, ricocheting thoughts that were trying to hit home.