What We Do This For

Today I spent the day in the cutting room with my fantastic composer talking about where music should and shouldn't go in the movie. We're using some Bach, some Mozart, some Vivaldi, and or course the composer's original music which will tie it all together. Lots of solo cello and in some places a great big choir. We got to talking about the dub stage (see lower photo), on which all the sound is mixed together, and how fantastic the movie sounds on the huge speakers, and how lousy it sounds when it's all compressed and broadcast in mono and comes out of a TV, and the composer, who has done tons of movies, said "Oh, I never watch the things on TV. You kill yourself if you do that," and I said "Then what do we do this for?" and she said "For this. For sitting around today talking about music and trying things out. For the joy of making this thing together." And I realized: the suffering I feel when I watch the movie with people--what are they thinking? why did he cough? why didn't they laugh harder at that joke?--is something I can choose not to undergo. The awful feeling of hearing the sound tinny and small and the picture weirdly re-framed by the way its broadcast--the same. I never have to watch the damn thing once it rolls out into the world. I can do it for the parts of it I love: the haggling over exactly which frame a music cue should start on for maximum emotional effect. The glory of looking around at the crew and seeing that they are crying because of what the actress is doing in front of the camera. The awe of going outside the church you've been shooting in for six hours (see upper photo) and discovering how the camera crew has pulled off the miracle of turning night to day. This is enough. This is enough.