2. CUT TO:

The Foundation of Filmmaking, VR or Otherwise

The language of cinema is often traced back to 1903. Moving-pictures had existed for over 10 years by that time, but it was Edwin Porter who, in his 12 minute short film, ‘The Great Train Robbery’, made use of what would later be known as the first “cinematic cut”.

The term ‘cut’ means more than the assembly of two separate shots, more importantly, from a filmmaking perspective, a cut is a storytelling device, a reveal. An ability to consistently show an audience a place, a person, a thing. The cut is how we make visual juxtapositions, parallels, to show or hide information from the viewer.

As of writing this, VR has yet to see its first “cinematic cut”, for the very (insanely) simple reason that it lacks the technical ability during play-back (projection) to do so. More on that in a moment.

Let’s take a second look at the short VR documentary, ‘Clouds Over Sidra’. In the prior post, we went over the common experience of watching this film for the first time. Now, let’s walk back through the first two shots, with the ability to ‘CUT TO’ in mind.

(Shot 01). FADE IN. EXT. JORDAN VALLEY. DAY. Because everything visible within this opening scene is equality important in terms of story, this moment can be left as is. Several seconds in, we begin to hear a voice-over from Sidra, just before we, CUT TO:

(Shot 02) INT. Refugee Camp. DAY. Our view cuts to Sidra (12), sitting on the floor, speaking to us directly about her experience as a young refugee. We watch for a moment, reading as much from her expression as we do from her words. Glancing to our right, we slowly take in the details that make up her new home, helping us to paint a greater picture of the young girl guiding us through this personal story.

We’ll stop the film there.

What has changed? Why was our second viewing of ‘Clouds’ more emotionally engaging than before?

The simple answer is because we were guided as viewers, not controlled, simply guided — we were shown, at just the right moment, a key piece of visual information: Sidra, our main character, our anchor in this story.

By cutting directly to Sidra (regardless of which direction the viewer happens to be standing the real world), we remove the risk of the viewer jumping into that scene staring only at a bare wall, or an empty doorway. We remove the risk of confusion, however slight.

We, as the filmmaker, exercise a level of restrained control that, in the end, actually makes the film more immersive. Not less.

And with that one subtle change, the entire visual grammar of traditional cinema that has been developed over the last 120 years, is brought to VR.