Beatriz Lima
I cut documentaries in Lisbon and short fiction when someone lets me. My job is deciding when a shot is over. So that is what I watch for, and I am sorry in advance if that is all I ever talk about.
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I cut documentaries in Lisbon and short fiction when someone lets me. My job is deciding when a shot is over. So that is what I watch for, and I am sorry in advance if that is all I ever talk about.
Cut to the road, not to the beat, which is the harder choice and the right one. Every time you think it is about to drop into a montage it stays with a face instead. Also the film is fourteen minutes and feels like six, and I mean that as the compliment it is.
Every cut in this is late. Deliberately late. You stay in the shot a half second after the information has arrived, and by the fourth time you start bracing for it. That is how the film makes you nervous without a single note of score until minute twelve. I would not change a frame, which I say about almost nothing.
The temptation with a short like this is to cut it to music and call it a mood piece. Instead it holds, and holds, and lets him finish his sentences. The one cut I would question is at four minutes, into the gulls. It is a breath the film did not need. Everything else is exactly right.
