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Questions like these are usually considered too messy, or too abstract and subjective. I
appreciate those arguments, and don't discount them. On the other hand, I think we do know a
few things about being creative. One theory is that each of us is given a bag of creativity at
birth, and that the bag doesn't grow or shrink much for the rest of our lives. But even if our
bag of creativity doesn't change in size, our ability to dip into it varies constantly. Ask any
artist or performer.
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We can interview an artist and chart the sequence of events by which a given set of raw
materials was fashioned into to a specific art product. But most of what we get from that kind
of examination will be information about craft (technology and technique). We know
intuitively that a great artist is more than a great technician. In fact, it might be argued that a
great artist doesn't even have to be a very good technician. So what is it that guides the
technique?
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In the movie industry a high value is justifiably placed on technical competence. It is
assumed that every craftsperson should know how to use the tools of the trade and be able to
perform on cue, under pressure. The trouble with paying so much attention to skill and
technical prowess is this: The frame of mind in which interesting things germinate is often
more confused and desperate than organized and confident.
Being creative is balancing precariously between, or shifting back and forth between, these
two extremes. It is not surprising that a high percentage of very creative people have manic-
depressive personalities.
When you begin a project, the surest way to guarantee nothing interesting will happen is to
go into it with the assumption that you know exactly how to do it. The best you can hope to
do within that frame of mind is to duplicate work that you or someone else has already done.
Of course, the first step in mastering a craft is to learn the traditions and conventions, the
tools and techniques that have historically produced good work and bad. Having acquired
those skills, the challenge is to look freshly at each new project, making as few assumptions
as possible about how to proceed.
It's generally acknowledged that a good film begins with a good script. On the other hand,
even a very good script is nothing more than a vague blueprint for the eventual film. The
locations, actors, and other collaborators will add depth to the story that the writer is not in a
position to anticipate. The serendipity that allows it all to come together will only happen if
each collaborator is open to it, and clever about making the necessary adjustments. One thing
seems clear: the best creative ideas
usually arise in the process of doing the work itself. They don't usually form in our minds
while we stare at a blank piece of paper.
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People often say that "truth is stranger than fiction," as if we should be surprised. Why
wouldn't truth be stranger than fiction? A few moments of human activity in any ordinary
supermarket, if fully examined, would no doubt be hilarious and horrific beyond belief. On
the other hand, given a supermarket as a location, a very good writer might be able to invent a
few amusing and trenchant scenes.
(1) reality, which contains profundities and comedy unimaginably wild and deep, but on the
surface is mostly deadly boring and
(2) fiction, which isn't too hard to make superficially appealing, but is difficult as hell to
make profound or deeply funny.
The script needs to be shaped by real world experience. Shooting and editing the film
involves a trip through more unanticipated reality which will frustrate, but can also improve
what you thought you had.
Designing your sound (bet you thought we'd never get to sound) should be no less
experimental and no less influenced by process. When we begin to imagine a scene, the first
few sounds that come to mind will usually be "appropriate" in a general way, but not very
deeply connected to what is really happening dramatically.
Let's say we have a scene around a kitchen table where two guys are arguing. One eventually
jumps up, pulls a gun, cocks it, and points it at the other's head. The most obvious sound
effect to feature is the cocking of the gun. Ironically, the other prop I mentioned (the table)
could supply a more powerful sound. As our guy stands, maybe he shoves the table toward
the other guy. The scrape of the table legs on the floor could be fashioned to evoke danger
more effectively because it comes from a place we don't expect. Knowing we may want to
use the sound of the table in this way will influence everything about the way we set up and
block the shots.
The best way to find unexpected storytelling elements is to experiment. If I am designing the
sound for the scene around the table, I will want to simulate the set as closely as possible.
Then I will move and play with every object and surface in the place, listening for sounds that
have the dramatic values I can use to enhance the scene. On the other hand, unless I can do
this experimenting before shooting starts, there is no way I can influence the way the scene is
to be shot. If the Director and Actors
are really sharp, they will discover ways to use sound in the scene as they're rehearsing.
Similarly, they'll find ways to use the table itself and the space between the two characters in
the scene.
If I am directing the scene, I will want to experiment with sound in this way before the scene
is shot, so that I will be able to block and shoot, and even construct the set in ways that take
advantage of sound.
Mistakes, accidents, and the unexpected often provide the spark that leads to great work. The
trick is to plan and execute your creative process in a way that makes room for lots of
experimenting and lots of mistakes early. Rehearsing is not mainly for the purpose of
"memorizing" what needs to be done. Actually the best reason to rehearse is to discover what
needs to be done.
So, Uncle Randy's simple rules for being more creative are: