"The edited sequence is a fictional form of the original."
INTERVIEWER
What happens to those sequences?
WISEMAN
It takes me six months to select and edit those sequences. It’s only when I’ve edited those so-called candidate sequences that I begin to work on structure. I have no idea, in advance, of the film’s structure or what its point of view will be. It evolves from studying the material. Then I try to figure out how they might fit together, to determine what meaning might be attached to the way they’re ordered. In doing that, so as to both edit an individual sequence and to create a structure, I have to think I understand—however delusional that may be—what’s going on in each sequence and, subsequently, in their selected and proposed order. Now you’re wondering what I mean by that.
INTERVIEWER
Yes.
WISEMAN
I have to explain to myself what’s going on within a sequence in order to know whether I want to use it, and then I have to edit it down from its original length to a usable version without changing what I consider my understanding of the event. For example, I have to constantly ask myself the question, Why? Why are the participants saying what they’re saying? What is the significance of their choice of words? Why do they look left rather than right? Why does somebody ask for a cigarette at a certain point in the conversation? Is there any significance to the clothes people are wearing? Unless I think I understand what’s going on in each sequence, I can’t make the choices that will allow me to condense it into a usable form. For example, in At Berkeley (2013), some of the meetings of the chancellor’s cabinet went on for an hour and a half, and in the final film, they’re reduced to nine or ten minutes. Those nine or ten minutes are assembled from the original ninety and edited to appear as if the sequence originally took place the way it’s seen in the final film. The edited sequence is a fictional form of the original. Unless I think I understand the original sequence, I cannot make the choice, one, to use it, two, to reduce it to a usable form, and three, to know where to place it in the structure of the film. Unless I can offer myself an explanation, correct or incorrect, as to why I’m making the choices I’m making, I’m lost. Although I may be lost anyway. Before the film is finished, I have to be able to put into words why I have selected each shot and the meaning I attach to the order of the sequences.
That’s equally true when I start working on the structure. Unless I can explain to myself why sequence 2 follows sequence 1, or how sequence 32 is related to sequence 4, or how the first sequence is related to the last, it’s too random. I have to have a theory. It’s not necessary that anyone else reconstructs that theory—although if someone wants to, I think there are always enough clues—but I have to have a theory. Those choices are the way I express my point of view about the material.
INTERVIEWER
Can you give an example from one of your own films?
WISEMAN
For me, when a film works, it works because it proceeds on two levels simultaneously. It proceeds on the literal level—who says what to whom, what people are wearing, the way that people turn, the gestures they make. The abstract level is what is suggested by the literal events. An example would be after the main title of Welfare (1975), when you see people’s pictures being taken and you hear the click of the camera, and you see—I’ve forgotten how many people—let’s say ten or twelve people being photographed. The literal aspect is that applicants for welfare need an ID card to be eligible to receive welfare. The abstract aspect is how the photographs selected for use in that sequence tell something important about the applicants, who are white, black, Asian, and perhaps of mixed race. The film was made in 1973, when a common view was that only black people were on welfare. My choice of applicants plays against that. This is done with no explicit statement in words but requires an inference from the choice of photographs. This is my way of conveying an idea in film with no need for a literal, verbal statement about race or ethnicity. Also, at the same time, the sequence conveys literally that the administration of welfare requires recipients to have ID cards to prevent fraud when public funds are distributed.
INTERVIEWER
Even with this line between novelistic and journalistic, you still don’t mind your films being called documentaries?
WISEMAN
Well, I prefer they be called movies. They’re based on real events, but there’s a necessary and obviously fictional aspect to them. The selection of sequences, their reduction to a usable form, the order of sequences, and the structure are all fictional.
INTERVIEWER
Why not just use additional cameras? With another camera, another person could shoot those reaction shots as they occur, and in editing, you could sync up the two cameras, for “accurate” reactions.
WISEMAN
I don’t for a variety of reasons. It is too expensive to have a second camera. It is important to keep the crew small. More people draw more attention to the film. And you run the risk of filming each other.
(From The Paris Review: The Art of Documentary No. 1)



