Thelma Schoonmaker, Martin Scorsese’s Greatest Collaborator
A widely shared quote by Thelma Schoonmaker comes from an interaction with a student. She was giving a lecture at a university when a student asked her how such a nice lady could edit such violent films. She replied, “Ah, but they aren’t violent until I’ve edited them.”
Schoonmaker edits films for Martin Scorsese. They met at New York University. Schoonmaker edited Scorsese’s first film, Who’s That Knocking at my Door. They edited a documentary on Woodstock together. Scorsese introduced her to her husband, legendary director Michael Powell. Schoonmaker has won countless awards for her work with Scorsese, including three Oscars.
Throughout the 1970s, Schoonmaker had a hard time getting work because she couldn’t get into the Motion Picture Editor’s Guild. Their entry requirements included working five years as an apprentice and three as an assistant. Given that she had been nominated for an Oscar due to her work on Woodstock, she found it idiotic to start working as an apprentice or assistant. This meant Scorsese and Schoonmaker stopped collaborating until he used his reputation to get her into the Guild. In 1980, Raging Bull was released, and their half-century collaboration resumed.
Scorsese is known for many aspects of his directorial style. The untamed camera movements, monologues, slow motion, quick cuts, and the sickest Gimme Shelter needle drops put to film. What most people don’t realize, however, is that almost all these aspects are tied to the film’s editing. Schoonmaker is right there alongside Scorsese helping to make his vision come true. Whatever Scorsese wants to happen, Schoonmaker makes it happen. This is not to take credit away from Scorsese, but to demonstrate how close and important this artistic relationship is.
Some of the most iconic scenes in Scorsese’s work are tied closely to editing. The wedding scene in Raging Bull almost transcends the film itself and shows a deep understanding of montage editing. It purposefully juxtaposes images from LaMotta’s boxing career with LaMotta’s personal life. Title cards label each fight, “LaMotta Vs. Zivic,” “LaMotta Vs. Basora,” “LaMotta Vs. Kochan.” We hear strings and flutes played slowly and beautifully as we see still images of LaMotta punching his opponents and towering over them. These images are interrupted by home videos where we see him spending time with his wife and brother at a park, at their wedding, at a pool, with their children, and at a family barbeque. These home videos are the only instance of color in the entire film.
Wolf of Wall Street commits a cardinal sin when it comes to editing: discontinuity. In almost every scene, you can catch a character in a different pose than in the previous shot. This is done on purpose. Brad Bodnick is lifting weights alone in one shot. In the next, neighborhood kids are next to him, giving him money. In the next, he has already put the money away and is playing around with a baseball bat. In the next, the kids are gone and he’s yelling at his mom, asking what’s for dinner. These editing decisions do not show incompetence, they show brilliance. In this context, continuity is an obstacle to the movie’s pacing. Schoonmaker and Scorsese make the decision to disregard continuity for the sake of tone, pace, and humor.
One of Scorsese’s most reserved films is The Age of Innocence. The pacing and camera are a lot slower when compared to his other films. His most outwardly noticeable contributions are lighting and sound-mixing decisions, allowing Schoonmaker to truly showcase her talent. One of her most interesting contributions to this film is to superimpose the words in the characters’ letters on screen without obscuring the characters’ faces, allowing for both the writing and the action to flow together. This film also makes good use of the fade cut. In a dinner montage, a shot of a plate of tuna fades to a shot of some oysters on a dish, which fades back to the tuna being served, which fades to a full dish being set at the table. In a different scene, rather than zooming in with a single shot, the film fades to more and more zoomed-in shots in order to reveal information, emulating Woodland Archer’s gaze as he notices someone else’s coat at Count Olenska’s apartment. The flow of the editing seems to mimic the elegance of the characters, all of whom feel restrained by their surroundings, unable to do what they really wish to.
Thelma Schoonmaker’s editing talent is a large part of what makes Scorsese’s films so great. Her work fits his style in that it grabs your attention effortlessly and teaches you things by simply existing. Whenever I watch a Scorsese-Schoonmaker collaboration, I learn something about filmmaking. It is always wholly original and new.
Cover Photo by Barry Z Levine. Edited by Madison Case.
