The Key Element of Editing a Good Film: “Emotion”

Given the same raw footage, for a truly skilled editor, editing is never just about arranging shots; it’s about arranging emotions.

In previous videos/articles I’ve mentioned more than once the “Six Rules of Perfect Editing.” Today, let’s go into detail.

Six Rules of Perfect Editing:

1. Emotion (51%)

2. Story (23%)

3. Rhythm (10%)

4. Eye-trace (7%)

5. Two-dimensional plane of the screen (5%)

6. Three-dimensional space continuity (4%)

These come from the “bible” of editing proposed by the renowned editor Walter Murch (The Godfather, Apocalypse Now).

Looking at the weight of each rule:

The three least important (eye-trace, two-dimensional characteristics, three-dimensional continuity) are exactly what we usually refer to as “editing technique” or “editing theory”: the relationship between eye-line and camera direction, match cuts, avoiding jump cuts, match-on-action continuity, and a whole series of academic rules you find in textbooks.

By contrast, the three most important ones have nothing to do with these technical requirements.

So what exactly does the top-ranked and most important element—emotion—mean? One example makes it clear:

In The Talented Mr. Ripley, after the protagonist has gone through a series of ups and downs, there is a shot of him on a boat looking out at the sea, a medium shot that holds for a very long time.

Editor Walter Murch explained his thinking when cutting this shot:

“As long as you can imagine his thoughts continuing with the sea, that’s how long you can hold the shot.”

That is emotion. That is the most important function of editing—narration.

Even in a “frantic, fragmented” editing style like Requiem for a Dream (which has around 2,000 shots in total, whereas a typical 60–90 minute film usually has only 600–700), there are still extended “long takes” that linger. To maintain the style throughout, the editor could have gone all-in on high-speed cutting; wouldn’t inserting long-held shots ruin the rhythm?

—The editor is absolutely prioritizing the characters’ emotions. True emotion can only be captured by a camera that keeps rolling.

In fact, Walter Murch’s rules of perfect editing don’t only apply to films; they apply to editing any project.

We often focus too much on “technique” and neglect the most primal “emotion” conveyed to the audience through the shot.

According to standard academic theory, selecting footage is the primary task of editing, and selecting footage must follow general principles like “stable shot, no camera shake, face clearly visible, composition strictly correct…” But if you truly want a film’s emotions to be accurately presented, you often have to break these rules.

In this scene from The Godfather, when the main character exits the frame he accidentally bumps into the camera, causing it to shake, yet the editor deliberately kept it.

In the beginning of 12 Years a Slave, the camera holds for several seconds before the first line is spoken (according to conventional practice the dialogue would likely start right at the opening).

These are all ways of preserving emotion through editing.

Thus, what a great editor seems to pursue is turning “where to cut” into “what if I don’t cut?”

You’ve probably heard the saying that good editing is about telling a story—telling it with images. How do you tell a story well? If someone recites it flatly like reading a textbook, in a monotone, you’ll probably remember nothing and just start yawning. But if someone uses expressive facial expressions, exaggerated body language, dramatic ups and downs in their tone, and practically sprays saliva while talking, then even if the story itself isn’t that great, it will still be captivating.

That’s why a good director can turn an extremely mediocre script into a film that’s at least decent—because they know how to control rhythm. And that rhythm is controlled by emotion.

If someone watches a film and says it’s good, there must have been something emotional that touched them. That’s what I’ve been repeating above: “Good editors can all tell stories.”

Back to the point at the beginning: “For a truly skilled editor, editing is about arranging emotions.”

Using a set of shots to create a montage sequence that conveys the emotional tone of “anger” is relatively easy.

But in a feature film, the emotional palette isn’t just “anger”; it may have segments of “joy,” “sadness,” “delight,” and so on. To weave all these emotional segments into a single cohesive work is extremely difficult.

For a 15-second or 20-second short video, the primary goal is to convey one emotion.

This is why being good at editing short videos does not mean you can edit features—or films.

The reverse, however, can be true.

This is also why, to really learn editing, you must start from film theory.

Putting technical aspects aside, a good film is always driven by one main emotional through-line, or several emotional through-lines interweaving with each other.

Suppose we’re editing a film with “sorrow” as its theme, and we have two clips in the bin to choose from, both of a person crying loudly:

Shot ① A normal take, technically flawless.

Shot ② Slightly out of focus, shaky—but the crying is more emotionally powerful.

From a technical standpoint, Shot ② would be considered “bad footage.”

But if you want the film to be good, you still have to choose Shot ②.

Anything the camera records—whether or not someone yells “cut”—contains no “wasted footage” from the editor’s point of view. There isn’t a single second that is truly useless.