The Master of Good Interruptions

By Andrei Liimets

Hendrik Mägar is one of the most engaged and awarded film editors in Estonia. He is a two-time EFTA award winner in the Best Film Editor category. At the moment he’s being praised for his masterful work on Smoke Sauna Sisterhood, the Sundancewinning documentary directed by Anna Hints.

When discussing films, people usually talk about directing, acting, perhaps the cinematography and the music as well. Editing rarely gets talked about. Why do you think that is?

I guess it’s a compliment to my field! In some sense our objective is to remain invisible. We work in cuts, which essentially are interruptions. Through multiple well-chosen interruptions we build a story with its own focus and flow. If no one notices these interruptions and reacts positively to the film, then it implies we have done our job well. To analyse editing in more specific terms, you need to be acquainted with the field. For example, music is part of everyday life, so people can pin down when it works or when it doesn’t. With editing, it took my own mother ten years to figure out what it is that her son went to study.

If you’d need to pick a film to explain what good editing is, which film would you choose?

Recently I have been more into documentaries. As I´m an emotional viewer I take editing and storytelling as a whole, so there are different aspects that make the viewing experience enjoyable. Wild Wild Country managed to carve out a compelling and tenacious narrative from a huge amount of archival footage. Icarus is another good example of documentary filmmaking, where you start with a concept that is overturned during the process, so you must react to real life events as they are so much greater or more serious than the initial idea. And Honeyland is a very intimate film that blurs the line between documentary and fiction.

How did you end up becoming an editor?

I guess there’s some element of chance involved. I went to study film straight out of high school at a time they preferred people in their mid 20s who had some life experience under their belts. I had developed an interest in film while in high school. I borrowed my dad’s Mini DV camera, so we filmed rather random things with my friends – just joking around, skateboarding and such. I was left with the material, so I started editing it at home. I was certain I didn’t want a nine-to-five life, no other subjects really fascinated me, so film school became the only option I wanted to take entrance exams for. I later learned I barely managed to get over the line!

I was very lucky to join a very strong course. I was the youngest there, and in front of the class we had Jüri Sillart (legendary Estonian film director, cinematographer, and founder of the Baltic Film- and Media School – ed.), speaking in metaphors most of the time. It was a huge leap from high school, and it dawned on me I was the dumbest person in the room and would need to learn to swim very fast.

I think it took me until about the third year to really understand what it was I had come to study. Having been in a formal sciences class, I had thought about editing as something more technical – that films would be more prepared before, and editing is pretty much just providing the final touch. Only later did I understand it is basically creative writing, only with other means.

Is there a type of personality that’s especially well-suited to become an editor?

Sensitivity is a trait that runs through all editors. In life, they are very often the observant types who notice things, but don’t put themselves in the spotlight while in company. You must be able to access both the emotional as well as the analytical side.

Your work has been noticed though! The guy who barely managed to get into film school has become the recipient of not one, but two Estonian Film and Television awards. You strike me as a modest type, how important are these kinds of accolades to you?

They are important, absolutely! The process of making a film is very long, you tend to drown in it, exhaust yourself emotionally. I don’t work for the accolades, but they motivate you to keep on moving forward. Of course, once in the spotlight, I feel incredibly uncomfortable. Then again, life has taught me that a person grows and develops through discomfort. I knowingly try to put myself in these types of situations to not become too comfortable. The work of an editor involves being a chameleon. It’s the art of adapting. In the end you work for and with your director. They all have different personalities and working methods.

I think your filmography also illustrates the aim of not getting stuck in your comfort zone. You’ve worked through a range of genres, rotating between documentaries and fiction. Has this been by choice or coincidence?

Chance does play a role, but mostly it’s been by choice. I’ve tried to work with different directors to understand better what works for me. This goes back to film school, where we had more directors than people from other fields. For every film the directors would direct, everyone else would get to make two. I always tried to make one with someone I was already comfortable with, and one with someone I hadn’t worked with before. I tried to transcend my own fears of someone being more intellectual or more adventurous than me. I tried to exercise something new each time.

When does a film usually reach your desk? Are you there for the planning or do they bring you the material so it’s like: here you go, put this together! It varies. I appreciate it if I’m approached before the fiction film shoot to give my opinions on the script. But I do not attend the film sets to keep my eyes fresh for once the material is all together. Smoke Sauna Sisterhood was an exception - I joined the crew in the middle of the editing process to offer a fresh approach for storytelling and visual style.

Cuts have become more and more rapid in films. Do you have a rhythm or style you are striving for, or do you try to pin down the style of the director?

The tempos have become rapid, and more and more music is used. These are manipulative means to draw attention through intensity from among the droves of visual media. I am a very rhythm-based editor. I used to play drums and my foot keeps tapping under the table all along. I try to find the right kind of language and tempo for each film.

Films deal with people and their experiences. I try to get to the essence of what the character feels, what it’s like to become merged with that feeling. But establishing a style in documentary editing is always a challenge. Fiction films are usually prepared with certain goals in mind. Documentaries on the other hand may need to react to real life events and therefore might include more of the unexpected.

How much has the development of technology changed your work?

The biggest change is that it’s cheap to film something. Production is still expensive, of course, but just filming material is easy. Cameras have become so sensitive you can even film without proper lighting. So much more material ends up in the editing room than did 20 years ago. Often many vantage points are covered in a scene, and it’s left up to the editor to decide what works best.

Has there been an especially difficult problem you’ve been able to solve while editing?

Problem-solving and crashing your head against a wall are half of the process! But then you arrive at a eureka-moment. A Loss of Something Ever Felt (directed by Carlos Eduardo Lesmes Lopéz) was especially challenging because there was very little material. The shooting process was mostly a reaction to real life events with no preparation time. We had to portray many moments that did happen, but where we only had sound, or no camera was involved. We tried to find the right means to still get the feeling across to the audience.

Is there a working process you prefer – either putting together the first edit yourself, or going through everything by consensus?

I choose the methods based on the director, but editing is teamwork and that suits me very well. Things worked out ideally with Driving Mum (directed by Hilmar Oddsson). For the first two weeks we watched the entire material together with the director, took notes, discussed the visual language, debated what works, what doesn’t, what is funny, what is cliché. During those first weeks we only roughly cut together 2-3 key scenes to understand the style that the director prefers. After that I worked alone for six weeks to put together the first cut of the film. Then we discussed everything again.

I enjoy working together when the other person feels comfortable while editing. I also know it might be quite an endurance test for a director because most of the practical work is mine, and once we decide on a scene, it might take me 40 minutes to put it together, while the other person doesn’t really have anything to do. Of course, some directors have experience as editors as well, and find it easier to change spots and show me their vision right in edit instead of trying to verbalize it. On average I spend 50% of the time editing alone and the same amount together with a director in the same room.

Is there a film of yours that is especially meaningful to you?

All of them are! The process is so long that each film defines some period or an age for me. I have been able to get so many important experiences through working with other people’s stories. Every project gives you the opportunity to experience something new that you might never get in touch with otherwise.