In the vast and ever-evolving world of film editing, few names resonate as profoundly as Walter Murch. Known for his groundbreaking work on films like Apocalypse Now and The English Patient, Murch is not just an editor but a philosopher of film. I had the immense privilege of serving as his Associate Editor, a role that offered a front-row seat to his mastery. But beyond the starstruck moments, it was an experience that fundamentally reshaped my understanding of storytelling and the art of editing. Today, I want to share some of the insights I gained from working alongside one of the greatest minds in our craft—lessons that I hope will inspire and inform editors and storytellers alike.
Editing as a Conversation with the Audience
One of the first things I learned from Walter was that editing is not merely about assembling shots. It’s a dialogue with the audience. Walter often spoke about the "emotional archaeology" of a scene—how every cut should be driven by an emotional truth that resonates with the viewer. He would sit back after making a cut—or, as he often referred to it, laying the 'scaffolding' of a rough assemble—close his eyes, and 'listen' to the rhythm of the sequence. It wasn’t just about the visuals or the sound design; it was about how the edit felt in the gut. I remember working on a particularly challenging scene involving overlapping dialogue and complex camera movements. Walter’s advice? "Cut with your heart, not your head." He taught me to trust instinct over intellect—to feel when a cut was right, even if it defied conventional logic. "It's often your first instinct that was the correct one".
The Rule of Six: A Masterclass in Prioritisation
Walter’s "Rule of Six" has become legendary in editing circles, and working with him brought this principle vividly to life. For those unfamiliar, the Rule of Six ranks the priorities for a cut, in order of importance:
Emotion (51%): Does the cut respect the emotional truth of the scene?
Story (23%): Does it advance the narrative?
Rhythm (10%): Does it feel right?
Eye Trace (7%): Does it guide the viewer’s attention?
Two-dimensional plane of screen (5%): Is the spatial relationship maintained?
Three-dimensional space of action (4%): Is continuity preserved?
What struck me most was how unapologetically Walter prioritised emotion over all else. "If it doesn’t make you feel something, it doesn’t matter how technically perfect it is," he would say. Watching him sacrifice continuity for a more powerful emotional moment was a revelation—a reminder that storytelling, not technical precision, is the editor’s ultimate goal.
The Power of Sound
Walter’s dual expertise as a sound designer and editor is integral to his genius. He often treated sound as an equal partner to the image, not an afterthought. During our time together, I witnessed how he would layer sound to create a sense of place, mood, and even character.
One project we worked on involved a sequence where a character’s inner turmoil had to be conveyed without dialogue. Walter used the hum of a fluorescent light, the faint echo of distant traffic, and the crescendo of an approaching train to evoke the character’s spiraling anxiety. It was a masterclass in how sound can communicate the unsaid.
He also stressed the importance of silence—how the absence of sound can be as impactful as the presence of it. "Silence," he would say, "is the canvas upon which all sound is painted."
The Editor as a Storyteller
Perhaps the most transformative lesson I learned was the editor’s role as a storyteller. Walter often described editing as "sculpting in time," a process of shaping raw material into something meaningful. He approached each project with the curiosity of an archaeologist, unearthing the story hidden within the footage.
He also championed the idea of "listening to the film." Rather than imposing his vision, he let the material guide him. "The film will tell you what it needs if you’re willing to listen," he would say. This collaborative approach, both with the footage and the director, taught me the value of humility and openness in the creative process.
Technological Tools, Human Heart
Walter has always been an innovator, embracing new technologies while maintaining a deep respect for the human element of editing. During our time together, he was experimenting with his preferred editing platform, Adobe Premiere Pro, always pushing the boundaries of what technology could achieve and always excited to test the latest features.
Yet, he remained steadfast in his belief that tools are only as good as the hands that wield them. "A great editor," he once told me, "is not defined by the software they use but by their ability to connect with an audience."
Behind the Scenes: The Search for a Steenbeck
Working with Walter Murch also meant embracing the past as much as the present. Some of the material we were using for the documentary was from old film reels that could only be viewed on a flatbed editor. At the time, finding a flatbed editor in working order was a challenge. But editor Mike Ellis had tipped us off that there might be a Steenbeck at Twickenham Studios. Jumping at the opportunity, I reached out, and we soon found ourselves at Twickenham Studios to view the rushes.
Seeing Walter on the Steenbeck was extraordinary. It was clear that he was entirely at home with this technology. The way he laced the reel and switched the buttons, it was like watching someone reunite with an old friend.
Walter even had a ritual—he liked to smell the film canisters before unwinding the tape. The strong, distinctive smell of the old reels comes from the chemical composition of the film stock, often a mix of acetate and emulsion.
For Walter, it seemed to be a way of connecting with the history embedded in those reels. The scent of the film, aged and storied, was like a sensory bridge to the past, evoking the craftsmanship and legacy of analog filmmaking. It was as though he was connecting with the history of the material through all his senses.
Lessons to Carry Forward
Working with Walter Murch was a masterclass not just in editing but in storytelling, artistry, and humanity. His approach to the craft is a reminder that at its core, editing is about connection—with the material, the collaborators, and ultimately, the audience.
As I reflect on my time with Walter, I’m struck by how his lessons continue to shape my own work. Whether I’m crafting a feature-length documentary or a 30-second promotional piece, I find myself returning to the principles he taught me: prioritise emotion, trust your instincts, and never lose sight of the story.
For those who aspire to edit—or any storytellers, really—I hope these reflections offer a glimpse into the wisdom of one of the greatest minds in our field. And for my part, I’ll always be grateful for the opportunity to learn from the master.
Zoe Davis worked as Associate Editor to Walter Murch on the feature docudrama Coup 53 in London , United Kingdom, 2017. The feature documentary went on to win multiple awards, including the Audience Award for Most Popular International Documentary at the Vancouver International Film Festival, Best Documentary at the MIFF Awards in Italy, the Audience Award at the Cinéma Vérité Festival in Iran, the Crystal Phoenix Award for Best Documentary at the Fajr Film Festival, and Best Edited Documentary at the United Nations Association Film Festival..