ABSTRACT
So far we have considered mainly organizational and technical aspects of filmmaking, which, though very important in setting mood, enhancing dramatic impact, and creating an atmosphere of acceptance, are not really matters of life or death. To a con siderable extent they are the packaging that makes the gift more exciting and possibly more acceptable. But an empty box, no matter how attractively wrapped, will be a disappointment, whereas the gift itself has a value even if stripped of all extraneous ornamentation. Examples of this are seen on the screen every day-stylishly packaged productions that have no content are financial and critical disasters, while crudely produced and ex ecuted films with strong dramatic or exploitational material be come box office bonanzas.*
The intention here is not to diminish the value of the preceding chapters, but to stress a basic truth; what counts most is the life projected on the screen. That life will be rich and absorbing only when it is the result of honest writing, fine acting, and skillful
staging, and the responsibility for extracting the maximum yields out of these requisites is in the hands and the mind of the director. Therefore his approach to his work, the obstinacy with which he attacks his innumerable problems, becomes the single most important element in the making of a film.
