Each house sent in two or three initial trailers, and then he and Marvel top men, president Kevin Feige and producer Stephen Broussard, would scrutinize the spots. “I remember the message of Iron Man 3 was: ‘Does the suit make the man or does the man make the suit?’” Waterson laughs. Marvel’s marketing team would call three or four trailer houses, sometimes with firm directives, and turn the trailer producers, editors, and copywriters loose on the footage.
He worked as a Marvel creative executive during the second and third phases of the MCU, predominantly on Iron Man 3, before leaving to produce his own film projects. On the other end of that phone are people like Trenton Waterson. “But sometimes they call and we get two days.” “Ideally for version one, you’re going to have some time, a couple weeks, to work on it,” Gritton says. ( The Incredibles director Brad Bird famously temped the voice of Edna before giving himself the role.)įor larger projects, trailer editors have a window of time at the beginning, “four or five days,” to go through the footage, break down the film, write out the best dialogue, listen to music, and find a pace before they start cutting. For months, Gritton often won’t have anything more to cut from than storyboards, or moving sketches known as animatics, and rough audio. “The majority of the time it’s not what ends up in the film, which is why you see stuff in the trailer that you may not recognize later.” With animation, it’s even more convoluted. “We’ll pick what we think are the best takes,” Gritton says. Given the extraordinary and time-consuming process of CGI, sometimes green screens, motion capture dots on actor’s faces, maybe a cardboard cutout where a dragon will eventually go are still visible in these early cuts. Then we’ll get dailies-literally everything they’ve shot, hours and hours.” The dailies are covered in ghostly watermarks and stamped with the producer’s and house’s name for security’s sake, making them nearly unwatchable and of no real use to pirates. “Sometimes we’ll start on a trailer before they’ve even started filming,” Gritton says. Now 35, you’ve almost certainly seen Gritton’s masterworks-he helped create the trailers for many of Pixar’s recent films, including stitching together an award-winning spot for Up and the theatrical trailer for last year’s Coco. No one was happier to see me than Jeff Gritton, then a towheaded 22-year-old runner who was getting the call to move upstairs and become an assistant editor. Sometimes Tom Cruise would ride up in a blacked-out Ford Excursion to pick at cheese plates and stand over an editor’s shoulder as she cut new versions of a Mission: Impossible III trailer. There were teams of editors and assistant editors, pacing producers and nebbish writers, graphics folks and sound engineers. Trailer Park was a buzzing hive of weird, funny, angry, often stoned people-most deeply talented-who banded together for about 20 hours a day to somehow perfectly encapsulate two-hour films into two minutes and 30 seconds (and then 60 seconds, 30, 15, whatever your wandering mind has time for). So I was tasked with driving freshly edited copies of shiny new trailers to marketing execs around L.A., an often dangerous, thankless job that technology has effectively eradicated. ( Trailer Park now stands directly across the street from the theater, a glowing motor lodge sign on top.) I had no experience and no ego-just a car. In 2005, two days after getting my undergraduate degree in film, I walked into Los Angeles’s Trailer Park, then housed in a little brick three-story building at Hollywood Boulevard and Ivar Avenue, a stone’s throw from where film legends press their palms into the concrete outside Grauman’s Chinese Theatre.
The Battle for the Best Movie Trailer Since 1990: The Winner Is Inside Your Head The Battle for the Best Movie Trailer Since 1990
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