Today we’ll look at the different techniques used in trailer production, the various ways trailers present film stories, and whether different rules must be considered when creating trailers for standalone and franchise films, to see how trailers (across genres) work to entice audiences. And if these practices help their reception.

Too Much or Not Enough

One common complaint about trailers is that they reveal too much plot information or give away the film’s best parts. For example, the trailer for 2019’s Black Christmas remake effectively showed the film’s entire plot, including the ending. It seems baffling but trailers often spoil films so the story can grab the audience’s attention in a crowded market. Unfortunately sacrificing the narrative’s surprise factor for ticket sales.

The obvious solution is to show less. And there are some great trailers that focus more on establishing mood than story e.g. A Clockwork Orange and Alien. However, sometimes trailers obscuring a movie’s content can lead to the film being misrepresented which can confuse viewers. For example, Sweeney Todd’s trailer prompted complaints from cinemagoers for not sufficiently showing that it was a musical. Trailers, therefore, are constantly attempting to try and reveal just enough information to entice audiences without spoiling everything.

Standalone Vs Franchises

Many may also think that it’s comparatively easier to market a franchise over a standalone film. As franchise films already have an inbuilt audience. Whereas standalone films don’t. Meaning they must work harder to reach an audience. That said, franchise films still need to give audiences a reason to return. And marketing a film based on prior successes doesn’t necessarily encourage new viewers.

Some great franchise trailers that get around this are the trailers for Star Wars: The Force Awakens and Avengers: Endgame. Both have moments made to appeal to series fans. They also give some information about the franchise to provide context for general audiences while also leaving out a lot of specific plot information to entice viewers to see the films. Thus like their standalone counterparts, franchise trailers also need to hook their audience while preserving an air of mystery.

Making A Trailer

Beyond story content, there are other trailer production elements that impact audience perception. Researcher Ping Feng compared many trailers for financially successful films across several genres between the 1950s and 2010s. They found that the average shot length of trailers has been decreasing over the decades. Modern trailers also include a lot of movement within the frame (shorter shots contain more motion) and many successful trailers throughout the years had a lot of camera motion. Which is done to keep an audience’s attention.

And trailers are also cut to a soundtrack. Generally, the music/soundscape also evokes the story’s genre. Although sometimes trailers will use contrapuntal sounds that go against what you would expect to make them stand out (the Clockwork Orange trailer melds the upbeat William Tell overture with images of harsh violence). It’s an effective technique that heightens viewer engagement and emotion.

Sometimes though the use of music and overcutting can be distracting. The use of popular songs and the growing trend of genre-specific song covers sometimes comes across as an indulgence rather than being a fitting aesthetic choice. And the short shot length and constant motion can be very exhausting for viewers. It also allows little time to take in information while also demonstrating a lack of faith in the audience’s attention span.

The Formula

Based on the information provided the best way to ensure a trailer sticks with audiences, whether it’s an independent self-contained film or a multimillion-dollar franchise entry, is to not overdo everything. Audiences should leave a trailer knowing enough to be interested. But not enough to ruin the experience. Movement can create a lot of excitement but too much can be overwhelming. And music should serve the atmosphere of the trailer. Not just play on an audience’s fondness for a song. When these methods are employed trailers can be works of art in their own right.

Also Read: The Formula For A Successful Film

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If I were to put myself in Kylie Jenner’s philosophical seat this year, I’d likely call 2020 the ‘Year of Change’. Albeit, back in January I thought that change was going to be more to do with real estate than global upheaval. But still, I have, during this pandemic, bought a flat (my first) and two of my friends are preparing to move into a house they’ve bought together. Other friends have gotten engaged, while some have moved in with their partners to get around lockdown restrictions, acquired new jobs that require them to move across the country, or made plans to pack up and head for sunnier shores.

This change is likely due to my age (I turn 27 in September) and that famously I’m approaching what some call ‘Saturn’s Return‘. This is the idea that Saturn takes around 27 to 30 years to orbit the sun and so when you reach my age, it’s getting closer to the place in the sky it was when you were born. This, in astrological terms, means that your life is disrupted, thrown off course, and you’ll face hardship for a few years as Saturn, well, returns. Of course, your late 20s are often when you’re expected to be more independent, and bills, house sales, taxes, hair loss, and bad knees come into play so Saturn’s Return might just be astrology’s way of trying to make sense of adulthood.

Whether the planets cause it or whether we just blame them, change can be hard to handle. So much so that I often find myself wishing it could fly by in one niftily edited montage. The seasons will change, and I’ll walk down the street in different weather appropriate outfits that allude to the passage of time. They’ll be a shot of me signing the contracts for my new place, and it’ll cut away before showing the stress and anxiety of buying property. Then, without showing the hassle and stress of finding affordable movers, it will show me directing two strong removal men to put the beautiful fancy sofa I’ve spent too much money on down against the far wall. In the next shot, the walls will have been painted, the shelves will be up, and my books will be all unpacked. Ultimately, it will end with everything done and I’ll sit down on my expensive sofa, look around at my finished flat, and smile. I’d be fully moved in, and ready to go back into the main storyline.

Change is a lot easier to process on film, and it has all these ways to deal with the passage of time that we don’t. For example, on Tuesday, I went for my first run in two years, and it ended with me spending £15 on Epsom salts and muscle relaxant bubble bath. It was the muscles in my groin, specifically, that felt like they were over it, as if they were some much-ignored cog in this machine I call my body. Each time I stood up, they ached, and trying to climb the stairs felt Herculean. It’s at this point that the idea of recasting is appealing. Out with the old and in with the younger model like James Bond or Aunt May. Yes, bring in someone more spritely to play the part of me for the next few years – ideally someone who has Hollywood-level personal trainer and doesn’t share my love for potatoes. Let the young hot bushy-tailed ingenue take over and then maybe I could be tempted to step back into the role in a few years (but only if the money is good.)

The last option, of course, is the full-blown reboot. Go back to the origin story, do it a little differently, and re-write the mistakes in the hopes that this time it will all go better and that people will be more receptive to it. Make this new version glossier, smoother, and put money into it. Recast everyone and start again. Of course, by this point, everyone will already be sick of it. Why bother bringing back a story that no one really cared about the first time? Why not make something new instead of regurgitating this old shite. I imagine that’s what the YouTube comments would say under the trailer for my new rebooted life. Nothing is ever original these days. 

Instead, I’ll just have to weather the change like everyone else. Ride with its ebbs and flows and try to make the emotional space to deal with it. I can hope and wish that I had smart ways to process change like film does. I can dream about 4 hours’ worth of shopping becoming a 3-minute montage set to a pop-rock song at the end of which I have a new haircut and a whole new outfit. I can fantasise that, as the inebriated man rambles on about politics, I could just cut away and skip the rest of his drunken lecture. But, instead, my makeovers are more gradual and my night outs often ruined by pontification.

In his book In The Blink of an Eye, film editor Walter Murch writes that Francis Ford Coppola had 1,250,000 feet of film printed after shooting Apocalypse Now. This works out to be about 230 hours of footage, all of which was edited down into 2 hours and 25 minutes. With this in mind, I guess we could try and look at life in a different way. We shoot it all, every second of life, and our memory acts as the editor. Our memory can cut out the excess, reduce the time between scenes, and even dub the dialogue. Right now we’re just the exhausted actors that have shot nearly 27 years’ worth of footage, but at the end of our lives, we’ll be able to play our own personal movies over and over again. We just have to wait until then.

Also Read: How Film Changed Me: On Reese Witherspoon

Read the rest of the How Film Changed Me series.

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