MELANIE WILLIAMS
Continuity Supervisor is one of
those vital but somewhat mysterious jobs in film production, akin
to the likes of key grip, foley artist or best boy, although thanks
to the bloopers section on IMDb and various TV programmes gleefully
pointing out continuity errors, there is at least some popular understanding of
what overseeing continuity might entail, i.e. avoiding those kind of
embarrassing inconsistencies that come back to haunt a film. But what is less
well known is the sheer scale and scope of the job and how it requires
near-omniscient levels of vigilance. As the experienced supervisor Angela
Allen explained in an interview, her purpose on set was
to function as a kind of human ‘memory bank’, recording all the
vital data about who was doing what as they said a particular line, how the set
was dressed, what people were wearing, and so on. Another continuity supervisor,
Phyllis Crocker, described her role in similar terms back in 1947:
The continuity girl is on the set for the whole time during rehearsal and
shooting, making careful note of everything that is essential for the record,
and being at hand to prompt both director and artists on dialogue, movement,
position and effects. She has her own desk and typewriter on the set and while
one scene is being set up, she is putting the previous one on permanent record.
She is, in fact, the clerical repository of all the information that the
director carries more or less vaguely in his head. (Collier 1947: 58)
Note Crocker's exclusive use
of female pronouns here as well as the telling nomenclature of
'continuity girl': continuity supervision was an area of film labour
overwhelmingly occupied by women, and to some extent continues to be - at least
in the UK.
And despite
its crucial role in successful film production, continuity
supervisor isn’t a job with huge prestige attached, unlike other equally
key roles which arguably enjoy a more elevated position. Could that have
something to do with the particularly gendered status of overseeing
continuity? Film historian Sue Harper certainly believes there’s a
connection between the two, suggesting that its position in the industry as a
‘female prerogative’ is intimately connected to its ‘attendant lack of status’
(2000: 4).
Certainly, struggles for status
and recognition resonate through many accounts of the job, whether in Kay
Mander’s insistence that the continuity girl is ‘more than a “floor secretary’’
– she is indeed a technician’ and ‘one of only three people on the set who are
expected to have an encyclopaedic knowledge of the script’ along with the
director and his assistant (1940: 89), or in Pamela Mann-Francis’ lengthy
struggles to achieve Association of Cine Technicians (ACT) union membership,
allowing her to put ‘film technician’ rather than ‘secretary’ as her profession
on her passport. But as Sian Busby suggests, the continuity girl is also ‘often
her own worst enemy’ when it comes to recognition of her hidden labour,
‘unobtrusively going about the task of making significant changes, corrections
and improvements so that no incongruities remain; quietly curtailing production
costs; acting unassumingly as aide memoire cast and crew; reassuringly
sharing the burden of coverage with the director (1993: 18).
Continuity work often appears to
supersede its official demarcation, as the continuity girl Martha Robinson once
suggested, taking in ‘not only their own official job but, unofficially, that
of First or Second assistant director, production manager, assistant cutting
editor, dialogue writer and even co-director’. Robinson saw this in highly
gendered terms: ‘Women are like that. If they see work neglected, they
unobtrusively do it themselves and think nothing of it’ (1937: viii).
It may be a rhetorical step too
far to claim 'auteuse' status for all continuity supervisors but it seems that
the extent of their creative input into the filmmaking process may well
have been vastly underestimated and worthy of a great deal more investigation.
Sources:
Busby, S. (1993), ‘Continuity: a
job for the girls’, In Sync (Journal of Women in Film and Television),
3:1, pp. 18 and 22.
Collier, J. W. (1947), A Film
in the Making, Featuring It Always Rains on Sunday, London: World
Film Publications.
Harper, S. (2000), Women in
British Cinema: Mad, Bad and Dangerous to Know, London: Continuum.
Mander, K. (1940), ‘Cutter’s
fifth column’, Cine-Technician, October–December, p. 89.
Robinson, M. (1937), Continuity Girl, London: Robert Hale.
[For a more detailed discussion
of continuity supervision, see my article, 'The Continuity Girl: Ice in
the Middle of Fire', Journal of British Cinema and Television, 10:3,
July 2013, pp. 603-617. http://www.euppublishing.com/toc/jbctv/10/3 ]