Gary Rydstrom Commencement Speech

Compliments of Bondelevich (whose name I still don't know how to spell). This is a funny and good speech. I just wish he stopped it one paragraph short. But he's a sound guy, not an editor...

Mary Pickford Award and Commencement Speech
USC School of Cinema-Television
Gary Rydstrom
May 14, 2004

Thank you to Dean Elizabeth Daley and the Board of Councilors for honoring me with the Mary Pickford Award. I am very proud of my ongoing association with this School, and once, while I was a student here in the 70’s, I got a perm that accidentally made me look like Mary Pickford, so the Award is doubly meaningful to me.

I also truly appreciate the opportunity to address the Class of 2004. Congratulations on your graduation from this storied School. I know you will do marvelous things, for which I plan to take credit.

When I went to USC film school, I wanted to be a director.

But I couldn’t get my 580 thesis film approved, so I made an animated film about the faculty as an act of revenge, which turned out better than my 580 would have. Wasn’t interested in animation, though, so went about becoming a writer, got a writing scholarship, didn’t write anything. Was a personal projectionist for Francis Coppola, who always called me “Barry,” and asked how things were going at UCLA. If he ever did call with a great opportunity, it probably went to some jerk named Barry at UCLA.

I met Sydney Pollack, who hired me to picture-edit a documentary for him, until one day Dustin Hoffman had the first director of “Tootsie” fired and replaced by Sydney Pollack, who cancelled the documentary.

Then Ken Miura came up to me in the courtyard of the old Cinema building and asked if I wanted to work at Lucasfilm. Next day, I drove up to Marin County and started working in the machine room of what would become Skywalker Sound. Ben Burtt, famous sound man and USC graduate, wasn’t available to do the sound for a short film by John Lasseter called “Luxo, Jr.” so I filled in, and did the sound for every Pixar film since. A love of silent comedies first drew me to the film business, in which I had a wonderful, fascinating, rewarding 20-year career in film sound, after which I win an award at USC named for a famous silent film star. And this year I’m beginning a whole new career, in animation, at Pixar, where, a mere 27 years after leaving for film school, I’m a director.


And so my theme for these remarks: Embrace the Unexpected. Knowing what’s going to happen next is boring in the movies, and it’s boring in life. In your careers, in your writing, in your characters, in your filmmaking, be attuned to unexpected twists, and let them lead you down unexpected paths. Characters in the movies chase after what they want, then discover what they need. There’s more to discover on a crooked path. In an early piece of advice to screenwriters, Emily Dickinson wrote:

Tell all the Truth, but tell it slant—
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth’s superb surprise

Come at your work from an angle. From new and numerous angles. Inspiration tends to find you, not the other way around, and, believe me, it comes from mistakes, flaws, and accidents more than from Day Planners and outlines. You don’t really know what’s coming next. Film audiences love that, and so should you. Take time to stop and smell the plot twists.

I’ve given a lecture on film sound once every semester for many years here at USC, and thanks to you it has been one of the great experiences and joys of my life. One student wrote in his teacher evaluation: “The class was okay, but wasn’t useful for me because I plan on being a director and hiring someone to do that stuff.” To be accurate, he didn’t use the word “stuff.” I have prayed ever since that he became a sound person. There is so much more to filmmaking than directing, so many ways to creatively contribute, so many fantastic careers possible. I wouldn’t give up my 20 years in film sound for anything. It was an added bonus that it turned out to be the fast track to directing.

From film sound I learned to make use of the unexpected. While flossing one day, I was inspired by a horrific, high-pitched screech made while pulling my floss out of its container, and used this sound for a Pteradactyl scream in the second “Jurassic Park.” From film sound I learned that less is more, but a lot less is pushing it. I learned to aim not for reality, but emotional reality. The fires in “Backdraft” came alive after mixing in the sounds of cougars, coyotes, and whispers. I learned that sound is key to our memories, from the veterans who helped me recreate the sounds of battle in “Saving Private Ryan,” and that memories are key to film.

I learned from working with Steven Spielberg that the best filmmakers are able to turn their heads around and be their own audience. Second-guessing your audience is a perilous practice; audiences react best when you are true to yourself. From James Cameron I learned that passion doesn’t work without dedication. Working for George Lucas, I learned how indispensable mavericks are. From Robert Redford I learned how film can reach for poetry, towards the seemingly impossible. For “Quiz Show” he asked me to come up with a “Morality Tone,” a sound to reflect Charles Van Doren’s struggles with moral choice. I loved that he pushed me like that. And, of course, never did come up with the stupid “Morality Tone.”

I learned that the richest source of sounds isn’t any synthesizer, but the real world. Those of us who grew up loving movies sometimes have a funny relationship to the real world. A dark theater is a safe place to experience intense emotions, and filmmakers too often recreate experiences fondly recalled from movie-going, giving us second-hand emotions. Take what you’ve learned here, and from great movies, as method, as technique, but draw the essence of your work from life. Imagine a sign hanging over your graduation saying “Reality Starts Here.” Live a life apart from your passion for film. Read, travel, love, explore. Creating empathetic characters requires leading an empathetic life. Film is about feeling. It’s about using our head to reveal our heart.

Learn history well, so that someday we will repeat history more in the movies than we seem to be doing in the world.

Embrace the unexpected in life, and you’ll have more fun – and more fodder.

Thinking about commencement themes, I’m reminded of the valedictory address at my high school, which was entitled: “Life As a Sponge.” There we were, at the crossroads, with so many good animal metaphors available, and we were being called on to march into the world as Sponges. I bring this up only to make “Embrace the Unexpected” sing in comparison.

Niels Bohr said, “Prediction is very difficult, especially about the future.” But the future hangs, tantalizingly, over graduation. It will be full of superb surprises, but there are some things you can expect.

Throughout your careers you will veer between cocky self-assuredness and panicked self-doubt. Learn to enjoy the 3 to 4 seconds of relative balance as you swing between them.

Your passion won’t be enough; it needs to be leavened with professionalism.

It takes more than one person to make a film. I don’t like the auteur theory, because I’ve seen how successful films depend on a magical combination of talented people, bringing unique experiences, passionate about their jobs and the film, encouraging and enlivening each other. I advocate changing the auteur theory to the ranconteur theory.

Films should be a conversation, not a sermon.

Commencement speeches, on the other hand, can be a sermon.

You should always try to work with people smarter than you are. The people you believe aren’t smarter than you are, really are, you just haven’t figured out how yet.

It takes machines and people equally to make movies, but only people go to see them. As the technology improves, it has, and will, become harder for a sense of humanity to survive the process.

The truest friends you will have in your careers are sitting around you today. I suggest you pay off your debts to each other, forgive your disagreements, and return borrowed CD’s, because you are the ones who will be helping yourselves get started, and you are the ones who will be helping yourselves get through it all.

And if all goes right, you are the ones who will be making better movies and television.

Our industry is not like any other. The people who make Kleenex pretty much have making Kleenex down; their job is to sell more and more of it each year. Our industry needs gleaming, brand-new ideas every year. This is where you come in. The future is bright, usually right around 14 foot-lamberts. Take risks. Take crooked paths. The world is full of experiences and inspirations waiting in unexpected corners, waiting to be soaked up, as you begin your exciting Life As a Sponge.

Thank you.