Copyediting sample 27:
Semiotic film theory

In this quirky dark novel, the interior monologue of the narrator, who teaches college courses in film theory, delves deeply (even somewhat turgidly) into the technical aspects of his subject. Not only did I need to take care of routine matters of copyediting (lowercasing academic subjects, italicizing technical terms but not terms that were not technical in this context, breaking up sentences that relied overly much on semicolons to fuse clauses, properly setting off a restrictive clause, and moving the adverb “only” to its proper place), I also needed to impose an either-or structure to clarify one sentence and to repair a faulty either-or structure in another sentence.

Skip this sample and advance to the next one in the series.

This sample is presented here with the author’s permission.

Original
Click to go to the markup.

I must admit that with a PhD in Semiotic Film Theory I am not exactly well-suited to delve deep into what’s going on with Kaurismäki. Semiotically speaking, his films are not very interesting, which boils down to the fact that they are neither terribly symbolic nor terribly constructed. Other filmmakers across cultures and aesthetic traditions generally lean on tensions in perspective or the wonders of montage in order to communicate meaning to the viewer from the bowels of the connotative layer. Kaurismäki, on the other hand, and at almost every turn, offers us the very same perspective we might experience while watching a play: His camera does not move much; his use of lighting is masterfully unobtrusive, verging on dull; his cuts are almost brutally economical, never aesthetically contrived; he is concerned with characters and characters alone, so that rarely does a single shot appear which does not contain or indeed center upon a human figure or face. The theories of Kuleshov, for instance, which pertain to the possibilities of inviting audience participation in the creation of meaning, are either lost on him or he simply does not consider them worth the trouble. Nothing much seems to interest him beyond regular people leading small, quietly desperate lives in grinding anonymity. In effect, he does not appear to care for the medium of film very much; one is led to imagine that he only bothers with it because it is, at least potentially, far more lucrative than theater.

Markup
Click to go to the result.

I must admit that with a PhD in Semiotic Film Theory I am in semiotic film theory, [for this term, see the style sheet (which relies on The Chicago Manual of Style: The Essential Guide for Writers, Editors, and Publishers [CMoS], 8.85, for capitalization of academic subjects)] I am not exactly well-suited exactly well suited to delve deep into what’s going on with Kaurismäki. Semiotically speaking, his films are not very interesting, which boils interesting, an assessment that boils down to the fact that they are neither terribly symbolic nor terribly constructed. [Italics are suitable here for technical terms in the field of film theory.] Other filmmakers across cultures and aesthetic traditions generally lean on tensions on either tensions in perspective or the wonders of montage of montage [(1) “montage,” in this context is not a “technical” term and so should not be italicized; (2) here an either-or structure prevents a misreading that there could be “tensions” in either “perspective” or in “the wonders of montage” (“tensions in the wonders of montage”?), clearly not the author’s intention: “Other filmmakers . . . generally lean on . . . the wonders of montage” as well as “on tensions in perspective”] in order to communicate meaning to the viewer from the bowels of the connotative layer. Kaurismäki, on the other hand, and at almost every turn, offers us the very same perspective we might experience while watching a play: His camera does not move much; his use of lighting is masterfully unobtrusive, verging on dull; his cuts are almost brutally economical, never aesthetically contrived; he is contrived. He is concerned with characters and characters alone, so that rarely does a single shot appear which appear that [U.S. publishers prefer to reserve the relative pronoun “which” for setting off a “nonrestrictive” dependent clause, which (as with this very dependent clause, beginning with “which”) could be omitted without obscuring the identity of the noun (or noun phrase) to which it refers or otherwise changing the meaning of the rest of the sentence; a “restrictive” clause, on the other hand—a clause (as with this very one) that could not be omitted because it provides information essential to the meaning of the sentence (as “does not contain or indeed center upon a human figure or face” does to the noun phrase “single shot”)—is routinely introduced with the relative pronoun “that,” as explained in CMoS 6.27] does not contain or indeed center upon a human figure or face. The theories Regarding the theories of Kuleshov, for instance, which pertain to the possibilities of inviting audience participation in the creation of meaning, are either lost meaning: Either they are lost on him or on Kaurismäki, [we need his name, to disambiguate from Kuleshov] or he simply does not consider them worth the trouble. [The preceding revision is to repair the parallelism in the either-or structure: either one independent clause (“they are lost on Kaurismäki”) or another independent clause (“he simply does not consider them worth the trouble”)—not verb (“are”) either “lost on Kaurismäki” or independent clause containing a verb (“he simply does not consider them worth the trouble”), which is faulty parallelism] Nothing much seems to interest him beyond regular people leading small, quietly desperate lives in grinding anonymity. In effect, he does not appear to care for the medium of film very much; one is led to imagine that he only bothers with it because he bothers with it only because it is, at least potentially, far more lucrative than theater. [The word “only” should be placed close to the word(s) it restricts.]

Result
Click to go to the next sample in the series.

I must admit that with a PhD in semiotic film theory, I am not exactly well suited to delve deep into what’s going on with Kaurismäki. Semiotically speaking, his films are not very interesting, an assessment that boils down to the fact that they are neither terribly symbolic nor terribly constructed. Other filmmakers across cultures and aesthetic traditions generally lean on either tensions in perspective or the wonders of montage in order to communicate meaning to the viewer from the bowels of the connotative layer. Kaurismäki, on the other hand, and at almost every turn, offers us the very same perspective we might experience while watching a play: His camera does not move much; his use of lighting is masterfully unobtrusive, verging on dull; his cuts are almost brutally economical, never aesthetically contrived. He is concerned with characters and characters alone, so that rarely does a single shot appear that does not contain or indeed center upon a human figure or face. Regarding the theories of Kuleshov, for instance, which pertain to the possibilities of inviting audience participation in the creation of meaning: Either they are lost on Kaurismäki, or he simply does not consider them worth the trouble. Nothing much seems to interest him beyond regular people leading small, quietly desperate lives in grinding anonymity. In effect, he does not appear to care for the medium of film very much; one is led to imagine that he bothers with it only because it is, at least potentially, far more lucrative than theater.