American Dialect: New England

1 September 2002

This article is the first in an occasional series that will examine different regional accents across the United States (and if I become ambitious, the English-speaking world).

The New England Yankee dialect is familiar to most Americans. Its standard test is how one says “Park the car in Harvard Yard.” If you say “ Pahk the car in Hahvahd Yahd,” you are from New England, or more specifically from New England east of the Connecticut River.

Like the American Southern and New York City dialects, people in New England drop the R after a vowel sound (in linguistic jargon it is a non-rhotic dialect). Hence park becomes pahk and Harvard Yard becomes Hahvahd Yahd. And many is the New England child who grew up thinking that mirror attached to the car’s windshield was the review mirror, to review what you just passed, not the rear view mirror. But there is a twist. In New England (and in New York City), one does not drop the R at the end of a word if the next word begins with a vowel. Hence, the R is pronounced in car in the above phrase because the next word begins with I. If one were simply giving the command park the car, it would be pronounced pahk the cah because there is no vowel sound following. Southerners drop the R regardless of what comes next.

Another feature of the New England dialect that is expressed in the pahk the car phrase is the Broad A. In most of the United States, the words father and bother rhyme. In New England, they don’t. The difference is the Broad A sound in the New England father. The Broad A is difficult to describe to someone who doesn’t have the sound in their phonological repertoire (i.e., most Americans). But it is sort of a combination of the O in bother and the A in hat.

The third distinct pronunciation difference in New England speech is the Short O. Most words that take a long O vowel instead take a short one in traditional New England speech. So road becomes rud and home becomes hum. The New England Short O, however, is disappearing. It is becoming increasingly difficult to find people that actually use it.

Not all New Englanders speak alike, however. We’ve already mentioned the magic dividing line of the Connecticut River. That river separates Vermont from New Hampshire and bisects Connecticut and Massachusetts. The New England accent is primarily found east of that line, in Eastern Connecticut, Rhode Island, Eastern Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and Coastal Maine. West of the river, in Vermont, Western Massachusetts, and Western Connecticut, the New England Accent gives way to the standard Mid-Atlantic and New York City accents. And in Northern Maine you find Quebecois and Canadian English influences. French words creep into speech and the Canadian OU, where about is pronounced aboot, can be found, eh.

Boston, the chief city in New England, has some further variation of its own. Throughout the city, both geographically and socially, you will find that most speak with the standard New England accent. But there are two social groups that have their own distinctive speech.

The first are the Brahmins, the old money, social elites. Their pronunciation is almost British. Like the British, the short A is pronounced as ah, so glass has the same vowel sound as father. The Broad A tends to become a clipped A in Brahmin speak, thus a Brahmin’s beloved alma mater is pronounced Hahvud and marble isn’t mah-ble, it’s mabble. Note the Brahmins still drop the R like the rest of their fellow New Englanders.

The second Boston variation is that of the working class of the center city. It’s very similar to the standard New England accent, but there are a few differences. The short A in many words, like washed, becomes an O, and T is often changed to D. Potatoes, for example, becomes padadahs.

And don’t get me started on the Kennedys. Nobody else talks like that.

Word of the Month: University

1 September 2002

September is back-to-school month. In honor of all those students returning to the classroom, we present a selection of words and terms associated with higher education. Our word of the month is:

University, n., an institution of higher learning, the body of faculty and students of such an institution (c. 1300), from the Anglo-Norman université, ultimately from the Latin universus. In modern American usage, a university typically has both undergraduate and graduate departments and comprises several colleges.

The word university alone is hardly enough to capture a taste of college life. So here is a selection of terms associated with (mostly) American university life.

____ 101, n., at US universities, courses are often numbered with 101-199 being reserved for freshman courses, 201-299 for sophomore ones, and so on. So a course with the number 101 would be the easiest, or most basic course in a particular field. The numbers have passed into the general vocabulary, so that someone who has taken, for instance, Psych 101 has a basic or rudimentary knowledge of psychology.

All-nighter, n., an study session that lasts into the wee hours of the morning. As a general term for late-night work, the term dates to 1895. University usage dates to the 1960s.

Alma Mater, n., the university one attends or attended. From the Latin title for bounteous mother. Originally a title given to a goddess, especially Ceres, transferred to the university by 1803.

Alumnus, n., in American university usage, it has meant a graduate of a university since 1843. The original sense is a student or pupil at a school, one who has been entrusted into the care of the school, since 1645. From the Latin term for a foster child. The plural is alumni. The female Latin form is alumna, plural alumnae, although the female forms are often ignored in English nowadays, except by all-women’s institutions.

Bachelor’s Degree, n., the basic degree conferred upon students at a university. From the Latin baccalaria, a small parcel of land or a farm (bacca = cow). The original sense of bachelor was a young knight or landowner (1297). The university sense (1362) and the sense of an unmarried man (1386) both stem from this original sense. The modern university spelling of baccalaureate degree is the result of an old pun that has become a standard spelling. Bacca lauri means laurel berry, evoking images of laurel wreaths. Occasionally someone mistakes this pun for a true etymology.

Campus, n. and adj., the grounds of a college or university. From the Latin word meaning field. English language use began in 1774 at Princeton.

Co-ed, n. and adj., clipping of co-education and co-educational, the admission of both men and women (or boys and girls) to the same school or institution, a woman (or girl) who attends a school with men (boys). Co-education is US educational jargon from 1852. The clipping co-ed appears as early as 1886. Use of co-ed to denote a female student dates to 1893. The term has fallen out of use since the 1970s as the vast majority of universities admit both men and women and the need to highlight the co-educational nature has disappeared. The sense meaning a female student is considered by some to be sexist and demeaning.

College, n., an institution of higher learning. In modern American usage, a college not affiliated with a university typically has only undergraduate students. It is from the Old French collége, and ultimately from the Latin collēgium, or colleagueship, partnership. Also, an organized group of persons with prescribed functions and privileges, as in the Electoral College, the College of Cardinals, and the College of Surgeons. The general sense is from c. 1380, academic sense from c. 1379.

Curriculum, n., a course of study at a school, from the Latin word for course, career. The term has been in use at English universities since 1633. Curriculum Vitae, or C.V., literally the course of one’s life, is the academic term for a summary of one’s career accomplishments, a résumé. Extra-curricular is an adjective denoting anything having to do with college life that is not directly related to one’s course of study: sports, clubs, parties, etc.

Dean, n., a university official, ranking below the president. From the Middle English deen (1388), originally from the Latin decanum. The Latin term was a military title, the leader of ten men. Gradually, the meaning expanded to civil and ecclesiastical offices as well. Later (1577), dean was applied to resident fellows at Oxford and Cambridge appointed to maintain discipline and behavior among younger students. At other universities, the term was applied to heads of faculty or departments of study (1524).

Dormitory, n. and adj., originally a sleeping chamber, especially a room containing many beds where monks or students sleep (1485), in American usage a residence hall at a university or college (1865). From the Latin dormitorium.

Faculty, n. and adj., the professors and instructors of a university. From the Latin facultatem, or power, ability. The general sense of an ability or aptitude dates to 1490 in English. The sense of a department of learning at a university is older, dating to 1387 (and even earlier in Medieval Latin texts). The sense of the entire teaching staff of a school is more recent and American in origin, dating to 1767.

Fraternity, n., a social group of students (traditionally all male, although some now admit women) at an American university, usually with a name consisting of several Greek letters. The first fraternity was Phi Beta Kappa, established in 1777. (Phi Beta Kappa is no longer a social fraternity, having become an honorary association of scholars). In addition to sponsoring social activities, at many schools fraternities provide room and board to their members. From the Old French fraternité, or brotherhood.

Freshman, n. and adj., a first-year student, a newcomer. The word is a compound of fresh + man. The general sense is from c. 1550, the academic sense from 1596.

Gaudeamus, n., a social gathering of students, a party. From 1823, now archaic. From the first line of student’s drinking song in modern Latin: Gaudeamus igitur, juvenes dum sumus (Then let us be merry while we are young).

Greek, n. and adj., member of a fraternity, pertaining to the fraternity system. The term Greek-letter society dates to 1888. The clipped form Greek appears in 1934. From the Greek letters used in the names of American fraternities. Girls and Greeks is a term used to denote a fraternity party that is open to women and members of other fraternities (reciprocity), but closed to men who are not fraternity members (G.D.I.s or God-Damned Independents, sometimes Gamma Delta Iotas).

Ivy League, n. and adj., athletic association of Northeast US universities consisting of Brown, Columbia, Cornell, Dartmouth, Harvard, University of Pennsylvania, Princeton, and Yale. Originally an unofficial sportswriter’s term (1937) for the Old Ten association, the league was formalized in 1954. Originally, the US Military and Naval Academies were considered part of the Ivy League, but they dropped out of the Old Ten association in 1940 and never joined the formal Ivy League association. The name is from the association with Ivy-covered walls at these venerable institutions. As an adjective, it carries the connotation of old and prestigious schools, among the best in the nation.

Junior, n. and adj., a third-year student at an American college or university. Originally, junior sophister. From the sense of junior = lesser, or lower rank. Since 1766.

Liberal Arts, n., fields of study directed toward general intellectual attainment rather than technical or professional training. From 1387. So called because they are the proper studies for a free or gentleman.

Midshipman, n., a naval academy cadet. Originally it was the lowest ranking naval officer, one in training and who has yet to receive his commission (1626). From amidships + man, their place of duty on deck.

Plebe, n. and adj., a freshman cadet at the US Military Academy or other military schools. It is a clipping of plebeian or commoner. From 1833.

Professor, n., a senior instructor at a university, particularly one who holds an endowed chair. From the Latin professor, one who professes or speaks. Originally one who professes membership in a religious order, it has been used in the university sense since 1380.

Provost, n., the head or dean of the faculty at a university or college (1442). From the Old English profost (c. 961), originally from the Latin praepostitus. The original sense is the head of a religious chapter or community, later transferred to academic use.

Quad, n., clipping of quadrangle, originating at Oxford (1820). A quadrangle is a square or rectangular courtyard surrounded by a building or buildings (1593).

R.O.T.C., abbrev., often pronounced rot-see, Reserve Officer’s Training Corps. A program of military instruction offered at US universities to train officers for military service. Originally a required course of instruction at many institutions, it is now voluntary. Many R.O.T.C. students receive scholarships, with the government paying all or part of tuition in return for a guarantee of several years of military service.

Rush, n. and adj., period during which bids to join a fraternity or sorority are extended to candidates, an adjective describing social activities related to such recruitment, as in rush party. Since 1899. From the rugby and American football term for charging the line in concert.

S.A.T., abbrev., Scholastic Aptitude Test, also known as the College Boards. It is a standardized test taken by American high school students used by universities as a factor in making admission decisions. The S.A.T. consists of two parts, verbal and mathematical, and each is scored on a scale of 200-800. Scores are commonly expressed as a combined score ranging from 400-1600.

Sabbatical, adj. and n., a period (usually a semester or a year) during which a professor has no teaching duties and may pursue research or other work, originally not granted more often than once every seven years; originally US (1886). Sabbatical has an older sense, as an adjective relating to the Jewish Sabbath. The term sabbatical year (1599) refers to Mosaic law that declares that all slaves must be freed and debts forgiven every seven years. The educational sense focused on the seven year requirement, hence the term, although the imagery of being released from the slavery of teaching classes was probably appealing as well.

Semester, n., an academic period, usually half the school year. From the German semester, which in turn is from the Latin semestris (six month period).  In English usage since 1827.

Senior, n. and adj., a fourth-year student at US college or university, a student who is not a freshman at a British one. In academic use since 1651. Originally adjectival in use, as in senior fellow or senior sophister.

Sophomore, n. and adj., a second-year student, now chiefly US in usage. From sophism + -or, one who studies or engages in sophism. Dates to 1688.

Sorority, n., a social group of female students at an American university, usually with a name consisting of several Greek letters. Sororities have existed at American universities since c. 1900.  The term is either from the Medieval Latin sororitas or from the Latin soror (sister) + -ity, in imitation of fraternity. The word has been used to denote female religious orders and groups since 1532.

Tenure, n., guaranteed right of employment granted to senior faculty, intended as a means of encouraging academic freedom. Use in the educational sense is American in origin (1896). From the Latin, via Old French, tenere, meaning to hold. Use as a legal term to denote the right to hold land dates to the 15th century.

Townie, n. and adj., a resident of a college town who is not associated with the school. Townie or towney is predominantly a US usage (1852), but town has been used at Oxford and Cambridge as a term for the local communities as distinct from the universities since c. 1647. The phrase town and gown dates to 1853.

Tuition, n., US clipping of tuition fee (1828). Fee paid by students in return for instruction at a university. Originally from the Norman French tuycioun, from the Latin tuitio, or guard. Tuition has had the sense of teaching or instruction since 1582. Cf. tutor.

Varsity, adj. and n., an abbreviation of university. In the US, use is restricted to sports and sports teams, with the varsity team denoting the one that represents the school, the first-string. Since 1846; 1891 for the sports sense.

Seven Words You Can't Say on Yahoo

1 August 2002

In the 1970s, comedian George Carlin became famous with a routine about seven words one can’t say on television. Carlin’s words were all of the “four-letter” variety. But in this more enlightened age, a different category of words is posing a problem, those that can be interpreted as part of a computer scripting language like JavaScript.

JavaScript is used to give commands to a computer and is commonly used in websites to run search and other such functions. While most JavaScript is innocuous, malicious hackers can use it to run damaging programs. To combat this potential menace, over a year ago Yahoo started subtly changing the text of HTML messages sent over its free email service. (Plain ASCII text messages, which can’t hide JavaScript, are unaffected.) In all, seven words used in JavaScript were changed to synonyms that aren’t. These are:

• eval is changed to review
• mocha is changed to espresso
• expression is changed to statement
• javascript is changed to java-script
• jscript is changed to j-script
• vbscript is changed to vb-script
• livescript is changed to live-script.

The changes are made surreptitiously, without the sender’s knowledge or authorization.

But in a fit of either supreme silliness or incompetent coding, the replacement of these words doesn’t respect word boundaries. So the word medieval, which contains eval, is changed to medireview. Evaluate becomes reviewuate. And retrieval becomes retrireview. And what does Yahoo have against mocha? Well, it turns out that mocha is a JavaScript command that allows a program to enter commands into the user’s browser. (Java/Mocha, get it?)

Googling on medireview, for instance, turns up some 1,100 websites that have incorporated the “word” into their sites. A New York Times book review that is reprinted on another web site includes the sentence: “ It was the great Barbara Tuchman who pointed out the capital difficulties of writing about the Middle Ages: that medireview chronology is very hard to pin down.” Evidently someone in the editorial chain forwarded the text of the Times review via Yahoo email. Book reviews are not the only thing affected, other affected sites include university course descriptions, scholarly papers, and bibliographies.

What is really odd, is that this alteration of text is utterly unnecessary. Altering the HTML tags in the script makes sense and many email programs do this (Yahoo also alters tags), but altering plain text doesn’t add security.

Book Review: The Man Who Deciphered Linear B

1 August 2002

Andrew Robinson has written a clear and concise biography of Michael Ventris, the English architect who solved one of archaeology’s most vexing problems. In 1900, archeologists discovered clay tablets on the island of Crete containing a strange script. The tablets dated to c. 1450 BC, about two centuries before the Trojan War. The writing was utterly unintelligible—no one even knew what language it was in.

For fifty-odd years the tablets were undecipherable. More tablets with the same script, dubbed Linear B, were discovered on mainland Greece, at Pylos in 1939 and at Mycenae in 1950. Unlike Champollion’s decryption of Egyptian hieroglyphics a century before, there was no Rosetta Stone for Linear B, no bilingual inscriptions that pointed the way.

In the first half of the century, archeologist Arthur Evans, who discovered the first Linear B tablets, made minute progress. He determined that most of the tablets were storeroom inventories from the palace at Knossos and he identified the numerals in the script. He also determined that the script was syllabic, rather than alphabetic or hieroglyphic, but the bulk of the writing was unintelligible. Evans believed that the language was a previously unknown one that he dubbed Minoan.

A few scholars postulated that the language was an early form of Greek, but they were generally ignored and scholarly consensus agreed with Evans. Linear B characters resembled a later (c. 800 BC) Cypriot script that was known to be a form of Greek, but there were crucial differences. Notably, the letter S, which is the most common final consonant in Greek, did not seem to be found in the final position in Linear B words. The 1939 discovery of Linear B tablets in mainland Greece revived the Greek hypothesis, but still scholars tended to side with Evans’s Minoan hypothesis. The tablets in Pylos could have been from a Minoan outpost on the mainland or the work of Minoan scribes hired by early Greeks who were illiterate.

Michael Ventris was born in 1922, the son of an English army officer and a Polish immigrant. He never attended university, training as an architect instead. He had no background in archeology or linguistics, although he did have an amazing facility for languages—Ventris spoke most modern European languages fluently and could learn a new one in a matter of weeks. He seemed a most unlikely candidate for solving this vexing puzzle, except that he had three qualities that others lacked. He was clearly a genius, he had a dogged determination to solve the mystery of Linear B that bordered on obsession, and he had an inheritance that allowed him to ignore his architecture career in favor of his hobby.

Ventris learned of Linear B at age 14, when he attended an exhibit of Greek and Minoan antiquities. Arthur Evans happened to be present and gave the boys an impromptu lecture on the Minoan civilization and the mysterious Linear B writing. Ventris was hooked.

He published his first scholarly article on Linear B in 1940, when he was just 18 years old. In the paper, he rejected Evans’s Minoan language hypothesis, opting instead for a conclusion that the language was actually an early form of Etruscan. Ventris would believe this hypothesis to be correct right up until he made his breakthrough in decipherment in 1953.

Robinson’s book focuses on Ventris’s methods. It is these methods, and his genius, that enabled Ventris to succeed where so many others had failed. The fact that he was not a practicing academic probably worked to his advantage. He did not attempt to hoard his findings, rather he was very open in sharing his work. Throughout the late-40s and early-50s, he privately circulated twenty different versions of his notes with other scholars working in the field. He seemingly had no ego to boost, nor a professional reputation to gain and maintain.

Unlike scholars like Evans, Ventris did not maintain his hypotheses in the face of mounting evidence against them. While he firmly believed that the language was in fact Etruscan, he willingly abandoned that belief when no longer stood up against the weight of evidence. Whether this was due to lack of confidence from his lack of formal credentials, or whether Ventris was just a man without ego doesn’t matter. He had that rare quality possessed of great scholars—the willingness to be proven wrong.

Ventris’s decipherment was largely his own work. He did, however, rely upon the work of a few others with whom he communicated. He worked especially closely with fellow Englishman John Chadwick and he relied on methods developed by American Alice Kober. (Kober disliked Ventris and considered him a dilettante. She refused to answer his queries, but Ventris gained much of his basic methodology from Kober’s published work.) Chadwick was especially helpful. In addition to being a professor of philology at Oxford, he had also worked as a cryptographer at Bletchley Park during the war. He provided a philological framework for Ventris’s work as well as helpful decoding techniques. Ventris knew all the scholars working in the field and communicated with them all, but in the end, it was he alone who cracked the code.

In the two breakthrough months of May and June 1953, Ventris deciphered the script. He determined that it was indeed an early form of Greek. Kober had identified several three-character words, or triplets, in the Knossos tablets as being of interest. The triplets were absent from the mainland tablets found at Pylos and Ventris made the intuitive leap that these were place names on Crete. Even though he still firmly believed the language to be Etruscan, for the sake of experiment he assumed the language was Greek and using the phonetic values of the some similar characters in the Cypriot script, Ventris tentatively identified the triplets as the names of towns on Crete. From there he began working out the phonetic values of the other characters. He worked out the spelling and grammatical rules that differentiated it from Classical Greek—the final S, for instance, is a later development in the language. In the process he realized that his Etruscan hypothesis had to be wrong and the language was Greek, albeit a much earlier form than had previously been discovered.

One might ask, so what? It seems to be an interesting intellectual achievement—on the par with calculating pi to the nth place, but knowledge of the contents of Minoan storerooms can’t be of great value. Nothing could be more wrong. Ventris’s decipherment revolutionized the historical view of the ancient Mediterranean world. Previously, it had been thought that the Minoans were a separate civilization, predating the Hellenic culture. Ventris conclusively demonstrated that in fact they were Greeks, and that Hellenic civilization was far older than had been thought. Also, the fact that the language was Greek has given historical linguists a wealth of data on language evolution and change. Once Ventris made his breakthrough, there was a continuous line of evolution of the Greek language stretching back some 3,450 years.

Robinson’s book can be a bit dry. He painstakingly describes the process that Ventris used to decipher the script and that is not for everyone. Only those with a real interest in linguistics or cryptography will find great interest within, which is not to say that the book requires formal training to be understood. To the contrary, Robinson writes quite clearly for the lay audience. It’s just that there probably aren’t that many that will be interested enough to wade into the material.

And unfortunately, the book is not relieved by interesting details of Ventris’s life. He led a quite ordinary, suburban English lifestyle. Other than the war years, when he was an RAF navigator, he had little excitement or daring in his life. The only thing different about him was his passions for ancient scripts and skiing (not a common hobby in England of the 1940s and 50s). Ventris died in an automobile accident in 1956, at the age of thirty-four.

But for those who do find such linguistic details interesting or are looking for insight into genius and how the mind works, Robinson’s book is well worth reading. A shorter account of Ventris’s discovery can also be found in Simon Singh’s The Code Book (Doubleday, 1999). Singh’s book is primarily about codes and cryptography, but he devotes half a chapter to Ventris and the decipherment of Linear B.

Hardcover, 176 pages, Thames & Hudson; ISBN: 0500510776, June 2002.

Word of the Month: Hollywood

1 August 2002

Summer is the time for big-budget, American film releases. This year we have, among others, Star Wars: Episode Two, Minority Report, and another Austin Powers movie. So in honor of summer days spent in dark, air-conditioned theaters, the word of the month for August is:

Hollywood, n. and adj., the American film industry. Named after the district in Los Angeles, California that is home to several major film studios. Generalized use dates to 1926. In 1886, Kansas prohibitionist Horace Wilcox carved out an area of what was then known as Rancho La Brea to found a community based on strict religious principles and strong moral underpinnings. His wife, Daeida, named the community Hollywood, after a friend’s Chicago home. The first film studio opened there in 1911 and the moral underpinnings of the community went downhill from there.

If you are one of those people who sit in the theater long after the movie is over watching the seemingly interminable credits roll by, you will see many strange titles and terms. What exactly does a gaffer do? Why does a best boy deserve that superlative? The following is a collection of terms that you will typically see in movie credits, plus a few others thrown in because they are interesting.

Above The Line, adj., budgetary term denoting expenses incurred before production starts, usually associated with creative talent, such as the director, writer, producer, and actor salaries (costs other than technical crew and equipment). See below the line.

Additional Photography, n., reshooting of individual scenes once principal photography is complete, usually because the scene didn’t turn out well.

ADR, n., abbrev. for automatic dialogue replacement, the re-recording of dialogue by actors in a sound studio during post-production. Also known as dubbing.

Art Director, title, also production designer, the designer of a film set, often having a major hand in the overall look and presentation of a film.

Assistant Director, title, also A.D., the person responsible for logistics, order, and discipline on the set and for keeping the production on schedule.

Associate Producer, title, nominally a producer’s second-in-command, sometimes serves as the de facto producer of a film with the credited producer functioning only as a figurehead.

Below The Line, adj., physical costs of production, including technical crew, music rights, publicity.

Best Boy, title, the chief assistant or second-in-command of a technical crew, originally the chief assistant to the gaffer, but more recently used for other crews as well. 

Billing, n., the size and position of actors’ names in the credits and promotional material for a film. An actor whose name appears first or higher than the others has top billing. If actors’ names appear at the same time or at the same height they have equal billing. Sometimes actors are given diagonal billing, where precedence varies depending on whether you read the names from top to bottom or from left to right.

Body Double, title, an actor whose body is used in place of another’s in a particular shot, especially in nude scenes or where a greater degree of physical fitness is required. Cf. stand-in, stunt double.

Boom Mike, n., a long pole with a microphone on the end.

Boom Operator, title, member of the sound crew, places and maneuvers the boom mike.

Box Office, n., also gross, the total amount of money paid by the public to see a film during its first run. The term does not include money from video release, associated merchandising, or television. For US films, it often does not include foreign box office receipts.

Cableman, title, member of the sound crew, runs and maintains cables for the sound equipment.

Cameo, n. & adj., a bit part played by a famous actor.

Camera Operator, title, also second cameraman, the technician who operates the camera during production. 

Casting Director, title, assists the director and producer in auditioning and selecting actors and negotiating actor’s contracts.

Cinemascope, trade name, a type of widescreen projection.

Cinematographer, title, also director of photography, first cameraman, and lighting cameraman, in charge of lighting the set and photographing the film, with the director chooses the camera angles and movement for each shot and then selects the appropriate lens, filters, exposure, and lighting required to capture the shot.

Clapboard, n., also clapper or slate; a board that holds identifying information about a take, such as movie title and scene and take numbers, filmed at the start of each take; on top is a hinged stick that is “clapped” to provide the editors with a cue for audio-visual synchronization.

Continuity, n., internal self-consistency within a film, such as no change in costume or location of props or positions of actors between shots.

Co-Producer, title, a producer who performs a substantial creative role.

Cut, n., 1. an abrupt change in camera angle/view made in editing; 2. the final, edited version of a movie; 3. a command shouted on set to indicate the end of a take.

Dailies, n., also rushes, the first prints of film made on a daily basis during production. Used by the director and producers to gauge how the film will look.

DGA, n., abbrev. for Director’s Guild of America, a union of directors and other film and video personnel.

Director, title, the person responsible for the artistic aspects of the production of a film and usually the person with final artistic control of the film.

Director’s Cut, n., the director’s initial edited version of the film, completed without studio interference. Has a synchronized soundtrack but often lacks score and special effects. More recently, used as a marketing term for a completely polished version made under the director’s complete artistic control.

Dolby, trade name, any number of audio formats and systems produced by Dolby Laboratories.

Editor, title, the person responsible for assembling the completed takes into a final version of the film.

Executive Producer, title, in charge of business and legal aspects of a production, typically not involved with the creative aspects of production. In television, however, executive producers are often the chief creative minds behind a series.

Extra, title, an actor with a non-specific, non-speaking role, usually in crowds or as part of the background of a scene.

Fake Shemp, title, also shemp, a double whose face is not seen, usually used when the principal actor is not available. Supposedly from the use of a double in Three Stooges films to complete scenes after the death of Shemp.

Foley, n. and adj., incidental sound effects, such as footsteps, slaps, etc. created during post-production.

Gaffer, title, the chief electrician of a film unit. Responsible for supervising the positioning of lights before and during shooting.

Grip, title, a general-purpose handyman. Duties include erection of sets, carpentry, moving equipment and props, and other physical tasks.

Key Grip, title, the head grip.

Leadman, title, supervisor of the swing gang.

Lined Script, n., version of the shooting script annotated by the script supervisor during production with the details of what was actually filmed.

Location Manager, title, person who manages logistics and permission for location shooting.

Location, n. and adj., filming done outside of a studio.

Martini Shot, n., the last shot in a day’s filming.

Outtake, n. a take not used in the final version of a film.

Post-Production, n. and adj., work done after principal photography is complete, usually includes editing, musical score, and visual effects.

Pre-Production, n. and adj., work performed before principal photography begins, includes script editing, casting, location scouting, and set construction.

Principal Photography, n., also production, the filming of the primary scenes of a movie, especially those involving actors.

Producer, title, the person in charge of a production, except in creative matters which are the province of the director. Responsible for financing, hiring key personnel, and arranging for distribution.

Production Assistant, title, also P.A., person responsible for odd tasks on a set, gopher, courier, etc. Often assigned to assist an individual actor, producer, or director.

Prop Man, title, also property man or props, the person responsible for the availability, maintenance, and placement of all props on a set. 

Reverse Shot, n., a shot 180 degrees out from the previous shot, often used in dialogue scenes.

Scene, n., a unit of storytelling set in a single location or following a single actor or group of actors.

Score, n. and v., the musical component of a movie. Cf. soundtrack.

Screen Test, n. and v., a filmed audition.

Screenplay, n., a script; sometimes teleplay in television.

Screenwriter, title, the writer of a script.

Script Supervisor, title, the person in charge of recording what scenes have been filmed and how the filmed version deviates from the script, often responsible for continuity.

SDDS, abbrev., Sony Dynamic Digital Sound, trade name for a digital audio system.

Second Assistant, title, or second, assists the assistant director.

Second Unit, n., a small crew responsible for filming less important shots, e.g., scenery and crowd shots.

Set Decorator, title, responsible for furnishing the set with appropriate decorative furnishings—furniture, rugs, draperies, paintings, etc. 

Set Designer, title, plans the construction the set based on the orders of the art director.

Set Dresser, title, responsible for physically placing decorative furnishings on the set.

Set, n., 1. place where filming occurs; 2. artificially constructed background/location, usually in a studio, for filming.

Shooting Script, n., the version of the script from which a movie is filmed, contains technical notes on how it is to be filmed.

Shot, n., a continuous, unedited block of footage.

Slug Line, n. a header before each scene in a script that describes the location, time, and date the action is supposed to occur.

SMPTE, n., abbrev. for Society of Motion Picture and Television Engineers, an industry trade group.

Sound Man, title, in small productions, the single person responsible for all sound recording.

Sound Mixer, title, has overall responsibility for recording sound and acoustics on the set, supervises the sound crew.

Sound Recorder, title, member of the sound crew, operates recording equipment.

Soundtrack, n., 1. the audio component of a movie; 2. collection of songs used in the movie, often released as an album. Cf. score.

Special Effects, n., also SFX, artificial effects created on set to produce an illusion on film. Cf. visual effects.

Stand-In, title, a person who takes the place of an actor during lengthy technical set-up of a scene. A stand-in is not actually filmed. Cf. body double, stunt double.

Stock Footage, n., footage taken from a film library or from another movie, usually for time and budgetary reasons.

Stunt, n. and adj., a physically demanding or dangerous task required of an actor, often actually performed by a stunt double.

Stunt-Double, title, a performer who takes the place of an actor during a stunt or physically rigorous scene. Cf. body double, stand-in.

Swing Gang, title, crew of carpenters that construct and take down sets.

Take, n., a single recorded performance of a scene. Usually, multiple takes of each scene will be filmed.

Talent, n., the actors.

Technical Advisor, title, an expert who provides advice on a particular subject to make the film more realistic, e.g., a retired military officer advising about military matters in a war movie.

THX, trade name, a proprietary standard for theatrical sound systems. A number of different sound systems meet the THX standard.

Title Designer, title, the person who designs and creates the title and credit sequences.

Tracking Shot, n., a shot where the camera moves to keep a moving actor or object in frame; famous tracking shots include the opening scene of Orson Welles’s Touch of Evil and the entrance into the Copacabana in Scorsese’s Goodfellas.

Trailer, n., advertisement for a movie shown in theaters; originally added on to the final reel of a film by the theater.

Treatment, n., an abridged script containing descriptions of the characters and major scenes with only snippets of dialogue.

Unit Production Manager, title, coordinates and supervises all the administrative, budgetary, and scheduling details of the production.

Visual Effects, n., artificial effects introduced into the film during post-production.

Voice-over, n., also V.O., dialogue on the soundtrack but where the actor does not appear on screen; often used in transitions between scenes or in narration.

Walk-on, title, a minor role, usually without speaking lines.

Working Title, n., the tentative title during production; often changed for release.

Wrangler, title, the person responsible for handling animals on the set.

Wrap, n., the conclusion of shooting, either for a day or for the entire production.