—Dani, how are you so sure?

—Because I don’t work with jerks.

—Just because I’m not a jerk doesn’t mean we’re going to be friends.

—Are you perhaps thinking that the jerk… is me?

—Come on, Dani, I just visited your website and you talk to me like this…

—See! We just took the first step.

—What step?

—The step toward our friendship.

—I think you’re messing with me, Dani.

—Not at all. I’m talking about something as important as honesty.

—Alright, but don’t you think it’s too soon to be friends?

—Of course! We’re still missing something very important: trust.

—Dani, you know that’s not something you build overnight.

—If you’re in a hurry, we can end it here. I don’t want you to drop whatever you’re doing just for a friendship.

—Come on, Dani, who doesn’t have time for a friendship?

—Everyone has their own priorities… for me, trust is key.

—On that, we completely agree. But I’m here to learn about your work.

—In the Commercial section, you’ll find ad work, and in Narrative, docs and fiction.

—What have been your most important projects?

—There are two projects I’m especially proud of, even though they didn’t turn out as expected.

—They went off track?

—That’s right.

—Dani, is this how you introduce yourself? People ONLY TALK ABOUT THEIR BIG SUCCESSES!

—Well, I think you learn more from setbacks than from successes.

—Well, looking at it that way, I get it. But no success at all?

—Of course, I have years of experience. My first job, for example.

—If you still remember it, it must have left a mark. Tell me, Dani.

—I was hired by Jorge Gómez-Monroy. He had won everything at a global level as a creative director. A world-class top talent.

—What did you have to do?

—Edit interviews with some of the biggest names of the time: Oliviero Toscani, Fernando Vega Olmos, Daniel Solana, Nacho Gayán…

—Quite the start.

—I was in over my head. I had edited underground projects in London, but nothing professional.

—And what happened to young Dani Benavides?

—By the fourth episode, Jorge told me: “This tape is Bassat’s interview, the other one is his reel. I’m heading to Madrid. If you haven’t done a good job by the time I get back, you’re fired.”

—That’s a lot of pressure!

—I was scared to death. It was my first job as an editor, and I knew I wasn’t up to the task.

—What did you do?

—I watched the interview several times and went to sleep with it on my mind. The next day, I cut the interview, threaded one topic after another, and added the B-roll.

IT WORKED! Damn, it worked.
Bassat’s speech was fluid, elegant, and persuasive.

—You saved your ass, man!

—Something even better happened

—I understood what good editing really was.

—Want to share your secret?

—The edit worked because it was fluid, elegant, and persuasive—it truly connected.

—You’re talking about what the classics defined as eloquence.

—Exactly, a recipe that’s over 2,000 years old.

—Now I’m curious about the projects that went south.

—The first one was a powerful edit: rape, abuse, stigmatization, questioning of power…

—That sounds intense.

—It’s what millions of women go through every day around the world.

—What happened?

—The client asked the director to strip the message of its substance.

—The usual story. Who hasn’t gone through that?

—Not when you hire a renowned artist and then try to impose a message on her.

—Well, we’ve all sold out in some way. You know, “the client is always right.”

—They approved the script, the music, and the first cut.

—And then?

—The changes they requested in the second round… that was telling a whole different story. The director refused.

—She did the right thing. What did the client say?

—They contacted me directly, asking me to make the changes the director wouldn’t.

—Obviously, you didn’t accept.

—You’re getting to know me.

—How did it end?

—We handed over the hard drive and got paid for all the time invested.

—And what about the other project?

—Ethiopia. The same day filming started, Western journalists were declared enemies of the government and had to leave the country.

—They didn’t cancel the shoot?!

—No, the team traveled hundreds of kilometers in the middle of an armed conflict.

—I take it they came out unharmed.

—They went through hell. They were deceived, they lost crucial audio files that they could never recover…

—They must have suffered a lot.

—Yeah, when they arrived in Barcelona, they looked like they were coming back from war.

—Well, but in the end, all good? No one was hurt, and the documentary got made, I imagine.

—Luckily, they managed to shoot great footage, but they ran out of time to capture the whole story the director had in mind. There was no conflict.

—And what did you do?

—We kept the enemy always off-screen.

—Like in Russian war films!

—Exactly.

—I’d love to see all the techniques you used.

—Send me an email or a message, and I’ll send you the password.

—Will I get the password instantly?

—No, I send it manually as soon as I can. Maximum 12 hours—you could be on the other side of the world while I’m asleep.

—And if I’m in a hurry?

—That’s not compatible with the commitment of our friendship.

—Dani, you’re right, but let me tell you something now that we’re building trust: with this strategy, you’re going to lose a lot of views.

—I don’t want a lot of views.

—Oh, no? Then what do you want?

—For us to work together.