

Hailing from Portugal, Marcos Castiel’s passion for film began with a desire to direct but he soon discovered that the true magic happens in the edit suite. He kickstarted his career cutting global campaigns at agencies such as Publicis, before moving to the production side, where he curated an eclectic reel full of diverse styles and compelling stories.
Eager to keep things fresh, Marcos went freelance and kept working on big international campaigns such as Mercedes, Starbucks, Coca-Cola, Jeep, Apple, and Vodafone amongst many many others.
His passion for storytelling extends beyond advertising. Most recently, Marcos edited the Netflix series ‘Glória’ and ‘Turn of the Tide’, as well as the feature film ‘Restos do Vento’, which was part of the Official Selection at Cannes in 2022.
Marcos sat down with LBB to discuss his treatment rituals, creative conflicts, and editing as a three-way conversation
Marcos> I usually start by just watching everything – no pressure to cut, just feel it out. I like to get a sense of tone and rhythm before I touch the keyboard. Then I’ll throw together a rough assembly, super loose, just to see where the energy wants to go.
I’ve got this small ritual I do every morning in my editing room. It’s my way of calling on creativity – a bit like how ancient writers used to invoke the muses. It sounds dramatic, but it’s really just me setting the mood: coffee, music, maybe a bit of staring at the timeline pretending I know what I’m doing.
Marcos> Mostly by cutting a lot and watching how people react. You start to feel how emotion hides in rhythm, pauses, or even silence. It’s less about fancy transitions and more about knowing when not to cut.
Editing fiction helps a lot too. In long-form work, like the Netflix projects I’ve done, you really train the emotional muscle. You’ve got more room to breathe, to build feeling, to explore character and that sensitivity bleeds beautifully into commercial work.
Marcos> Always. Even if there’s no track, there’s still rhythm – in movement, light, speech, the way someone blinks. I love cutting to music, but it can be dangerous – you start chasing the beat instead of the feeling. Sometimes the best thing you can do is miss the beat on purpose.
For me, rhythm, the pace, is the music of the cut. That’s what gives a scene its heartbeat. You can feel when it’s off, like someone clapping slightly out of time at a concert. It drives you mad until you fix it.
Marcos> When I got the script for a Vaseline film in the US, it was a full piece in split screen. My first reaction was, oh great… a nightmare! A whole film in split screen, from start to finish – every editor knows that’s both hard work and a creative minefield. But that’s exactly what I love. When a script scares me a bit, I know it’s the one I need to do. Those are the projects that push me out of my comfort zone and force me to dig deeper, to push harder.
Marcos> It’s everything. You spend weeks in a room together, so trust is key. When there’s a difference, I always try both ideas and put them on screen. The timeline is neutral ground; it tells the truth.
Something I really love doing is having a quick chat with the director before they even shoot – just a short Zoom for five or ten minutes. I love hearing them describe the film they’re about to make. It instantly helps me understand their vision and how I can help bring it to life. At the end of the day, that’s the job – helping the director realise their vision, while still bringing your own take to the table. Those early conversations are gold, because you can still influence the outcome in small but meaningful ways.
And honestly, part of it is just liking people. I enjoy working with people, building relationships, having fun while we work. Creative conflict can be productive, but it doesn’t have to be destructive – it can be collaborative, built on dialogue. For me, editing is a three-way conversation between the editor, the director, and the material. Later, that conversation widens to include the agency and the client. It’s all dialogue. That’s how films find their shape.
And there are relationships that become almost a second language. A great example for me is director Augusto Fraga, an extraordinary filmmaker I’ve been working with for many years. We’ve collaborated on everything – global advertising, Mercedes-Benz, Volkswagen, sports, you name it – and in fiction too, like on his Netflix series ‘Turn of the Tide’. He’s the perfect example of what a solid editor–director relationship can be.
We’ve worked together for so long that we’ve developed our own shorthand. Sometimes he barely needs to say a sentence and I already know exactly what he means. That kind of trust and shared language is rare and it’s gold.
And when we really can’t see eye to eye… well, let’s just say one of us doesn’t make it to the wrap party.
Marcos> There’s no such thing as too much material. Honestly, there isn’t. That’s my job – that’s the job of an editor: to separate the trees from the forest, to sculpt the footage, to give it structure, pace, and rhythm. The more I have, the better.
What I really hate are projects where there isn’t enough footage. You spend your days pretending those two shots actually like each other and they clearly don’t.
Marcos> I’m proud of the ones that still feel alive after the 200th watch. And it’s not always the big-budget ones – sometimes the smaller projects are the ones that stay with you, because they’re crafted with care and trust.
There’s a film I did years ago for a Greek telecom brand called ‘Wind’. It was a small piece, beautifully directed, but really built in the edit – out of a relationship of complete trust between me, the director, and the agency. Everyone on that job was better than me at what they did – the director, the creatives, all of them! That’s exactly why it worked. When you’re surrounded by people who are great at what they do, the talent just flows. Usually downhill.
Marcos> I don’t really agree with the premise of that question. Advertising has always been driven by change. It’s built into the DNA of the industry. Since the very beginning, this business has lived on constant evolution – new formats, new platforms, new ways to tell stories.
So yes, things look different now, but they’ve always been changing. That’s not new – that is advertising. The medium shifts, the tools evolve, but the core challenge stays the same: how do you make someone feel something in a very short amount of time?
Marcos> When I first started editing professionally, there was this company in the UK – Marshall Street Editors – and every single piece that came out of there was just incredible. I used to look at their work and think, these people are on another level. The founders – Tim Thornton-Allan and John Mayes – were absolute heroes to me, and they still are.
For years, one of my biggest ambitions was to be represented by them. And then, one day, I finally built up the courage to send an email to their head of production, SJ O’Mara – half expecting it to disappear into the void. But it didn’t. We talked, and somehow that conversation turned into a partnership. For me, that was a real milestone. Not exactly a childhood dream, but definitely a long-held professional one. I’m now working with my heroes, which still feels slightly surreal.
There are others, of course. I can’t not mention John Smith, who edited the PlayStation ‘Double Life’ commercial. I first saw it years ago, on VHS, and it blew my mind. The rhythm, the storytelling, the sheer precision of it – I remember thinking, that’s what editing can do.
And in fiction, I’d say Joe Walker. He’s a master of the craft. Everything he cuts – from ‘Arrival’ to ‘Dune’ – has that perfect balance of intellect, rhythm, and emotion. For me, his work is a constant reference.
Marcos> Most people will tell you there’s a huge difference – that it’s all about time, or pacing, or how you build emotion. And sure, in commercials you’ve got 30 seconds to make someone feel something. Every frame has to earn its place, there’s no room for self-indulgence but there’s always room to experiment wildly.
But honestly, I don’t think there’s a real difference. It’s all about craft. Whether it’s 30 seconds or an hour and a half, the job is the same: to build a world, to care about the characters, to love the idea. It’s all about craft and love.
Marcos> Honestly, you start worrying about trends, you start killing originality. You start killing creativity.
Maybe that’s a bit naïve of me, but I’d rather chase ideas than trends. Every project should try to be its own thing, not the next version of someone else’s success.
At the end of the day, editing is a strange mix of instinct, craft, and endurance. You’re chasing rhythm, emotion, and clarity all at once. It’s equal parts discipline and chaos. But that’s what keeps it exciting. Every project is a new race, and the craft is what gets you to the finish line.
More than anything, I like people. I like working with people, building relationships, and sharing the process. I like having fun while I work – and I like when the people working with me are having fun too. Conflict can be productive; it always has been throughout history. But it doesn’t have to be destructive. It can be collaborative, built on dialogue.
For me, editing is really a three-way conversation – between the editor, the director, and the material. Later, that conversation widens to include the agency and the client. It’s all dialogue. That’s how films find their shape.
And when you finally reach that moment – that quiet sense that maybe you’ve arrived at the best possible cut – it’s never magic. Editing is like a tree with infinite branches, and finding the right one comes down to 98% hard work, 1% instinct, and 1% luck.
But even luck only counts when you’re ready for it.