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Antonio Gómez-Pan: A Few Of My Favourite Things
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The Final Cut editor shares his studio, his sidekick and his screen-fuelled sanctuary
The edit suite might be dark, but, especially in the case of Antonio Gómez-Pan, it’s rarely dull.
Moving between commercials, music videos and narrative work, cutting for brands such as Nike and Coca-Cola alongside projects like Tribeca-winning The Note and videos for The Weeknd, the Final Cut editor certainly knows how to find a place for fun between the films.
Here, he shares the tools, toys and four-legged feedback that shape his process.
The ADU
Like most people in Los Angeles, the first major renovation we did was build an ADU [.
The plan was to create a workspace with natural light and plants, though it ended up being more reminiscent of a small cave.
This became more than ideal since my intention was to cover all the windows anyway; editors and natural light have a complicated relationship.
The best part is that it’s separate from the house.
Now, when I’m editing, I’m truly “at the office”, which means my daughter can’t burst in every ten minutes demanding snacks or a dance break.
Productivity has gone up dramatically.
Another thing I’m very proud of is that everything runs through my MacBook Pro, tucked in the right corner of the desk.
I love travelling, so all I have to do is detach it from the dock and my entire office comes with me.
Like any good editor, I’m obsessed with order and organisation.
I dare you to find a single visible wire anywhere in the room.
The First Viewer
Patata, my dog, is technically my assistant editor.
He always has my back and is usually the first viewer of any cut.
Clients love when he makes surprise appearances on calls, which happens more often than you’d think.
I’ve always wanted to train him so that one bark means “more heads” and two barks means “more tails”, but I haven’t even managed to teach him the basics yet, so editorial feedback might be a stretch.
Isn't he the cutest?
The Art
A signed photo of Steven Spielberg standing inside the shark from Jaws hangs on my wall.
It’s my reminder that I unapologetically love mainstream cinema, ambitious, emotional, for everyone.
Under it, a Telluride Film Festival poster illustrated by Daniel Clowes.
Comics and cinema in the same frame.
That’s basically my brain.
Opposite that are two original drawings by director Lope Serrano for Tame Impala’s The Less I Know the Better.
And an original strip by Nicholas Gurewitch that captures my dog with suspicious precision.
The Arcade
The edit room should be fun.
After the chaos of a shoot, it becomes a lab. A playground. A place to argue, try, fail, try again.
That’s why there’s an arcade machine in the corner, Time Crisis, House of the Dead, Virtua Cop, Duck Hunt... plus all the games of all the consoles ever made.
There are days where we cut fourteen hours straight.
Other days we play, trade references, talk about life.
Both matter.
Behind the TV there’s a PlayStation 5 Pro and a Switch 2.
It’s great having everything in the studio, people can never quite tell if I’m working or playing.
On the shelves: the original Nintendo and Game Boy: my first console.
And then the books.
Only storytelling and video game theory.
The rest are in the main house.
On the opposite shelves, an original animation art cel from the 1987 Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles TV show, along with some Magic: The Gathering cards.
Sometimes life feels like a fast river.
If you don’t deliberately stop and ask yourself where you want to go, it’s easy to get carried away and end up somewhere you never meant to be.
Many friends have told me they wish they had studied cinema and moved to LA.
They could have, but they didn’t.
They chose to become lawyers, doctors, teachers...
I didn’t have any contacts in the industry, and just when I was starting to build a name for myself in Spain, I decided to leave and start from scratch in Los Angeles.
Being thirteen hours away from my family is hard, especially now with a toddler, but I balance that by being the way I am, always looking to make new friends.
Because, in the end, I’m still that nine-year-old kid in the playground with a football, trying to gather people to play a match.
So... do you want to play?
