What the Global Language of Film Can Teach CEOs Everywhere

Thanks to my interest in international travel, I have learned how to enter a new place with humility and curiosity, how to communicate with the locals regardless of language barriers, and how to build lasting connections with people from around the world. It has given me an advantage in my career in film and television; simply by saying, “I have friends in London” to a UK-based film producer can get a new partnership off to a solid start and gives me access to territory-specific dialects—such as “boot” when referring to the trunk of the car or “diary” for a calendar to set meetings—that avoid any missteps that might get lost in translation. Good communication is essential when collaborating on an international film, and the vocabulary of film and television production—the jargon understood only by those in the industry or even only by those in certain roles—functions as a password into a secret club where everyone has a common goal of getting the movie made.

The industry’s global scope is encountered in every company, event, conference, and film festival. Whether I am at a reception for a documentary premiering at the Tribeca Film Festival in my own backyard or waiting at a café for a much-needed boost between panels at the Toronto International Film Festival, I meet and interact with people from all over the world.

Building a relationship quickly over a common, industry-specific language is a comfort and an advantage.  

Standing behind me in line, also jonesing for some caffeine, might be a filmmaker from the country of Georgia. (It’s okay if you have to look up where Georgia is on a map; I have traveled extensively and knew vaguely where it was located, but even I had to get out the map.) As soon as he introduces himself as a “location manager,” we stop giving the baristas side-eye and become old friends. I know the location manager’s role on a film set, and I know the kind of person it takes to do that job. Just like me, he does the unsexy work behind closed doors and in dark rooms far away from the beautiful people on the red carpet. We predict, budget, plan, schedule, scheme, re-budget, re-scheme, and map only to have the plan blown up as soon as the cameras roll. He is the boots-on-the-ground while I am sending emails from an office an ocean away. But, we have a general outline for what each day-to-day looks like, whether that day is a bright dawn in New York or a rainy overnight in Mumbai.

The shared shorthand extends from the job title to the job’s tasks and responsibilities, and before our lattes get cold, we are trading stories laced with terms like “23.98,” “HoDs,” and “A2s,” the terms bonding us faster than superglue.

Jargon and how it evolves can also be an indicator of the state of the industry.  

This lesson was an early one for me when I traveled to the Cannes Film Festival as an intern. High definition video production was the major disruptor then, and ironically, I was working for the world’s largest film manufacturer Kodak.

For two weeks during Cannes, I watched the world’s most prominent cinematographers, known occasionally as directors of photography but usually just as DPs, react to the disruption when they came into the Kodak Pavilion for a panel, a reception, or an espresso. Despite the array of languages on display and partial conversations overheard while checking names off lists, terms like “Super 16,” “tungsten,” and “crushed blacks” —terms familiar to me only through the classroom until now—came through the noise with a THX rumble, accompanied by emotional tones that clued me in to what the speaker really thought.

I saw these artists grapple with feelings of excitement, curiosity, and apprehension as they faced a shift in how they made their work and what it meant for their day-to-day life in the near future.

Film’s language bridges technology and human connection 

As both a festival and market, Cannes was also a unique place for me to see how technological changes ripple through the industry end-to-end. Ask a film buyer to define 23.98 and likely you will get back a wide-eye blank stare, but I heard a representative for a French distributor joke that she would have to stop using the term “negative pickup” if negatives were about to be extinct. I can tell her that in 2025, no one uses the term “negative pickup” any more but negatives are far from extinct and continue to wreak havoc on the daily. Moreover, the deal type that the term describes is very much a cornerstone of the industry.

While the terms, processes, and technology may change radically on one side, nothing might change at all on others, pointing towards a dynamic, complex business asking for collaboration from many people with broad skillsets. This is why the jargon is comforting and important: It is where we can find solid footing during seismic shifts.

At its core, the language of film is numerical. Line producers worry over budgets, assistant directors worry over the time of day, cinematographers and editors worry over frame rates. Numbers might be universal, but at its foundation, creating a piece of audiovisual storytelling capable of connecting with a global audience requires human connection, one that can be built through shorthand to understand so much about our fellow filmmakers and the global filmmaking landscape.

What every CEO can learn from the language of film  

In any industry, transformation rarely happens evenly. While some parts of a business evolve rapidly—through new technologies, shifting markets, or changing consumer behavior—other parts remain rooted in long-standing practices and human relationships. The best leaders recognize and manage this duality.

Jargon and process can seem like barriers, but they actually provide shared language and stability amid disruption. They anchor teams navigating change, allowing people from diverse skillsets to collaborate effectively.

Ultimately, whether in filmmaking or business, success comes from combining data-driven precision with human connection. Numbers, metrics, and systems matter, but so does the empathy, communication, and mutual understanding that enable people to work together toward a common creative or strategic goal.

Written by Barbara Caver.