The Responsibility of an Audience

By Dan Hobgood

In my past couple of articles (see June 20) I have examined the responsibility, in general, of a film composer in effectively constructing scores of unity and, in doing so, using melody as his coherent building block to speak to an audience. In briefly reviewing this further as an appropriate transition to the topic of this article, as the scenes in a picture are not independent of each other -- and are obviously related significantly to one another, a score should not be composed of cues that simply fit the mood. Just as, for instance, a picture's (linear) plot is introduced at a given film's beginning and then developed throughout, a score should be conceived with a strong sense of unity, thus complementing the drama. Oppositely, just as a linear film's plot should not suddenly and/or drastically change halfway through the picture, unrelated musical statements or independent score cues should not appear intermittently during the course of the entire work.

A composer should aim to unify his music melodically because of its accessibility. One reason a film score finds its place in the film soundtrack is because music can help to make the picture more comprehensible for an audience; music serves as a bridge between a film's viewer and a picture screen that is missing the sense of a third-dimension. Since this is so, the composer should custom his music to fit an audience's inherent expectations of what it believes "qualifies," so to say, or what it prefers as music. A composer must meet the expectations of his audience. If a scene requires a composer to evoke the emotion of passion or romance, the tone of the music he writes must convey this emotion to his audience. An audience brings with it an understanding of what romantic music is "supposed to sound like," and a composer has to feed an audience's hunger as it is, for the sake of the audience being able to relate better to the drama before it. The same could be said of a situation in which a picture requires its composer to convey a sense of excitement, danger, fear, etc. The composer must meet the expectations of his audience.

Just as a composer should work hard to meet his audience's needs or (perhaps subconscious) desires, an audience can at least attempt to understand how a composer is working for its benefit. When I was growing up, my mother used to say to me that if everybody absorbed television the way that I did, she would not be so critical of its seeming lack of intelligence and merit. Wait, now. Please do not judge me as arrogant; I apologize if it reads that way. If any reader of Film Score Monthly had been her child rather than I, she surely would have said the same thing. Obviously, each of us visits this site because of an extra-ordinary appreciation of the art of motion pictures.

Regardless, the criticism that watching movies and television makes viewers passive has been looming like a dark cloud over Hollywood for a long time. The fact that the motion picture and television experience has been reduced to or generalized as "watching" only advances criticism to an extent, and it limits nearly everyone's understanding of what he should be doing during this film experience. How many there are that, proportionally speaking, over-rely on their eyes and sense of sight! Yet it is amazing how unsatisfactory the motion picture experience would become without the presence of film music; it is interesting to recognize just how much more sensitive of and reliant upon a film's soundtrack someone becomes just by turning his head away from the direction of the screen. One should aim to be a more active participant in this experience -- not only as regards watching but also -- and perhaps especially -- as regards listening.

But how should an audience try to listen to the musical score in a film? Too much even, I think, one notices exclusively how much he likes the music in its own right. Of this I have been as guilty as any other. It is more important, I also believe, to listen, rather, for how the music functions in the film -- how the composer does indeed help one to understand a film better. One should ask a question like, "How does a good film composer manipulate the music in a movie to affect me more?" or "How does the music aid in telling me the story through its universal language?" These are especially useful in intelligent film music criticism because, while a film composer surely wants to be praised for writing music of high quality and interest, his primary task is to affect his audience during this motion picture experience for its benefit in understanding the drama. Perhaps film music criticism has been backwards for a while. How often does one read a synopsis of a film score in which someone responds unfavorably because the score is incoherent in the context of the film? Probably one reads a negative review of a score in which the critic dismisses the music as "sounding all the same" on album (!) much more often. This backwards approach even seems to find its way into the film music community, judging by the music branch's choices for Academy Award nominees from year to year.

This is not to suggest that a score cannot be nor should not be praised for its musical significance. It is just to note that a score's merit in the film (in terms of its structure, function, and so forth) needs to carry more weight and should not be neglected in any sort of criticism. It works out for the better this way, as most instrumental music listeners and critics think of film music as "second or third generation classical music." These people do not understand, for one, film music's need to be accessible for an audience's sake, or, two, that, the quality of music in and/or originality of a particular film score should only represent half of its genius. Film music is the most unique form of music that exists; fans should acknowledge that and appreciate it accordingly if they do not already.

One reason I wrote about the lack of significant main titles last November had to do with the focus of this topic. For those not particularly familiar with the article, I argued that, in general (leaving room for exceptions since there always are), a film needs a musical prelude to help the audience establish a relationship with a picture. Now "complete" just means to the degree appropriate or necessary for a given film; obviously the famous gun barrel sequence accompanied by John Barry's music in the James Bond films has been complete enough since From Russia with Love. But, in Dr. No, the audience needed more than just that snippet of "The James Bond Theme" to set the tone for and/or prepare it for the drama that follows. So, the word "complete" should be interpreted on a film-by-film basis. (I apologize, again, for an obligatory, overdue response to... oh, let us call it "fan" mail. I also should write that I acknowledge that I had forgotten that Die Hard with a Vengeance did contain a brief musical main title, and therefore it was a mistake to identify it as an example of an incomplete prelude.)

But, returning to the subject at hand: I have always appreciated main titles in my favorite films because, before narrowed dramatic events began to take place, the music (and perhaps the visual image as well) would provide an insight into the tone of the film and its story. Main titles would allow me an ideal opportunity to dwell upon the emotions and ideas conveyed in the music -- those emotions and ideas that would abound throughout the given picture. Much like these titles would likely tell me the name of the movie I was watching and, perhaps, which actors and actresses would be in the film, the music would summarize in some way through its unique language the details of the narrative. In an accessible, coherent score I could usually expect to have been introduced to the major element(s) of the music by the time the story's major elements began to unravel. I discussed the merits of the prelude for Vertigo last fall; another great main title can be found in Roman Polanski's Chinatown.

A brilliant film with a score that is every bit as wonderful, its main title music establishes the film's sultry and intimate, character-oriented mood, the love story at its heart, and the time setting...to name a few of the marvelous details about it. Composer Jerry Goldsmith does this by giving his audience an opportunity to associate itself with the beautiful melody that will dominate the score and arranging it in a way that indicates the type of film Chinatown is. What I particularly love is that, through the way the word "Chinatown" appears onscreen towards the beginning of the title in synchronization with the first statement of this melodic theme, Goldsmith suggests the very word "Chinatown" at the appearance of the melody throughout the score. The music comes to represent among other things a place that, until a brief moment at the film's conclusion, is not even seen!

Perhaps the most significant instance in Chinatown where an active audience participant can gain greater understanding of the drama by an awareness of the music and its acquired meaning (because of the music's position as film underscore) occurs when Jake learns of the mysterious Katherine's true identity. (I should say that it is very difficult to try to summarize this scene without "giving away the store" here, but I will do as best I can.) Jake, a private eye played by Jack Nicholson, has been, during the course of the film, investigating an important public official's death. In the meantime, he has fallen in love with the official's widow Evelyn (played by Faye Dunaway), who, he finds out by this scene, has a few secrets of her own that she has tried to hide. Jake tells Evelyn after finding out what she has kept from him, that, she has to leave Los Angeles (the place setting for the film). Evelyn has a servant, and Jake tells her to go to his home until he can divert certain powers-that-be that could cause trouble for Evelyn. Jake asks Evelyn to get her servant's address for him so that he can find her. A few moments later she finds out and tells Jake that her servant lives at "1712 Alameda" and asks Jake if he knows where that is.

The camera zooms in on Jake as he, almost emotionlessly but yet with a very restrained hint of concern and despair, confirms simply with the word "sure" that he does know how to get there. As he answers her and the camera zooms, the music subtly rises and the familiar Chinatown theme appears as Jake and Evelyn part until they will meet again. One who has been paying attention to the music will be able to realize, without the confirmation from the dialogue that appears right after this parting, that this reunion will take place...in Chinatown. Even the trumpet (that first performs the melody as "Chinatown" appears onscreen in the main title) performs the love theme at this moment of revelation later in the film. The overall tone of this specific performance of the theme is very melancholy, foreshadowing the film's stirring finale.

Here one finds a case in which the composer has done everything he could and should do to unify a score in a way that an audience can understand. A passive viewer would, no matter what, understand that melancholy mood subconsciously -- even if he could not explain his impression of the scene or how the music almost exclusively creates that impression. But, certainly, it does take a somewhat active audience interacting with the film's score to identify how the music in this crucial scene is telling, or at least reinforcing, the picture's story for it (and also, unlike a passive viewer, be able to explain how the music manipulates one's impression of the tone of the film). One also finds, with an example like this from Chinatown, how convenient a musical main title can be, both for a composer and for his audience. The picture presents a composer with an ideal opportunity to communicate with his audience, and that audience finds the best way in which to become aware of the music and begin to interact with it before all of the other elements of production start to share the stage.

One possibly should not feel like he has to walk out of a theater able to hum a film's music. I do not think I can recall remembering the actual music from what I would define as a good score -- at least past the following day and before, potentially, buying the soundtrack album or seeing the movie again. As dominant as the melody was in David Newman's score for Galaxy Quest, it took me until after I saw the movie twice for me to remember the theme itself. But, I would stress again, that what is important is to try to recognize and remember the way in which the music is effective during the film and how the music functions to help one understand the film better, like in Hoosiers or Chinatown. One could listen for something like a score's unity and the variation upon it; that is, to hear how a composer complements a linear narrative and a film's characters' corporate interaction with conflict. For instance, in his score for The Mummy, Goldsmith builds his individual themes from a singular base, but one will hear how he fashions a different sound and unique emotional resonance for each. It is still fine for one to recall how much he likes the music's quality in a given score, but he should first be concerned with comprehending the ways in which the music's tone, spotting, rhythm, etc. affects his interpretation and appreciation of the film overall.

As a reminder, one's effectiveness in fulfilling his duty as a composer's audience depends first on a composer's ability to meet those demands presented to him in scoring a picture, and it may be more difficult now to be an effective viewer and listener because not as many scores are constructed as well as perhaps they once were (with musical main titles, etc.). (And as yet another aside, certainly, just because a score should be highly accessible, it does not subsequently mean that a score should be overly simple -- devoid of intricacy. A talented film composer will be able to negotiate accessibility with complexity, and a great film score should testify to this.) But to conclude this chapter, one ought to be receptive as a member of a film composer's audience. Being adequately and appropriately so, one can be aware of a good composer's efforts to make a picture better and more comprehensible to an audience through his musical contribution.

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