So Why Film Music?

By Dan Hobgood

Author's Note: In recent months, while further developing my film music theory, I began to review some of the essays I had previously composed -- including those written for Film Score Monthly. In reading through them, I noticed that there were ways in which I believed the articles could be improved and made to complement one another better. Thanks to the generosity of the staff atFSM, (most of) the commentaries I have already submitted -- plus at least one newly drafted effort -- will be featured in a Film Score Daily series throughout the rest of the summer. This first showcased essay is the one I initially submitted to Lukas three years ago.

Even though relatively few recognize the significance and legitimacy of music in film, I have confidence that, in time, many will begin to understand and more fully appreciate its merit.

Not long ago, I participated in a discussion about the art of music in film with a student at the University of Richmond (located in Virginia) who is majoring in music -- and who certainly believes that film scores offer little artistry compared to classical works. Having just seen the (nearly) scoreless film The Blair Witch Project, this student began to criticize the inclusion of music in the vast majority of motion pictures; she argued that, in her estimation, its presence makes films seem unrealistic and distorted.

This allegation led me to reflect upon the lessons learned from The Lost Weekend (1945). Its writer/director, famed filmmaker Billy Wilder, attempted to tell a then-daring story about a delirious man battling with an addiction to alcohol. However, the film's musical accompaniment was inappropriate in tone and poorly placed within the picture. Audiences and critics howled at the finished product, which appeared incredibly melodramatic and insincere. In an eleventh-hour effort to improve the picture, producer Charles Brackett hired Miklos Rosza to compose a replacement score for it.

Response to the film changed immediately; Rosza's score greatly illuminated the picture's haunting images and Ray Milland's uneasy performance. Subsequently, The Lost Weekend became the eighteenth film to be named "Best Picture" by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.

What one needs to understand is that a film is simply a two-dimensional image projected onto a flat screen (I).  This is, most obviously, unrealistic. Motion pictures are not like live performances of Shakespeare plays in the theater. A film score actually helps to provide a three-dimensional quality to what one sees (explaining why Shakespearean works adapted for the silver screen have required music for dramatic enhancement (II)).  Unlike the visual image, a score's music is not representative; it is actuallyÖwell, music (III).  It has the potential to give credibility to filmic events as much as -- if not more than -- any other element of production. The final version of The Lost Weekend is indicative of this; so, too, is a moment from John Williams' farewell concert as conductor of the Boston Pops, during which a scene from Jaws was shown sans music before the composer conducted his score to it.

Nevertheless, my scholarly acquaintance still seemed poised to be critical. She asserted that, regardless of what music adds to cinema, a film score is entirely unremarkable because it only serves to generate elementary emotional responses in listeners, the likes of which filmmakers could not otherwise muster. Unfortunately for her, this second allegation also was and is flawed (perhaps in more ways than the one I will proceed to demonstrate).

In fact, there is so much more that film composers can -- and should -- do besides simply dictate emotional resonance. Consider, for instance, the brilliant Jerry Goldsmith score for the 1986 film Hoosiers, a work notable for (among other things) the substantial degree of electronics in its orchestration. Initially, it might appear as though the legendary composer incorporated contemporary effects solely because of the popularity of synthesizer instruments during that time. A closer analysis reveals, however, that Goldsmith did not add these effects (only) because the sound was trendy. Nor did the composer include them because the Hungarian State Opera Orchestra could not perform the intense rhythms he had penned. (No matter how poorly the orchestra performed Lionheart, its players handled King Solomon's Mines and even Rambo III relatively well.)

What Goldsmith sought to do in actuality was complement the narrative themes of the film -- the themes of transition and change. "Expect the unexpected," the filmmakers and the composer insist via their contributions to cinema. Thus, while Jerry Goldsmith tried to illuminate the images onscreen by creating a greater sense of drama, he also provided a very expressive musical interpretation of the film.

By no means is Hoosiers the only score that functions in such a sophisticated manner. Goldsmith's Patton and Bernard Herrmann's Vertigo and Taxi Driver, for instance, are also noteworthy for similar reasons. Aside from defining mood, film composers should seek to communicate broadly and coherently by using the universal, accessible, and relevant language of music. As Danny Elfman testifies, "Ultimately, [film scoring] is all about storytelling." (IV)

Maybe even someone reading this essay can -- right at this very moment -- quickly recall an instance in which a film's music is summoned to present ideas where dialogue cannot do so as well. One of my favorites is the scene in First Knight when Arthur learns of the passion between Queen Guinevere and his knight Lancelot. At the point that Arthur enters his chamber to find the two intimately embracing, all one hears is Jerry Goldsmith's sparse score. The effect is dazzling, and the music resonates more substantially than would any attempt at conversation -- which, by the way, would be much lengthier and cluttered (a true insult to audience intelligence). The filmmakers had sense enough to allow the picture's images and Goldsmith's score to generate the needed emotion(s) and explain what the script really could not. After a fade-out to another scene, a viewer is left to imagine what ensued following Arthur's entrance.

In conclusion, film music is actually quite dynamic and can function in very sophisticated ways. While a number of film composers may only attempt to add emotional depth to a picture's images, the finest of these craftsmen seek penetration into the subject matter at hand and offer greater insight to their audience. Even though relatively few people like the scholar I encountered are likely to recognize the significance and legitimacy of this unique art form at present (still one of the most recently developed in musical history), I have confidence that, in time, many will begin to understand and more fully appreciate its merit.
 

I. Gorbman, Claudia. Narrative Film Music. Indiana University Press: Bloomington, IN, 1987. 37.
II. Ibid 37-38.
III. Ibid 37-38.
IV. Mermelstein, David. "In Hollywood, Discord on What Makes Music." The New York Times, November 2, 1997.
 
 
 

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