Lost Issue: Ira Newborn Part One
The Music of a Generation
by Daniel Schweiger
After scoring John Hughes' teen comedies, Ira Newborn can't escape the
Curse of Comedy. Now he's playing to the next wave of Mall Rats.
In the 1980's, a writer and director personified the young angst of the
Reagan generation. Setting his films in Chicago's whitebread 'burbs,
John Hughes' teenagers were obsessed with sex, money, grades and social
climbing. But what really made his comedies different were their
intelligence, original jokes and a compassion that came from a
director who had really been in his characters' shoes.
Aside from their Mad Magazine
imagery, Sixteen Candles, Ferris Bueller's Day Off and Weird Science were just as
memorable for their soundtracks. Not only were they chock-full of every
song style from rhythm and blues to new wave and hard rock, but Hughes'
film scores had a big, brassy sound whose exuberant energy played the
characters' emotions and cut through their pop surroundings. This
satirical style has now become the sound of high teen comedy for the
90's.
"Sixteen Candles and Ferris Bueller's Day Off were the
films I grew up on," comments Clerks
director Kevin Smith. His new sorta sequel Mall Rats is a wonderfully
drugged-out, grossed-out descendent of the John Hughes' school of teen
humor. "John Hughes was a great writer," Smith continues, "and his
jokes took the movies so far. Then Ira Newborn's music came in and
underlined their humor, editorializing on Hughes' gags and making his
films that much funnier. What Ira can do with music is what Jim Carrey
can do with his body. He just makes you laugh by doing something
outrageous. So as soon as I was in production on Mall Rats, I told my producers that
the film needed Ira Newborn's music. It just made sense that Ira would
be spoofing the films that he made his name on."
If Newborn's scores for Sixteen
Candles, Ferris Bueller's Day
Off and Weird Science reflected
the Reagan generation (the only Hughes classic that Newborn wouldn't
score would be The Breakfast Club),
then Newborn's music for Mall Rats at
once gives '90s materialism an affectionate finger. His music passes
through the soundtrack like the groups of teens you'd find hanging out
at the Galleria. There's a metal guitar for the stoner dude, science
fiction synthesizers or a Jedi-obsessed
mute, and a lush romantic orchestra for a pair of young lovers. These
are only a few of the energetic comic styles that populate Newborn's
score. It's the music that this composer's famous for. And damned if he
can get away from it.
In spite of his desire to compose for a serious drama, there doesn't
seem to be a hit comedy that Ira Newborn hasn't scored. Think about the
driving soul of The Blues Brothers,
The Naked Gun's overblown jazz
and Ace Ventura's surfin'
guitar. Think Michael Corleone growling "They keep pulling me back in,"
and you'll get the picture. With a rep for irascibility and a sense of
humor that's pure New York Mensch, Newborn has had heated partnerships
with such top slapstick directors as John Hughes, John Landis and the
Zucker brothers. Unlike today's comic new wave, whose musical tastes
tend to lean towards grunge, these filmmakers loved the old, theatrical
style of film scoring. It was a big sound that made their pictures
real, and Newborn's melodic talent delivered the goods with a rich
symphonic feeling that could turn to rock and jazz on the drop of a
punchline.
Ira Newborn grew up on Long Island. His mother was an opera singer, and
his father played the piano and trombone before realizing that he "had
to make a living." It's a sense of grim, humorous reality that's been
well-imparted to a son who's made good with his talent for the guitar.
After seeing Carlos Montoya play in 1961, Newborn switched from the
flute to take guitar lessons with Lenny Frank, who taught his prodigy
how to be a "working musician."
Newborn joined dozens of bands in his youth, frequently playing with
another kid named Billy Joel. After doing gigs at clubs and Bar
Mitzvahs, Newborn finally made the move to Broadway, and then became
the musical director for the The Manhattan Transfer. This kitschy jazz
group would take Ira Newborn across the world, but nowhere more
important to his career than Hollywood. After overseeing the Transfer's
television show, Newborn settled down and became a studio guitar player
and arranger. It was a job that made him proficient with any number of
musical styles.
The beat of 1950s rock and roll would give Newborn his first movie
break on 1978's American Hot Wax,
where he arranged and re-created the legendary numbers of Alan Freed's
rock shows. Newborn switched to rhythm and blues when producer Lorne
Michaels got into a fight with his original composer, and took Newborn
to "save the day" at the Chicago locations of The Blues Brothers. Once again,
Newborn's arrangements were playing to a packed house, John Belushi,
Dan Aykroyd and Cab Calloway swinging to his beat.
The Blues Brothers was the
beginning of Ira Newborn's unending winning streak in comedies with
such scores as Planes, Trains and
Automobiles, Wise Guys and
the Naked Gun series. Newborn
played his requisite jazz and slam-bang symphonies brilliantly, nearly
every score playing to the audience's pop musical memory. Yet it became
apparent to him that success had stereotyped him. The only time that
Newborn got to stray from formula was on such hybrid comedies as Short Time, Innocent Blood and Into the Night. Newborn relished
playing to the dark side of these films' action and violence, showing a
serious, melodic composer who begged to be released.
Yet, the "curse of comedy" continues for Ira Newborn -- to his regret
and the audience's delight in Mall
Rats. Kevin Smith's deceptively smart comedy threatens to make
him the John Hughes of the stoner generation, and Ira Newborn their
pied piper. His score may not have made it onto the song-overload
album, but teenagers are sure to dig its originality and pop culture
references. "You can make as many dick and fart jokes as you want,"
Smith remarks. "But if there's no musical glue holding them together,
then all you've got is a bunch of gags just lying out there. I put
absolute faith and trust in Ira, because I knew his score was going to
pull Mall Rats together. It's
not your 'typical' Ira Newborn comedy score. There's music in it that
has real emotion and heart. He's definitely capable of so much more,
and if I was in the business for a score that wasn't so over-the-top,
then you'd better believe that I'd call Ira. The man knows music inside
and out."
Daniel Schweiger: What was it
about John Hughes's youth comedies that made them so important for
Kevin Smith?
Ira Newborn: It's the fact
that Kevin was young when those films came out, and they reflected that
part of his life. He looked at Ferris
Bueller's Day Off and Sixteen
Candles and said "Hey! That's me up there!" Films associate
themselves with what stage your life is in. I relate to A Hard Day's Night and television
shows that I saw in the '50s. But John Hughes' movies stick for me too,
because they're really good and funny. At the same time, Kevin always
knew that he wanted to make movies. So when he watched those pictures,
Kevin was more than a kid saying "Gee, I feel like that character."
DS: Kevin feels that your
scores made Hughes' films particularly memorable.
IN: I have to give part of
that to John Hughes. He has very interesting, wide-ranging tastes in
rock and roll. He listened to an unbelievable amount of music and
envisioned a song behind every scene. John picked a lot of the stuff
that was excellent, and I had the gig of filling in his films'
"cavities" when the songs weren't playing. Because John is an extremely
intelligent and funny person, he gave my music a lot of opportunities
to make his jokes funnier. So I can't say I "made" those films. When I
told Kevin Smith that, he didn't believe me. Then Kevin brought up
every cue I wrote, so he must have really been listening. That made me
feel a lot better. So while I'll give a lot of the musical credit to
John, I know what I did too.
DS: How was it to work with
Kevin Smith, who's your director as well as a fan?
IN: When I do a movie, I want
my music to become the characters, and enhance who and what they are.
Kevin Smith had seen a lot of movies that I'd done, and even told me
about music that I'd written and forgotten. He knew exactly what I was
trying to do when few people noticed. It was one thing for Kevin to say
"I'm a fan of yours." But the biggest compliment was when he expressed
what my music was trying to accomplish in those films.
DS: What's the musical trick
to rolling with a punchline?
IN: Comedies are the most
difficult films to score. A composer can either get out of a joke's
way, build up to it, or leave the joke alone if it's excellent and
doesn't need any musical help. And sometimes when the joke is really
good, a composer can play with it. That takes a lot of time and
trouble, because jokes are delicate. You can put in the wrong
instrumental colors, or overdo the punchline. So I have to watch the
joke over and over to get its nuances. Then by adding another musical
facet, I can reveal something that was hidden to the joke itself, and
make it funnier. I happen to be good at finding a comedy's emotional
subtext.
DS: Is there an approach to
scoring a "youth comedy?"
IN: It depends. Youth comedies
are made up of two things -- youths and comedy. I've got to see the
youth as a human being first, and then as a teenager. That means
someone who doesn't have four kids, and has an interest in cars, sex,
cutting school, and getting a job -- the same kind of things that have
interested youths throughout history. Then you've got to see what kind
of humor's in the movie. Is it stupid? Is it tongue in cheek? Is it
subtle and sophisticated? Generally that isn't possible in a youth
film, because teenagers like broader comedies. You have to make the
orchestration match the people that you're looking at. If they're very
young and you play this big, fat string section, then it's going to
sound out of place and too adult. So you need to pick the right
instruments that go with youthful characters -- synthesizers, guitars,
bass, drums and maybe some horns. It all has to sound somewhat in line
with contemporary music. If a very serious scene gets into a youth
comedy, which very rarely happens, then you might be able to use
heavier forces like an orchestra. Generally speaking, contemporary
instruments are not as flexible at projecting different moods as an
orchestra is. There's a small range of humor that you can score using
contemporary instruments. When you play rhythm and blues, audiences
associate it with black people. The acoustic guitar represents folkies.
In Mall Rats, I put heavy
metal over Jay and Silent Bob. That's humorous, because people
associate that kind of music with stupid characters.
DS: How did you want to play
the other characters in Mall Rats?
IN: While I used heavy metal
for Jay, Silent Bob also had his "Jedi" theme. Brodie and Rene are loud
and gross together, so I gave them a painful, grungy theme. T.S. and
Brandi were clean-cut, so I composed a more emotional music for them. I
didn't play Stan Lee as Stan Lee, because I don't know him. He's only
this guy who wrote comics, so I had to figure out what was the most
interesting thing about his character. One is that he's much older than
these other kids, and second factor is that Stan is Brodie's hero. When
they're together, I used Brodie and Rene's theme with this sincere,
string music for Stan Lee's speech about his life and the girl that got
away.
DS: Like your John Hughes
comedies, Mall Rats makes a
lot of references to cult TV shows and movies.
IN: I've only done that when
I've been told to. However, I'm not saying that I might not allude to
other music in my scores. In Mall
Rats, I played the scene between T.S. and Brandi's father like The Godfather. I didn't plan to do
it that way. I just looked at him getting closer to T.S., then putting
his hands on the kid's head and threatening him. Then for some reason,
it struck me that the father reminded me of Marlon Brando! Maybe it was
the shape of his head, and how he looked like he was giving T.S. the
kiss of death. So I consciously alluded to music that had been beaten
to death, but played it subtly. I used a trumpet with that "velvet"
tone, and tremello strings which people associate with Italian
mandolins. Yet my score has nothing to do with The Godfather. It's a musical
fragment of every Sicilian waltz on earth. But its instrumental
combination gave the scene its Godfather
feeling.
DS: Do films audiences have a
collective musical memory?
IN: Most film soundtracks,
especially Mall Rats, rely on
using people's memories about other kinds of music. If I had a movie
where two people were kissing, and said "I'm going to write music that
no one's ever heard before," then how are people going to know that my
score's supposed to be romantic? That's why I think film music is like
wallpaper. You can't write one that's completely original, because
audiences won't know what they're listening to. Viewers have to hear
what they're looking at. If there are lush strings, there's romance. If
there are charging rhythms, then they must be accompanying a chase.
Sometimes you can play against that, as in the scene in Rosemary's Baby where Mia Farrow's
looking at the child's carriage. You're getting this eerie feeling
because atonal strings are playing with a celeste, which is an
instrument that people associate with infants. That music lets the
audience know that maybe her baby is the devil. Then there are films
like Platoon, where the score
has nothing to do with what's up on the screen. You hear "Adagio for
Strings" during the battle action. It's going at about one-quarter of
the scene's speed, yet the music has this amazingly profound and
chilling effect on the audience.
To be continued in next week's lost
issue!
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