When Music Talks In Film

And Three Prominent Directors Who Can Do That

For nearly a century, since the first time moving frames were reflected on silver screen, the art of cinema has always been nourished and supported by other art forms - the result is a higher measure of variety and diversity than ever, which attracts the insatiable audience of the 21st century and captivates their attention better than any of the elder cousins. It's obvious and inevitable that music will be among the influences of cinema as well. Since the moment when reels met musical notes for the first time, the concept of 'film music' has been so speedily embraced by the audiences that after a short while, it has become nearly impossible to watch old silents without accompanying music. Looking back today, it's even harder to comprehend how these two art forms have been intermingled so deeply: Since the time of Hitchcock, music has been used by the horror cinema as a tool for adjusting the level of tension and intensity (How can one forget the eerie compositions of Bernard Herrmann?); after the rise of musicals, it has become the cornerstone of a genre; it serves to enhance the ambiance in a period piece; it controls the amount of adrenaline in an action flick and has numerous other roles in many different genres.

But what can I possibly mean if I say 'understanding' the soundtrack of a certain movie or 'interpreting' a director's choice of music? If it looks like a pointless question to you at first, the reason might be this: For us, as a generation who witnessed the late period of cinema, the charm of film music has been mostly lost; nearly as much as the magical feel of seeing sequential pictures transform into movement on screen. But are we the only ones to blame? I don't think so. As much as the audience who prefer not to contemplate on the hidden musical expressions of movies, the directors also contribute to this alienation; directors that made us used to this by not going further than decorating their movies using identical orchestral compositions, preventing us from forming the unique links between the film and its music. In reality, musical notes are capable of doing much more than merely enhancing the emotions being delivered by other cinematical elements. They can exist and matter on their own.

There are some directors who let the melodies in their films find their own voices and deliver emotions only by themselves; who accept their choice of music as a part of their artistic style and who set the musical pieces free from the trivial connections embedded in human mind, connections that we're able to make without thinking. They add dimensions to the art of cinema and enrich it in a very unique way. Their fight is against monotony and ordinariness in at least one important aspect of cinema - don't they deserve respect for this, if for nothing else?

Stanley Kubrick: Classics With A Twist


I can write pages long about Kubrick, even if it's only going to be about the man's musical choices. This is either a sign that he makes deep and complex movies which are so unique that they each deserve an independent evaluation; or that he's overanalyzed by the intellectual circles who also tend to use his films as a masturbatory tool to ejaculate their pretentious remarks. In all honesty, it's difficult to come up with generalizations about a director who engages in a different style with each film and redefines the conventions of a certain genre each time; but to be able to examine his extraordinary vision is well worth the effort.

One can easily claim that the primary motivation of Kubrick when making a film is to share his burden of thought with the audience; to share the questions to which he was not able to find answers by himself. Probably that's why his films are mostly far from making definitive statements. From time to time, the musical pieces in his films take the center stage to continue telling the story by themselves, when all other cinematical elements fail to deliver his concerns properly. At these times, it's music and music alone that sweeps the audience towards the deeper and hidden layers of the movie.


A question: Why is 2001: A Space Odyssey such a special film? Aside from the fact that it bears groundbreaking visual effects for its time (for which, ironically, Stanley Kubrick received his only Oscar) does it have anything that makes it exceptional? My humble opinion is that, along with the likes of Blade Runner, it's one of the rare airholes in a genre which is constantly being dominated by high-paced action. Not that there's anything wrong with it, but variety is a gift. As opposed to the conventions, Kubrick's vision of the future is extremely slow, calm and routine; but at the same time it's more horrifying than many other dystopian movies. To finalize this portrayal, Johann Strauss often assumes the position of the storyteller with his 'Blue Danube' whenever Kubrick is out of breath. It helps the audience to both understand and feel the director's interpretation.


A contrast rather than a harmony is evident when A Clockwork Orange is at hand. Watching graphic violence and/or rape scenes behind the compassionate classical compositions, which are normally associated with peaceful and tranquil images, is not an easy experience. This approach might be serving many reasons. First possibility: Kubrick wanted his audience to respond to the content and not to the technical tricks. That's why he might've avoided using creepy music, shadowy ambiances and distant, antipathetic characters in a movie as dark-themed as A Clockwork Orange (for a anti-hero like himself, I think Alex is surprisingly likable). Without the directions set by these elements (especially the music), audiences can think more deeply and feel more freely. Another possible motivation might be his will to surface the violent and creepy undertones present in many classical pieces - despite how cute the composition sounds like. After all, instrumental music is always more open to diverse interpretations.


The contrast between a certain musical piece and the context in which it's presented, definitely contributes to the element of dark, ironic humor present in many Kubrick films. Full Metal Jacket is probably one of the films where this element becomes most predominant. Remember the songs 'Hello Vietnam', 'Happy Birthday Jesus', 'This Is My Rifle, This Is My Gun' and the lyrics of the drill instructor's cadences; and remember the scenes that accompany them. It's hard to miss.

Besides everything, Kubrick uses his film music to play tricks on his audience. Here is a little test to see what he has managed to do so far: Compare the images in your mind that were associated with the following compositions before you got to know Kubrick, to those that are present now: '9th Symphony', 'The Blue Danube', 'Sarabande', 'The Thieving Magpie' and 'William Tell Overture'. If the second movement the of the '9th Symphony' directly reminds you the face of Alex; if rotating space crafts have replaced the graceful human dancers for 'The Blue Danube', if the five-times-faster version of 'William Tell Overture' makes you recall a threesome instead of an angry Elmer Fudd on his horse; if you find yourself in 18th century with 'Sarabande' or in New York (next to a naked Nicole Kidman) with Shostakovisch's 'Waltz 2 from Jazz Suite', it means Kubrick stealthily and mischievously went through your memory, replacing the innocent pictures you had there with his own, unique images.

Quentin Tarantino - Out Of The Past

His name stands for a whole career built on the ideas of 'style over substance' and 'entertainment before everything else'. He's often taken lightly by some serious intellectuals, who zealously preserve their expectations of a life-changingly deep content in every movie they see. These are the people that have a hard-on for 'deep meanings' and 'movies that made them think' and they're in a complete disregard of everything else. So it's only reasonable that Tarantino's impressions on these people will not be noteworthy. The debate over his style, his importance and his artistic quality is always hand-in-hand with the huge-scale, never-ending discussions regarding post-modernity, so I think there's no need for vain verbosity on this subject here. Instead, maybe I can have your attention if I declare him as the most 'intertextual' director of our day and claim that his postmodern approach on film is apparent also in his choice of music.

The first time Tarantino used original music that is composed solely for his use was when he was making his fourth movie Kill Bill. Before that, he was dressing up his movies using old and forgotten hits or songs that he loved as a kid that never achieved high amount of popularity, recognition and acclaim. This approach is very similar to how he recreates mise en scenes from older movies - it's a direct reflection of his understanding of filmmaking in general. I guess this is the point where he gave start to the discussions regarding the thin line between 'plagiarism' and 'homage', which is a valid debate still short of a consensus.


Tarantino's case is interesting not only because of these homages but also because he has the power to turn any song into a populer culture icon simply by using it in his films. Remember the unforgettable 'Misirlou' from Pulp Fiction, the opening music 'Little Green Bag' in Reservoir Dogs and Kill Bill's 'Twisted Nerve' and 'Bang Bang' for which techno remixes were made. There is no point in looking real far for the reasons behind this movement, because the explanation is quite simple: Tarantino is, above everything else, a successful film composer. He intuitively connects many different dynamics of a film to create a memorable composition, which is easily engraved on the audience's mind and then survives in mobile phones, huge-scale entertainment broadcasts (like NBA) and repertoires of certain bands. Considering that he is postmodern enough to shape every detail in his films with the same "borrow-adapt-use" cycle, I don't think he should be disturbed by this particular trend.

Krzystof Kieslowski - Cinematical Puzzles


The films of Kieslowski are woven with many unknowns. Most of the time what we see are parallel stories that connect and interwine with each other as the film progresses. Towards the end, the gaps are filled, mysteries are solved but even at the end not all questions are fully answered so that the viewer will get the unique pleasure of finalizing the story in his/her mind by doing some thinking afterwards. I believe this is his secret of making movies that absorb the audience despite their slow natures and difficult subjects.

When it comes to the compositions that he made for Kieslowski films, Polish composer Zbigniew Preisner is surprisingly attentive to details and perceptive for emotions. It's roughly true that he works with a single composition for each Kieslowski film, but he does not generously present it all at once. The audience, while mentally busy with following the complex story unfold, also tries to get familiar with the main musical theme, which is presented to them piece by piece, like a puzzle. This way, Preisner enhances the fragmented nature of the films, wandering among the tranquil themes and images of the director and expressing a huge variety of emotions with merely the variations of the same musical theme. Only at the end he reveals the full glory of his composition, at which point the viewer is done with putting the story pieces together and is able to see the big picture. The harmony between the film and its music is never shattered.


Another interesting note: Preisner's compositions are also heard by the characters in these films. They talk about them as if they are the works of a fictional 18th century Dutch composer named Van den Budenmayer; so the music turns into a something that both the audience and the characters are able to experience. When it blends in to the movie as beautifully as this, the music has no longer an artificial feel about it. Most of the time, its role in the story is also important: like 'Song for the Unification of Europe' in Three Colors: Blue (Trois Couleurs: Bleu).

After all these stages, it's impossible to deny how much music must have meant for Kieslowski and how much it contributed to his capabilities of expression.

Final Note: I have chosen these three directors to examine not because I think they are the only ones who fit into this category, but because these are the guys that I felt I was most capable of rambling about and because three is a good number to stop. I'm not sure how many more examples are out there that I'm missing but if you think you can come up with more names, I'd definitely want to see you discussing them here.