Perceptions of
Film Music
The 20th
century has been revolutionary for not only the manner that film music is
experienced, but how it’s articulated. It’s not just a matter of watching a
film—whether it is silent or possesses sound—but what’s crucial is the
understanding of the film and how each of its components works hand in hand to
produce the overall picture. Over the years, this sense of value has been
examined by contributors to the scene, such as Kathryn Kalinak or Claudia
Gorbman, who have produced an immense body of work in the field of film music.
This body of work not only describes film music eloquently, but it creates a
sense of continuity in the subject matter. Although there is a growing archive
of film music writings, conflicting perspectives are inevitable. This essay
examines the publication Composing for the Films and how its authors
perspectives are not only conflicting with the United States’ film style, but
how immensely it diverges from the standpoint of other international film music
writers.
Working collaboratively
from Germany to the United States, social philosopher and music critic Theodor
Adorno and composer Hanns Eisler, have grown to perceive America as solely
producing films for the culture industry, as opposed to creating valued works.
This value is dictated by the influence of their German upbringing and is
outlined thoroughly in their 1947 publication, Composing for the Films
(Gorbman, pg. 99). Within a decade of its publication, the United States
released the film All That Heaven Allows, directed by Douglas Sirk. This
film illustrates several contrasting notions that Adorno and Eisler touch on in
their publication, from the use of leitmotifs to clichés.
Through Composing for
the Films, Adorno and Eisler have come to identify their preference of
diegetic music in films. With an ability to see the object that is responsible
for the music in the scene, the “visual action in the motion picture [can
maintain its] … irregularity and asymmetry.” (Adorno, pg. 28) These
irregularities are in reference to the idea that life runs by its own pace and
it’s impossible to sync a single action with a series of notes. The film All
That Heaven Allows does indeed incorporate several diegetic scenes, such as
when Mrs. Scott’s daughter is in her bedroom and selects a jazz station on the
radio, but the film is primarily carried by its use of non-diegetic music.
From Mrs. Scott’s first
interaction with Mr. Kirby, an audience is able to identify a leitmotif between
the two characters that will inevitably become their love theme. Adorno and
Eisler oppose not only the use of non-diegetic music, but the incorporation of a
leitmotif. With the love theme returning throughout the film, it indicates to
the audience that either Mrs. Scott is thinking of Mr. Kirby, or the two
characters will or are currently interacting with one another. Adorno and
Eisler perceive “the effective technique of the past thus becomes a mere
duplication, ineffective and uneconomical." (Adorno, pg. 28) Additionally,
the duet also sees the use of a leitmotif as a loop-hole from writing new
material, though that is far from the intent of the love theme in All That
Heaven Allows.
Very much like the notion
of diegetic music, Adorno and Eisler favor the concept of being able to
experience a moment as if it were actually occurring. When it comes to the idea
of visual justification, Adorno and Eisler have grown to "fear that the
use of music at a point when it would be completely impossible in a real
situation will appear naive or childish … Music becomes a plot accessory, a
sort of acoustical stage property." (Adorno, pg. 30) Whether it may be the
suspenseful accompaniment that is present when Mrs. Scott tells Mr. Kirby that
their relationship is over, or the first time that their love theme is
introduced, the music feeds into the scene atmospherically. Although such
complementary music would not be present in a real life situation, it places
the viewer into an intimate perspective, one in which they can better
understand the characters, their moods, and truly empathize with them.
In addition to visual
contributions, Adorno and Eisler have extended their critique on film making to
the topic of illustration. The duet describes how:
"Music must follow visual incidents and illustrate them either by
directly imitating them or by using clichés that are associated with the mood
and content of the picture ... the associative patterns are so familiar that
there is really no illustration of anything, but only the elicitation of the
automatic response." (Adorno, pg. 31)
While there is a deer that
majestically appears outside of the miller’s cabin the afternoon Mr. Kirby asks
Mrs. Scott to marry him, and again when she returns to his side at the end of
the film, there isn’t any extreme implication that the characters are at a,
“ranch to which the virile hero has eloped with the sophisticated heroine [who
are] accompanied by forest murmurs and a flute melody.” (Adorno, pg. 31) Though
there is music, it’s their love theme that is playing, reminding the audience
of their relationship and pure feelings for one another.
Several decades after
Adorno and Eisler published Composing for the Films, a French composer
by the name of Michel Chion emerged on the film music scene. In 1999, Chion
released The Acousmetre, a publication that described the influence of
sound and the relationship it has with both the presence and absence of
visuals. Although there are uncanny similarities between the two publications,
there’s an array of concepts that diverge exponentially from to the next.
When considering the 1964
film Lady in a Cage, there are elements of the film that are
favorable to both sets of authors. From Adorno and
Eisler’s perspective, the element that would be of most significance is the
immense amount of diegetic sounds that blend themselves into the film’s
atmosphere. Whether it is the telephone ringing, or the consistent exertion
from the emergency bell, there are an immense amount of sounds in the film’s
environment that have identifiable sources. In contrast, there are several
personable moments that a viewer experiences non-diegetic music and sounds that
coincide with Chion’s publication. Whether it may be Mrs. Hilyard talking to
herself metadiegetically, or the addition of suspenseful music when she stabs
one of the intruders, these scenes illustrate how, “The sense of hearing is as
subtle as it is archaic. We most often relegate it to the limbo of the unnamed;
something you hear causes you to feel X, but you can't put exact words to
it." (Chion, pg. 17) Each of these moments evokes emotion in a viewer,
such as sympathy or discomfort.
Lady in a Cage also
bridges the gap between the two texts by the use of several of the same scenes.
One scene to recognize is where Mrs. Hilyard hears someone or something
enter the house after her continuous cries for help through the emergency bell,
but they fail to respond to her questions as she hears them rummage around. To
Mrs. Hilyard, this individual has come to rescue her, but what the viewer knows
is that the individual who has entered the home has ill intentions and is only
present to steal from her. "As long as the spectator's eye has not
"verified" the co-incidence of the voice with the mouth …
de-acousmatization is incomplete, and the voice remains an aura of
invulnerability and magical power." (Chion, pg. 28) The element of Mrs.
Hilyard’s blindness to the thief is in the manner of Chion, where at this
particular moment, the thief possesses an aura of invulnerability; whereas
Adorno and Eisler would favor how the viewer possesses the understanding that a
thief is responsible for the noises coming from the kitchen.
Furthermore is the 1977
film, Suspiria. The publications of Adorno and Eisler, as well as Chion
can be articulated by the music and sound effects from various scenes of the
film. From the scene that a young, blonde woman arrives at the home of an
Italian woman and is insisted to stay until morning, a viewer is first
reintroduced to Chion’s perspective where the unseen holds a superior authority
to any visible beings. This is illustrated by the young woman’s hesitation to
freshen up in the restroom, as it seems someone or something is watching her.
With this sensation in mind, the windows burst open and are then closed by the
Italian host. From this moment on, a transition occurs and Adorno and Eisler’s
perspective is exploited. When the young woman looks out the window again, a
pair of glowing eyes appear and a hand punches through the window and grabs a
hold of her. The source of her screams, as well as the shattering window can be
identified as they are both seen—regardless that the murderer is only partially
visible. For the remainder of the scene, Chion’s perspective is returned to,
while Goblin’s music enters the scene and feeds to the panicked atmosphere.
Meanwhile, the Italian host is frantically attempting to enter the restroom as
she has no idea what has occurred or who or what the perpetrator of the attack
may be, allowing the aura of the unknown to remain towards her character.
While there are a
handful of differences present within the art of film making and scoring
between the Germans, the United States, and the French, a combination between
any of the above will shed light on each culture’s similarities if one pays
close attention. It’s subjective to argue whose perspective is right amongst
the three, as each culture will directly influence the perspectives of their
constituents. What we are left with is a platform, where the critiques and
rules for film music are left collectively and it’s the responsibility of the
reader to decipher the author’s intent, as influenced by the time period and
their cultural upbringing.
Works Cited
Adorno, Theodor, Hans Eisler and Kay Dickinson. Movie Music: The Film
Reader “Prejudices and Bad Habits.” London: Routledge, 2003. Print.
Chion, Michel. The Voice in Cinema. New York: Columbia Univ. Press, 1999. Print.
Gorbman, Claudia. Unheard Melodies. London: BFI Books, 1987. Print.
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