film music

There is a famous anectdote about film composer David Raksin, who challenged Alfred Hitchcock on his decision not to have music in his 1944 film, Lifeboat.  Hitchcock’s thesis was  “Out in the middle of the ocean, where’s the orchestra?”   Raksin, famous for his quick wit, replied  “Out in the middle of the ocean, where’s the camera?”.  Where indeed.

They both had a point.  Music in film is a tricky thing, because it’s a highly artificial element.  It usually works on an emotional level, and care has to be taken so that it doesn’t take the viewer out of the experience.

This Magic Moment…

Determining where to enter a scene is one of the more delicate challenges in film scoring.  The more subtle the moment, the easier it is to ruin with a bad, stumbling, or overwrought entrance.

The ‘moment’ is hard to pin down.  Beyond what you get in terms of ins and outs in the spotting session with the filmmaker, it’s a gut thing.  Sometimes, a few frames one way or the other can make all the difference, and I’ve seen cues nudged even on the dubbing stage.  There are different ways to enter, depending on the scene.  Sometimes it’s slow and building – the cue will edge in, perhaps with a single note, building from almost inaudible to it’s full statement.  On the opposite end of the spectrum, it might be a jarring entrance, shocking the viewer purposely – that one is much easier to deal with – no subtlety required!  Getting out also warrants attention, and might be the same in reverse.  The trick is to follow the emotional shifts in a scene – which doesn’t mean hitting the nail on the head – you might come in just in advance or just behind that moment.  At those times, you are doing a delicate dance with the onscreen action, carefully taking turns steering the audience reaction without giving away too much or feeling like a late starter.

Massage in a Bottle

One of the reasons it’s important to make these considerations is to not let the device of music and it’s function be noticed by the viewer, taking them out of the experience.  This is not to say the music should not be noticed!  There is a difference between the music being noticed, and the music being noticed as a device, just as you don’t want to see the grip step into frame, or the shadow of the boom mic in the background.

Imagine you are getting a massage.  One technique masseurs use is that once they make contact with you, they always maintain it throughout the session – one hand will always be touching your skin.  This prevents the sudden unwanted surprise of the touch leaving or returning, as you are somewhat visually impaired by having your head in that toilet seat cushion thing!  Music in film should work the same, except your head should not be in the toilet, your head should be in the story!  Once music is established in a scene, the audience should not be aware of the music departing (without reason of course), and music should normally depart only when the scene dictates that it’s requirements have been met (the massage session is over).  This might character driven – something will change in the motivation or apprehension of a character, and the music follows suit.  If the music suddenly disappears without clear motivation, the audience will try and rationalize it, which messes up the story-telling, or worse, they’ll just think it’s poor film-making (which it is).

Up next – Fades fades fades fades

What is film music?

When Emmy Award winning composer and educator Richard Bellis talks about a common error of new composers, he cautions that they should not score their impression of a scene, as this is redundant.   Rather, the music should say what the scene isn’t saying or cannot say.  This impressionistic tendency is also something which inexperienced filmmakers request.  If you have a sad scene, and you simply throw in sad music, or a funny scene and you have funny music aping the action,  the result will often be very amateurish and unsophisticated, because the music is not fulfilling a necessary purpose.  If music can be thought of as another character in a film, imagine an off-screen actor parroting the on-screen actor’s lines verbatim.  What use is that?  Does that further the objectives of the work?

Let’s go back, waaay back… ok, not that far…

One way to begin thinking about the sometimes complex and subtle function of film music is to consider it’s functional history.   Again, I have to credit Bellis for this concise way of looking at it.

The first role of music was fairly utilitarian – to cover up the noise coming from the projector in the theater.  Any music would do, and was performed by a pianist at the front of the theatre.  It had no relation to the action on screen.

Once projector was moved to the booth, music started to be used in silent films to fill in for sound and dialogue, and began to relate to on-screen action, though most of the music was either standard classical repertoire or even improvised on the spot.

When the “talkies” arrived, music provided color and scope for black and white films.  Once technicolor arrived, music stood in for all the sex and special effects that could not be shown, due to censorship or technical limitations.

Now that we can show sex scenes in living color while talking CGI dinosaurs stomp through the ruins of a city with no projector noise to ruin the fun, the role of music has become very subtle.

Play it against, Sam…

I like to think of music as being an emotional alchemical substance.  It’s the medium that can translate emotion and also turn it to gold – something bigger than the mundane; profound and powerful.  It can also be whispering the secret lives of the story and the characters.

I recently had a great conversation with a filmmaker after a panel on music in film.  She wanted my advice on what kind of music to have to support a specific scene in her film.  The character had just undergone a hugely traumatic incident, and suddenly runs out of the apartment and into the streets, as if to escape events, even life itself.  She imagined a very powerful drumming, something huge and driving to underscore the events.  I wondered if this was the best approach – wasn’t that simply a re-statement of what was already on-screen?  I argued instead that the music should speak to what the audience cannot see or hear – that this is a very personal, emotional moment, but that to one person, it will feel like the biggest thing that has ever happened.  The music might then, instead, be intimate and tragic.  This would contrast against the violent physicality of running away, and connect the audience to the emotional story of what is happening.

I like this example because it shows how music can change the way a visceral scene is perceived by the audience by playing against the action, and getting to the ‘heart’ of the story.

Whatchoo talkin’ bout, Bruce Willis?

The question that is asked, in order to really understand the problem, is: “Who or what is the scene really about?”.  Again, if music is another character in the film, then the spotting session is like a table read for the actors.  You are finding the motivation.  It’s thematic, story and character driven.  In a chase scene, you don’t tell the actor “Ok, this is the chase, so act like you are being chased!”.  No – the director and actor determine the reason they are running away and that’s what drives the action of the chase.  Music does the same; while you see the actor running, the music (for example) might give the audience a look into their mind, motivation, emotions.

In the next installment, I’ll explore ‘the moment’ – when and how music can successfuly get in and out of a scene.

Classy Chassis Car Show – Photo by Jay Lee (baldheretic)

Recently, I had a meeting with a composer friend who had recently set up a drum kit in his studio.  We wanted to make a casual night of experimenting with mic placement, to see what kind of sounds we could get with his set up.  For non-studio geeks this all sounds pretty academic and dry, so while I was explaining to another friend what I was up to that night, I realized I could use an analogy based on her interest in photography: “It’s like lighting a scene”, I said, “the drum kit is our subject, and we are experimenting with different mic positions, just as you would have different lighting setups in a photo shoot.”  It then struck me that you can actually draw pretty compelling analogies across the board between Film and Music.

Lighting = Microphones: moving microphones around changes the ’scene’ and how it’s perceived in a similar fashion to lighting in film.

Camera = Microphones + Mixing board/Recording device: the mic’s act as the lens of the camera, and the film stock/digital capture is like the recording device that captures the performance, be it analog tape or digital.

Set/Location = Studio/Reverb: the set is the environment which is captured, in which the performances live, and so it is with the recording studio.  Alternately, ’spaces’ can be created using reverbs after the performance is captured.

Actors = Musicians: Actors interpret the screenplay, musicians the musical score.  Actors use their bodies and voices to create the performance, musicians use their bodies and their instruments.  Similarly, Voice/Dialogue = Instruments/Music.

Script = Musical Score, and Screenwriter = Composer

Director = Composer/Conductor: the analog of the director’s job may get split on the scoring stage, where the conductor may not be the composer.  However, the conductor is working to realize the composer’s vision, and thus might be seen as an Assistant Director.

D.O.P. = Scoring Engineer: the D.O.P. controls how the scene will be captured and how it will look – the Scoring Engineer provides the same service using microphones, a mixing board, and recording medium.

CGI = Samples/Synthesis: both are simulations of reality, but are intended to elicit the same emotion from the audience as would an ‘organic’ source.

And here we come to an interesting point.

There is a problem with my last analog.

In order to understand this, we have to understand how a sample works.  Sampling is primarily used in the world of film/media scoring to re-produce the sounds of instruments which a production may not have the time or money to afford.  The most common are used in place of the symphonic orchestra, and lately to replace performances of rare/unusual or so-called ‘ethnic’ instruments – such as the Duduk, which has become very popular, but for which competent players are both hard to find and expensive to hire.  Instead, a sample library is created by a company, which hires a player and/or ensemble to be recorded playing individual notes through all dynamic ranges, with as many effects and nuances as possible.  These are then programmed for one or more commercially available ’samplers’ – devices (hardware or software) used to trigger these sounds using a keyboard or other MIDI device.  There are often layers to each note,  so if I load a brass section sample, and hit the key softly, it will trigger the sample of the section playing that note softely.  If I hit it harder, the corresponding louder, fuller, brassier sounding sample is triggered.  You can see the implications – with a professional rig and sample libraries I can create, for a much smaller cost, a score consisting of a full orchestra, 100 person choir, and a Taiko drum ensemble, which will sound very much like the real thing.  Almost.

So whazza problem?

Since we are looking at analogs, imagine this.  A filmmaker is creating a CGI set for her film, so she accesses her ’sample library’ of set pieces.  She looks at an apartment block, a rural scene (with an option ‘gently flowing river’ plug-in), and from a more exotic location package, the ‘Downtown Tokyo’ sample.  Drag and drop, bam – there’s her scene.   Then, it’s to the ‘Actors’ folder, where she finds ‘Hollywood Hunks’ and chooses number 6  of the set a 8.  This one is a brilliantly recorded sample of Brad Pitt, and has 168 facial expression layers and 97 ‘physical actions’, and a full range of syllables and consonants, allowing for the construction of any dialogue, in a range of emotional states (Brad-mad, Brad-sad, and Brad-glad).  She continues this way until she is ready to start ’sequencing’ her film, adding in her script with it’s dialogue and actions.

If every film was made this way, we would eventually be looking at the same ’samples’ of everything.  There would be no nuance, no dynamics, no edge, no life.  It would be a pre-packaged, slickly packaged and homogeneous mass – the same Pitt-sample with the same Tokyo-background sample saying it’s dialogue with the same pre-determined range of inflections.   Sure, many films use the standard stock footage of the New York fly-over to establish location, but we are talking about what amounts to an entire film made only of stock footage and stock acting.

No filmmaker I know of would accept this, and yet, more and more, music made of  ’samples’ is accepted as fulfilling its important role as an emotional alchemical substance in film and media.

The Challenge

There are, of course,  reasons why this situation exists, primarily having to do with time and money.  But is this good enough?  I think that we all need to begin to think more creatively about how we work, and what we produce.  We need to begin imagining situations where it is both financially and within the constraints of time, possible to make supporting musical products which fulfill and exceed their requirements, and which have a real, tangible, unique, and effective signature.  Everyone is copying everyone elses copy of something – we need to do better.  Not every film needs a gigantic orchestral score that it may not be able to afford – can the same emotional goals be achieved using a different method?  I strongly believe they can – and it will be to everyone’s advantage.  There are ways of working quickly and cost-effectively to deliver music which will add tremendous value to the production – a unique proposition to the filmmaker who receives a score that works, and sounds unlike any other.

by rosiehardy

Creativity. It’s all about, you know, like FREEDOM, Maaaaaan.

Have you ever sat there, ready to just dive in creatively, and you end up staring at your computer screen/writing pad, or with your instrument limp in your hands, and nothing happens?  You’ve got Tabula Rasa – the blank slate – you can do whatever you want.  What a terror!

To get the juices flowing, I might take a look at the gear – maybe I turn on my synth to get some ideas flowing. Holy crap, I’ve got 6 kazillion patches – too much to choose from! Scroll, audition, scroll, audition (…six hours later… still no music written).  I’m looking for a fence but all there is is horizon.

Oh, the oppressive quality of limitless options. In Space, there is no ‘up’.

Or maybe, you don’t get locked into the above, but you go and create and boy, it’s the same old song and dance – you are working from your comfort zone. You are boring yourself.

Maybe it’s time to build yourself a nice little sandbox!

If you prepare your for your creative work by setting some limitations, you will find that it can give you a sense of definition, direction.  You start to make consistent decisions from an anchored point, and you are then able to work more efficiently and with flow. Also, you are ‘free’ to color outside the lines, because you know where the lines are – and so, surprisingly, limitations help you create work that is fresher!

A studio is an absolute labyrinth of possibilities – this is why records take so long to make because there are millions of permutations of things you can do. The most useful thing you can do is to get rid of some of those options before you start.

Brian Eno said that, the super-genius that he is.  He also goes on to say:

One of my mottoes is that if you want to get unusual results, work fast and work cheap, because there’s more of a chance that you’ll get somewhere that nobody else did. Nearly always, the effect of spending a lot of money is to make things more normal.

Cut it out!

Before you start working, try and think of a bunch of things you are NOT going to use, and ways of working you will NOT fall back on. The further you move from your comfort zone, the more unusual result you will get, or, the more CREATIVE a result you’ll get. You are going to force yourself to think interesting.

Parameterize!

Think of some unusual restrictions to put on yourself. This is one of the most interesting aspects of creative collaborations, especially in film music; it presents it’s own set of limitations – you are creating work that supports already created work, within the framework of the story, and the directors vision. I also love working with directors who have no, or only a limited knowledge of music. They will suggest things you would never have thought of on your own, maybe even crazy ideas. Run with it! And if you are working alone, on your own project, try and think of some things you can box yourself in with. Get rid of some of your options. Don’t use stuff you know will result in the ’same old sound’.

Check your options at the door – you are going to use ONLY a woodwind section, one synth patch, accordion, and a delay. Now go make an awesome film score. Think that sounds crazy? Check out the work Giacchino did for ‘Lost’ – his palette: small string section, trombones, and a harp. Pretty unique, effective, and memorable score, right? Or how about the brilliant choice to have Neil Young score ‘Dead Man’ with just an electric guitar, improvised live while watching the film.

Commit!

Be courageous! Print that effect! Lay down that track and stick to it! See if you can go with an open “It works – use it” mentality. Having pre-determined strategy for what you are ‘allowed’ to do will help your decision making tremendously. Does it fit within the framework you created? Good – do it!

Do not collect weapons or practice with weapons beyond what is useful.

- Miyamoto Musashi, the Dokkodo

Make it about your creativity and intellect, not about the gear. Avoid getting too many samplers, sequencers, plugins, synths, toys, gizmos and gadgets. Avoid the short-lived drug addicted high of buying new gear for it’s own sake, and using that as an excuse to keep you from being creative. Don’t get stuck in software learning curves instead of being creative. Too much gear can muck up your sound and serve only to make you sound like the latest thing – ‘hollywoodizing’ your sound.

These examples are mostly related in terms of music, but they apply to ALL creative fields, esp. filmmaking which is particularly subject to Option Overload (though usually constrained by budget). See how your options, techno-lust and safe-working-methods might be holding you back from being your creative best.

Cut a vital connection!

Do you have any cool ways of working? Let’s hear about them!

Read the full article on Film Music Magazine here:

Teamsters Say They’re Ready To Help Film & TV Composers Unionize at LA Meeting

450 composers, including many ‘A-listers’, met in Burbank, CA on Monday, Nov. 16th.

In the US, composers are one of the few professional groups working in film/tv that have no representation, in the way that actors have SAG and writers the WGA.  There is a really important and interesting (and HEATED!) discussion going on about composers unionizing and using their collective power to stop the devaluation of music, and “increasingly unrealistic delivery deadlines, punitive working conditions, lack of benefits enjoyed by most workers in the industry, plus the amalgamation of skill-sets”.

Check out these stats from the same article:

“…a staggering drop in composer fees from the 1980s to the present time—as much as an 86% pay-cut on an average movie adjusted for 2009 dollars. Further statistics purport a 240% increase in actual minutes of music used in today’s movies in contrast to those produced in 1980.”

It will be very interesting to see where this leads – it’s a divisive and emotional topic, there are as many questions as there are answers, and a lot is at stake.

UPDATE: Here is a very interesting article from the LA Times that adds some more dimension to the debate.  Consider this – David Carbonara is the composer for the incredibly successful ABC Show, Mad Men.  You’d think, of all working composers, he’d be doing pretty well, but “even after he labors on 13 episodes for a full year, he says he won’t earn enough to support his family.”

There’s something very wrong with this picture!