Preface and acknowledgements

As cinema moves into its second century, it is surprising that relatively few comprehensive historical accounts of film music have so far appeared in print. This is by no means to say that there is a dearth of perceptive and thought-provoking writing about film music: on the contrary, since the 1980s the field has become a rich growth area in both academic and popular circles, and an ever-growing understanding and appreciation of the filmic medium’s often strikingly varied musical potentialities have helped rescue the film musician’s craft from the stigma of hack commercialism which constantly blighted its reputation from the earliest years. At the same time, and equally late in the day, film scholars have begun to draw wider attention to the need not only to regard a film’s soundtrack as an indivisible composite element, but also to consider it as at least equal to – and in some cases arguably more important than – the moving images which, as cinema’s raison d’être, were traditionally viewed as its overridingly dominant parameter. Hopefully the days when it was possible to devote an entire volume to a discussion of the aesthetics of cinema without adequately addressing either its sound or music (for an example, see Aumont et al. 1983) are long since gone.

Of the many varied histories of film music that could, and hopefully will, be written, the present enterprise aims to provide a straightforward introduction to the development of film-music techniques in a selection of Anglophone and non-Anglophone cinemas, with emphases placed on the practical roles of composers, musicians, music directors and supervisors, their changing working conditions, cultural contexts and creative aspirations, and the various ways in which their work has been received. At the risk of stating the obvious, this book is neither a history of film-music theory nor a history of film-music literature, though seminal observations from each are introduced liberally throughout the text where they are directly relevant to the practice and consumption of such music at various points in its history. Readers desiring coherent accounts of the film-music literature are recommended to consult the admirable critical summaries by Martin Miller Marks (1997, 3–25) and Robynn Stilwell (2002). Among the most readable and concise overviews of general trends in film-music theory is that offered by Annette Davison in the first three chapters of her recent book on contemporary film (2004).

For the era of silent film (Chapter 1) the principal sources for contemporaneous commentary are technical manuals on film accompaniment, the film industry’s trade press, newspapers and other journals, which discuss matters relating to film music both practical and aesthetic – though rarely in significant depth. As Rick Altman and other modern scholars have shown, the early silent era demonstrated considerable diversity in its sonic provision before standardization took hold and subsequently shaped the often formulaic accompanying practices of the sound film. Aesthetic debate about the value and potential of film sound and music, on the part of both theorists and practitioners, grew markedly more heated with the introduction of synchronized soundtracks in the late 1920s (Chapter 2), and was at times related to a perceived conflict between the demands of stage-influenced theatricality and the more adventurous realms of filmic fantasy (Chapter 4). Some bold film-makers experimented with ‘contrapuntal’ uses of sound which jarred with the visual image (for examples from the early Soviet sound film, see Chapter 9). Others, notably in France (Chapters 2 and 8), refused to allow dialogue to achieve the overarching supremacy which was later to be one of the most obvious characteristics of mainstream narrative cinema in Hollywood (its typical practices considered in detail in Chapters 3 and 5) – and indeed ever since.

In the 1930s, many aspects of the film composer’s craft were rationalized to fit with a range of standard musico-dramatic requirements, and intelligent manuals discussing both practical and aesthetic issues were published by Leonid Sabaneev (1935) and Kurt London (1936). Critical and analytical writings on film music significantly increased in the 1930s and 1940s, with perceptive commentary and analysis issuing from the pens of George Antheil, Hans Keller, Lawrence Morton, F. W. Sternfeld and others; a fairly substantial bibliographical survey was published at the start of the 1950s (Zuckerman 1950). Ongoing debates at this time included the relative usefulness of music that either supported or contradicted the implications of the visual image; the extent to which film music needed to be clearly audible rather than perceived subliminally; thorny issues of structure, principally the tension between autonomous musical form and its apparent irreconcilability with the mostly subservient role that music was constantly called upon to play in its filmic context; and the usefulness (or otherwise) of continuing to compare film-music techniques with those of nineteenth-century opera and the other well-established musico-dramatic genres from which it appeared to have derived many of its basic processes. These debates generally failed to address the views of film spectators, which were first systematically canvassed by an expansion in market research undertaken within the industry from the late 1960s onwards (though filmic formulae had already been influenced by the outcome of preview screenings, even as early as the silent era); viewers’ reactions have more recently been analysed with the scientific scrutiny of the cognitive psychologist.

During the Hollywood Golden Age (c.1935–55) it became evident that film music was widely regarded by intellectual commentators as an impoverished cousin of worthwhile concert music, morally dubious in its overt commercialism and mass-production, and often of lamentable quality: this view was perpetuated by some concert composers who were seduced into film work solely for the generous remuneration it offered (for examples in the United Kingdom, see Chapter 6). A few – notably Copland and Vaughan Williams – warmly welcomed film scoring not only for its practical and aesthetic challenges, but also as a rare instance of a medium through which living composers were assured of regular airings of their latest music performed by top-class musicians. It was not until the 1980s that a thorough scholarly reassessment of the mainstream film industry’s working practices and aesthetic aims rescued conventional film music and its composers from a wearying critical malaise that had at times in the interim led its staunch defenders to embark on somewhat misguided and unnecessary attempts to claim for it an intellectual status equivalent to that of concert music. This initiative seemed increasingly futile after the film industry’s unpredictable course in the sometimes unstable 1960s and 1970s had potently demonstrated the viability of alternative scoring practices, chiefly those involving a foregrounding of popular music and electronics that synergistically exploited the considerable commercial potential of recorded-music sales.

The turning point in achieving a level-headed appreciation of traditional orchestral scoring came with a scholarly reappraisal of the so-called ‘classical’ cinema of the 1930s and 1940s, whose tenets to some extent continue to condition mainstream film scoring in the present age. Claudia Gorbman (1987), followed by Caryl Flinn and Kathryn Kalinak (both of whose influential monographs were published in 1992), all drew salient ideas from the burgeoning discipline of film studies in their willingness to view film music as largely inextricable from its immediate filmic and wider cultural contexts, and offered varying views of how nondiegetic scoring – no matter how formulaic and unoriginal – could (paradoxically) contribute to filmic ‘realism’ by manipulating a viewer’s emotional responses or by graphically supporting or even mimicking the action, while also showing itself capable of suggesting visions of (at least partial) utopias fully in accord with the escapism purveyed by the Hollywood dream factory. The ideas of this groundbreaking school of film-music theorists inevitably inform not only the account of Golden Age Hollywood advanced in Chapter 3, but also certain key techniques of the so-called ‘New Hollywood’ blockbusters that were resurgent in the late 1970s and which continue to dominate film production and international distribution at the time of writing (Chapter 12).

In their temperature-check on the state of film-music literature in the mid-1990s, James Buhler and David Neumeyer (1994) noted the various healthy contributions to the modern study of film scoring of ideas borrowed and developed from semiotics, Marxism, feminism, psychoanalysis and cognitive science, and provided a concise overview of the neo-formalist ‘historical poetics’ which informed the influential attitude towards the history of mainstream narrative film advanced by David Bordwell, Janet Staiger and Kristin Thompson (1985; see also Bordwell 1985). To this list may be added the important fields of filmic genre studies and auteur theory, both of which have continued to shape the lively debates surrounding film music. It seems scarcely credible – and it is certainly no fault of theirs – that Buhler and Neumeyer in 1994 were not able to include in their summary any consideration of the alternative, pop-based scoring practices that long before had radically changed both intellectual and popular conceptions of what music in film could be expected to achieve. Only in the late 1990s was pop scoring tackled with the kind of sympathetic understanding and intellectual rigour Gorbman had devoted to the classical orchestral film score, notably in the work of Jeff Smith (1998) which set a new standard for combining aesthetic insights with telling commercial and industrial contextualization. Until the 1990s few general books on film music had tackled pop scoring or non-Hollywood films convincingly, Roy Prendergast’s widely used textbook (1977, revised 1992) typical of its time in combining numerous practical insights based on personal experience of the US film industry with rather limited critical engagement. This situation changed significantly with Royal S. Brown’s stimulating overview of a wide range of film-scoring practices (1994), his work notably strong on the films of Hitchcock, French cinema and the manifold aspects of postmodern film scoring, which allowed the diversity of film music to speak for itself without the need for any forced theoretical unification.

Since then, rigorous academic studies of film music – including several devoted to pop – have largely been conducted in the context of edited symposia that provide a convenient outlet for relatively specialized research projects. This has resulted in one of the unfortunate, if perfectly understandable, drawbacks of modern film-music scholarship: its tendency to examine only a handful of films (or even a single film) as evidence to support a particular theoretical premise, an approach particularly encouraged by the symposium format. Whilst as a result the rich diversity of film-scoring practices is often thrown into sharp and vivid relief, the wider relevance of theoretical approaches applied to sometimes unrepresentative examples of a multi-faceted commercial art form can often seem somewhat limited. Not surprisingly, perhaps, the commentators whose thinking appeared most helpful for citation in an introductory text such as the present book have tended to be those who, to varying degrees, combine practical knowledge of film with either common sense (for example, Jean Mitry) or provocative ideology (Theodor Adorno and Hanns Eisler), or whose scholarly work was so important and timely as to lay the foundations for much modern thinking about film music (Gorbman, Flinn, Kalinak, Brown, Smith and Michel Chion, amongst others). Alongside the academic literature exists a sizeable corpus of anecdotal material in secondary sources on (primarily Hollywood) film music and film composers’ biographies and autobiographies, much of which is highly illuminating and frequently cited here. In general, for the present remit I have mostly prioritized factual information above theoretical abstraction and hope that my citations from a wide range of film-music commentators of differing temperaments will serve to stimulate readers to go on to explore, at their leisure, particular avenues of interpretative, commercial or technical interest in greater depth.

While Hollywood film-making is inevitably allocated a lion’s share of the present text, given its longstanding global domination of film production and consumption both commercially and conceptually, film music from six other major film-producing countries is also examined in some detail. To cover all world cinema in equal depth in a volume of this size has not been feasible, and it is to be hoped that in due course international film-music developments will receive a truly comprehensive coverage to rival that of such impressively wide-ranging film histories as those by Kristin Thompson and David Bordwell (2003) and David Cook (2004). For the present book, in addition to its central focus on American cinema, I have elected to concentrate on film music in the United Kingdom (Chapter 6), France (Chapter 8), the early Soviet Union, India, Italy and Japan (Chapter 9): the first because of its close but not always easy relationship with Hollywood and linguistic common ground, the second as much for its international influence on film-making techniques in two seminal periods (1930s and 1960s) as for its own distinctive characteristics, and the remaining four because in their own different ways they have each managed to retain clear national identities while at the same time (in certain directors’ hands) transcending the sometimes seemingly unbridgeable gaps between indigenous cultures and international appeal. Film music in certain other regions – for example Australasia, China, Germany, Greece and Scandinavia – is discussed more briefly at various points. Uses of pre-existing popular and classical music in film are for convenience of comparison given chapters to themselves (Chapters 10 and 11), as are the special generic cases of documentary and animation (Chapter 7). The main thrust of the book inevitably centres on the narrative fiction film which has long been the dominant international norm.

Dates given for individual films are, unless otherwise specified, those of the film’s initial release in its country of origin. In checking much of this data I have frequently relied on two sterling reference resources: the phenomenal Internet Movie Database (http://uk.imdb.com) and wonderfully user-friendly and often trenchantly opinionated Halliwell’s Film, DVD and Video Guide (Walker 2006). Titles originally in languages other than English are variously rendered in the original, in transliteration, in English translation, or in alternative English titles approved for export, as appropriate: readability and concision here seemed more helpful than a rigidly systematic approach which in some cases would have resulted in giving up to four different titles for a single film (the original sometimes unpronounceable except to specialists in the relevant language). Where a film was released with different English titles in the USA and UK, both are given. The identity of a film’s director is usually given at its first mention, though (again in the interests of readability) I have sometimes omitted this information where films are occasionally listed in groups rather than discussed individually.

As terminology relating to film music is in a constant state of flux (in academic circles, if not in the film industry) I have generally avoided fashionable jargon as much as possible, and I have also been sparing with technical musical terms – apart from the most familiar, or those of which the meaning is hopefully clear enough from the context – in the hope that this book may have something to say of interest to the general reader as well as to the specialist. For the sake of clarity and consistency when dealing with a wide range of material it has seemed prudent to retain the well-established terms ‘diegetic’ and ‘nondiegetic’ (defined in Chapter 1) broadly to describe music that respectively exists within or entirely outside of the constructed world portrayed by narrative films. As many of the soundtracks discussed in the succeeding pages demonstrate, the most interesting musical effects in film often occur in the ambiguous imaginative region between these two simple poles, and much work remains to be done to establish precisely why this strategy can be so emotionally potent, and how such ‘in-between’music specifically functions in certain types of film–principally the musical (Chapter 4) and animation (Chapter 7) – in which the lack of a clear distinction between diegetic and nondiegetic is the genres’ defining sonic characteristic.

It is a pleasure to thank the many friends and colleagues whose input has informed the project, beginning with Penny Souster at Cambridge University Press, whose enthusiasm for it spurred it into being (and to whom I should apologize for not being able to see it into press before her retirement). Her successor Vicki Cooper and editor Becky Jones have both been tremendously supportive and helpful with practicalities at all stages of the book’s production, and it is difficult to imagine working with more congenial and encouraging publishers. Special thanks are due to copy-editor Ann Lewis and production editor Jodie Barnes. For helpful input in the book’s early planning stages I am indebted to Peter Franklin and Christopher Reynolds.

I owe a particular debt of gratitude to David Cooper for reading a draft of the book in typescript and for his helpful comments on the text. I am also grateful to Fiona Ford for her eagle-eyed reading of the text, and for pointing me in the direction of a number of sources and sharing her specialized knowledge of silent film, early sound cinema and Shostakovich’s film music with me. Thanks are extended to Jan Butler for her advice on various aspects of popular music in film, and for many other pertinent comments on the text. George Fenton deserves thanks not only for agreeing to read the book before it went to press but also for the many insights into film music and related matters he has offered me – with characteristic modesty, thoughtfulness and good humour – over a number of years. As always, Philip Weller has constantly inspired me by his heart-warming blend of formidable intellect, humanity and common sense. Thanks are also extended to the following for their help with various matters: Jeremy Barham, Jonathan Burns, Kate Daubney, Annette Davison, John Deathridge, Katy Gow, Dan Grimley, Chris Grogan, Finn Gundersen, Sophie Hacker, Norman Hirschy, Stephen Horne, Edward Dudley Hughes, Nicole Jacob, Dimitri Kennaway, Jan Kopinski, Liz Long, Colin Matthews, Stuart Nicholson, the late Stanley Sadie, Lucinda Sanderson, Nigel Simeone, Peter Wright and Richard Field.

Finally, I must thank both the University of Nottingham’s School of Humanities and the Arts and Humanities Research Council (AHRC) for granting me the periods of research leave necessary to complete the project. I am also grateful to the University of Nottingham for its contribution towards the cost of reproducing the illustrations.

The AHRC funds postgraduate training and research in the arts and humanities, from archaeology and English literature to design and dance. The quality and range of research supported not only provides social and cultural benefits but also contributes to the economic success of the UK. For further information on the AHRC, please visit www.ahrc.ac.uk.