This past year in college has been quite an experience, really. The usual college stuff, as well as the usual college stuff! I’ve been surrounded by music all throughout this year that’s gone by. Played a number of gigs, taught a couple of newbies how to strum a guitar and maybe, just maybe, even play a few chords. But surprisingly, the thing that I really latched on to in a rather overwhelming way was Cinema! That is what’s been new.
Though I’ve been following Tarantino’s and Nolan’s work since the 8th or 9th grade, it wasn’t until my first year of college that I really found myself to be deeply invested in the art form. From analyzing the mechanics of a shot, the dialogue writing, the screenwriting, to most importantly, for me — the background score. Now, to many people, these merely seem like big words that are only used by anchors in the award shows. But boy, oh boy, they’re mistaken! There are entire galaxies that are run on these set of dimensions. And I’ve only begun exploring their infinities.
Being a musician, there’s bound to be some amount of artistic bias I guess, if that’s the correct nomenclature! So, appreciating a good background score was something that came naturally to me, in a way. But what really took some time and exposure, was connecting the dots between the music, the screenwriting, the shots, the dialogue, the acting, and whatnot. You see, I like to think that the background score is the most powerful dialogue there is, in any movie. It can convey so much, with so little that at times it’s rather overwhelming.
Well, if I am to talk about background scores and their impact on just about any scene on celluloid, why not start with the maestro himself? Alfred Hitchcock was one of the founding fathers of modern cinema, to say the least. He reinvented the game completely. Right from inventing unorthodox camera techniques to generating gargantuan suspense through the music. Consider the title sequence of Psycho (1960). The music is rather dissonant and unsettling. It throws one off their comfort zone right away, thus serving its purpose very well. And we have to talk about Psycho’s infamous shower scene, obviously! Norman Bates is one of the most haunting and psychopathic characters ever written. And this might be a long shot for most millennials, but before Heath Ledger, the world had Anthony Perkins! But taking no credit away from him, that shower scene that really defined the nuances of Hitchcock’s direction wouldn’t have seemed half as compelling and appalling were it not for the screeching string section lifting the whole scene. Hitchcock can be credited with a bunch of the typical horror movie techniques and shots that have now become commonplace, close to forty years after his death. Legacy, huh!
Talking about influence and originality, we have to talk about the genius, the visionary, that was Stanley Kubrick. For you pop culture people, this is the guy from whose work Christopher Nolan took notes. Yeah, sounds unfathomable enough? Anyway, I don’t think I can explain Stanley Kubrick’s cinematography to you. I don’t think many people can either. But I can try doing so for the music. Let’s talk about, yeah you guessed it, 2001: A Space Odyssey (1967). Name a more iconic, pioneering and outright groundbreaking background score in cinema, I’ll wait! More than 50 years on, it’s been referenced, paid homage to, and celebrated profoundly like none other. It’s perhaps the most futuristic and avant-garde soundtrack I’ve heard yet. But of course, we have to talk about The Shining (1980) too. Again, the title sequence creates this gloomy, macabre ambience, which in retrospect, provides some very precise foreshadowing. I think Kubrick’s perhaps the one guy who could make the dullest, most mundane shots seem unsettling. Remember those long corridor shots from The Shining? Some of them with the camera fixed to the kid’s tricycle and some just immobile. In an age of horror movies headlined with unimaginative jumpscares and very shallow scriptwriting, we could perhaps pick up a thing or two from the great man.
Okay, let’s talk about something lighter now, shall we? When I watched Midnight in Paris (2011) for the first time, I was awestruck as to how a piece of cinema could be just so purely beautiful. But what I really want to talk about is how Woody Allen sets up his movies. If it’s centered around a city, for example, Midnight in Paris, and Manhattan (1979), then he’ll simply introduce his protagonist — the city, within the first five minutes. His portrayal of this protagonist is so touching because of how he plays off the music and the frequently changing shots. It sets the tone for the rest of the movie. And sometimes, like in Annie Hall (1977), he does the same thing, only this time the protagonist is an actual person. This touch of soft existentialism coupled with a blue urban melancholy is what has been so original in all his characters.
I’ve got to talk about two other directors. They are the two people with whom it all started for me, and for most cinema buffs of this generation too. When I watched Inglorious Basterds (2009) for the first time as a thirteen-year-old kid, I did not have the artistic understanding to explain to myself why this movie was like nothing I’d ever seen before. This became a recurring feeling as I went on to watch Quentin Tarantino’s other films subsequently. Quoting a very dear friend of mine, “In a Tarantino movie, the music is also a character.”
Consider that infamous pit scene in Basterds, when the character of Sgt. Donny Donowitz aka ‘The Bear Jew’ is being introduced to the audience for the first time. Yes, Brad Pitt’s Aldo the Apache does a fine job setting this up, but what really hits this scene out of the park is the soundtrack. The wind instruments setting up the bass line played on a piano, welcoming the flamenco guitar, and climaxing with the swell of the vocal harmony. You can almost hear it! That scene just goes to show how well integrated Tarantino’s cameras and music are. Anyway, one particular scene doesn’t quite cut it. But Tarantino’s cinema simply breathes through its music.
Before I wrap up, I have to, and I mean it, I have to talk about Christopher Nolan. Of course, the obligation to do so has stemmed from good reason. I can’t think of a more original storyteller belonging to this generation of filmmakers than him. Yes, he’s known for being the man in the Sci-fi genre. But what often goes unnoticed by non-musicians, is the music in his movies. Let’s start with the pop-culture side of things, to ramp everyone in. The soundtrack to The Dark Knight trilogy (2005-2012) is the epitome of the “less-is-more” philosophy in music. It goes to show just how much some intense percussion coupled with all of two notes on the organ can define the characters, the scenes, and all-in-all, change the landscape of the whole movie! Then there’s the soundtrack from Interstellar (2014). Probably my personal favorite, but I mean truly, it’s just something else! To say that Hans Zimmer is a genius is an understatement, really. Even the last scene from Dunkirk (2017) with its serene swell of hope on the organ is another example of how vulnerable the characters can be made to seem, at the end of a WW II movie. The greatest truth in Nolan’s movies is in the music. That’s how he weaves all those intricate, labyrinthine plots together.
I am clueless as to how I’m expected to conclude this article/rant! But I will say this, deconstructing an art form is just one of the many tools that one acquires eventually, as a fruit of all their unadulterated love and passion for the same. But there’s another layer above that. And that is of original work. So, here’s to all the artists out there. Here’s to all our struggles, our little peaks of joy and solace, and all our ambitions. But most importantly, here’s to our art. After all, it’s the only truth we know.
By Deepan Mukherjee
Chords & Co. 