Introduction: An Atmospheric Ear by Nancy Woo

John Cage, the famous 20th century American composer, says about sounds, “I don’t need them to talk to me. I love the activity of sound. Sounds are acting.” He says this in an interview as traffic whirs by on 6th avenue in New York City. He remarks that the traffic is always different, always changing, but has a particular shape. Music tries too often to talk to you, he retains, and to him, just the simple act of being engulfed by sounds is enough to awaken an artistic feeling. Similarly, the music in a film, with some exceptions, should be “acting” but not “talking.” Film music should enhance the experience of being a part of that particular film by adding the dimension of sound space. (I say, “being a part of it” because as I well know, the best films entice you in and take you along for a wild ride.)

Sound should not be forced to act, it just acts, Cage ruminates, and many disagree with him. His controversial piece entitled “Four Minutes and 33 Seconds” consists of an entire orchestra and audience sitting in silence through three movements that are broken up only by bouts of coughing. The musicians hold their instruments but do not play them. Perhaps there is a sneeze, or a slight sigh, but no music. There is applause at the end. How can this be art, many ask? It is the art of letting be and listening. In a still room, even the hum of the electrical system becomes a part of the performance, and the breathing of a thousand people reminds them of their bodies. Suddenly, the room, the audience, the performers and the composer all become active sound amidst the picture of existence. The performance makes them all acutely aware of this depth. And so it should be with film music and film, though understandably, the composer must carefully craft a soundtrack to make it seem effortless.

Music and sound should exist alongside the visual film in a way that seems natural, like the rise and fall of an audience’s breath or faint drops of rain outside. In essence, film music needs to be captivating and unique, yet subtle enough to enhance rather than steal the show. I want to be engulfed in the entire experience of a film, from the camera angles to the lighting to the sounds in the background. It should all flow together like the river, the soil and the fish, light as a feather blanket, yet substantial. That is, unless the soundtrack is a blatant part of the film, like Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, where the music acts as a character and needs to be flushed out as such. If done well, this can be greatly satisfying. The Scott Pilgrim score had its appropriate moments of talking, and rocked out with the band like any character would. For most films, though, concentrated sound should evoke emotion or feeling so naturally at the right moments, as if the music were simply a part of the scene, as if it were traffic whirring along outside. There if you listen, gone if you don’t, and inevitably layered.

I want film music to be a rich silence, a deep vat of sounds one can jump into again after the film is over. Each independent listening of a film soundtrack should bring new discoveries, strengthen ties to the past viewing, and give a deeper complexity to the overall experience of the film. To be fair and to provide context, my favorite type of film is the artsy, cerebral one that challenges me to see something in a different way. Therefore, I expect nothing less from the sounds that flow into the piece, and the best soundtracks are those where the atmosphere is so rich and full that I cannot separate the film from the music.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Waking Life and American Beauty number among my favorite films, and they all have a score that deepens the viewing and the listening experience for me. And they all work in slightly different ways. The Eternal Sunshine soundtrack is a medley of songs and sounds from a startling array of genres with a cohesion that can only be understood when thinking of the film as a whole. There are some tracks that have buried themselves deep in my bones and refuse to leave, with no objection by me. There is one track with the same title of the film that never fails to dampen my eyes because it is so entwined in a certain feeling alluded to by the tension in the characters’ relationship. I have spent many happy hours with headphones in ears, reawakening the hefty themes of the film to my own senses. It’s a soundtrack that can be listened to like any other album, with possibly even more depth.

Waking Life, on the other hand, uses music as a more integral part of the story, and even as a focal point for distinguishing between realities. This is perfect for such a strange, philosophical and surrealistic film, whereas it might not work so well for a more conventional approach. The haunting violin in the beginning and end wrap up the experience like a wet blanket around the shoulders - almost comforting. American Beauty has a soundtrack I don’t generally listen to afterwards, but that moves the story along in such a unique way, full of bizarre instruments and chaotic sounds. Once paired with certain scenes, it gives them vibrancy that may have otherwise been lacking. The rose petals and the sound of the xylophone is a perfect match made in suburban purgatory.

Now, I said that I want soundtracks to be a rich silence, metaphorically, but there are even times when lack of a soundtrack can be just as intentional and striking. Recently, I watched Scenes from a Marriage from the great Swedish writer and director, Ingmar Bergman, and that entire film is a battleground of emotions, made even more poignant by the lack of “movie-like” music. There is no soundtrack except for the slight hiss and crackle of the actual film and the natural background noises. What would have already been an electrically charged and easily relatable story of relationships is even more heart wrenching without music to alert the viewer to the fantasy of it all. Disbelief, therefore, is completely suspended. It becomes that much more real. I think John Cage would approve.

All that being said, a great film will naturally have a great score to highlight, enhance or downplay the events, the characters, the cinematography and everything in between. I don’t think it is a coincidence that my favorite films also have my favorite scores (although admittedly, I don’t go out of my way to seek soundtracks from films I don’t like). All elements must work together. Listening to a soundtrack is like listening to the sounds of a crowd moving or a machine whirring as you are having an intense conversation – it is separate yet inseparable from the experience as a whole.