The venerable Hollywood Bowl has booked the LA Philharmonic often in recent years for live performances of film scores, including popular favorites BACK TO THE FUTURE and E.T. THE EXTRA-TERRESTRIAL. played in sync to picture for the entire length. This differs from other concerts where only brief score selections are performed, main themes and highlights. For the live-to-picture events, the orchestra performs center stage with a sprawling screen above them and after a time an audience can really get lost in the experience, to the point of forgetting that the music accompanying the movie is right in front of them, playing live. This can be an incredibly difficult task for both conductor and orchestra. There can be upwards of 80 minutes of music to perform, exact sync points that need to be hit to complete the illusion and if there are any flubs they can't repeat that scene again as a do-over, which would be the case when recording the score in a studio.
Experiencing a movie in this venue, in this presentation, can be revelatory, prompting another look at the movie in question with fresh eyes. On this night in August, there was a palpable buzz in the audience, as when they're anticipating a legendary pop star's performance. Everyone seemed eager, almost moreso than at the similar screenings I attended of E.T. and several HARRY POTTER films. Once esteemed conductor David Newman (an excellent composer in his own right) bounded onstage to lead the orchestra, the audience expressed its excitement at joining together in this cinematic adventure. I don't think anyone was aware of this, but having the orchestra perform the score live to picture strangely gives this endeavor a sense of unpredictability, of possible danger, as if this is all happening for the first time. For me, it opened up a new avenue by which to explore the movie, even after countless viewings over decades.
One instance early on that became more pronounced by the presence of the live orchestra was the introduction of Indiana Jones. He remains shadowed during the opening credits trek, only stepping into the light after dispatching by way of his bullwhip the turncoat member of his team. Indy's reveal is accompanied by menacing, descending chords voiced by heavy, low brass. The Hollywood Bowl audience cheered at the sight of star Harrison Ford's iconic character however I realized that in a musical vernacular this didn't sound at all like the introduction of the movie's hero. If one didn't know any better, you might assume this was villain. If I hadn't already been so familiar with the movie, I might be unsure of whether this taciturn man with a whip should be trusted. I consider it a pretty clever touch by director Steven Spielberg, along with Williams, as they could have easily just underscored this moment with a flash of the bright, heraldic theme for Indiana Jones, retaining instead that element of mystery to him, even for a short time.
Another aspect brought to the forefront in this presentation is how sparsely scored RAIDERS is, especially in comparison to action films of the past twenty years or so. Early on, not only are dialogue-driven scenes allowed to play naturally but additionally, that chaotic firefight in Marion's bar contains no notes to compete with the gunfire and fisticuffs. Williams's music only ratchets up the initial tension, backs out and then returns once Indy and Marion are safe. I find this could be a stylistic holdover from cinema of the 1970's, an era when filmmakers typically favored less underscore and a more natural ambiance and pacing, the advantage being that once music does appear to punctuate a moment its emotional affect is that much more powerful. Even action movies of the 70's featured sporadic cues, often bowing out of chase sequences altogether. Granted, RAIDERS is more of a period-specific adventure tale than pure action like DIRTY HARRY, but I think it does represent somewhat of a bridge musically speaking from that decade into the 80's. For contrast, simply take a look and listen to its sequel, INDIANA JONES AND THE TEMPLE OF DOOM, produced three years later. Now, I don't mean to cast aspersions on the follow-up, as it has its own charms and rollicking fun, but almost every sequence from start to finish, outside of the village and palace dinner scenes, is scored. And despite the fact that Williams provides brilliant, memorable accompaniment throughout, I think it can lead to a sense of exhaustion before even reaching the last third of the movie.
This brings me to the recently released feature DUNKIRK, from writer/director Christopher Nolan, out this Summer, and the other focus of this post. I happened to see this new film the day after seeing RAIDERS at the Hollywood Bowl. I was thoroughly engaged in the movie, as I have been with all of Nolan's cinematic efforts, from its twisty, staggered-linear narrative to the impressive flying sequences. However, one element of its construction stood out to me during the viewing, naturally regarding the score, composed by Hans Zimmer. I noted that once the music is introduced after the opening minutes it never lets up for the remainder of the movie. Not to sound hyperbolic, but honestly, I can't immediately recall any break in that sonic wall. I don't want this to be interpreted as a criticism, but instead an observation. Its effect is subjective, of course. Personally, I kept expecting there to be a scene when I could settle further into the movie, or that the movie itself would settle down for a moment to emphasize a point. There is a particular scene containing the unexpected death of a character and as it unfolded I thought to myself, why is the music still chugging through all this without acknowledging it in the slightest? Or, why doesn't the score at the very least pause so that both me and the other characters can feel the weight of this unforeseen loss?
At the time, it annoyed me. Later, I reflected on this aspect a bit further. This may not be a case of just clumsy spotting (the process of deciding which scenes in a movie will or won't need music) by the director, attempting to plaster over every scene and treating the score as simple sonic wallpaper, for fear that silence would be perceived as dull. This is a familiar criticism among cine-files and aficionados. I've even made the same judgment myself on current filmmaking trends. However, Christopher Nolan crafts his movies carefully and thoughtfully. There normally isn't any superfluous or random element included, even when the length approaches three hours. I had to allow for the fact that this was entirely a purposeful creative choice.
Music's presence can compress how we experience time while watching a movie. The omnipresent prevalence of music in DUNKIRK could be tied to the three-pronged, staggered timeline of its story, displayed onscreen during the opening sequence as "one week", "one day" and "one hour". With no lapse in the score, that sense of time compression constantly accelerates the spiraling orbits of all three story lines. An intersection, or even collision between all three, feels inevitable, with music and editing as the driving engine. Any interruption in one would seem to increase its importance over the other two. If the music had shifted to acknowledge that one character's death I mentioned, then the audience's attention is pulled too far into that specific subplot. I think Nolan needed the music to maintain an objective distance. Yes, this also results in the audience being kept at a distance emotionally, but we thus accept more easily slipping between the various plot threads and timelines. Only in the closing scenes is there a release musically when we can experience the elation and victory of the players in the film.
RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK and DUNKIRK occupy opposite ends of the spectrum in the category of World War II genre movies, as well as filmmaking styles overall. I considered the thirty-six year gap that separate them and the changes that have occurred during that range; then, as I often do with movies, turned that same number of years around and compared RAIDERS to what populated cinemas in 1945. Our perception can be so skewed with movies - we might feel that RAIDERS doesn't seem like an "old movie", yet back in 1981 we certainly might have labeled movies from 1945 as "old". In that year, cinema-goers enjoyed OBJECTIVE BURMA!, starring Errol Flynn, and BACK TO BATAAN with John Wayne, both well regarded, venerable classics of the same genre. In comparing DUNKIRK against RAIDERS, the latter now appears more in line with films of the mid-1940's than it does to the new Nolan wartime epic. One might conclude, based on this observation, is that by 1981 the way films were constructed hadn't really altered too drastically, whereas the cinematic evolutions since then have been vast, like listening to music on LP versus streaming it via Spotify. If we imagine movies as living things, they breathed differently in the analog era than in the current digital age. It's even more evident when enveloped by the sound of a living, breathing orchestra accompanying RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK live.
One instance early on that became more pronounced by the presence of the live orchestra was the introduction of Indiana Jones. He remains shadowed during the opening credits trek, only stepping into the light after dispatching by way of his bullwhip the turncoat member of his team. Indy's reveal is accompanied by menacing, descending chords voiced by heavy, low brass. The Hollywood Bowl audience cheered at the sight of star Harrison Ford's iconic character however I realized that in a musical vernacular this didn't sound at all like the introduction of the movie's hero. If one didn't know any better, you might assume this was villain. If I hadn't already been so familiar with the movie, I might be unsure of whether this taciturn man with a whip should be trusted. I consider it a pretty clever touch by director Steven Spielberg, along with Williams, as they could have easily just underscored this moment with a flash of the bright, heraldic theme for Indiana Jones, retaining instead that element of mystery to him, even for a short time.
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| Live at The Hollywood Bowl |
Music's presence can compress how we experience time while watching a movie. The omnipresent prevalence of music in DUNKIRK could be tied to the three-pronged, staggered timeline of its story, displayed onscreen during the opening sequence as "one week", "one day" and "one hour". With no lapse in the score, that sense of time compression constantly accelerates the spiraling orbits of all three story lines. An intersection, or even collision between all three, feels inevitable, with music and editing as the driving engine. Any interruption in one would seem to increase its importance over the other two. If the music had shifted to acknowledge that one character's death I mentioned, then the audience's attention is pulled too far into that specific subplot. I think Nolan needed the music to maintain an objective distance. Yes, this also results in the audience being kept at a distance emotionally, but we thus accept more easily slipping between the various plot threads and timelines. Only in the closing scenes is there a release musically when we can experience the elation and victory of the players in the film.
