With two notes, Steven Spielberg and John Williams changed the
history of cinema, in the most unthinkable way possible. Cast your mind back to
1974, in a time before special effects, CGI, and the internet: Spielberg was
amidst his troublesome shoot for his first big monster movie Jaws, a thrilling aquatic pursuit for a
monstrously large great white shark. Now infamous, the shoot for Spielberg was
a disaster: the problems with shooting at sea, as well as dealing with the
creation of an enormous shark, meant that the budget had ballooned in size,
from $4 million to an eventual $9 million. But most fearful of all for
Spielberg was this: had it been all for nothing? Had he created an absolute
turkey of a movie, of great white proportions?
And to everyone’s surprise, most of all Spielberg’s, it worked. Yes,
the script was good, the shark was terrifying, and the tension was on another
level, but we all know the real driver behind the force. Perhaps now the two
most famous notes in cinematic history, and what was an absolute masterstroke
by composer John Williams. These two notes became the shark, they physically
represented in our minds the presence of this beast which we weren’t being
shown on screen. One might go as far to say that they became a character of their
own: the real monster. The most fantastic soundtracks do exactly this: they
become an onscreen presence, flitting between the characters like an invisible
force. Music can complete a film, a missing piece in a jigsaw to create the
sort of mood which the director is aiming for: without this, a scene can be
completely misjudged, to hilarious results. Ever tried switching on the mute
button during the opening credits of Jaws?
Its just water!
Three types of soundtrack come to mind, the first being the classical
score. Generally created by a classical composer, this can use anything from a
4-piece to a fully-fledged orchestra, in order to create as diverse a sound as
possible. Usually employed in the most dramatic of sequence, a full orchestra
can wrench emotions from side to side. Alfred Hitchcock’s collaboration Bernard
Hermann in the original slasher Psycho
brings to mind visions of shock and fear: the scratching glissandi are symbolic
of the knife which comes plunging down onscreen, striking into the audience’s
ears. Composer Hans Zimmer has one of the more distinctive sounds in the
business: deep sweeping gestures of the orchestra, swelling the scene with
drama and character like no other, whether its Jack Sparrow’s swashbuckling
antics, or the beautifully tense moments of inception in Inception (obviously). A classical soundtrack is like a modern day
symphony: nuanced, emotive, and hugely effective.
The second distinct type is what I have struggled to name the
artist’s soundtrack: it is named as such since it describes a soundtrack
featuring solely or mainly the songs of one musician or band. In the same way
that albums can tell a story, so too can directors employ the help of a
specific musician to ease along their narrative. Famously, Mike Nichols collaborated
with Simon and Garfunkel on The Graduate,
with the infamous Mrs Robinson lending her name to the now famous (in its own
right) track, featured distinctly in the film: Nichols used the calming
acoustic sound of the duo to accompany his story of adolescent angst and
confusion, set against the summer scape of Southern California. Wes Anderson,
as is his wont, demolished the fourth wall in The Life Aquatic by inviting musician Seu Jorge to be a character
in the film itself, providing fantastic interludes with his Portuguese acoustic
renditions of Bowie. The director provides a gateway for the musician’s unique
sound into the film, while also creating a wonderful background to the onscreen
action. 
Last and by no means least is, again hazardously named, the
collection soundtrack: this is where the director has assembled a collection of
already released songs, in their own right, and laid them over the reel of
their film. This, in many ways, offers the director more freedom, but requires
a considerable skill: they must be able to tailor these songs appropriately to
their film, rather than the other way round. This can work to great effect,
however, when the director engages effectively with what the music is trying to
communicate. Mr Tarantino is a master at this skill, delving into the deepest
confines of music history and plucking out marvellous choices left right and
centre: most memorable is the resonance of Stealers Wheel’s ‘Stuck in the
Middle With You’ in the excruciating yet oddly compelling torture scene of Reservoir Dogs, or perhaps RZA’s (of Wu
Tang fame) mind blowing mash-up of James Brown’s ‘The Payback’ and Tupac’s
‘Untouchable’, launched at the climax of Django’s revenge story. A tricky
skill, but one which can lovingly combine the director’s hard cinematographic
work, and their love for music.
Music and film go lovingly hand in hand: where would Spielberg be
without his Williams, or Nolan without his Zimmer. What have we learnt: all you
need is two notes, and the rest is history.
Top 5: Best Soundtracks
5. 2001: A Space Odyssey –
Various
Arguably less a film and
more an extended music video for some of the classical greats, Kubrick’s
mindblowing visuals fit perfectly with the grandeur of Strauss et al. Most
memorable is the eye-popping intro accompanied by Wagner’s ecstatically charged
‘Also Sprach Zarathustra’.
4. Little Miss Sunshine –
DeVotchKa
Admittedly an outside
choice, but one which is a personal favourite. The Denver-based quartet (named
after the nadsat word for ‘girl’ in A Clockwork Orange), lay down the
heart-wrenching accompaniment for this outstanding tragi-comedy. Never has
music been so upbeat yet depressing at the same time.
3. O Brother Where Art
Thou? – T Bone Burnett
The phrase ‘country
western’ was near taboo before T Bone Burnett got his beautiful hands all over
it: uniting greats Norman Blake and Alison Krauss, along with some of the cast
itself, Burnett created a foot-stomping, thigh-slapping, and incredibly
atmospheric soundtrack for this Depression-era epic.
2. Reservoir Dogs -
Various
A sheer stroke of genius:
unsatisfied with convention, Tarantino created his own radio station ‘K-Billy’s
Super Sounds of the Seventies’ to play all his favourite songs for him. Just so
happens this includes some fantastically appropriate, albeit unfitting,
melodies to go with this crime thriller. The addition of the monotonous DJ is
just spot on hilarious.
1.
There Will Be Blood – Jonny Greenwood
In my opinion, some of the
greatest classical music created in the last 20 years: striking, moving, and
chilling in equal measure, Greenwood’s score provides the perfect sound to P.T.
Anderson’s unflinching look at greed and evil. And all this from the guitarist
from Radiohead. Who’d have thought?
