Library of Congress Prints and Photographs division, ppmsca.03112.
Now that the red carpet is rolled up like a map that had only one route, and movie people have come down from their Oscar high, it seems a good moment to examine an ego-free component of filmmaking: the music. There are different schools of thought when it comes to the kind of role a soundtrack should play. Some directors believe music should be like cinematic salt—a pinch here and a pinch there, so that it’s part of the main course of action. By that approach, music functions as an undetectable enhancement. Other filmmakers use it more generously, incorporating melodies that can stand on their own without falling out of step with the movie’s pace. A third approach is to make the music a character in itself, a variable that can’t be subtracted. Not only are classics such as The Graduate and Vertigo aesthetically and culturally welded to their famous soundtracks, the music delivers a performance as strong as the protagonist.
The history of music in the cinema can be traced back to the invention of the reel. Early composers like David Raksin and Franz Waxman set a golden-age standard of often-haunting tunefulness. Slightly later came talents like Elmer Bernstein and Bernard Herrmann. The former was rooted in jazz; the latter forsook melody lines in favor of sweeping, jarring crescendos—the musical equivalent of unresolved longing. The ‘60s were the door in which many important composers got their feet. John Williams—then known as Johnny—started by writing bubbly scores for movies like the Natalie Wood comedy Penelope. He also composed music for TV, including two sparkly title themes for Lost in Space (a show which sometimes used Herrmann music recycled from The Day the Earth Stood Still). Williams went on, of course, to compose soundtracks for Superman, Jaws, Star Wars and other blockbusters, in which his music was recognizable by its sweeping, heavily orchestrated—and somehow patriotic-sounding—melodies.
Jerry Goldsmith began his career in the ’60s, also as a composer of television themes. Known for writing catchy hook lines delivered on deadline, Goldsmith sometimes flavored his work with flute (The Man from U.N.C.L.E.) or harmonica (The Waltons). Like Williams, he successfully went on to do movies. In Italy, Ennio Morricone was prolific in a way that made him seem almost like a soundtrack factory –but his music had a handmade quality that allowed him to be at once chameleonic and distinctive. One of Morricone’s trademarks was the use of vocals as just another instrument. He was good at adding comedic bits to action music. The Good, the Bad and the Ugly is only the most well-known of over 100 Morricone scores.
John Barry was in a class by himself. Recognizable by the string-laden delicacy of his melodies and the dreaminess of his productions, Barry—who recently died of a heart attack—didn’t wear a single influence on his sleeve. In a large sense, he came from jazz and ’50s instrumentals, but his roots evolved like a flower under the sun of his success. Barry was known mainly for writing the music for James Bond, but he could score drama as effectively as action, going straight for the heart in Midnight Cowboy and Born Free. Interestingly, Barry’s Bond music was often just as lush and languid as some of his dramatic themes.
There have been so many great film composers, it would be impossible to write about all of them. Other notables from the golden, and post-golden, eras include Michel Legrand, Lalo Schifrin, Dominic Frontiere, Maurice Jarre, Nino Rota and Henry Mancini.
Sadly, these days the noble art of movie music gets a low score. It’s become rather uninspired and routine. Pick up absolutely any soundtrack from the ‘60s, and it’s going to be terrific. Things have changed. Listen carefully to the music the next time you’re in front of the big screen. It might sound pretty good while you’re sitting there – but it’s likely you won’t take it home with you. A soundtrack should have intrinsic merit; an ability to stand on its own tune feet (that wasn’t a typo). These days, it’s often nothing more than a side effect from taking in a movie.
