To Compose a Story -- Conclusion

Analysis of Goldsmith's Approach

Via his theory's tenets, the composer demonstrates that he has a thorough understanding of motion picture principles -- as well as the rationale for and potential of music in Hollywood film. First of all, concerning the concept of accessibility, it is important to recognize the fact that the filmic medium is essentially communicative; through its very nature, filmmakers convey messages to their audience. (Film scholar Christian Metz's discussion of "cinematographic grammar" in his book Film Language: A Semiotics of the Cinema illustrates how this is so.xviii) Just like a speech-giver, motion picture collaborators have to consider and meet the needs of their audience. This is because filmmaking is a commercial art. The ultimate objective almost always consists of trying to make an effort as relevant as possible to its potential observer. Certainly in regard to musical underscore, accommodating audiences is unmistakably imperative. Music finds its place in cinema because it helps to supply a third dimension to what one sees.xix What one watches in a film is simply a two-dimensional image projected onto a flat screen.xx Music, in contrast, is not representative (as the visual image is indeed a depiction of reality); it is actually...well, music.xxi Music is a tool that exists in film solely for the sake of enhancing the motion picture experience for an audience. Film critics' reference to the cinematic space a musical underscore occupies as the non-diegesis confirms the fact that music accompanying film is designed for a picture's observers. After all, the actors/characters in a production do not need or react to a score -- audience members do. Therefore, Goldsmith insists that Hollywood film music needs to be accessible; a film composer's music needs to be relevant to those who listen to it. As previously mentioned, the craftsman emphasizes the use of melody because, he believes, audiences universally identify with it. The international popularity of John Williams- and John Barry-composed score albums, in addition to Titanic or soundtrack compilations such as The Big Chill, confirms that Goldsmith and many of his peers are accurate in suggesting that audiences prefer tonality-based works.

Goldsmith's affinity for melody might surprise some film music fans that consider him an avant-garde musician. It is true that almost all -- if not every one -- of the composer's scores do contain modernist-sounding music of some kind. However, when the composer utilizes it, he does so in order to allude to what is usually referred to in film criticism as the Id or "other" -- that which is unknown or foreign. What audiences would define as daring or unconventional in Goldsmith scores simply represents strange aspects of films' plots. Furthermore, the avant-garde music one may hear in a Goldsmith score will be melodically derived in one way or another. Even in the most unconventional moments of his most untraditional scores, such as The Boys from Brazil or Alien, Goldsmith predominantly relies upon this most accessible musical tool in some form or another. (Therefore, it seems that anyone who would claim the composer's filmography represents a departure from film music's tonality-based roots does so inaccurately.)

Those familiar with one particular moment in Goldsmith's Hollow Man commentary must be questioning the composer's credibility in regard to the notion of accessibility. In that moment, some might contend, the USC graduate dismisses the desires of an audience in favor of his own. In actuality, Goldsmith's remarks only further indicate how much he does try to communicate to his listener in a musical language that is comprehendible. The composer declares, "There has to be some point in filmmaking where [one is not] doing everything just for the audience (emphasis mine)."xxii Then he adds, "[Doing everything for the audience is] not what life is about completely (emphasis mine again)."xxiii Judging by the clarity in communication present in virtually all of the scores that he has composed throughout his career, Goldsmith's needs to satisfy his artistic cravings and serve his audience are in no way mutually-exclusive demands. (When the composer describes his desire to write music that satisfies his creative impulses, I speculate that he is simply referring to such decisions as his refusal to use violins in the string ensemble for his score for Tora! Tora! Tora! Clearly, he does not shortchange an audience in any way by satisfying whatever imaginative urges he may have.)

At this point, it may be worth noting that one should be careful not to confuse Goldsmith's accessibility with excessive simplicity. Just because a film score should be decipherable to its audience, it does not mean it should be devoid of intricacy. A talented film composer will be able to negotiate comprehensibility and complexity, with a great score reflecting upon that. In fact, the primary way in which Goldsmith tries to incorporate sophistication to his works pertains to the second major (and arguably most notable) component of his overall approach, an examination of which follows forthwith.

In 1997, New York Times columnist David Mermelstein asked the Academy Award winner and nominee what the purpose of writing film music is. In reply, Goldsmith stressed that telling stories is what really matters.xxiv He was not alone in making this assertion; prominent film composer Danny Elfman concurred, claiming, "Ultimately, [writing music for Hollywood pictures] is all about storytelling."xxv In addition, Anna North, widow of late composer Alex North, remarked that her husband considered "story content [to be] the most important thing."xxvi She added, "[Alex] saw [music] as a way to amplify [a film's narrative]."xxvii Specifically, the device serving as the foundational building block in Tinsel Town productions is story; film historians and critics have even dubbed the filmmaking style Hollywood developed the "narrative" filmmaking style. By definition, story is its lifeblood.

Hence, Goldsmith determined from the outset of his career that wanted his scores to tell stories as well as music could. Upon entering into the film industry, the composer developed a film compositional style highlighted by an unprecedented level of musical unity and linear writing. In doing so, he illustrated that what a film composer really ought to do is substantially reflect upon a production's sum in addition to its parts; basically, a narrative film score, first and foremost, needs to accentuate the complete narrative. Goldsmith determined that he should develop a whole score, in some fashion, from an accessible melody (or part thereof) he had drafted to represent the essence of a picture in entirety. Subsequently, by varying the essential theme over the course of a production and allowing it to evolve, the craftsman reckoned he would be able to offer particularly poignant musical commentary to his audience. Besides being appropriate for scenes they are intended to support, the individual cues in a score, Goldsmith argues, must also lend themselves to the telling of a story. Like pieces in a puzzle, score cues should all fit together and complement one another. Just as a typical film's story should not suddenly and/or drastically change at some point or another (just as Gone with the Wind does not turn into a musical comedy midway through its length), unrelated/non-integrated musical statements or independent cues should not appear intermittently during the course of a typical film's score.

Goldsmith's reasoning suggests that a film composer, instead of actually inventing new music styles, should incorporate cleverness into his efforts by using pre-existing musical idioms to issue insightful dramatic commentary. According to the Californian, a composer, aside from just amplifying what communication is already present in a production's images, dialogue, etc., ought to supplement a picture with a substantial degree of expressiveness of his own. Given the nature of the filmic medium, the inherent function of music therein, and the narrative foundation of Hollywood film, and this notion would appear sound. But, what does it really mean? Is it any more than simply a theoretical goal?

A work that serves as a brilliant example of how the approach can function is the composer's Oscar-nominated score for the 1986 basketball-themed picture Hoosiers. While just about anyone can identify with the film's richly melodic music, there is much one can gain by paying attention to how Goldsmith uses his thematic material to help an audience comprehend the story. Plus, the composer's utilization of specialized orchestration helps give the picture greater meaning than it would have otherwise. (As the filmmakers indicate that the various characters in their production can overcome the odds against them, Goldsmith's use of electronics suggests that a period film can be scored successfully without the exclusive use of the traditional symphony.)

Towards the end of the first basketball contest in the picture, the Hickory Huskers only have four players left available to play in a five-man game following one individual's ejection. The lone player on the bench, Rade, jumps to his feet to go onto the court. The team's coach, Norman Dale (uncannily well performed by Gene Hackman), asks Rade, who was on the bench for being disobedient, "Where are you going?"xxviii The player replies, "What do you mean? We need five out there."xxix Dale exclaims, "Sit! Sit down!"xxx Meanwhile, everybody on and off the floor is baffled by Coach Dale's stubbornness. The game's referee finally approaches the Hackman character and says, "Coach, you need one more."xxxi Dale points to the players out on the court and unforgettably states, "My team's on the floor."xxxii Goldsmith's synthesizers pulsate as everyone in the gymnasium reacts with disbelief and Dale's assistant asks the coach, "What are you trying to do?"xxxiii

By means of the electronic music, Goldsmith emphasizes one of the themes of the narrative: expect the unexpected. No one quite expects Dale to keep Rade from playing because he would not pass the ball to the other players on the team. Similarly, a listener does not expect to hear such a bold expression of electronics in the score after Dale tells the referee that the team members accepting his leadership are already playing. Of course, what Goldsmith's choice of instruments performs is his Hoosiers melody. The warm rendition of this thematic tune reminds an audience -- at a time in the film when everyone seems to hate Hackman's coach -- that the character and his team will ultimately triumph. It is an instance such as this that displays Goldsmith's mastery at telling a film's story with the language of music...and particularly melody -- that, musically speaking, to which we seem best able to relate.

Another example of a Goldsmith score that substantially helps to tell a story is another one of his Oscar-nominated efforts -- 1974's Chinatown. The film's main title music (accompanying the opening credits) establishes the film's sultry and intimate, character-oriented mood, the love story at its heart, and the time setting...just to name a few details about it. Composer Jerry Goldsmith does this both by giving his listener an opportunity to become familiar with the blues-styled melody that will dominate the score and by arranging it in a way that indicates the type of film Chinatown is. What is particularly remarkable about the main title is how Goldsmith's melodic theme begins to suggest the very word Chinatown upon its introduction. Since the beginning of its initial statement coincides with the appearance of the film's name during the credits, the music comes to represent, among other things, this place that -- until the film's conclusion -- is not even seen!

Perhaps Chinatown's music most significantly provides a greater understanding of the drama occurs when Jake learns of the mysterious Katherine's true identity. Jake, a private eye played by Jack Nicholson, has been, during the course of the film, investigating an important public official's death. In the meantime, he has fallen in love with the official's widow, Evelyn (played by Faye Dunaway), who, he finds out in this scene, has a few secrets of her own she has tried to hide. Jake tells Evelyn she has to leave Los Angeles (the place setting for the film) after finding out that Katherine is both Evelyn's sister and daughter and that Katherine's father, Noah Cross (John Huston), a powerful and corrupt Los Angeles official, will do anything to get her back in his custody. Jake tells Evelyn to go to her manservant Kahn's home until he can divert certain powers-that-be that could cause trouble for her and asks her to give him Kahn's address so he can find her. A few moments later, she tells Jake that her servant lives at "1712 Alameda" and asks the former police officer if he knows where that is.xxxiv

The camera zooms in on Jake as he, almost emotionlessly, yet, with just a hint of concern and despair, confirms simply with the word "sure" that he indeed does know how to get there.xxxv As he answers her and the camera zooms toward him, the music subtly rises and the familiar Chinatown theme appears as they part until their rendezvous. Before confirmation from dialogue immediately following the end of the scene, the music indicates that Jake and Evelyn's reunion will take place...in Chinatown. The trumpet (that first plays the melody as Chinatown appears onscreen in the main title) even performs the love theme at this moment of revelation late in the film. Furthermore, the overall tone of this specific performance of the theme is very melancholy, foreshadowing the picture's somber finale.

With Chinatown, one finds a case in which a film composer has done everything he could and should do to unify a score in a way that an audience can understand. Also via this example, one can notice how convenient a musical main title can be, both for a composer and for his audience. Before narrowed dramatic events began to take place, music can indicate what the essential tone/message of a particular film is. Additionally, a main title allows an ideal opportunity for one to dwell upon the emotions and ideas conveyed in a score -- those emotions and ideas that would abound throughout a given picture. Much as a title would likely indicate the name of a movie and, perhaps, which actors and actresses would be in the film, the music, through its unique language, can summarize the details of the narrative in some way. For reasons such as those just mentioned, Goldsmith has always liked being able to compose main titles. Simply put, a main title presents a composer with an ideal opportunity to express himself accessibly and "summarize what a picture is all about," thus affording listeners an excellent chance to become aware of a picture's music and contemplate it before other elements of production begin to dominate the stage.xxxvi

Also of note is Goldsmith's score for 1992's Forever Young, starring a dashing Mel Gibson in the prime of his career. The film tells the story of a test pilot named Daniel McCormack (Gibson) who takes part in a cryogenics experiment in 1939 after his girlfriend, Helen, is hit by a car and falls into a supposedly terminal coma. For the picture, Goldsmith composed a love theme that served as the basis of the score. Every cue is built upon the tender melody, and the variation upon and development of the musical gesture accentuates the story conflict as the film's action rises toward its climax and resolution. Goldsmith never issues a complete statement of the love theme until Daniel and Helen, who had awoken miraculously from her coma after Daniel's experiment began, are re-united in the final segment of the film narrative. In similar fashion, the composer's score for The Last Castle (2001) only offers a segment of the film's melody and variations upon that portion until the tragically heroic climax and resolution of the military prison drama starring Robert Redford and James Gandolfini.

Additionally, for his Oscar-winning score written a generation ago, Goldsmith transformed an endearing melody into a horrific musical statement as a couple happy to have become parents begins to suspect that the addition to the family is the Anti-Christ. Throughout the picture, the slow transition from major to minor key follows the development of the story and each primary character's growing suspicion about the boy's identity. Many times, the tone of the music alone defines the tone of the picture and indicates the degree to which the world around the characters has deteriorated. This is the case, for example, during the scene in the film at the Safari Park or when Gregory Peck's character, Richard Thorn, returns home for the last time near the picture's end.

There are, of course, other scores Goldsmith has composed that display a masterful application of his theory. These include, but are certainly not limited to, The Challenge, First Blood, Innerspace, Supergirl and Take a Hard Ride (just to name a handful). It would be wonderful if there were time and space to give each its proper due; it is regrettable that this is not feasible here.

Further Comments

Jerry Goldsmith's film scoring approach as a whole has, basically, been subject to two primary criticisms. First, some film music aficionados have rejected the Oscar-winner's storytelling approach (and the "leitmotif" approach, too, for that matter) because they insist music should only emphasize a picture's various moods. These "atmospheric" approach proponents not only claim that the average moviegoer is neither concerned with nor attentive to a soundtrack, but that he should not try to be; in their minds, Goldsmith's linear writing is needless -- even foolish, perhaps. They believe that an audience should lose itself in a picture and that music should -- as unnoticeably as possible -- only generate emotional response. As William Holden maintains in Sunset Boulevard, "Audiences don't know anybody writes a picture. They think the actors make it up as they go along."xxxvii

Second, some critics have dismissed Goldsmith's approach as stagnant and overly repetitive. Such individuals, including Roy M. Prendergast, imply that the composer's method represents a type of compositional laziness.xxxviii They claim that there needs to be more variation in a score -- variation that is not present in Goldsmith's scores and is not possible according to his theory.

In response to the first criticism, Goldsmith would likely indicate that his scores serve dual purposes. The veteran composer wants and always aims to make his music emotionally relevant. But, as a consequence of the way he drafts his cues, Goldsmith simply offers a sort of intellectual reflection upon a film's narrative as well. In other words, while seeking to compose accessible music, Goldsmith encourages his audience to escape from passivity.

Plus, even though an audience might like to believe that the cinematic experience is life unfolding, the fact of the matter is that it -- as the saying goes -- is Memorex. This means that fictitious screenwriter Joe Gillis' lines have been written for him, despite a filmgoer's feeling to the contrary. Furthermore, those real screenwriters creating the script for Sunset Boulevard intended it to be more than just dialogue; the story was a cleverly wry indictment of (certain parts of) society and Hollywood, and its authors surely wanted audiences to understand that in addition to enjoying the film. The makers of Sunset Boulevard asked for active audience participation, and picture collaborators in general -- including film composers -- should desire that, too. As the late Henry Mancini declared, "I don't know who [introduced the] theory [that] the best film music [is] that which [one doesn't] notice, but it isn't true."xxxix Again, a film composer, much like a speech-giver, should do all he can to accommodate his audience's needs. Yet, also as in public speaking (or writing, too), one's ideas will not be contemplated unless they receive some degree of attention from his listener.

In reply to the latter of the two major criticisms, Goldsmith would likely argue that it is more difficult for an artist and student of film music to develop a score from a flexible base than it is for a composer to write a haphazard series of cues or gestures. Furthermore, I would remind critics that, even in infusionist scores, music is in flux much more than it is fixed. Tempo, rhythm, volume level, orchestration, pitch, harmony, etc., for example, are rarely ever the same from one cue or moment to the next, while overall musical development mirrors that of linear stories (introduction -- rising action -- climax -- falling action -- conclusion). [Writing as few cues of music for a film (as Goldsmith tries to do) also helps keep a score from sounding redundant or tiresome.] In fact, in Jerry Goldsmith's works, the sole thing (albeit substantial) that remains close to intact throughout is the melodic line. On occasion, the composer even varies that musical element quite exhaustively -- perhaps even too much....

Although Jerry Goldsmith advocated the employment of unity in film scores to an unprecedented degree, I am apt to complain that he does not demand it as thoroughly as he should. This accounts for the one significant theoretical disparity between the composer and me. Beyond crafting a score in which all musical gestures are derived from an initial, overall statement, a film composer should pen a film's primary theme in a way that makes it capable -- in some form -- of representing all of the elements within the bounds of a production's story. Since all of a typical picture's rudiments reflect upon and contribute to its essential resolution or narrative statement, they should share ownership of a film's encompassing musical theme to a certain extent. Put another way, whereas Goldsmith emphasizes that everything should correspond to the primary theme, I assert the primary theme should correspond to everything. This comment might appear tautological at first glance, but there is a difference between these two approaches. What distinguishes them concerns the degree to which thematic/melodic variation would be warranted or desired. In my estimation, implementing a heightened level of unity helps a composer to translate and communicate the nature of a story better to his audience.

Despite the fact that most (if not the great majority) of Goldsmith's scores are compatible with my standard for melodic unity, there are some that clearly are not. These include, for instance, two of the scores he has composed for the Star Trek franchise (Star Trek V: The Final Frontier and Star Trek:Insurrection). The exaggerated musical diversity in both of these efforts dilutes their communicative potency and contributes to making them seem rather episodic. In contrast, the composer's similarly adventure-themed score for The Blue Max (1966) -- or even David Newman's score for 1999's Trek-spoof Galaxy Quest -- illustrates how more substantial, tangible musical agreement provides for superior sonic coherence and clarity.

Conclusion

The late Franklin J. Schaffner once noted that Jerry Goldsmith is in a league all his own apart from the rest of his peers in the motion picture industry.xl As is clear by means of an analysis of his film scoring approach, the composer has an undeniably astute understanding of the nature and purpose of both film and film music. More importantly, by combining emphases on accessibility and unity, Goldsmith realized the potential of music in the motion picture soundtrack.

In other words, he showed how well one could compose a story.

xviii Metz, Christian. Film Language: A Semiotics of the Cinema. Translated by Michael Taylor. Oxford University Press: Oxford, England, 1974. 68-69.
xix Gorbman, Claudia. Narrative Film Music. Indiana University Press: Bloomington, IN, 1987. 37-38.
xx Ibid 37.
xxi Ibid 37-38.
xxii Jerry Goldsmith's Hollow Man commentary.
xxiii Ibid.
xxiv Mermelstein, David. "In Hollywood, Discord on What Makes Music." The New York Times. November 2, 1997.
xxv Ibid.
xxvi Ibid.
xxvii Ibid.
xxviii Hoosiers. Directed by David Anspaugh. Performances by Gene Hackman, Dennis Hopper, and Barbara Hershey. Hemdale Pictures Corporation. 1986.
xxix Ibid.
xxx Ibid.
xxxi Ibid.
xxxii Ibid.
xxxiii Ibid.
xxxiv Chinatown. Directed by Roman Polanski. Performances by Jack Nicholson, Faye Dunaway, and John Huston. Paramount Pictures. 1974.
xxxv Ibid.
xxxvi Jerry Goldsmith's Hollow Man commentary.
xxxvii Sunset Boulevard. Directed by Billy Wilder. Performances by William Holden and Gloria Swanson. Paramount Pictures. 1950.
xxxviii Prendergast 233.
xxxix Mulhall, Kevin. Liner notes to compact disc release of Henry Mancini's Lifeforce. Varese Sarabande Records, 1985.
xl Schaffner, Franklin J. Liner notes to compact disc release of Jerry Goldsmith's Lionheart. Varese Sarabande Records, 1993.
 

MailBag@filmscoremonthly.com