The first time I noticed how music could tell a story was when I watched Fantasia at age six. A film with no dialogue, Fantasia features eight famous classical pieces interpreted by Disney animators to create beautiful, vivid and occasionally funny storylines. Whether it was the 'Rite of Spring' narrating the reign and subsequent fall of dinosaurs or abstract patterns mimicking the musical rhythms of 'Toccato and Fugue in D Minor,' each musical piece shaped the narrative or lack thereof. These types of musically driven films helped pave the way for how we experience music and sound in cinema today.
This year’s ten nominees in the 'Best Picture' category at The Academy Awards demonstrate the ever-evolving role of music in cinema. Some common themes amongst this year’s nominees are the innovative and personal scores, powerfully impactful original songs and strategic sonic choices and how they influence storytelling.
First-person scores. A well-crafted score can take you places. These types of scores redefine the impact of music in storytelling, especially in their emphasis on the main character’s personal journey. A John Williams’ score can make you feel triumphant and larger than life; a Dustin O’Halloran score can make you feel like someone you love has just slipped through your fingers; and a Mica Levi score can help you straddle the line between beauty and grief. The films 'Poor Things' and 'Oppenheimer' carve a particularly distinct path through their first-person scores (and happen to be my favourites of this year’s nominees).
Jerskin Fendrix’s uniquely dissonant score in ‘Poor Things’ masterfully mimics the protagonist Bella's transformative journey of self discovery. As the music moves and shifts, it mirrors Bella's growth, capturing the wobbly and childish essence of infancy, and gradually evolving into a more full and cohesive composition that parallels her maturation throughout the film. The score's infusion of humour, exaggeration, and unorthodox elements not only add to the emotional depth of the narrative, but also shape the overall cinematic experience.
Similarly, Ludwig Göransson’s score follows J. Robert Oppenheimer’s emotionally complex journey that is narrated primarily through the violin - an ask that came directly from Christopher Nolan when discussing the score. The melody of the violins introduced in the “Can You Hear the Music?” montage serves as a theme throughout Oppenheimer. This song starts simple and optimistic, mimicking his brain as he first moves through this new realm of thinking and starts to “get” the science and physics of it all, and becomes more layered and thrilling as he starts to master it. Throughout Göransson’s genius score, I found myself captivated by feelings of beauty, loneliness and fear, all emotions that feel tied to a physicist and the implications of his creation.
Original Song. The choice to partner with a musical artist in a film can be a powerful storytelling device. It not only helps guide the narrative of the film, but these original songs also have the ability to stand on their own and inspire millions.
For example, Barbie’s heart song 'What Was I Made For' (written Billie Eilish and Finneas) was written for a specific moment when Barbie decides to become human and discovers all that comes with it - vulnerability, pain, fear but beauty, as well. These are difficult subjects to explore, but what this song does so gracefully is communicate these things through an artistic lens and makes it consumable. A person could be anywhere and feel connected to this story, solidifying the impact an original song can have.
Sound Design. The decision to almost exclusively utilise sound design in the film 'Zone of Interest' reflects a very deliberate storytelling choice by both Oscar-nominated director, Jonathan Glazer, and Johnnie Burn, Oscar-nominated in sound design. The film opens on a black screen and you think “Is there some sort of error with the playback?” You then quickly realise that this is intentional. You’re being prepped for what you’re about to hear. A movie that is labelled as a drama suddenly feels like it could be a horror. This use of multi-layered sound design adds a layer of intensity, as the audience becomes active participants in visualising the unseen aspects of the story. The juxtaposition of the haunting sound design with the idyllic life led by Rudolf Höss and his family on-screen creates a striking contrast that sticks with you long after you’ve watched the film.
The music you hear in movies does far more than just serve as an accompaniment to the visuals on screen. It gives you insight into what a character might be feeling. The notes of a delicate, soft piano could narrate joy and discovery or the sudden sharp, brooding sounds from a synthesiser could highlight impending doom and danger. However, it’s not just about the characters – when music and sound are used exceptionally well, they are magic for the storyline too. This year’s nominees hit all the right notes and I’m looking forward to hearing what new and innovative sounds next year’s nominees bring.