Deleuze and Film Music: Building a methodological bridge between film theory and music

Gregg Pierce Redner

Submitted by Gregg Pierce Redner, to the University of Exeter as a thesis for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in Film Studies, 16 anuary !""#$ %his thesis is available for &ibrary use on the understanding that it is co'yright material and that no (uotation from the thesis may be 'ublished )ithout 'ro'er ac*no)ledgement$ + certify that all material in this thesis )hich is not my o)n )or* has been identified and that no material has 'reviously been submitted and a''roved for the a)ard of a degree by this or any other University$ ,signature- $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$


Abstract This thesis grows from the premise that film music analysis is currently at an impasse. The reason for this impasse is the inability of film theory and music theory to relate to one another because of their lack of a common theoretical language. It is my contention that a large percentage of the scholarly writing on film music is less than successful, because of the inability of these two disciplines to relate to each other theoretically. Therefore, it is the intention of this thesis to construct a methodological bridge which will allow music theory and film theory to relate to each other on a common analytical plane. I am primarily concerned with just how the film score functions once it enters into the mise-en-scène and is able to e ist on an e!ual theoretical plane with the other elements of the filmic uni"erse. In order to facilitate this, I will apply philosophical concepts drawn from the philosophy of #illes $eleu%e to the analysis of si indi"idual film&score's() L’Atalante '*ean +igo, 1,-.(, Things to Come '/illiam 0ameron 1en%ies, 1,-2(, Scott of the Antarctic '0harles 3rend, 1,.4(, East of Eden '5lia 6a%an, 1,77(, Hamlet '#rigori 6o%intse", 1,2.( and Blue '6r%ys%tof 6ieslowski, 1,,-(. 5ach of these scores pro"ides a specific theoretical challenge which can not be o"ercome through the use of traditional analytical methodologies. 8y adapting specific $eleu%ian philosophical concepts 'sensation, nomadology, the refrain, the eternal refrain, becoming, utopia, smooth space, and duration( to the indi"idual scores in !uestion I will demonstrate that it is possible to create a fle ible analytical methodology which draws the "arious elements of the film into a deep relationship with the score, thereby re"ealing the score9s actual function in each instance.


;ist of 0ontents 0hapter I. 0hapter II. 0hapter III. 0hapter I+. 0hapter +. 0hapter +I. 0hapter +II. to

Introduction. . 1ethodology. .

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p. . p. -<

$eleu%ian =ensation and 1aurice *aubert9 s score for L’Atalante. . . . . p. .The $i"ision of the One: ;eonard >osenman and the score for East of Eden. . . . . p. ?4 $mitri =hostako"ich9s score for 6o%intse"9s Hamlet. p. 1:. 3ragments of a ;ife) 8ecoming-music& woman in 6r%ys%tof 6ieslowski9s Blue. . . . p. 14< The changing conception of space as a delineator in film score style) A comparati"e analysis of the scores for Things Come and Scott of the Antarctic. . p. :,? p. -<. . . p. -1< p. -1. p. ::2

0hapter +III. 0onclusion. 8ibliography. . 0orpus of 3ilms. 3ilms cited in te t. . . .

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Chapter One: Introduction In his 1,.: book The Film Sense, the =o"iet filmmaker =ergei 5isenstein carries out an engaging discussion and analysis of the techni!ue of "ertical montage which he de"eloped for use in his film, Alexander e!s"# '1,.4($ 3or our purposes, one of the more interesting chapters in the book in"ol"es an analysis of a brief segment of film drawn from the @$awn of An ious /aiting9, which precedes the famous @8attle on the Ice9. In this analysis, 5isenstein ju taposes se"enteen measures of =ergei Arokofie"9s score with twel"e frames from the film, creating what for me is the most complete and successful analysis of a segment of film music e"er conducted. In an analysis of o"erwhelming comple ity, 5isenstein manages to achie"e a rich synthesis of music and mise-en-scène, one that has arguably not been surpassed in fifty-si years. /hat makes 5isenstein9s analysis so e citing is that he does not discuss the music in a traditional theoretical manner, a practice which often results in an analysis which is at best only partially successful. Be does not make use of the traditional tools of music theory, but instead draws the music into a dialogue with the film9s rhythmic, "isual, kinetic and graphic elements, thereby freeing himself to e plore these on a non-pri"ileged basis. I am not suggesting that a traditional musical analysis is not helpful and illustrati"e. Indeed, there ha"e been a number of e cellent analyses of Arokofie"9s score for the film, but these analyses concentrate on the music, often times to the complete a"oidance of the mise-en-scène$ 0learly, if one wants to understand a score from a @music only9 perspecti"e, then a purely musical analysis is the appropriate way to go. Bowe"er, what 5isenstein accomplishes runs much deeper. It is not that 5isenstein is not interested in the music as such, for his own hea"y


in"ol"ement with Arokofie" during the composition of the score suggests otherwise. 5isenstein is after something completely different, he wants to understand how the score functions as a part of the whole, not as a disconnected and isolated singularity. >egrettably, the relati"e specificity of 5isenstein9s analytic methodology has pre"ented its application on a larger scale, yet it remains in the opinion of this author, the most stimulating, thought-pro"oking and successful e ample of film musical analysis to date. $uring its short life, film music analysis has, as a rule taken one of two paths. The first utili%es an analytic methodology which is appropriated from the discipline of music'ology(& theoryC one which pri"ileges the musical o"er the filmic. The drawback here is that the score is treated much as any other musical composition might be. It is analy%ed for its musical "alue with little possibility of relating the musical findings to the mise-en-scène of the film. /hile we may learn something about the way the score functions as music, we learn little about the way that music and film interact. The second approach emphasi%es film theory o"er musicology, again telling us little about the relationship between the music and the film. 8oth approaches are impeded by a theoretical abyss which pre"ents either discipline from discoursing effecti"ely with the other, resulting in the subse!uent analyses being only marginally successful. Aerhaps this is not that surprising, for by "irtue of its "arious designations, i.e. mo"ing-pictures, mo"ies, issues of sound ha"e until recently been back-grounded in film cultures. /e go to see a mo"ieC we do not go to hear one. /e speak of silent films, which of course ha"e ne"er truly been silent ha"ing been accompanied by music almost from the beginning. Throughout its long association with film, music


has been used to manipulate the spectator, to e plicate the internal, and to fill in the blanks of the missing psychological and emotional pieces of a narrati"e and the miseen-scène. Indeed, music is important to film both because of its ability to enhance the listener9s e perience of the film, to suture them into it if you will, but also to co"er sloppy editing or fi a scene that simply doesn9t work. Det in spite of its importance as one aspect of the totality of the filmic uni"erse, film music has recei"ed neither respect nor interest from the academic community until !uite recently. /hy is it that so much film music scholarship, which although a reasonably recent addition to the areas of musicology and film studies, still struggles to find a successful "oice within the academic canonE It is not that film music scholarship is not firmly fi ed as an important part of both areas of study, yet it seems to me that much of what is written is often not particularly helpful or illustrati"e. In other words, there is writing out there, but little of it gi"es us any real idea of what is actually happening when the music enters into the mise-en-scène. As a general rule film music scholarship follows one of three courses. The first is the study of the commodification of film music. Analyses such as these are often discussed in 1ar ist terms and while useful and interesting, don9t endea"our to e plicate or unpick much about the actual interaction between score and mise-enscène. 8ecause this method of analysis has little to do with an analysis of the music within the conte t of the film, we lea"e it and pass on to the other approaches. The second approach, in"ol"es undertaking a thorough musical analysis of a gi"en score. The theorist del"es into the harmonic structure of the indi"idual cues, the thematic interwo"en-ness of these cues, the orchestration and the oft !uoted leitmotif structure of the film. The problem here is that while we learn much about the music


this is all that we learn. This would not be a detriment if film music functioned as other art music does, but it does not. 3ilm music responds to e ternal stimulus, and its final positioning and placement within the film is often altered by someone other than the composer. Fnlike art music, film music does not e ist in a "acuum. Therefore while traditional musical analysis can tell us a great deal about how the music functions as music, it is not "ery helpful in e plaining how the score relates to the mise-en-scène. A third approach to film music analysis draws its methodologies from the area of film theory. This approach often concerns itself with the emotional and imitati"e ways in which the score matches up with the mise-en-scène. The problem with this approach is that the emphasis relies too hea"ily on the area of film theory. 8ecause few film theorists are ade!uately prepared or e!uipped to deal with the rigours of music theory, analyses such as these are often sadly ineffectual. /hat often results from this are discussions of where the music imitates the mise-en-scène or where it doesn9t. ;ittle else of importance is re"ealed through this methodology and again while we learn much about film, we learn little about the score. It is con"entional at this point in many theses to conduct what is often and rather tersely called, @A >e"iew of the ;iterature9. The point of this e ercise is to place the Thesis9 forthcoming research within the conte t of a greater body of work. It is not my plan in this chapter to e ecute @A >e"iew of the ;iterature9 in this traditional manner, because to do so would mean e amining a great deal of research that has no direct bearing on my own. Instead, my plan here will be to look at a number of seminal te ts, which will be drawn from four distinct periods, each representing a fundamental shift in thought about the way film music was theori%ed.


3irst, I will deal with the early literature of film music from the ad"ent of silent film accompaniment until the dawning of sound, a period where the needs were practical and therefore the literature dealt with performance and arranging. =econd, I will co"er the period 1,-< to 1,71 the age of monaural sound and the formati"e years of film music theory. Third, I will co"er the period from 1,7:, the year that marked the ad"ent of stereo sound, until 1,42. 3inally, I will co"er the period 1,4? until the present. I ha"e chosen the year 1,4? because it marks the appearance of 0laudia #orbman9s seminal te t %nheard &elodies, a book that in many ways re"olutioni%ed the field, lending it great respectability amongst scholars, a position that it retains until this day.

Early Film Music iterature !"#$#%"#&'( In spite of its relati"ely recent addition to the musicological canon of disciplines, the literature of film music is relati"ely e tensi"e and its beginnings date back to the ends of the first decade of the twentieth century. As we mentioned in the introduction, the primary flaw that e ists with the majority of film music literature is that it approaches the discipline from one of two mutually e clusi"e positions, namely either that of film theory or music theory. 8ecause these two disciplines contain "ery little, if any common ground, and because few scholars possess training in either one area or the other, the resulting literature tends to be hea"ily biased in one direction or the other. As such, there is little written that successfully engages film music9s position 'ithin the greater filmic uni"erse. Thus, we learn much about the respecti"e functions of film music from either "antage point, but we ne"er truly learn how the music enters into the mise-en-scène and what it accomplishes once we locate it there.


The earliest literature of film music deals unremarkably with the practical issues of performance and arrangement. Gf course such a corpus makes perfect sense, for impro"ised or arranged music was associated with film almost from its ad"ent. Indeed, when the ;umière brothers first screened a selection of their films at the #rand 0afH, located on the Boule!ard des Ca(ucines in Aaris on $ecember :4, 14,7, they did so with piano accompaniment. The reasons for their choice to do so ha"e intrigued scholars for o"er a century now. /hile it is not our intention to enter into that debate here, what is important to note is that from its earliest moments film and music were ine tricably linked. The first e tant, original film score would not come for another thirteen years, when in 1,<4 0amille =aint-=aIns was commissioned to compose an original film score for L’Assassinat du duc de )uise '0almettes J ;e 8argy($ Bowe"er, the commissioning of original film scores for feature films would not become a regular occurrence until the end of the second decade of the twentieth century. Thus, with the inherent reliance on impro"ised and arranged accompaniment during the early days of cinema, it was only natural that a literature designed to help cinema musicians would ensue. 3ilm music literature dates back to the year 1,<, and begins with the 5dison 0ompany9s series of brief pamphlets entitled, @=uggestion for 1usic.9 These pamphlets came along with the company9s weekly film distributions as part of the 5dison *inetogram. As early as 1,1<, publishers began to produce collections of cue sheets designed for indi"idual films. This practice was followed !uickly by collections of music, both newly composed and appropriated, often inde ed according to affect and applicability, which were designed to furnish material for accompanists who were not comfortable impro"ising one spontaneously during a


film. Important e amples of collections such as this were the Carl Fischer &o!ing +icture +ortfolio '1,1-(, Es(eciall# ,esigned for &o!ing +icture Theatres '1,1-(C -ose(h Carl Breil’s Original Collection of ,ramatic &usic for &otion +icture +la#s '1,1?(C #iuseppe 8ecce9s twel"e "olume, *inothe": eue Filmmusi" '1,14-1,:?(C and 5rno >apee9s Enc#clo(edia of &usic for +ictures '1,:7(. /hat is interesting about this early category of film music literature is that it represents the first early incarnation of parallelismC music designed to match the action on the screen, to reinforce it and underline it musically. There is no attempt to contradict or to conflict with what is seen on the screen in order to cause the spectator to ree amine or rethink. Instead, the goal of parallelism in film music is simply to cooperate, correspond and corroborate. A secondary category of early film music literature dealt with the arranging, creation and performance of repertoire for accompanying. These te ts were more in the "ein of self-help te ts, designed to e!uip musicians in smaller markets, or those with no professional training with the tools to succeed as mo"ie house musicians. 5 amples of this literature include 5ugene Ahern9s, .hat and Ho' to +la# for +ictures '1,1-(C 1ay =haw 1eeker9s, The Art of +hoto(la#ing/0n O(erating An# +hoto(la#er or ,ou1le Trac"er +iano +la#er for Theatres '1,12(, which was designed to demonstrate how to accompany a film with player piano rolesC T. *. A. 1app9s, The Art of Accom(an#ing the +hoto2+la# '1,1?(, a si teen page pamphlet with @ideas and suggestions based on the practice of some of the leading Kew Dork Theatres9 'p.-(C and the most informati"e of the theatre organ manuals, #eorge Tootell9s Ho' to +la# the Cinema Organ: A +ractical Boo" 1# a +ractical +la#er '1,:?(.


)he *ge of Mono%aural +ound !"#&,%"#-'( /ith the coming of sound in 1,:?, the focus surrounding film music and its performance changed. G"er the course of a fi"e-year period, the need for impro"ised accompaniment, for li"e theatre orchestras, and for highly paid music directors employed to run the music in indi"idual mo"ie palaces disappeared. /ith the installation of sound systems in theatres, and the comple ity of recording the audio tracks for sound films, the earlier e tensi"e reliance upon music took, for a short period of time, a back seat to the dialogue track. Bowe"er, by the early 1,-<s music had once again become a "iable component within the mise-en-scène. $uring the early 1,-<s two concurrent, but aesthetically and theoretically di"ergent courses began to be defined. These two approaches might be differentiated and enumerated by their respecti"e approach to the place of music within the filmic uni"erse. /e ha"e already commented on the first, the parallel school, abo"e. The second, which might be called the counterpoint school, can be traced to the writings of =ergei 5isenstein and +se"olod Audo"kin, both of whom drew their ideas about film sound and the use of music, from the montage of oppositions which had dominated the pre-sound age of =o"iet film. It was their belief that music had to enter into a dynamic interplay with the other elements of the mise-en-scène. /e ha"e already discussed 5isenstein9s approach to music and his concept of @"ertical montage9 abo"e, so we will not discuss his theories any further here. Audo"kin9s approach was uni!ue in that he considered music to be but one instance of a catalogue of film sounds a"ailable to the director. Det such a belief did not pre"ent him from suggesting that it could play a "ital role in creating a rich can"as.


In his 1,:, te t Film Techni3ue, Audo"kin argued for the use of asynchronous sound, calling for the "arious elements of sound to be used in non-representati"e and literal ways 'Audo"kin, 1,74) 1?:(. Audo"kin clearly feared the ad"ent of film sound less than his colleague 5isenstein did, for he no doubt felt that the montage of sound and shot could accomplish the same thing as a montage of attractions was able to. Bowe"er, he also felt strongly that music should ne"er be allowed simply to accompany a film, but should instead always be used as a separate element in counterpoint with other elements. Audo"kin9s approach was for music to be integrated into the film antithetically, an approach which put him at odds from time to time with 5isenstein, who in spite of ad"ocating for a contrapuntal application to music as sound, none the less often used music to match the affect of a scene, as in Alexander e!s"# '1,-4($ Aerhaps the most "aluable portion of Audo"kin9s te t is his analysis of his own film, The ,eserter '1,--(, where he lays out in great detail, the way that sound and music are used within the film. Bis approach to doing this is interesting in that he first details a con"entional approach to the use of sound and music in the film and then demonstrates the manner in which his approach to the application of sound differs. Audo"kin9s interest in sound was first enumerated in the famous 1,:4 @=tatement on =ound9, which he co-authored jointly with Ale andro" and 5isenstein. This te t warned of the dangers of the abandonment of montage and the reliance upon "oice to create an almost theatrical character in film. /hile Audo"kin did not retain these ideas in his own work to the e tent that 5isenstein would, he nonetheless pursed elements of them in his first two sound films) A Sim(le Chance '1,-:( and The ,eserter.


Audo"kin9s brief discussion of a preliminary philosophy of sound and music in Film Techni3ue, remains along with 5isenstein9s theory of "ertical montage, one of the two most creati"e and to my mind successful attempts to reconcile score and film. Indeed, Audo"kin9s ideas laid the foundation for the counterpoint school of film music and would, as we shall see below e"entually influence composers across 5urope. Those who showed the influence of Audo"kin included, but where not limited to Bans 5isler, 1aurice *aubert and the 5nglish composer 0onstant ;ambert. ;ambert concluded a chapter in his 1,-. book &usic Ho4, de"oted to the uses of recorded music in cinema by suggesting that musical montage represented the only possibility of future work for what he termed @middlebrow composers9. ';ambert, 1,-.) :24( The second and concurrent philosophy of film music composition, parallelism, is represented by the writing of 6urt ;ondon, a 8ritish journalist and composer. ;ondon9s book Film &usic '1,-2( treated film music more in an e periential "ein. Fnlike Audo"kin and 5isenstein, ;ondon is not interested in his writing in the place of music as part of a cohesi"e whole which is the cinematic uni"erse. Indeed, he was the first to suggest that film music was heard differently from music of the concert hall. Be suggested that the spectator in the mo"ie theatre hears the music unconsciously, while the listener in the concert hall makes a conscious effort to hear what is being played. =uch a theoretical platform would e"entually find fulfillment in 0laudia #orbman9s 1,4? te t %nheard &elodies$ ;ondon suggested that while the role of film music should be to interpret the action and gi"e a sense of dramatic completeness, this work must ne"er merely repeat what the image already made clear. Be also belie"ed that music should work to


ad"ance the narrati"e of the film psychologically. Thus, while belie"ing that music should add its own element of interest to a film, ;ondon ne"er suggested that music and film could be understood contrapuntally. 3or this reason he can be understood as the principal early e ponent of parallelism which, while it grew from the accompaniments of pre-sound films, nonetheless found its first great e ponent in ;ondon. Film &usic is di"ided into three parts. The first deals with early pre-sound films, including discussions on the origins of film music, the study of musical practices for silent film, and the use of early mechanical reproduction techni!ues for the sound-film. The middle portion of the book deals with sound-era films and discusses sound techni!ue, music and the sound-film. Included in this is an interesting discussion of the "arious types and forms of @musical films9, as well as methods of composition and the problem of acoustics in recording and reproduction. The section ends with one of the first sur"eys of a cross section of 5uropean film composers and their artistic significance. The final portion of the book deals with issues that arise in the training of future generations of film composers, as well as ;ondon9s ideas on the future of music in the sound-film. 3or all its richness, ;ondon ne"er attempts to analyse or theori%eC his is a practical e ploration. In many regards, Bans 5isler9s Com(osing for the Films, which was written with the assistance of Theodor Adorno in 1,.?, is an outgrowth and elaboration of the theories laid down earlier by Audo"kin and the contrapuntal school of film music composition. The book was written at the re!uest of the Kew =chool for =ocial >esearch, and was supposed to be an e amination of new possibilities for film music. It purported to be a dispassionate and scholarly assessment of the Bollywood film


industry, yet it begins with a scathing indictment of Bollywood films scores and their penchant for o"erly deliberate illustration, e cessi"e emotional manipulation and reliance upon nineteenth-century musical language. 5isler9s book is di"ided into se"en chapters, which deal with the musical functions and dramaturgy of film musicC a call for the employment of new musical resources, i.e. twel"e-tone techni!ue, for film musicC the sociological aspects of film musicC the elements of aestheticsC an e ploration of the composer9s role in the creation of the indi"idual film scoreC and lastly, suggestions for the impro"ement of standards in Bollywood. 5isler lambasted Bollywood for its use of wall to wall musical scoring and for adopting the practice of musical parallelism. Be suggested that film composers make use of the then new compositional "ocabularies of atonality and twel"e-tone techni!ue, because these did not carry with them the prior associations that the nineteenth-century style still dominating Bollywood did. Be belie"ed that atonality was perfectly suited to the composition of film music because of that genre9s reliance upon cues of shorter duration and more compact forms. This was the e act opposite of the case for the nineteenth-century style then dominating Bollywood, whose long phrases and large formal structures seemed to be at odds with the "ery nature of film music. 5isler9s belief was that true e pression could only arise out of pure musical content and not from pre-e ercised emotions. /here 5isler is at his most interesting is in 0hapter 7, where he conducts a detailed discussion of e actly how music and picture interact. /hile he disagreed with a number of issues that were raised by Audo"kin and 5isenstein, especially the concept of asynchronous sound, he nonetheless endorsed the concept of sound&picture montage. 5isler ad"ocated a type of oppositional scoring, an approach


which attempted to highlight the "isual and narrati"e intention of the film by underscoring a musical affect which was in direction opposition to it. Gne is reminded here of the musical techni!ues ad"ocated for by Audo"kin in his discussion of The ,eserter in the aforementioned Film Techni3ue$ 5isler9s brief analyses of se"eral films in his chapter on film music9s function and dramaturgy suggest the possibility of creating an analysis of the interaction between film and music which e tends the tenets of 5isenstein9s "ertical montage, but the limitations of his purpose pre"ent him from reali%ing this. This is perhaps as it should be, for 5isler9s approach is not analytical, it is practical, polemical and sub"ersi"e. Bis is not a te t about film music analysis, but about the practical nature of re"itali%ing what he considered a stilted and o"erly precious Bollywood art form. It is difficult to find an e ample drawn from the period of the 1,.<s of suitable scope to represent the parallel approach to film music. Bowe"er, ;awrence 1orton9s analysis of 3ran% /a man9s score for O15ecti!e Burma '>aoul /alsh, 1,.7(, which appeared in Holl#'ood 6uarterl# in 1,.2 is important for a number reasons and will ser"e as an acceptable e ample of parallelist analysis. 1orton9s article represents what was by all accounts the first complete analysis of a film score e"er published. 1orton undertakes an analysis of each of the film9s twenty-four cues relating each of these to the mise-en-scène. The problem with 1orton9s analysis is that in spite of his contention that /a man9s score does not make use of traditional Bollywood scoring techni!ues, his findings seem to indicate otherwise. After detailing the criteria for writing music for a war&action film, and making much ado about the fact that /a man9s score does not operate by using a traditional leitmotif procedure, 1orton sets about tearing his contention down cue by cue, seemingly


ha"ing forgotten that the /agnerian leitmotif is capable of representing not only people, but also things and situations. The problem with 1orton9s analysis is that he continually describes the manner in which the music parallels the mise-en-scène. Be finds "alue in concordance, and his analysis deals only with this aspect of the score. /ith the e ception of one brief e ample, the suggestion of a prayer-like in"ocation by the orchestra as the parachutists jump from the plane, his analysis constructs a musical world whose entire raison d9Ltre is to reinforce what has already been presented by the "isuals. Gf course in one way he is correct to do so, because that is the aesthetic world inside which /a man was functioning. Det by doing so we learn "ery little about the score e cept that /a man is "ery good at repeating what has already been said. 1orton is at his most effecti"e during a ninety-three measure analysis of the way music functions in the climactic battle scene. The close reading of the indi"idual components allows for patterns of orchestration and melodic figuration to appear, and as a result we begin to belie"e that /a man9s score may indeed be functioning on a deeper le"el than was at first thought. Bowe"er, this analysis is but one page in length, and as 1orton suspends his closer reading, we are left belie"ing that there is more which might ha"e been said.

)he *ge of +tereo +ound !"#-,%"#.'( The third part of our study of trends in film music analysis begins with a direct descendant of 6urt ;ondon9s Film &usic, and as such a second generation descendant of the school of parallelism. In spite of its instructionally oriented title, *ohn 1an"ell and >oger Buntley9s The Techni3ue of Film &usic '1,7?( is more of a


general te t, after the style of ;ondon9s Film &usic$ The book presents, much as ;ondon9s did earlier, the subject from a "ariety of di"erse points including history, theory and criticism. In effect 1an"ell and Buntley9s book updates and compliments ;ondon9s earlier work, concentrating on technical information such as compositional techni!ues, scoring, recording and mi ing. /here the book is of initial interest is in the fact that it presents a wider sur"ey of film genres than ;ondon9s earlier book does. Thus, not only traditional narrati"e film is considered, but also the musical, documentaries, a"ant-garde films and animated films. The most interesting aspect of the book is the series of analyses of selected scenes that are undertaken in 0hapter Three. In this chapter Buntley and 1an"ille carry out close analyses of a cross-section of films drawn from a wide number of di"erse genres. These include An American in +aris '+incent 1innelli, 1,71(, Hamlet ';aurence Gli"ier, 1,.4(, The (lo' that 1ro"e the (lains 'Aare ;orent%, 1,-2(, Scott of the Antarctic '0harles 3rend, 1,.4(, and Citi7en *ane 'Grson /elles, 1,.1(, among others$ The authors di"ide their analyses into "arious segments that demonstrate what they understand to be the different functions of film music. These include, @1usic and Action9, @=cenic and Alace 1usic9, @Aeriod and Aageant9, @1usic for $ramatic Tension9, @0omedy 1usic9, @1usic for Buman 5motion9 and @1usic in 0artoon and =peciali%ed 3ilms.9 /here 1an"ell and Buntley9s book represents a large step forward for the parallelism tradition is their employment of a simplistic analytical techni!ue which is drawn from 5isenstein9s "ertical montage. 8y this I mean that they employ a fi"e-line flow chart approach for their analyses which displays at the top, an image drawn from the film which is representati"e of the segment under consideration, followed from top to bottom, by a line for action,


dialogue, effect and finally an e ample drawn from the score at the bottom. This approach allows the authors9 to draw deeper connections between the "arious elements of the filmic uni"erse. I hasten to add that the author9s do not imply that their analyses achie"e the dramatic and se"ere results of 5isenstein9s suggested musico&"isual concordance. Bowe"er, what does result is a much richer analysis of the segments under consideration than we ha"e seen since 5isenstein. /here Buntley and 1an"ille9s analyses fall short is in their continued reliance on the parallelism tradition, and their general insistence on linking the music to its representati"e uses. 1uch as we e perienced with the parallel tradition in the mono-aural section, it is difficult to find a great deal of analytical literature in this section which makes use of or e pands on the theories laid out by 5isenstein, Audo"kin, and 5isler. Aerhaps this is because the majority of analyses which were published during this period dealt with the Bollywood tradition, where parallelism was the order of the day. Bowe"er, in spite of the difficulty in locating a book length study which utili%es the contrapuntal tradition, there are se"eral short articles which employ this approach. As an e ample of this we will suggest ;eonard >osenman9s 1,24 article @Kotes from a sub-culture9, which appeared in +ers(ecti!es of e' &usic, and which I will refer to in greater detail in 0hapter 3our$ >osenman9s article e plores the uses of film music, and the place of the art composer in the world of film music. >osenman studied composition seriously and was a de"otee of the use of twel"e-tone and atonal techni!ue. Indeed, as we shall see later, he was responsible for introducing atonal techni!ue into Bollywood film music. As such, he ad"ocated a film music that didn9t merely reinforce, but functioned contrapuntally and at times suggested the internal conflicts of his protagonists. /hile his approach at time seems elitist and


occasionally condescending, >osenman none the less proposed an approach to film music which reaches into the deeper strata and attempts to draw connections between the unseen, une pressed and non-parallel.

)heory Comes to Film Music iterature !"#.,%"##.( This last section of our discussion takes as its starting point the publication of 0laudia #orbman9s 1,4? book, %nheard &elodies$ #orbman9s te t focuses on her analysis of what she calls the @0lassical9 Bollywood film score, which she posits remains largely unheard and unnoticed by the filmgoer. Ber thesis draws upon semiological, psychoanalytical and historical methodologies, which after being de"eloped are applied to three films. #orbman9s te t is important because it was the first film music study to be of interest to both film scholars and musicologists, re!uiring little in the way of musical e pertise to be understood As such it is in many ways the first analytical te t to successfully meld the two disciplines in a manner that is useful and applicable to both. >ather than analysing the entire score, #orbman constructs a methodology which she uses to e amine specific scenes. =he concentrates this methodology on the issue of rhythm, both musical and filmic, as well as on style and representation within the scenes considered. #orbman9s approach begins by establishing the chosen score9s appropriateness as an e ample of a @0lassical9 Bollywood film. =he does this by e amining the composer and director9s approach to, and understanding of, the function of music in film. =he then analyses and e"aluates the film score9s appropriateness for application to her methodology. 3ollowing this #orbman creates a structural map of the film by first, describing the shot se!uenceC second, considering shot length and its relati"e synchronicity with the scoreC third, conduct ing


traditional, but simplified musical analysis which establishes key, leitmotifs, melodic J thematic content and harmonic structureC and finally, applying her findings to an analysis of the music9s function as it relates to the narrati"e. #orbman ne t considers the indi"idual score9s instrumentation, attempting to disco"er from first-hand sources the composer9s reasons for choosing the instrumentation which was used. Ke t the author e amines the composer9s actual instrumentation and analyses the effecti"eness of the choices made in light of their relationship to the mise-en-scène. ;ast of all, #orbman considers issues of rhythm, e amining the music in order to locate its dominant rhythm and the relation that this creates to the editing of both the music and the film. /hile #orbman9s approach suggests a mo"e that is substantially beyond strict adherence to the parallelism tradition, her findings are still nonetheless informed and related to this tradition. As such, the results of her research are less re"ealing than they might be. This combined with the fact that she denies the audibility of the film score, thus rendering her own research in effect seemingly null and "oid, diminishes the long term importance and effecti"eness of her approach. Although not strictly a book dealing with music, 1ichel 0hion9s Audio 8ision 'original 3rench, 1,,<C translated to 5nglish 1,,.(, is for our sur"ey a seminal te t book because rather than merely focusing on the relationship between the image and the score, 0hion analyses the entirety of the audio"isual spectrum, including

dialogue, sound effects and ambient sound. /hile the entire book is fascinating, it is the final chapter, @Introduction to Audio"isual Analysis9, which is the most germane to our discussion. 0hion9s approach begins by emphasi%ing descripti"e words 'plink, thunk, ping, etc(, words that emulate the sounds encountered in audio"isual analysis.


Be uses this to establish a "ocabulary that can be used descripti"ely in conducting an analysis, adding that the use of such a consistent descripti"e "ocabulary enables indi"idual analyses to be compared perceptibly '0hion, 1,,.) 142(. Ba"ing established a descripti"e "ocabulary, 0hion mo"es toward constructing an analytical methodology. Be begins by isolating the "arious audio and "isual components of the film in a process he calls @masking9 '0hion, 1,,.) 14?(. 1asking in"ol"es watching the film a number of times while paying attention to both the audio and "isual components. 3ollowing this one then isolates each element, thereby allowing one to concentrate on just that element, masking the others. 3ollowing the masking process, 0hion breaks down the shot content of each scene, establishing a general description of the images that each se!uence in"ol"es. Be then describes the "arious audio elements present within the same scene, concentrating on which sounds are fore-grounded and which back-grounded. The findings from this procedure are then itemi%ed and the resulting information used to pro"ide a description of each itemi%ed se!uence. 0hion then proceeds to analyse the o"erall !uality of the sound and whether the "arious audio elements form a @general te ture, or on the contraryMmay be heard separatelyM9 '0hion, 1,,.) 14,( Be asks !uestions about the balance between the "arious audio elements, the degree of interaction between the "arious elements and whether one sound is dominant o"er another. Be then continues by locating points of synchroni%ation, concentrating specifically on the moments in the film where the sound and image contribute to a change in narrati"e direction. Be e amines the ways in which the sound and image either render a naturalistic reading or a contrasting one, paying special attention to finding instances of complementary and contradictory


concordance. In addition he asks !uestions about whether one hears what one sees and "ice-"ersa. 3inally, 0hion9s analysis considers the relationship between the mo"ement and framing of the "arious shots and the "ariations of scale and depth in the soundtrack. Bis concern here is to consider whether the sound adds to, e aggerates or accompanies the changes created by the "isual image '0hion 1,,.) 1,1-,:(. 0hion then applies this methodology to the beginning se!uence of 8ergman9s +ersona '1,27(. /hile 0hion9s approach to audio&"isual analysis creates a deeper and richer reading than perhaps any methodology since 5isenstein, the specific and comprehensi"e !uality of it does not pri"ilege music. /hile certain elements may be adapted for musical analysis, others simply do not translate. Thus, while fascinating, rich and detailed, the application of 0hion9s model to film music is limited. Kicholas 0ook9s 1,,4 book, Anal#sing &usical &ultimedia, ad"ances what can only be described as an attempt at a comprehensi"e theory for the interplay between the "isual and the musical elements of musical multimedia$ 0ook9s te t, much like #orbman9s, offers a promise of being cross-disciplinary because of the author9s initial application of semiotics to the analyses he ad"ances. Bowe"er, any hope that the te t is truly interdisciplinary are !uickly dashed by the fact that the monograph also assumes a rather e pansi"e familiarity with =chenkarian musical analysis. Indeed, one cannot help but belie"e that 0ook9s thesis that @all music is a form of multimedia9 suggests that the author9s o"erall interest here lies more closely with the musical community than with that of the film community. The origins of 0ook9s book arose out of what he suggests was the @absence of a generali%ed theoretical framework for the analysis of multimedia.9 '0ook, 1,,4) "(


Be begins his approach to analysis by e amining what he refers to as sedimented and naturalistic readings of the film. 0ook belie"es that when spectators "iew a film they naturally place music and sound in a position which is subordinate to the role of the image. It is this procli"ity that 0ook refers to when he refers to sedimented readings. Be suggests that what is needed is a return to a naturalistic reading of a gi"en film, or as 0ook terms it throughout his te t, an instance of multimedia 'I11(. A naturalistic reading is one without pre-established hierarchical connotationsC a reading without sedimentation. In order to facilitate this 0ook suggests e amining each I11 and categori%ing it according to one of three basic "isual models) conformance, complementation or contesting. After categori%ing the I11 in this fashion he proceeds to refine this further by asking a series of !uestions) first, how far does a medium succeed in creating the same effect when heard or seen on its own as when e perienced in the conte t of the I11 as a wholeE =econd, where is it not easy to separate media perceptuallyE 3inally, how far does each medium create the effect of being complete and self-sufficient and how far does it seem to embody a meaning of its ownE '0ook, 1,,4) 1-.( 0ook then progresses to an analysis of the indi"idual media in isolation. Be suggests that indi"idual analytic methodologies be used where appropriate, suggesting traditional notational analysis be used for analysis, and shot breakdown, composition and shot si%e be used for film analysis. 0ook9s desire here is to establish which media plays the dominant role. Gnce this has been established he suggests e amining the dominant media as if it had assumed the subordinate role, thereby e posing any a (riori assumptions. 0ook also "iews this sort of role-re"ersal as a


way of bringing to the surface hidden elements in the analysis which might remain submerged beneath a traditional naturalistic reading. Be then calls for an e ploration of what he calls @pre-compositional gap making9. '0ook, 1,,4) 1:-( 8y way of illustration 0ook offers the e ample of musical underscoring, which is often employed to reinforce an image, while in another instance it is @gapped for speech9 so that an important bit of dialogue can become audible. Be suggests that these moments where a media is gapped illustrate important moments where one media takes precedence o"er anotherC a moment that illustrates something of importance. 3inally, 0ook attempts to locate through distributional analysis, what he calls @significant distributions of oppositions across media.9 '0ook, 1,,4) 1.:( The purpose here is to establish patterns of distribution across "arious media and to locate large scale patterning and oppositional structures. 0ook9s, Anal#sing &usical &ultimedia is a "aliant attempt at a comprehensi"e theory of multimedia, yet its pri"ileging of the musical o"er the "isual limits the effecti"eness which it might ha"e otherwise ha"e had. Gne can rarely mistake that 0ook9s heart lies in musicology and that he is generally unprepared to entertain the rigours of analytic film theory. As such his te t pro"ides us with an e citing new way to understand the role of music as it functions in relation to film and other media, but not a way to understand how music functions within a gi"en film. It has not been my purpose in this >e"iew of the ;iterature of film music analysis to denigrate the efforts of preceding authors. >ather it has been my purpose to e amine that preceding literature with an eye towards understanding its strengths


and weaknesses. 0ertainly, the current approach to film music analysis can re"eal interesting things about simpler Bollywood scores. These scores, which often follow a parallelist relationship to the film they accompany, are often simpler to discuss because as we ha"e seen, they show their respecti"e hands wi th relati"e openness. Det what of the film score that plays itself closer to the "est. /hat of the score that does not immediately fall into the easily understood school of the leitmotifE It is these scores which re!uire us to go deeper. It is these scores which do not so easily yield up their treasures. It is these scores, the problemati%ed scores that it is our purpose to e amine in this thesis. To do so we will need to employ a new methodology, one which can create a bridge between music and film theoriesC one which will allow us an opportunity to truly understand the interaction that occurs between film, score and narrati"e.

Conclusion In spite of the seeming impasse created by the methodological abyss e isting between film and music theory, I would like to propose that there is a way for film music scholarship to mo"e ahead. Bowe"er, what is needed is to find a methodological bridge which can span the gap that already e ists here. The purpose of this thesis will be to propose just such an alternati"e methodology) one which draws upon concepts taken from the philosophy of #illes $eleu%e in order to create a methodological bridge which facilitates discourse between the disciplines of music'ology(& theory and film theory. The project9s practical application will be the undertaking of si analyses which attempt to e plicate the way that score and film interact. The si films which I ha"e chosen to e amine are) L’Atalante '*ean +igo, 1,-.(, Things to Come '/illiam 0ameron 1en%ies. 1,-2(, Scott of the Antarctic '0harles 3rend, 1,.4(, East


of Eden '5lia 6a%an, 1,77(, Hamlet '#rigori 6o%intse", 1,2.(, and Blue '6r%ys%tof 6ieslowski, 1,,-(. In the first portion of each chapter I will pro"ide biographical and conte tual information on the composer in !uestion and discuss his philosophy of film composition. I will then select appropriate concepts from the philosophy of #illes $eleu%e and after discussing my reasons for the selection, establish the concept's( appropriateness as a tool for sol"ing the conundrum posed by the score. The last section of each chapter will pro"ide a thorough analysis of the film& score, which creates a reading that is integrated and more comple than traditional film score analysis will allow. It is my thesis that by applying the "arious $eleu%ian concepts chosen, I will be able to close the methodological gap which has e isted between film and music theories and begin to more accurately e plicate just how the scores functions within a particular film9s mise2en2sc9ne$ In so doing I will propose that the film score does not function merely as filler or manipulator of e perience, but more importantly enters into a position of e!uality with the other elements in the filmic uni"erse and ser"es as both establisher and catalyst for narrati"e meaning.


Chapter )wo: Methodology Ahilip +. 8ohlman begins his 1,,, article @Gntologies of 1usic9 with the following statement) 1usic may be what we think it isC it may not be. 1usic may be feeling or sensuality, but it may also ha"e nothing to do with emotion or physical sensationNMOIn some cultures there are comple categories for thinking about musicC in others there seems to be no need whate"er to contemplate music. /hat music is remains open to !uestion at all times and in all places. '8ohlman, 1,,,) 1?( 8ohlman9s approach to the analysis of music is as we shall see, remarkably progressi"e, for he suggests that the methodology of musical analysis can tolerate being e panded beyond its current "istas. It is my intention in this thesis to do precisely this, by proposing a new methodology for the analysis of film music which allows for the close e amination of the score and its positioning as an e!ual partner within the filmic uni"erse. In order to do this I will propose the construction of a methodological bridge between film theory and music theory which draws upon the philosophical concepts of #illes $eleu%e with the aim of allowing these two separate and unrelated disciplines to interact. It is my contention that a great deal of film music scholarship fails to fully engage the interaction that e ists between the mise-en-scène, narrati"e and the score. In this thesis I will demonstrate how the construction of a methodological bridge will allow the analysis of a gi"en film score to mo"e beyond its current superficial state. The result of this will be to demonstrate that the score participates in the construction of meaning in a way which is much deeper than it is currently thought to do. 0onstructing a methodological bridge which is created on such a philosophical platform is not as e treme as might at first be thought. Indeed, until the


end of the nineteenth century, the theoretical platforms utili%ed in musicology where !uite "aried. 0ritical apparatuses often included the use of methodologies drawn both from philosophy and literary criticism suggesting that the construction of @meaning9 in a gi"en score was easily as important as the empirical e"idence surrounding it. Aerhaps this was to be e pected during the mid-nineteenth-century, with its tremendous reliance upon both literature in art songs and e tra musical programs in the tone poem. Indeed, much of the musical criticism conducted during the period by writers such as the composer >obert =chumann employed both philosophical and literary rhetoric in their discussions of the new music. Aerhaps this was because nineteenth-century writers on music understood as 1artin 8oykan has suggested, that it has always seems difficult to talk about music without employing @the help of metaphor.9 '8oykan, :<<.) :-(

* brief history/ o0er0iew of musical studies The first studies in what may be called musical history date back to the middle of the eighteenth-century when #io"anni 8attista 1artini published his three "olume history entitled Storia della musica 'Histor# of &usic(. Bistorical musicology had its ad"ent as a discipline during the nineteenth century and focused on the compositions of early composers of art music. 8oth =amuel /esley and 3eli 1endelssohn played an important role in the re"i"al of interest in *ohann =ebastian 8ach, who music had been largely "iewed prior to this for its technical prowess and not its artistic power. ;ater composers such as *ohannes 8rahms also dabbled in the collection and editing of compositions by si teenth and se"enteenth-century composers. 8y the end of the nineteenth-century, musicology was fi ed as a discipline in many 5uropean Fni"ersities, especially those of #ermany. Bowe"er, the music


prescribed for study was narrow by definition, being drawn e clusi"ely from the repertoire of the /estern cultural elite. =uch a definition purposefully e cluded music that fell outside of the /estern high culture tradition, suggesting by inference that this music was inferior. Arior to /orld /ar II, many #erman *ewish musicologists fled their homeland to a"oid Ka%i persecution. These musicologists arri"ed in the Fnited =tates where they took up important positions in the music departments of major uni"ersities. /hat was most surprising to many of these 5uropean transplants was the low esteem with which the study of music was held at American uni"ersities. The same was not true in 5urope where the academic study of systematic musicology '&usi"'issenschaft( had long held a position of importance, ha"ing been established as a serious academic discipline by #uido Adler. Adler was one of the first

musicologists to recogni%e the sociological aspect of music, thereby mo"ing it beyond the aesthetic criticism which was the focus of the earlier nineteenth-century musicology. 3or Adler, the empirical study of music was the most important part of the discipline. The result of the e periences of these newly transplanted 5uropean musicologists was a "igorous effort to instill both a theoretical and scientific rigor to the study of music within American academia, with the intent of rendering musicology of e!ual standing with other @scientific9 subjects. This academic paradigm shift resulted in the rejection of anything that considered the @meaning of music9, whether based on a philosophical or a literary model. This practice was replaced by the codification of a canon based on /estern art music, which was studied with the tools of empiricism.


;uckily o"er the past twenty years this canon has begun to be challenged and the study of popular music and film music has begun to find a place within the discipline. Today a large percentage of film music research still relies upon the traditional tools and empirical techni!ues of musicology, and because these techni!ues are inappropriate for genres such as popular music and film music, the resulting analyses fail. ;et9s take a moment to e amine why this is so. /estern art music pri"ileges the concept of de"elopment. 8ecause of this, a composition9s success and placement within the canon is often contingent upon the way that a gi"en composition9s thematic make-up is manipulated and de"eloped by the composer. The importance placed upon the de"elopment of thematic material is so strong that composers such as Tchaiko"sky, 1ahler and 1endelssohn are often treated as inferior because of their inability or choice to a"oid the de"elopment of the themes of their larger symphonic compositions fully. 0on"ersely, composers such as 8eetho"en and 8rahms are held in the highest of esteem because of their skill in de"eloping thematic fragments to an e tremely high le"el of comple ity. The reason that musicology9s pri"ileging of thematic de"elopment presents trouble for the analysis of film music is that film music does not operate under the same musical paradigm that art music does. 3ilm music9s primary purpose is to accompany, and by "irtue of this the importance of thematic de"elopment is sub"erted. In many respects its role is similar to the genre of art song, which responds to the words of a poem and attempts to underscore and e plicate these musically. It is not that some film music does not make use of thematic de"elopment, but the majority of film music pri"ileges thematic beauty and e plicability o"er thematic de"elopment. 8ecause of this, the tools of traditional musicology, which are designed


to theori%e de"elopment, yield analyses which at best can be considered superficial when applied to film music. It is in many ways the musical e!ui"alent of using a pipe wrench to remo"e a wood screw. Traditional musicology9s preference for the analytical tools of

&usi"'issenschaft, pre"ent it from allowing any form of philosophical in!uiry into the creation of meaning in a gi"en composition. This rejection of the theori%ing of meaning means that scholarly analyses of film music are cut off from one of their most important areas of research. 8ecause film music responds to e tra-musical "isual stimulation, any methodology which dismisses the philosophical discussion of meaning or the musical interaction of the mise-en-scène, narrati"e and score is bound to be insufficient. I do not mean to suggest that one cannot find analyses of the meaning of a gi"en cue or score in less scholarly analyses and re"iews of film scores. Bowe"er, as we mentioned earlier, these @amateur9 analyses often concern themsel"es more with the !uestion of where the score mimics the mise-en-scène and do not engage in deeper !uestions about how the score relates to the narrati"e, and the greater filmic uni"erse. The introduction of scholarly research into film music during the past twenty years suggests that the day when it was e cluded from the canon of acceptable subject areas has passed. 8ut what is needed is for the new research to become more complete and comple . In order for this to happen, a different methodology must be created, one which allows for a deeper consideration of the interaction between all of the elements of the filmic uni"erse and places them on an e!ual and related playing field.


* music methodology applying Deleuze The choice of the philosophy of #illes $eleu%e as the platform for this new methodology is not an arbitrary one. Throughout his long career $eleu%e was acti"ely engaged with both film and music. Be wrote two important discussions on film and e"en de"eloped one might say, one of the more original film music theories of the twentieth century. =imilarly, while his work on music is not as prolific and specific as his work on film, the issue does run constantly throughout his work. Thus, the application of $eleu%ian philosophical concepts to the area of film music is not nearly as far fetched as one might at first belie"e. $eleu%e suggested that philosophy might be "iewed as a toolkit, a collection of concepts which might be employed to sol"e conceptual problems. Be does not suggest that these problems need necessarily be philosophical, but instead suggests that his philosophical concepts are designed to be used as part of a creati"e process intended to sol"e problems. This positi"e ontology, which stresses the breaking down of the all too pre"alent dualities which e ist in traditional philosophy, makes his work a perfect platform on which to propose a re-framing of film music analysis. Another reason why the application of $eleu%ian philosophy is particularly useful when related to film music is that unlike many other 0ontinental philosophers, $eleu%e does not subscribe to a dogmatic methodology or interpretation. As *ohn >ajchman suggests, $eleu%e @turned philosophy into an in!uiry about what we may legitimately infer from such constructions of impressions, replacing the problem of certainty with that of probable belief and the !uestion interests and contracts with that of the particularities of passions9 '>ajchman, 1,,4) -(. Thus, the "arious concepts can be employed anew and related to the indi"idual circumstances and challenges in each score. This results in a fle ible toolkit which is adaptable to the situation rather than


applicable to the whole. As such, the possibilities for analysis are limitless and unconstrained by process. $eleu%e9s writings on music, though not as prolific as his writing on cinema, run as a thread throughout his philosophy. In A Thousand +lateaus $eleu%e and #uattari consider the concepts of the refrain and territoriality. $eleu%e positions this discussion around the idea that it is the end-goal of music to deterritoriali%e the refrain. $eleu%e takes his concept of the refrain from "arious repeated patterns in nature, such as bird song, or the colorful markings of fish. These, he suggests, create an area of territoriality, which it becomes the role of music in that it does not ser"e in the capacity of a refrain to deterritoriali%e. The concept of deterritoriali%ation suggests music9s attempt to establish a !uality of dis-e!uilibrium in the refrain, thus creating an on-going flow of becoming. Be discusses this process as it relates to the wider area of music history from the classical era to the present and the "arious ways in which each musical epoch has approached this concept. This concept of the refrain is then e panded further to include the idea of becoming-music&becoming-animal in which $eleu%e considers 1essiaen9s use of birdsong and its relationship to what he suggests are three areas of establishing territoriality. $eleu%e also considers the idea of music as a common and natural acti"ity within natureC a fact which can be seen in the use of rhythmic patterns in birdsong, and other beha"iour of other animals. Be describes these patterns as refrains, which he suggests are inseparable from the biological growth of indi"idual organisms. 1ost importantly for $eleu%e, he suggests that the de"elopment of these motifs&organisms is an ongoing process of becoming. There can be little doubt that $eleu%e was primarily interested in /estern Art 1usic, and that he had a certain contempt for the lower forms of the popular. This


fact makes it seem all the more odd then, to use his philosophy to create an analytical platform for a genre of music which has until recently been held in contempt by musicologists, namely film music. Bowe"er, I belie"e that $eleu%e9s e tensi"e engagement with film demonstrates an element of sympathy with the cinematic process which makes this concern null and "oid. =imilarly, if we were to limit our choice of the concepts strictly to those which $eleu%e used specifically for his writings on music, we would find oursel"es limited in our construction of a $eleu%ian methodological bridge. The reason for this is that $eleu%e9s formal consideration of music deals only with the concepts of 'de(territoriali%ation, the refrain, and becoming, as well as related sub-concepts such as the molecular, assemblages and smooth and striated space. Thus applying only these concepts would not allow us the fle ibility to address the wide area of issues which are presented by the indi"idual scores considered in this thesis. Bowe"er, because $eleu%e9s philosophy may be considered fle ible, it is possible to mo"e beyond just those concepts which he applied musically, thereby e panding our application to concepts which are specific to the circumstances and challenges of each indi"idual score.

)he )hesis Corpus of Film +cores 3or the purposes of this thesis I ha"e chosen si film&scores for analysis. These include the following) • • • • • 1aurice *aubert9s score for *ean +igo9s L’Atalante '1,-.( Arthur 8liss9 score for B. #. /ells9 Things to Come '/illiam 0ameron 1en%ies, 1,-2( >alph +aughan /illiams9 score for Scott of the Antarctic '>obert 3rend, 1,.4( ;eonard >osenman9s score for 5lia 6a%an9s East of Eden '1,77( $mitri =hostako"ich9s score for #rigori 6o%intse"9s Hamlet '1,2.(


Pbigniew Areisner9s score for 6r%ys%tof 6ieslowski9s Blue '1,,-(

The scores mentioned abo"e can be di"ided into two categories. The first represents those composers who possess traditional conser"atory training in music and are also considered formal art music composers) Arthur 8liss, >alph +aughan /illiams and $mitri =hostako"ich. The second category is made up of composers who ha"e worked primarily within the field of the entertainment) 1aurice *aubert, ;eonard >osenman and Pbigniew Areisner. In the cases of 8liss9 score for Things to Come, +aughan /illiams9 for Scott of the Antarctic, and =hostako"ich9s Hamlet, these also represent important historical scores which ha"e remained largely unconsidered and under-analy%ed. ;eonard >osenman9s score for East of Eden, represents the first large scale use of twel"e-tone, dodecaphonic compositional techni!ue in a major Bollywood film score and as such is an important turning point for film music. Pbigniew Ariesner9s score for Blue is important in part because Areisner is from outside the /estern musical tradition. 1aurice *aubert9s score for L’Atalante is important to us for a different reason than those scores mentioned abo"e. *aubert9s score is regularly cited as an e ample of an important early film score, yet the simplicity of the score9s musical language seems to deny the possibility of an in depth analysis to justify this belief. Indeed, one could suggest that each of the si film scores presents a problem that must be o"ercome in order for any analysis to be successful. In the case of *aubert9s score for L’Atalante, mo"ement between the diegetic and non-diegetic, between the mechanical, the reproducti"e, the performati"e and the e ternal makes it "ery difficult to position the score simply as music. >osenman9s score for East of Eden contains two di"ergent compositional worlds, the tonal and the atonal, which


need to be accounted for in any analysis. =hostako"ich9s score introduces a traditional musical structure into the filmic uni"erse and its impact upon the narrati"e must be accounted for. 8liss9 and +aughan /illiams9 scores demonstrate the way the changing conception of space that occurred pre- and post-/orld /ar II affected the use of music in film. This results in +aughan /illiams9 score for Scott, a score long thought unsuccessful by scholars, being ree"aluated as a score which in fact dri"es the film9s narrati"e. ;astly, Pbigniew Areisner9s score for Blue is difficult to analyse in a traditional sense because it was largely precomposed prior to shooting, essentially denying the theorist the possibility of e ploring audio-"isual concurrence.

Matching Deleuzian Concepts to the +cores The first film score I will analy%e will be 1aurice *aubert9s score for *ean +igo9s L’Atalante. In this chapter I will suggest that while film music is often understood as sound, it is best perhaps understood, following after an idea that $eleu%e puts forth in his study of the painter 3rancis 8acon, as pure sensation, a concept $eleu%e draws from biology and by which he means the establishment of precogniti"e meaning. 8y referring to film music in this way, I will then be able to place it on a common footing with the film9s other elements, allowing a truly interdisciplinary discourse to take place. In my discussion of the score for Q5ast of 5denQ, I will e plore the way that ;eonard >osenman, a student of >oger =essions and Arnold =choenberg, employed a bifurcated musical language in his score, one which employed a traditional, 'one might say Americanist music "ocabulary(, and the other a more modernist atonal "ocabulary. The challenge that is raised by this bifurcated "ocabulary is to find a way to engage not one but two distincti"e musical worlds and then relate these to the


filmic uni"erse. To sol"e this conundrum I will employ the $eleu%ian concept of nomadology. Komadology presumes an ad"ersarial and deterritoriali%ing relationship between what $eleu%e calls traditional&state science, 'here represented by >osenman9s use of traditional tonal harmony(, and nomad&uncon"entional science, 'represented by the atonal portions of the score(. I will argue that >osenman9s score, as a result of this nomadological relationship of deterritoriali%ation, in fact parallels and in"ests itself fully in the narrati"e of the filmQs uni"erse, subse!uently establishing narrati"e meaning and dri"ing the internal narrati"e of the film. The third film score I will discuss will be $mitri =hostako"ich9s score for #rigori 6o%intse"9s adaptation of Hamlet. =hostako"ich9s score can be understood structurally as a !uasi-sonata-allegro form, and I will argue that this musico&structural de"ice is directly linked to 6o%intse"9s interpretation of Hamlet. In order to do this I will draw upon two related $eleu%ian concept s. The first will be $eleu%e9s concept of the eternal return, which I will argue is a way of understanding the e ternal order of the film9s three principal sections, which parallel the sonata form structure of the score. The second concept I will employ will be $eleu%e9s concept of the refrain. I will argue that both sonata form and =hakespeare9s Hamlet pri"ilege the concept of the refrain and its subse!uent deri"ati"e, the @return with difference9 which as such pro"ides a perfect platform on which to understand the way that film and score relate and interact. In Pbigniew Areisner9s score for 6r%ys%tof 6ieslowski9s Q8leuQ, I will pursue and de"elop the idea of the film&score&narrati"e as fragment, an idea which underlies much of the way the film and its manifold elements can be understood. I will reconcile these disparate fragments and relate them to each other by understanding


them as a series of becomingsC becomings which are both a becoming music and a becoming woman. I will argue that by relating the "arious elements of the filmic uni"erse to each other in this way I will be able to integrate them in a complete whole which is ultimately a becoming film. In the final chapter I will undertake a comparati"e analysis of the way that Arthur 8liss9 score for Things to Come and >alph +aughan /illiams9 score for Scott of the Antarctic e amine the changing conception of space that $eleu%e posits occurred at the close of /orld /ar II. 8y using the $eleu%ian concepts of utopia, smooth space, the any-space-whate"er and duration, and balancing these against $eleu%e9s bifurcation of cinematic history represented in the mo"ement-image and time-image, I will demonstrate that the changing concept of space acted as a delineator of film score style to which 8liss and +aughan /illiams each reacted in different ways. The change between the pre-war spatial thinking which was concerned with the damaging effect that space was ha"ing on the indi"idual, and the post-war reasoning which suggested that space had become largely uninhabitable can be clearly discerned in the composers9 different approaches to the two films under consideration. 8liss9 effort yielded a score which we might understand as being complicit in maintaining the artificial notion that the internal, whether nation or home, was safe. +aughan /illiams9 score carries =cott9s men directly into the abyss of the any-space-whate"er, where the hopelessness of post-war 5urope is established by the score.


Chapter )hree: Deleuzian +ensation and Maurice 1aubert2s score for L’Atalante $uring his lifetime *ean +igo completed only four films. Two of these :;ro de conduite '1,--( and L’Atalante '1,-.( maintain their place as films of influence and importance today. L’Atalante, which +igo filmed o"er a four-month period from Gctober 1,-- to *anuary 1,-., remains one of the most in"enti"e and beautiful films e"er concei"ed. L’Atalante is the story of a newly married young woman named *uliette '$ita Aarlo(, who desires to escape from "illage life to greater things. Instead, she joins her husband *ean '*ean $astH( on the barge ;9Atalante where life is anything but e citing. In this male-dominated world the couple e periences tensions and jealousy causing the wife to e"entually escape to the city, where she is left behind by her husband. The woman is e"entually reconciled with her husband through the efforts of the first mate, AHre *ules '1ichel =imon(. Fnderscoring the entire narrati"e is the popular song Chansons de mariniers, which will form the core of my analysis in this chapter. Although on one le"el a lo"e story about the life of two newlyweds, the film is perhaps best understood as a tale of lossC loss of innocence, loss of community, and certainly loss of that childish and simplistic understanding of the world as we know it before maturity. Indeed, *ean manages to lose his wife on fi"e different occasions during the filmC at first in his mind and later in reality '/arner, 1,,-, 11(. Det, as 1arina /arner points out, throughout the narrati"e, +igo manages somehow to a"oid the sentimentality that often weakens other romantic comedies. /arner suggests that one of the ways that this is accomplished is @through the ironical counterpoint of giddy music and painful e perience.9 '/arner, 1,,-, 1:( Indeed, 1aurice *aubert9s


score for the film plays a critical role in ad"ancing the narrati"e and helping to establish the filmic uni"erse. 3or the purposes of this chapter, I would like to concentrate on two ways of understanding the way that 1aurice *aubert9s score interacts with +igo9s narrati"e. I will begin with a brief discussion of *aubert9s life and his philosophy of film composition and then continue on with two analyses of the L’ Atalante’s score) the first a brief traditional formalistic analysis and the second a fresher approach, one which employs the $eleu%ian concept of sensation. The ambition here is to offer a first demonstration of the "alue of using $eleu%ian theory as a bridge between film theory and music theory, thereby enabling a richer understanding of the function of the musical score.

Maurice 1aubert as film composer 1aurice *aubert was born in Kice in 1,<<. Be studied piano at the Kice 0onser"atoire and later pursued ;aw at the =orbonne. In 1,:7 he became music director for Aleyela >ecords. ;ater that year he began composing music for theatre, a pursuit which would remain his primary interest until 1,:,, when he was commissioned by Alberto 0a"alcanti to compose the score for the latter9s film Le +etit cha(eron rouge$ $uring the remaining ele"en years of his life *aubert would compose o"er fifty film scores, working with many of 3rance9s leading directors including *ean +igo, >enH 0lair, 1arcel 0arnH, and *ulien $u"i"ier. Be ser"ed as music director at AathH-Kathan studios during the period 1,-1--7. Be was recalled to acti"e military duty in 1,-, and was killed in action shortly before the Armistice in 1,.<. As 1ark 8rill has suggested *aubert9s loss to the 3rench film industry was perhaps the greatest of the war '8rill, :<<?(. Interest in *aubert was resurrected in the 1,?<s when 3ranRois Truffaut employed portions of his earlier film scores in four of


his films) L’Histoire d<Ad9le H$ '1,?7(C L’Argent de (oche '1,?2(C L<Homme 3ui aimaut les femmes '1,??(C and La Cham1re !erte '1,?4(. *aubert saw himself as part of the 3rench high-culture tradition and counted among his friends the composers 3aurH, =atie, and >a"el. Be belie"ed that film music should not try to e plain or e press images as such, but should instead render physically sensible the image9s internal rhythm. At the same time he sought to de"elop a straightforward musical idiom, free from pretence and in keeping with the status of film as a new popular art form. /hether with a sparse musical language or with rich melodies and orchestrations, *aubert managed to maintain an awareness of the scoreQs function within the o"erall narrati"e conception of the filmic uni"erse, doing so without e"er sacrificing the !uality of the music itself '8rill, :<<?(. Along with 5isenstein, 0lair, and Bonegger, *aubert was an ad"ocate of the @counterpoint9 school of film composition, belie"ing that film music should not merely compliment or reiterate the action on the screen, but underscore the action through contrast. In his film work *aubert attempted to de"elop a musical language that was free from the influence of classical music9s already established de"ices '*aubert, 1,-4, 11:(. As such, he a"oided the use of clichH and of musical styles that he considered unbearably anti!uated, a fault he often found in the scoring of Bollywood films '*aubert, 1,-4, 11<(. Indeed, *aubert9s o"erall understanding of the place of film music was remarkably progressi"e. Be remarked that we do not go to the cinema to hear music. /e re!uire it to deepen and prolong in us the screen9s "isual impressions. It is not the task to e plain the impressions but to add to them an o"ertone specifically different NMO or else it becomes redundant. '*aubert, 1,-4, 111( Be goes on to suggest that music


should play its own particular part in making clear, logical, truthful and realistic that telling of a good story which is abo"e all the function of film. '*aubert, 1,-4, 117( The power in 1aurice *aubert9s score for L’Atalante lies in his ability to e ploit a sense of structural daring, which allows him to capture the discontinuity of narrati"e time and filmic e"ents ';ack, :<<:) 1<<(. Indeed, as >ussell ;ack has argued, *aubert9s score e"idences a le"el of sophistication and lyricism that no American film had managed to achie"e up to this time ';ack, :<<:) ,4( This is no doubt due in part to *aubert9s classical training and his habit of keeping "ery much abreast of contemporary musical de"elopments.

* Formalist *nalysis of the score for L’ Atalante If we were to follow the usual course of many musicological analyses, we would conduct a formalist e egesis something along these lines. Gur first task would be to identify the formal material components of *aubert9s score. This would in"ol"e an analysis of thematic materials, including the number of principal themes, and their melodic, harmonic and rhythm make-up. *aubert9s score is made up of two principal themes, a "ariant and one minor theme. The first theme, which we shall call the 8argeman9s =ong, is made up of two sections. The second theme we shall call the ;o"e Theme. The "ariant, which is thematically related to the first section of the 8argeman9s =ong we will call the Aeddler9s =ong. The sub-theme is a walt% which *aubert adds late in the film to pro"ide contrast to the principal themes. The 8argeman9s song is an interesting combination of rollicking "aude"ille style popular song and lyrical melodic form. It is possible to segment the 8argeman9s =ong into two distinct and separate themes. Bowe"er, by segmenting it in this way


we lose the ability later to draw a series of important narrati"e conclusions that result from positioning it as a complete theme. =o it is I belie"e, e pedient to think of the o"erall structure of the cue as one cue in simple two-part form, with a contrasting 8 section. The melodic character of =ection I of the cue is that of a rollicking work song and the buoyant nature of the te t, written by 0harles #oldblatt, is splendidly e"oked by the disjunct, striding !uality of the melody. =ection II is more lyric melodically with a metre that is transposed to a -): proportion which results in the segment9s decreased le"el of rhythmic mo"ement enabling it to take its place as a counterweight to =ection I. As with all of the themes in *aubert9s score for L’Atalante, the harmonic language is generally simple, making use of primary chords, and a"oiding shocking modulations or une pected substitutions, no doubt representing as we mentioned earlier, *aubert9s belief that film music should maintain a certain straightforwardness and freedom from pretence. /hat is interesting about this cue is the manner in which *aubert orchestrates it. The orchestration is "aried and it mo"es freely from full orchestra, to accordion and "oices. In each of these incarnations the theme ob"iously takes on new and "aried characteristics.

8argeman9s =ong & S =ection I =ection II & +ariant) Aeddler9s =ong& =ub-theme) /alt% *aubert@s ;o"e Theme is a languid triple metre cue that possesses a darker, more sanguine character. The melody mo"es in a much more conjunct, or at least less athletic disjunct motion, and in so doing is much less dynamic than the 8argeman9s =ong. The harmonic colouring is darker and the orchestral te ture thicker, which at


first seems strange when one considers the themes position as the @lo"e theme9. Bowe"er, *aubert9s reasons for doing this are made clear later in the film and this bears hea"ily on the narrati"e as it unfolds. The melody is performed on the sa ophone, which had not yet come to be associated with its later incarnation as the musical representation of the suspicious female. There are of course se"eral other le"els of meaning a"ailable to us here. There is the sa ophone9s position as an instrument associated with ja%% impro"isation yet also associated with a certain style of classical composition. Indeed, by this time the instrument had been included in classical compositions by among others $ebussy, Ibert, and Bindemith. Thus on one le"el we can "iew *aubert9s selection of the instrument as a subconscious commentary on his own position as a classically trained composer working in a popular field. It is of course also possible to see the instrument as *aubert9s way of signaling, through the use of an instrument of transition, his intentions to bridge the gap between the serious and the popular. The Aeddler9s =ong is a "ariant of =ection I of the 8argeman9s =ong and functions musically like !uasi-scher%o, designed to lighten the musical and narrati"e te ture. 1oti"ically, the melodic figures from the =ection I of the 8argeman9s =ong are e tended and energi%ed by subdi"iding the beat into four parts, which ser"es to create a sense of frenetic energy that perfectly underscores the 0haplines!ue maskings of >aphael $iligent, who plays the pedd ler. The /alt% falls somewhere between the ;o"e Theme and Aeddler9s =ong in terms of musical gra"ity. Indeed, the melody has the !uality of a children9s song, as it alternates between repeated major seconds. There is something naT"e and playful about this theme, something suited to the couple9s own naT"etH, and this simplicity is


carried forward in both the harmonic and melodic materials of the cue. Indeed, one has the sense that *aubert did not intend for the theme to in"oke the actual mo"ement of dancing, but rather a !uiet shadow of this action. *aubert9s orchestration reinforces this !uality with the introduction of metallic percussion, such as the glockenspiel and the celesta. The score can be di"ided into four main parts) =ection Kumber 3ilm Time Theme $iegetic& Kon$iegetic K$ $ $ K$ $ $ $iegetic& Kon$iegetic $ $ $ K$ $ $ $ $ $ 8ridal Arocession ;9Atalante ;9Atalante ;9Atalante ;9Atalante ;ocation ;9Atalante ;9Atalante ;9Atalante Aaris& ;9Atalante ;9Atalante ;9Atalante Aaris ;9Atalante ;9Atalante ;ocation Instrumentation

AA>T GK5 <. Gpening <.<<-1.1< 0redits 1a. 1.74-..1. 1b. 1c. 1d. :a. =ection Kumber :b. :c. :d. :e. :f. :g. :h. :i. :j. ..7.-7.<. ?..--,.-, ,..,11.<? 1..::1..-< 3ilm time 1,.<.1,.<4 :2.-::2.7? :?.:<:4.<? :4.<4:,.::,.-2-1.<-..<7-..12 .<..,.<.7? .1.17.1.:: .:.:1.:..4

8# I J II 8# I J II& ;T 8# I ;T& 8# II 8# I J II 8# I Theme >adio 3olksong 3olksong ;T 1usic bo 8# II 1usic =hop @Aaris, Aaris9 @Aaris, Aaris9

Grchestra Accordion Accordion Grchestral Accordion Accordion Instrumentation >adio Ar.*ules Ar.*ules Grchestra 1usic bo Accordion& Ar. *ules 1echanical Ar. *ules Ar. *ules


:k. AA>T T/G -a. -b. -c. -d. .a. .b. .c. .d. .e. =ection Kumber .f. .g. .h. 1. :. -. .. 7.

.:.72.-.:7 .7.1..2.12 .?.7?.,.1: .,.1:7:.1? 7-.<.7-.:7 74.111.<<.:, 1.<<..?1.<-.<1.<7.:41.<?.14 1.<?.1,1.1<.:, 1.1<-:,1.11.73ilm time 1.1?.-<1.1,.<7 1.1,.7,1.:<..<

@Aaris, Aaris9 8# I J II A= $ance =ong A= A= $ance =ong 8#II& */ 8#II 8#II& */ Theme ;T 8#



Ar. *ules

K$ $& K$ $ $ K$ K$ $& K$ $& K$ K$ $iegetic& Kon$iegetic K$ $

Gn way to Aiano bistro 8istro Grchestra, +ocal, Aiano. 8istro Alayer Aiano& mechanical ;9Atalante +ocal& Instrumental Aaris& Grchestra ;9Atalante Aaris Grchestra ;9Atalante ;9Atalante Aaris& ;9Atalante ;ocation Aaris Ahono Ahono& Accordion& Grchestra Ahono& Grchestra Grchestra Instrumentation Grchestra Ahono

=hop 1.::.178#II K$ ;9Atalante Grchestra 1.::.7, Total amount of music in the score) -19 7,U. Total amount of music in Aart Gne) 1:9 :2U. Total amount of music in Aart Two) 1,9 -1U. Total amount of diegetic music in Aart Gne) ?9 <?U. Total amount of diegetic music in Aart Two) 29 -,U. Total amount of non-diegetic music in Aart Gne) 79 1,U. Total amount of non-diegetic music in Aart Two) 1:9 7:U Aart Gne) $iegetic music) 7?V, non-diegetic music) .-V. Aart Two) $iegetic music) :,V, non-diegetic music) ?1V. Total diegetic music in the film) .:V. Total non-diegetic music in the film) 74V.

=o what can we conclude from understanding the thematic structure of *aubert9s scoreE 3irst of all, it is apparent from studying Table 1 that *aubert made use of a


tremendous amount of diegetic music in this score. =tudying the table further, it becomes apparent that in Aart Gne of the film the use of diegetic cues outweighs the use of non-diegetic cues. The reason for this is of course the mise-en-scène9s reliance on internal source music to dri"e the narrati"e. This is howe"er, re"ersed in Aart II of the film where the amount of non-diegetic music dramatically outweighs the use of diegetic music. Again, the reason for this is dri"en by the narrati"e and the fact that *ean and *uliette are separated. Thus the reliance on non-diegetic music pro"ides continuity between the crosscutting in the scenes depicting *uliette9s wanderings and *ean9s life on the barge. Also, *uliette9s constant mo"ement during the scenes depicting her in the city makes the large scale use of diegetic music less practical. Therefore, on a simple le"el *aubert9s score for L’Atalante seems !uite remarkable in that it relies so hea"ily on the use of diegetic source music, which represents .:V of the total store. Det this large allocation is borne out by the dictates of the narrati"e. It is also interesting to note that in the second section of the film, in which there are ele"en cues, only three of these utili%e any of the principal thematic material identified abo"e, and in these instances the incarnations are "ery brief. >ather, *aubert makes use of folk song, mechanical de"ices and electro&acoustic de"ices, all of which distance us from the thematic world of the score as *aubert concei"ed it. Gf course *aubert9s reasons for doing this may ha"e been dri"en in part by a fascination with electro-acoustical and mechanical technology. As we shall obser"e later a number of the important narrati"e moments in the film are moti"ated and animated musically by forms of mechanical and audio technology. Gb"iously, on one le"el *aubert himself must ha"e felt a certain le"el of comfort with the broadcast and mechanical reproduction technology of mass media. Gf course this "iew was not


shared by others and writers such as Theodor Adorno and the members of the 3rankfurt =chool openly disparaged mass communication and mass culture in their writings. Adorno, commenting in 1,-4 on the dissemination of mass culture and its impact on what he considered serious culture wrote, The illusion of a social preference for light music as against serious is based on the passi"ity of the masses which makes the consumption of light music contradict the objecti"e interest of those who consume it. It is claimed that they actually like light music and listen to the higher type only for reasons of social prestige, when ac!uainted with the te t of a single hit song suffices to re"eal the sole function this object of honest approbation can perform. 'Adorno, 1,,1) -.( Gf course we could carry both of these threads to a much deeper le"el. 1y intention here is not to be thorough, but rather to illustrate in a "ery basic fashion the manner in which many discussions of film music are carried out. /e could of course e amine the score in a comparati"e fashion, holding it up to the light of other scores from the period, whether by *aubert or by others. Bowe"er, these analyses re"eal little to us about the place of the score within the indi"idual filmic uni"erse. /hat we learn about with this type of methodology is the music, but we learn "ery little about the way the music functions as one component in a multi-media framework. =o we must conclude that while there is "alue in carrying out a formalist analysis from a musicological standpoint, this methodology is far less "aluable when discussing issues in film studies, because it is unable to address, in a meaningful and re"ealing fashion, aspects rele"ant to the interacti on between the score and the "isual image. Gf course this conundrum is further e acerbated when the analysis deals with a score by a composer such as 1aurice *aubert, whose style deliberately chose to a"oid mere illustration or correspondence between score and image. *aubert understood the role of film music to @play its own particular part in making clear,


logical, truthful and realistic that telling of a good story which is abo"e all the function of film.9 '*aubert, 1,-4) 117( Therefore, scores such as *aubert9s pro"ide an e"en lower incidence of music& image correspondence making them e"en more difficult to discuss traditionally. >ather, *aubert felt that music should add an @o"ertone9 which was specifically different from the "isual image, thereby a"oiding redundancy '*aubert, 1,-4) 111(. In her groundbreaking 1,4? study %nheard &elodies, 0laudia #orbman posited that film music, to a great e tent remains unnoticed by the spectator during the "iewing of a film. #orbman suggests that the reason for this is the dominance accorded by the brain to the "isual sense o"er the auditory. #orbman9s thesis is an interesting one because it was one of the first that attempted to create a relation between the "isual image and the score. Bowe"er, #orbman9s thesis, to a degree 'as I pointed out in the introduction to this thesis( is flawed because it denies on one le"el the "ery essence of the musical score, which is to be an auditory participant in the filmic uni"erse. In a "ery *ohn 0age-es!ue moment we must ask the !uestion, is music which is not heard still musicE I would answer that it is not, for music9s inherent potentiality is only reali%ed when it sounds. I would like to suggest that there is another way, one that lies between the inherent unheard-ness of #orbman9s approach and the formalist musicological analysis that pri"ileges the music abo"e all else. ;et9s begin by e amining the interaction of music, mise-en-scene and sensation in one of the final scenes in L’Atalante$

*n alternate analytical methodology The scene I am speaking of takes place in the Aarisian 0hanson Aalace where *uliette is working selling tickets. /hen her super"isor falls asleep at her post, *uliette places


a coin in the slot of the jukebo and listens too the Chansons de mariniers, which turns out to be the earlier 8argeman9s =ong. *uliette has ob"iously chosen this song because it reminds her of her time on the barge L’Atalante$ The 0hanson Aalace has an e ternal street speaker which remarkably is playing the Chansons de mariniers as Aère *ules, who is searching for *uliette walks by. This leads Aere *ules to enter the 0hanson Aalace, where he finds *uliette and slinging her o"er his shoulder, like a sailor9s bag or bounty, takes her back to the barge and her e"entual reconciliation with her husband *ean. Gn the surface this seems like a "ery simple scene in"ol"ing resolution. The diegetic statement of the 8argeman9s =ong, a theme that as we ha"e seen abo"e, appears regularly throughout the film, leads to the resolution of the conflict which dri"es +igo9s narrati"e. /hat else can be said musically beyond thisE Traditionally not a great deal more. =uppose, howe"er, that we were to consider this scene on a deeper le"el, one that looked past the ob"ious musical and thematic elements, and found instead a common ground for the "arious interactions between the score, the image, the sound track, and the narrati"e. To do this it would be necessary to find a thread which mo"es across not only the "isual and aural, but also the inherent affecti"e !ualities of the e ternal narrati"e and the internal human interaction of characters that inhabit the filmic uni"erse. /hat if we were to employ the ,eleu7ian concept of sensation as a common methodological platform on which to consider the "arious interactions suggested abo"eE As we recogni%ed abo"e *aubert belie"ed that film music should not try to e plain or e press images as such, but should instead render physically sensible the image9s internal rhythm. In their book .hat is +hiloso(h#= #illes $eleu%e and 3eli


#uattari suggest that @The work of art is a being of sensation and nothing else, it e ists in itself.9 '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,,.) 12.( This is a "ery liberating statement, because it suggests that we may find a common ground between all aspects of the filmic uni"erse in the concept of sensation. If, as we suggested earlier, the power in 1aurice *aubert9s score for L’Atalante lies in his ability to e ploit a sense of structural daring, which allows him to capture the discontinuity of narrati"e time and filmic e"ents, then this concept becomes e tremely liberating because it frees us from a preconcei"ed notion of e actly what a film is. It allows us to come to it from a number of "arious rhi%omatic positions, a"oiding the pitfalls that often hinder traditional comparati"e analysis. As >onald 8ogue has suggested, one of $eleu%e and #uattari9s central concerns in .hat is +hiloso(h#= was to differentiate between philosophy and the arts, and to do so by distinguishing between a philosophical plane of immanence and an artistic plane of composition. 8ogue suggests that we can understand an artistic plane of composition as a combination of the @that of the possible9 and sensation '8ogue, :<<-) 12--2.(. Thus formation of the artwork must take place on a plane of composition, a plane which $eleu%e and #uattari subdi"ide into a technical plane of composition, which concerns the material of an artwork, and an aesthetic plane of composition, which concerns sensations '8ogue, :<<-) 124(. It is this second plane of composition with which we will be primarily concerning oursel"es in this chapter. This is "ery e citing because it allows us to consider and inter-relate the "arious aspects of a film in a manner thought pre"iously impossible. Gn the first le"el we can understand and "iew the score as a pure product of sensation, allowing us to mo"e freely between L’Atalante9s "arious diegetic and nondiegetic cues, remo"ing any need, unless pertinent, to treat them as anything other


than what they are) simply e ternal and internal sensation. $eleu%e and #uattari carry the conceptuali%ing of this aesthetic plane of composition further by suggesting that what is preser"ed in an artwork @is a 1loc of sensations, that is to sa#, a com(ound of (erce(ts and affects '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,,.) 12., authors9 stress(. 3rom this we can conclude that at its most basic, the art work is a self-supporting, free-standing assemblage of construction. In a musical sense we can understand this as a collection, an assemblage if you will of "ibrations and fre!uencies, a bloc of sensations that is self-contained and self-supporting. 0ertainly, this is different from $eleu%e9s conception of a philosophic plane of immanence, which might be understood as the concept before the concept. Bowe"er, I would like to suggest that, as a sort of first le"el on our philosophic film music diagrammatic, we might understand this idea of a bloc of sensation 'which is the film score or film e"ent(, as some construction of unmediated musico-emotional sensation that e ists on an abstract le"el as the interaction of internal and e ternal sensation. An artistic, rhi%ome of sensation, if you will, one from which all other aspects of the score will grow. /ithin our philosophic diagrammatic, we can accept that all rhi%omic e pansion now e tends from this bloc of sensation and that all future diagrammatic e pansion will relate back through this. /ith this in mind, our ne t le"el of abstraction would be to relate the bloc of sensation to the areas of diegetic and nondiegetic music through a line of polarity, a type of free mo"ing continuum that passes freely from one side of the bloc of sensation to the other. .iegetic/Sensation/non0diegetic


+iewing the often percei"ed non-con"ersant e tremes of internal and e ternal musics in this way allows us to relate the two le"els of film music to each other without concerning oursel"es with the superficial relationship of their position inside or outside the filmic uni"erse. In other words, we can use the concept of the bloc of sensation to relate and filter, to allow these two dialogic, often irreconcilable musical worlds represented by the diegetic and non-diegetic to relate without prejudice. /e can e pand our rhi%ome further to include sensation as percept and affect, 1eings whose "alidity lies in and of themsel"es. As $eleu%e and #uattari suggest, these percepts and affects can be said to e ist in the absence of man 'sic( because man, as he is caught in stone, on the can"as, or by words, Nhere we certainly could add filmWO is a compound of percepts and affects. In other words, the work of art is a being sensation, and nothing else) it e ists in itself '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,,.) 12.(. Thus, $eleu%e and #uattari seem to be suggesting that the commonality that links works of art and the becoming-human is the e perience of sensation which can be understood as a series percepts and affects. They go on to suggest that @the aim of art is to wrest the percept from the perceptions of objects and from states of a percei"ing subject, to wrest the affect from affections as transition from one state to another) To e tract a bloc of sensations, a pure being of sensations9 '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,,.) 12?(. In other words, while each work of art has a monumental !uality about it, this must not cause us to see the work of art as a celebration of the past but rather as @a bloc of sensations that owe their preser"ation only to themsel"es and that pro"ide the e"ent with the compound that celebrates it.9 '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,,.) 12?-4( This di"ision of the aesthetic of sensation into the areas of percept and affect, suggests that @percepts are no longer perceptionsC they are independent of a state of


those who e perience them. Affects are no longer feelings or affectionsC they go beyond the strength of those who undergo them.9 '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,,.) 12.( In other words as >onald 8ogue suggests, they do @not arise from subjects but instead pass through them.9 '8ogue, :<<-) 12.( This concept is "ery helpful as it allows us to compare the sensation that is common to each element of a film without material bias. In other words, the affecti"e sensation present in a particular use of music, the becoming-emotion of a particular cue or moment, can now relate to the mise-enscène because we ha"e remo"ed the combati"eness of the "arious semiotic discourses. It is the essence of the score at that moment, @the landscape before man, in the absence of man,9 '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,,.) 12,( that we are considering, not the physical or emotional characteristic of the cue. As a way of conceptuali%ing this let us imagine that the bloc of sensation is being e tended abo"e by the rhi%ome of percepts and below by the rhi%ome of affects, with the polar opposites of diegetic and non-diegetic musics to the left and the right on an interrelated continuum passing through and deri"ing from the bloc of sensation) 'erce'ts 2 3 .iegetic/Sensation/non0diegetic 3 2 1 4ffects 1 The "arious le"els of percepts and affects once again, much as the diegetic&nondiegetic rhi%omes did, are now able to relate to each other through the bloc of sensation. Keither has to be dominant, neither has to e ist o"er another, but both are free to mo"e through the bloc of sensation, to be generated by it and relate back to it. The same can be said of the outer four rhi%omic spokes of the wheel as it were 'see


diagram abo"e(. All four relate back to the bloc of sensation, but also relate freely and e!ually to each other. This allows for endless possibilities in creating relationships and discerning internal difference. It no longer is necessary to think of a cue as being simply diegetic or non-diegetic, narrati"e or non-narrati"e. Instead cues can relate in an endless array of ways, pro"iding infinite "ariety and infinite freedom. A further layer acti"ity would then be to increase the le"els of "ariability by introducing the concept of imperceptible musical sensations in the form of soundwa"es abo"e the bloc of sensation and the affecti"e intuition of @emotion9 below the bloc of sensation. Perce'ts & X S Sound )aves / X/ Sound )aves 1 3 2 1 3 .iegetic/Sensation/non0diegetic S & X S & Emotions/ Y / Emotions 3 2 1 4ffects 8y increasing our le"els of inter-relation to understand sensation and percept as they relate to diegetic and non-diegetic cues as soundwa"eC and sensation and affect as they relate to diegetic and non-diegetic cues as emotion, we are now able to consider an e"er increasing field of simple filmic and musical possibilities on a manifold and micro specific continuum. In other words, we can mo"e freely now around the central concept of sensation, passing through the diegetic and non-diegetic, "ia the affect of emotion and the percept of sound wa"es, without ha"ing to !ualify or pri"ilege one o"er the other. The interplay between the two is flu id and therefore unconstraining. If we are able to strip away the physical characteristics of the work of art we find oursel"es left, as 8ogue suggests with @a circuit of embodiments and 72

disembodiments, a passage of sensations through bodies Z first e tracted from bodily perceptions and affections, then rendered perceptible in the e pressi"e matter of the artwork, then engaged by embodied audiences swept up into the artwork, and then e tended into an infinite field of forces.9 '8ogue, :<<-) 1?<( Thus the key to utili%ing the concept of sensation as a methodological platform lies in understanding the plane of composition as both an aesthetic plane of artistic creation and a material plane of physico-biological creation '8ogue, :<<-) 1?<(. 1usically this is "ery helpful because it allows us to not only understand the physical !uality of the materials that deri"e not only from composition but also from performance as the product of sensation, both before and after the fact. As $eleu%e and #uattari suggest, @sensation is not reali%ed in the material without the material passing completely into the sensation, into the percept or affect9 '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,,.) 122-?(. In this new paradigm there is little point in analysing a score if we are not also able to understand the impact that the sensation of the score has upon the entirety of the filmic uni"erse. 3or as the authors suggest in .hat is +hiloso(h#=, @music9s aim is a rendering audible of inaudible forces9 '8ogue, :<<-) 127(. It is this "ery @rendering audible of inaudible forces9 that is particularly helpful to us as we consider the interaction of the film score and the film image, for it is in these "ery intangibles that the true work of the score takes place. Bowe"er, this approach also allows us to discount a mere cataloguing of the ways in which the score mimics or replicates narrati"e action in the frame. >onald 8ogue has a rather nice way of summing this up when he says, @rather than sensation being projected onto a calm material surface, the material rises up into a metaphoric plane of forces NMO in music "ariegated timbres, microinter"als, and fluctuating rhythms make a malleable sonic


force matter.9 '8ogue, :<<-) 12,( /hat 8ogue means by this I belie"e, is that the artistic work of the score does not happen on the can"as of the composer9s score, the printed page, but rather when this printed page is reali%ed in performance, reali%ed as sensation, with all of its inherent implications. It is in the act of translating the score from an artistically concrete physical conception, into the world of musical and emotional "ibration, or sensation if you will, that the score begins the act of becoming in the $eleu%ian sense. 8ogue continues by suggesting that @when the artist succeeds, he or she not only creates sensations within the artwork, but also gi"es them to us and make us become with them, the artist takes us up into the compound9 '8ogue, :<<-) 12,(. In other words, we become one with the sensation of the e perience of being within the music. Gf course this entire idea of sensation makes it possible for us to consider music not only in its con"entional sense, as musical "ibration, fre!uency or degrees of harmonic combinatoriality, but also by e tension, in terms of emotional sensation) not only in the affecti"e sense, but also in terms of sensation as human interaction on its many manifold le"els. In other words, it becomes possible to address not only musical issues, but also narrati"e, mise-en-scène and dramatic issues simply by mo"ing freely through the concepts addressed in the philosophic diagrammatic concei"ed abo"e. Bere perhaps we get to the "ery core of the issue for this entire concept of sensation and its acting upon the brain is understood by $eleu%e and #uattari as an @I feel9 of sensation, a subject that is @in the midst of things, interfused with them, injected.9 '8ogue, :<<-) 1?,( They understand this inject as the @I feel9 of sensation, and it is no less a mode of thought than the @I concei"e9 of the superject.


The inject of sensation conser"es, contracts, composes, and contemplates '8ogue, :<<-) 1?,(. TB5 =F8*50T) 1. as inject [ the @I feel9 of sensation. :. as eject [ e tracts and absorbs sensation. -. as superject [ o"erflight. In other words, it is during this process, during the @I feel9, that the spectator is drawn into the multimedia e perience of the filmic uni"erse and through the e perience of the combined sensation remembers, telescopes, reali%es and engages. $eleu%e and #uattari e plain this this way) Alotinus defined all things as contemplations, not only people and animals, but plants, the earth, and rocks. These are not Ideas that we contemplate through concepts but the elements of matter that we contemplate through sensation. The plant contemplates by contractin g the elements from which it originates Z light, carbon, and the salts-and it fills itself with colors and odors that in each case !ualify its "ariety, its composition) it is sensation in itself. It is as if flowers smell themsel"es by smelling what composed them, first attempts of "ision or of sense of smell, before being percei"ed or e"en smelled by an agent with a ner"ous system and a brain. '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,,.) :1:( Thus, $eleu%e and #uattari understand the @I feel9 brain9s sensation in terms of contraction, habit, and contemplation. =ensation is fundamentally a conser"ation or retention of "ibrations, a contraction of "ibrations that takes place in a contemplati"e soul, not through action, but @a pure passion, a contemplation that conser"es the preceding in the following.9 '8ogue, :<<-) 141( 8y being able to mo"e freely through the "arying degrees of the @I feels9 that are present at the many le"els of the combined arts represented in the cinematic uni"erse, a tremendous plane of commonality is opened to us, one which allows the related arts to e ist not simply on a technical plane, where they find little common ground, but on a le"el which e tracts the "arious ways in which they inter-relate on an @I feel9 or emotional le"el. As $eleu%e


and #uattari remark, this approach frees us to @no longer NbeO concerned with the difference between music and painting9 Nor music and image in the case of our studyWO. The important point is that the two sensations are coupled together like @wrestlers9 and form a @combat of energies,9 e"en if it is a disembodied combat, from which is e tracted an ineffable, essence, a resonance, an epiphany erected within the closed world '$eleu%e, :<<.a) 24(. >ather than being a combat, or a competition for supremacy, we can inter-relate the components of the film on many different le"els. As $eleu%e says in reference to different case, @the combat against the Gther must be distinguished from the combat between Gneself. The combat-against tries to destroy or repel a force NMO but the combat-between, by contrast, tries to take hold of other forces and joining itself to them in a new ensemble) a becoming.9 '$eleu%e, 1,,?) 1-:( In other words, this combat-between, this artistic jousting, this production independently and together of sensations of "arious types and implications is the place where the real @becoming-film9 of film takes place, which leads to a le"el of becoming that $eleu%e refers to as resonance. Be states that, @It is characteristic of sensation to pass through different le"els of owing to the action of forces. 8ut two sensations, each ha"ing their own le"el or %one, can also confront each other and make their respecti"e le"els communicate. Bere we are no longer in the domain of simple "ibration, but that of resonance.9 '$eleu%e, :<<.a) 27(. In terms of film music we might in"oke the words of Aaul +alHry, much as $eleu%e does in his discussion of 3rancis 8acon when he says, @sensation is that which is transmitted directly, and a"oids the detour and boredom of con"eying a story.9 '$eleu%e, :<<.a) -2( Gf course film music is at its best when it functions in this way, when it doesn9t mimic or @1ickey 1ouse9, resorting to mere mimicry.


Aerhaps, film music functions most authentically when it functions are independent but also collaborati"e in their interaction with the narrati"e. =ensation allows us to relate two "ery different art-forms on a sympathetic and e!ual artistic plane. The basis of this dialogue is the manifold ways in which sensation informs, impacts and influences each area of study. The basis of this perception @being what brings about the creation of e"ents, the "ery matter common to philosophy, art and science. =ensation opens at the threshold of sense, at those moments prior to when a subject disco"ers the meaning of something or enters into a process of reasoned cognition.9 '0onley, :<<7c) :..( Bow might we then e tend the concept of sensation to a discussion of the score for L’Atalante, as it in"ol"es the 0hanson Aalace sceneE As we stated abo"e, on the surface the scene appears to be a classic e ample of the beginning of a cathartic process which will lead to the resolution of the narrati"e9s dramatic crisis. If we "iew it this way, *aubert9s choice to use the 8# theme as the musical selection pro"ides both a pleasantly ironic note and also a method of musically unifying her current position on the narrati"e continuum with her position at the beginning of the film. In other words, *aubert pro"ides us with a musical "ersion of the @I remember9 causing us to be drawn into *uliette9s memory. This is a con"entional "iew of theme return in film music analysis, but it is also an analytic dead end and lea"es with little else to e plore. Bowe"er, if we look closer, if we e amine the scene under the microscope of sensation as we now understand it, we begin to understand that there is more at work here than is e"ident in this simple reading. Bere is how. ;et9s begin from the outside of the scene. As we mentioned abo"e, +igo and *aubert had worked together earlier


on +igo9s film :;ro de conduite$ Therefore, on the surface it might appear that *aubert was an ob"ious choice for +igo9s ne t film L’Atalante, and of course on one le"el this is true. Bowe"er, *aubert was also ser"ing at the time as $irector of 1usic for AathH 0inemas. =uch a fact seems inconse!uential until we reali%e that, as 1arina /arner points out in her monograph of the film, the scene in the chanson palace is actually shot in a AathH 0hansons Aalace. As /arner points out, the setting must ha"e been chosen by *aubert, but why would he ha"e done this '/arner, 1,,-) 2-(E 3ranRois Aorcile points out in his 1,?1 study of *aubert9s life and work that *aubert was basically a popular composer who had ne"er had the opportunity to connect with his public outside of the cinema. Bis art music was rarely programmed and was often o"erlooked in 3rench art musical circles elite of his day because of his position as a composer of film music 'Aorcile, 1,?1) 24(. This marginali%ation on one le"el caused *aubert to assert his indi"iduality, and he purposely made choices - such as not competing for the Ari de >ome, and gi"ing his compositions confusing and contradictory titles after the manner of 5ric =atie - that placed him outside the musical mainstream. Indeed, as >ollo 1yers points out, *aubert9s musical style was characteri%ed by a clarity and directness that appeared to @owe nothing to the influence of any schools or theoretic dogmas.9 '1yers, 1,,7) 7,4( Indeed, *aubert9s lo"e of theatre, cinema and his deep interest in recording techni!ues placed him, according to the musical establishment of his time firmly in the realm of a populist. In spite of his deep lo"e and interest in all aspects of 3rench art music, *aubert was primarily an outsider, and the choice made to use this location for this important scene speaks directly, not only to *uliette9s position as @other9 in +igo9s film, but as *aubert9s position as other in 3rench culture. =o right from the start we begin our


unpacking of this scene with an additional le"el of abstraction already in placeC one that draws the world of the production team into the world of the film. ;et us now mo"e on to consider some of the scene9s other musical issues. The scene re"ol"es around *uliette9s place as an employee at the 0hanson Aalace. =he is in effect surrounded by mechanical reproductions of popular music. The performance of the 8argeman9s =ong, the Chanson des mariners, has accompanied *uliette9s journey from the film9s beginning, when it was used to accompany her wedding procession to the barge. Indeed, if we are literal and intentional about this, the theme was a part of the film9s world before we as spectators were allowed to enter it, ha"ing been performed non-diegetically by *aubert9s orchestra during the opening credits. Thus the theme was introduced to us in the $eleu%ian sense as a fi ed bloc of sensation, without inherited meaning or affecti"e implication. Det "iewed in a different way the music contains the entirety of the narrati"e before the narrati"e re"eals it too us. As Tom 0onley has suggested @sensation is what strikes a "iewer of a painting or the reader of a poem before the meaning is discerned in figuration or thematic design. It is also what "ibrates at the threshold of a gi"en form.9 '0onley, :<<7c) :..( In e"ery sense then the 8argeman9s =ong is recei"ed by the spectator as pure sensation before we enter into the world of the film. The bifurcated structure of the 8argeman9s =ong makes more sense seen in this light, for it represents in a way both what is already and what is to come. /e do not know this at the beginning of the film, but we do sense the perple ing duality of playfulness and lyricism combined perhaps uneasily in the cue. At first this e"en seems jarring because we are struck by the musical oddness of the ju taposition. =o the sensation which is *aubert9s 8argeman9s =ong contains in it not merely what is now, the wedding processional,


but also what will be, life on the ri"er and the inherent passion and troubled relationship of *ean and *uliette. The cue in effect, functioning as a part of *aubert9s bloc of sensation then in essence contains e"erything that will emerge from there on. Gf course the Chansons des mariniers play a much more significant role than this. And it is here that we can begin to mo"e around the bloc of sensation that we ha"e constructed abo"e. The dialogue of sensation contains three aspects in this scene. There are the relationships that comprise the affecti"e core of the narrati"e. These include the pairings of *ean and *uliette, Aère *ules and *uliette, and *uliette and the Aeddler. In each of these instances music ser"es as a force, a sensation which either attracts or repels the pairs in !uestion, as I shall now go on to e plain. ;et9s begin by e amining the relationship between *ean and *uliette. *uliette9s relationship with *ean is characteri%ed by a lack of understanding and a lack of life e perience. *uliette marries *ean and lea"es her "illage !uickly thereafter. 'Kotice the briskness and e"er increasing distance with which the couple leads their wedding processional.( There is a desire on the part of *uliette to distance herself from the closed world of her "illage and to find freedom from this constriction and claustrophobia through the openness and ne"erendingness that the canal represents. Bowe"er, reality and desire do not !uite coalesce for *uliette 'anymore than for *ean albeit for different reasons(. Gn one le"el *uliette is frustrated by *ean and throughout the film her relationship with him remains for the best part unfulfilled and disappointed. 3or his part, *ean misunderstands *uliette and his inability to understand what she wants and needs handicaps his ability to relate to her. It is interesting that *aubert composed little music for the relationship between *ean and *uliette, indeed the two lead an almost musicless life and the one


instance where *ean actually contributes to a becoming of musical sensation takes place "ery early in the film, immediately following the wedding as the barge lea"es the pier. *eans starts the barge9s engines and the machinic sensations or "ibrations gi"e birth to the 8# theme, which appears from within the sound of the engine. Bowe"er, the musical emergence represented here is in fact the result of the mechanical and proceeds from it and not from *ean directly, which ser"es as a dire warning regarding becoming. The couple9s inability to communicate with each other is demonstrated in the scene on the barge the following morning as *uliette is serenaded on deck after she awakes by the three men who sing the =ection I of the 8argeman9s =ong to her. The cue is performed diegetically, accompanied by the accordion, but then *ean and *uliette mo"e further forward towards the bow of the ship where they sing =ection II of the 8argeman9s =ong to each other, now accompanied non-diegetically by the orchestra. Indeed, if we are honest about this we must recogni%e that the entire cue is being sung off screen and that the "oices are in fact dubbed. Thus, *ean and *uliette are only pretending to sing to each other. *ean clearly has no music in him, and his beha"iour suggests that at this early stage in the film he is not interested in o"ercoming this. The same might be said of *uliette, but her desire to find, lo"e, e citement and resonance will be accomplished through an open and yet indirect pursuit of the sensation of music itself. Interestingly, *ean and *uliette9s first fight as husband and wife takes place o"er her attempt to listen to the radio, which *ean denies her the right to do. This scene initiates a serious of encounters with the mechanical, this time in the form of musical and electro-acoustical machines, which


take *uliette on a journey that will e"entually bring her back to *ean, but not without first distancing herself from him emotionally. The pair are incapable of communicating and thus must rely on an artificial sensation to accomplish what they themsel"es cannot accomplish internally. *uliette9s engagement with music will begin almost immediately and will moti"ate e"erything that happens to her. *ean9s will take a while longer, but like *uliette he will finally be opened to her by embracing the concept of musical sensation electro-acoustically. Indeed, the mechanical and electro-acoustic means of production will play an increasingly important role in the film as it progresses. 3rom this moment on diegetic music will take an ascendant role o"er non-diegetic and the mechanical& electroacoustic will take precedent o"er the acoustic. 0on"ersely, *uliette9s relationship with Aère *ules is in e"eryway the antithesis of her relationship with *ean. =he is intrigued by Aère *ules, his worldliness, physicality and the unknown in him. Det, while these things attract her she is certainly not attracted to him in a physical sense Z albeit she is fascinated and repelled in e!ual measure by his body. The one instance were she shows any se ual interest in him is after she has mistaken a picture on the bulkhead of Aère *ules9 cabin for him as a younger man. /hat is interesting here is that while the two on the surface ha"e little in common, where they do find a common ground is through the sensation of music, and here the shared common ground of the diegetic music becomes an intuited emotional plane on which their relationship becomes possible. >emarkably, the Aère *ules character e ists almost e clusi"ely within the realm of the musical diegetic. /hat I mean by this is to say, that there is almost no non-diegetic music that accompanies *ules9 images on the screen. /hy would *aubert choose to do


thisE It is possible that *aubert chose to segregate Aere *ules character musically in order to heighten the immediacy of his relationship to the diegetic music which is so much a part of his character. Aère *ules li"es the music, it e cites and enli"ens him and allows him to communicate. In a "ery direct sense it is part of who he is, it is that which is the becoming part of his @Aère *ules-ness9. Interestingly, the music that Aere *ules shares with *uliette in his cabin follows this line of flight completely. Be progresses from singing silly, incomplete and perhaps e"en made-up folk songs, to entertaining her with mechanical de"ices, to finally performing for her on his accordion. It is this sense of musical-becoming in Aère *ules that allows his character to go from being a silly old man to someone who can communicate with *uliette on an affecti"e emotional le"el. It is this le"el of musical sensation, the affecti"e& emotional that allows Aère *ules to be able to intrigue and engage *uliette in a way that *ean has not been able to do at this point. If Aère *ules relates to *uliette through the interaction of musical sensation, his musical-becoming as it were, allowing her to fill the emotional longing for human interaction, then her relationship to the peddler carries this to an e"er deeper le"el as @music9 becoming entertainment. The peddler engages *uliette because he is able to transport her musically to the place where she becomes the other that she longs to beC the worldly-*uliette, the sophisticated-*uliette, the *uliette who has become sufficiently to be musical like the peddler. Thus in the narrati"e of the film the peddler I= music. The peddler not only sings and performs, creating and becomingmusic 'notice that the Aeddler9s =ong is a de"elopment and e pansion of the melodic figurations from =ection I of the 8argeman9s =ong( but he also dances and in this


sense he becomes physically united with the music. An e tension of our diagrammatic might show this in this way)

Perce'ts & X S Sound )aves / X/ Sound )aves 1 3 2 1 3 Performance/.iegetic/Sensation/non0diegetic \ S & X S & + Emotions/ Y / Emotions + 1 3 2 1 + 1 4ffects 5 1 2 6uestioning / 7uman +nteraction The point of this e tension is to manifest the way in which the peddler9s relationship with *uliette, mo"es from the bloc of sensation through the diegetic pole and e tends the "ibrancy of sensation to the e tent where it becomes li"e performance. In fact in this instance the peddler is actually singing his own songs. Be is the one member of the cast that indeed performs and in some ways this is new to *uliette, who can e perience the music not only as sensation, but as creation-ness which pulls her towards a new e perience of sensation represented by the combination of the peddler9s human interaction with her and the dynamism of his creation represented by his translating of the 8# theme into something, new, something rhythmically accelerated, something ali"e. Aerhaps this is what is so appealing to *uliette, for her interaction with the peddler shows her a new picture of musical-becoming, something she has not known before, this new sensation causes her to !uestion e"erything she has understood about her relationship with her new life and so it propels her on a course toward her e"entual denouement with Aère *ules and ultimately with *ean.


3or the first two-thirds of the film, Aère *ules9 relationship with *ean is de"oid of music. In spite of Aère *ules best effort to introduce some element of music into life on ;9Atalante, he is regularly frustrated by *ean. *ean for his part misunderstands Aère *ules attempt to synchroni%e with *uliette and instead frustrates them dri"ing *uliette to seek the synchroni%ation that she cannot ha"e with *ean, and is pre"ented from ha"ing with *ules, with the spirit of the peddler. Throughout the film Aère *ules mourns the inability of his phonograph to perform. Be tells *uliette that it is broken, and *ean refers to it as junk. Bowe"er, in spite of all of this, Aère *ules continues to seek after the completion, the perfection, if you will of this one type of music that he is unable to bring to *uliette) the electro-acoustic music of the phonograph. 'Gf course it is this "ery de"ice which will e"entually bring Aère *ules to *uliette at the film9s conclusionC howe"er Aère *ules cannot create this music, but instead disco"ers it.( It is interesting that throughout the film the use of "ocal dubbing on the music line of the soundtrack, allows the actors to sing and play, in essence bringing the artificiality of these "ery electro-acoustic sound techni!ues into the diegesis from outside the world of the film. Det, Aère *ules struggles to reali%e what e ternally is a music of lies, 'the electro-acoustical music of a phonograph which is in essence dubbed onto +igo9s soundtrack( which will internally become the con"eyor of resolution and truth. In other words, Aère *ules9 restored phonograph allows the electro-acoustic in music to be restored to truth within the diegesis and in so doing also allows the relationship of *uliette and *ean to be restored. Indeed, the only time in which *ean is open to the sensation of music from Aère *ules is following his desperate swim in the canal after his failed checker game with Aère *ules. *ean has returned to the water to seek the face of *uliette and


disco"er whether she is in fact his true lo"e. Fltimately, he is able to see her and the mystic re"elation of her in the water - is she truly present to him or does he imagine herE- allows him to be opened finally to the music from Aère *ules9 phonograph when he returns to the barge. Indeed, Aere *ules has only just reali%ed that the phonograph is capable of creating music and he immediately takes it to *ean to play it for him. As *ean listens to the sensations of the phonograph he is returned to the world of the present, or perhaps he is restored to the world and becomes open to human interaction, not just from his missing bride, but also from Aère *ules, who as musicalother throughout the film has been cut off emotionally from him. It is interesting that the music that the phonograph plays for *ean is the ;o"e Theme, which is heard here diegetically for the first time. Bowe"er, it does not remain within the world of the film for long, but immediately tra"els abroad back into the world of the non-diegetic in an attempt, as if being sensation sent in search of a recipient, to locate *uliette and restore her to her relationship with *ean. It is at this point that we will return to the scene in the 0hanson Aalace. /hat brings Aère *ules to *uliette as she listens to the Chanson des mariners diegetically at the jukebo E /hy is Aère *ules attracted to the storeE /hat makes him decide that this is where he will find herE $eleu%e has said that @music attempts to render sonorous forces that are not themsel"es sonorous. That much is clear. 3orce is closely related to sensation) for a sensation to e ist, a force must be e erted on a body, on a point of the wa"e. 8ut if force is the condition of sensation, it is nonetheless not the force that is sensed, since the sensation ]gi"esU something completely different from the forces that condition it.9 '$eleu%e, :<<.) 72( And this answers our !uestion !uite satisfactorily, for throughout the film, music as sensation e ists as a force e tending


"arious lines of flight that begin from a bloc of sensation and fly freely to become affect and percept, to become emotion, to become sound wa"e, to become human interaction, to become performance and to become both internal and e ternal. It is the fulfillment of the e ternal in music becoming-internal that brings Aère *ules to *uliette. It is the return of all things to where they begin, at the place where the becoming of music becomes the fulfillment of the internal. The adoption of the $eleu%ian concept of sensation allows us to consider the issues raised by the study of film music as one area of a greater filmic uni"erse. 8y thinking about film music in this way, we a"oid the reductionist position posited by theorists such as 0laudia #orbman, whose analyses often results in diminishing the score9s place as a coe!ual within the greater being that is the film. 8y embracing the concept of film music as a bloc of sensation there is no need to understand the score as @other9, but we are able instead to hear the score in all its fullness, relating it not only to itself and to its own sound world, but also to the emotional, "isual, and e pressi"e world of each film. 8y understanding film music simply as sensation, we are able to a"oid reducti"e readings of the score which often result in a mechanical cataloguing of componentsC something that communicates itself, but does not recogni%e its place as one rhi%ome in the greater whole. 8y embracing the concept of sensation for the study of film music we are left to hear the score in its purest form, thereby enabling us to understand it as an e panding flow mo"ing forward towards the greater plane which is the entirety of the filmic uni"erse. =ince no two film scores relate to their uni"erses in e actly the same way, the concept of sensation pro"ides us with a capacity to reimagine our approach anew each time we come to the study of a score. /e need no longer be reduced to pro"iding a list of functions, or happenings


representing nothing but music, but instead can now relate the "arious pieces, including that of music to each other on a constantly e"ol"ing and shifting plane of immanence. In other words the discourse of music doesn9t merely become a description of what is being communicated technically or represented musically. Instead, it can now be understood as a con"ersation, an interaction, an e pression, if you like of a series of relationships each of which contribute to the totality of @the becoming9 of a film. =ensation creates a discursi"e flow between the many aspects of the film that allows film music to assume the fullness of its own haecceity.


Chapter Four: )he Di0ision of the One: eonard 3osenman and the score for East of Eden ;eonard >osenman9s score for 5lia 6a%an9s 1,77 film East of 5den was unlike anything that had been heard in Bollywood up until that point. The score9s aggressi"e use of a modernist compositional style established it as something completely new in Bollywood. East of Eden would be the first of o"er forty films that ;eonard >osenman would score. Arior to his in"ol"ement in the project, >osenman had been a composer of art music and also performed as a concert pianist. East of Eden takes place in and around /orld /ar I, and is the story of =alinas +alley farmer Adam Trask '>aymond 1assey( and his two sons Aron '>ichard $a"alos( and 0al '*ames $ean(. The two sons compete for their father9s lo"e and appro"al and then subse!uently for the affection of Aron9s girl friend Abra '*ulie Barris(. The plot is complicated by the secrets which surround Adam9s earlier di"orce from his wife 6ate '*o +an 3leet(, who unbeknownst to his sons is the 1adame of a local brothel. Aron9s position as his father9s chosen son is challenged by the family9s psychologically troubled and misunderstood son 0al. Through a series of business and relational gambits, 0al manages to replace his brother and become the chosen son in Adam9s eyes. Throughout the film the narrati"e trajectory is propelled by ;eonard >osenman9s score which ser"es the purpose of moti"ating and directing the internal narrati"e. >osenman, who was born in Kew Dork 0ity in 1,:., de"eloped an interest in music at the age of fifteen after his Aunt purchased a piano. Bowe"er, his original intention was to study art and to be a painter. 3ollowing military ser"ice in the =econd /orld /ar, >osenman9s interests turned to music and he embarked on a period of musical study that ga"e him an opportunity to work with se"eral of the


leading composers in modern music, including Arnold =choenberg, >oger =essions and ;uigi $allapiccola. >osenman flourished under =essions tutelage, because =ession9s encouraged the tendencies and tastes of his pupils, rather than imposing his own 'Thomas, 1,?,) :-:(. =essions encouraged >osenman to find his own "oice, and to not be restricted by adopting other composers9 language and influence. This led >osenman on a path which resulted in his de"eloping a compositional style that relied hea"ily on a"ant-garde serial techni!ues, and generated music which can only be described as intellectually challenging. 8y 1,7- >osenman was being in"ited to ser"e as the composer-in-residence at the 8erkshire 1usic 0enter and had recei"ed a 6ousse"it%ky 3oundation commission for an opera, which was to remain uncompleted. 3rom 1,2: to 1,22 >osenman li"ed in >ome where he scored tele"ision programs and gained e perience as a conductor. Bis entry into the world of film work came in 1,7. when he was offered the opportunity to compose the score for 5lia 6a%an9s East of Eden$ In addition to his film work and pri"ate composition, >osenman has also taught at F=0 and KDF and has ser"ed as musical director of the e' &use, a chamber orchestra speciali%ing in performances of a"ant-garde music 'Aalmer, :<<?(. >osenman9s e tensi"e e perience as a composer of both art and film music has pro"ided him with a uni!ue position in the world of film scoring. Be has maintained the indi"idual integrity of his own personal style, while successfully adapting this style to ser"e the needs of his work within the film industry. >osenman refers to the genre of film music as functional musicC music which is @written not primarily for performance alone, but specifically for literary-image media o"er which the composer has no control.9 '>osenman, 1,24) 1::( Be suggests that film music is


uni!ue because it has all the attributes of music, namely melody, harmony, counterpoint, but is @something less than music because its moti"ating pulsation is literary and not musical.9 'Thomas, 1,??) :<?( 3or >osenman what makes the world of art music and film music different is that, in art music, the composer maintains a degree of control o"er mi ed media forms such as opera, while in film music the composer has no control o"er the te t or the mise-en-scène, but rather is composing to a circumscribed form. >osenman suggests that this creates a challenge which he considers e tra-filmic. This "iew of course seems somewhat parado ical when one considers >osenman9s highly collaborati"e relationship with 6a%an and the fact that elements of East of Eden are in themsel"es not only melodramatic, but also operatic. Gn this we shall ha"e more to say later in this chapter. According to >osenman the challenge for the composer is one of dramaturgic talent, and the film composer, he suggests, needs to de"elop the ability to project musically and build suspense o"er the long term. Be suggests that a composer9s score is successful dramaturgically if the spectator is able to feel a sense of fulfillment when the "illain gets punched in the final reel because it has been successfully prepared in musical sense since the fifth reel 'Thomas, 1,??) :<?(. Indeed, >osenman draws a "ery substantial line between the work of the film and the art music composer. Be suggests that one need not e"en be a trained composer in order write film music commenting that, @all you ha"e to ha"e is a sense of drama and a sense of sound. Dou ha"e to, perhaps, appreciate music to some degree - or you don9t e"en ha"e to appreciate music) all you ha"e to do is appreciate the relationship between sound and "isual media to organi%e music for films.9 '8a%elon, 1,?7, 141(


3rom the beginning, >osenman9s affinity for film scoring allowed him to "iew the place of music in film realistically. Be suggests that it is essential for the composer to bear in mind that we li"e in a society which is "isually oriented. >osenman belie"es this to be biological, suggesting that @more of our brain is gi"en o"er to "ision than to hearing.9 'Thomas, 1,??) :<?( In his work he argues that film music must ser"e as an analogue to the action of the film, but that the film must also, on some e tended le"el @become an analogue of the dramatic action of the music.9 'Thomas, 1,??) :<?( It is for this reason that >osenman "alues instances where the composer is able to work directly with the director 'Thomas, 1,??) :<?(. As we shall see below when discussing >osenman9s score for East of Eden, >osenman "iews the interaction between the image and the film in a much more aggressi"e fashion than many of his colleagues. Be suggests that there are times when the intent of film music is to intrude obtrusi"ely into the filmic uni"erse in as direct and o"ert a fashion as possible. >osenman argues that film music must enter directly into the @plot9 of the film, because it is only by doing this that it can add @a third dimension to the images and the words.9 '>osenman, 1,24) 1:?( Indeed, writing about the music for his second film scoring assignment, The Co1'e1 '+incent 1inelli, 1,77(, >osenman suggests that the "ery point of the score was to enter the plot in such a way that it illuminated aspects of the film that would not ha"e been otherwise percei"ed on screen. 8y doing this >osenman was able to create a kind of atmosphere that would ha"e otherwise been completely lacking in the film 'Arendergast, 1,,:) 11,(. >osenman9s approach to film music is also realistic and while he recogni%es the need for the score at times to purposefully in"ade the cinematic space, he also


understands that few people when listening to film music actually understand or are aware of the formal techni!ues being used by the composer. Be suggests that the a"erage spectator, when seeing a film, is rarely aware of the way in which that score interacts with the image, but that on some le"el, they understand it as analogue to the film, or "ice "ersa '8urt, 1,,.) 4(. >osenman does howe"er recogni%e a certain symbio&catalytic relationship between the film and the score '>osenman, 1,24) 1-<(, suggesting that, in film music, a catalytic musical effect can be greatly enhanced psychologically when capsuli%ed in the form of a theme, ballad, or motif '>osenman, 1,24) 1:(. 3or >osenman, this combination of the catalytic and the psychological makes it increasingly clear that the score has the power to help to change cinematic naturalism into a form of reality. Be suggests that to a certain degree, the role of the score should be to create a sense of su(ra2realit#> a condition he understands as one where the elements of literary naturalism are perceptibly altered '>osenman, 1,24) 1:?(. 8ecause >osenman9s method of composition pri"ileges the idea of de"elopment, he is able to adapt himself more easily to film music composition in a $eleu%ian sense. As Ahil Aowrie suggests, $eleu%e and #uattari regularly point out how music naturally deconstructs itself e"en as it constructs itself. As it sends out lines of flight functioning as a series of transformational multiplicities, in many respects music o"erturns the "ery codes that structure and arborify it. Indeed, because of this, film music can be understood to be especially rhi%omatic. It rarely accompanies what is "iewed continuously, but instead surfaces occasionally much like @mushrooms out of the mycelium.9 'Aowrie, :<<2) ,7( 3or his part >osenman attempts to discern the largest @microcosm9 in the narrati"e and then works backwards


in order to deri"e the remainder of the score from it, an approach which is truly rhi%omatic. This approach allows him to perhaps better understand the "arious types and forms of conflict present in the film, and to understand where they are headed musically '8urt, 1,,.) :-.(. >osenman a"oids the use of leitmotifs, establishing instead a system of thematic gestures which can be used in "arious ways to delineate "arious characters. These gestures, he places in different situations in order to facilitate a collision of sorts in climactic scenes '8urt, 1,,.) :-.(.

eonard 3osenman2s score for East of Eden The imprint of =essions and =choenberg on >osenman9s compositional style can best be understood in his marked taste for the e pressi"e possibilities of dissonance, combined with a generous use of contrapuntal te tures 'Arendergast, 1,,:) 1<4(. Indeed, film composer #eorge 8urt refers to >osenman9s score for East of Eden as e pressionistic '8urt, 1,,.) 14.(, adding that in 1,77 the use of e pressionist style in film composition was still considered relati"ely unorthodo '8urt, 1,,.) 142(.

>osenman9s teacher Arnold =choenberg "iewed the concept of e pressionism as a form of @inner reality9, one associated with an internal truth which demanded emancipation from the constraints of con"ention and tradition. This understanding of the concept had its roots in a direct opposition to the cult of beauty which was found in post-/agnerian music. It was in this "ery sense that =choenberg claimed that his 1,<4Z, song-cycle ,as Buch der h?ngenden )?rten broke with pre"ious aesthetic norms '3anning, :<<?(. 5 pressionism had appeared in a limited fashion in earlier scores by Bans 5isler and $a"id >aksin, howe"er in >osenman9s scores for East of Eden and The Co1'e1 it came into full flower '8urt, 1,,.) 142(. /hat makes >osenman9s score for


East of Eden all the more striking is the fact that he was able to achie"e such a successful synthesis between the traditional and the modern harmonically 'Aalmer :<<?(. Indeed, >osenman9s score successfully alternates between a sort of @Americanist9 folk style and a more aesthetically challenging atonal style with a fluency that is not only remarkable, but also striking. >osenman9s entrance into Bollywood film scoring came in an une pected and unusual fashion. Be had been *ames $ean9s piano teacher in Kew Dork, and despite being just se"en years older than $ean, had in some ways become a surrogate parent to the young actor 'Bofstede, 1,,2) ,(. $ean, who had been in"ited to Bollywood to be part of the cast for East of Eden, took 6a%an to a concert of >osenman9s music at the 1useum of 1odern Art in Kew Dork '1c8ride, 1,4-) 11:(. 6a%an at first seemed to be reticent to engage a composer whose style was so thoroughly modern. Det, the two seem to ha"e hit it off personally and soon negotiated a common ground, agreeing that >osenman would score for the character 0al in a dissonant fashion, while reser"ing the simpler tonal language for the other characters. >osenman suggests that during the initial discussions with 6a%an, the two endea"oured to @find a way to score the film so that the music NwasO ine tractable from the dramatic framework of the whole project.9 '>osenman, 1,?.) 42( Indeed as we ha"e mentioned abo"e, >osenman and 6a%an a"oided the then con"entional approach to film scoring, and agreed that the score needed to be intrusi"e. >osenman remarks that the two en"isioned a score that would enter the film medium as a positi"e part of the plot and not merely as just a form of sound effects. 8y doing this they wanted to a"oid a mere repetition of what the eye and ear had already percei"ed, and instead create a sort of @dramatic necessity9 which


intruded upon the @unreal9 or illusory element with the purpose of creating a new and imaginati"e reality. 8y e tension the two attempted to create a score that would illuminate the deepest well of inner life within the character and situation, all the while generating dramatic e citement in an almost operatic sense '>osenman, 1,?.) 4?(. 8ecause he knew so little about filmmaking, >osenman asked 6a%an to allow him to be present during the entire filming of East of Eden, thereby enabling him to make his sketches for the score during the actual filming rather than as a portion of the post-production. ;uckily for >osenman, 6a%an considered this way of working to be e tremely e citing 'Thomas, 1,??) :<-(. 6a%an and >osenman conferred directly on those scenes where the music was to be a determining factor, thereby allowing 6a%an to shoot with the agreed upon musical material in his mind 'Aalmer, 1,,-) -<:(. >osenman wrote the cues as the film was being shot and e"en played the music for the actors before they filmed their scenes. In those scenes where the rhythmic !uality was created by the music rather than the dialogue, 6a%an allowed >osenman to dictate the action as if he was directing an opera '1c8ride, 1,4-) 11,-:<(. >osenman pro"ided for three principal themes in the score for East of Eden$ The first, written for 0al and which we will call the 0al theme, is more a series of e tended gestures, rather than an easily definable theme. '8y e tended gestures I mean that the first theme is more a series of dissonant units that, while not melodically consistent, are easily identifiable as a thematic grouping.( 3or this theme, >osenman elected to use an atonal musical language, combined with a reducti"e orchestration that featured small groupings of solo instruments, most often woodwinds. It is interesting that >osenman orchestrated this theme using solo


woodwinds. Gn one le"el he may ha"e chosen to do this as a direct reaction against the implied romantic sentimentality that was often associated with string writing in Bollywood film scores. Gn another le"el the choice perhaps shows the influence of >osenman9s time with =choenberg, who often scored his smaller e pressionist works in a similar manner. As we obser"ed earlier, there is something e pressionistic about >osenman9s style here. As Tony Aalmer points out, the 0al theme seems in some ways to ha"e been concei"ed not so much in terms of 0al himself, but rather in terms of his relationships to other people 'Aalmer, 1,,-) -<-(. The score9s second theme is a "ery simple folksong-like tune, which we shall refer to as the 3= theme. 5arly in production 6a%an asked >osenman to compose a simple @farm song9 in a style he thought might ha"e been typical of the film9s period '1issiras, 1,,4) 4-(. Gne has the sense howe"er, that >osenman could not bring himself to do this, because the 3= theme itself is not reminiscent of any American folksong of the period. >ather, it is more reminiscent of the folksong inspired music written by the Americanist composers such as 0opland, Thomson and Barris during the 1,.<s. As we shall see below, the 3= theme is first introduced into world of the diegesis by Adam, who hums it. >osenman may ha"e used this as a way of grounding the folksong-ness of the 3= theme, thereby allowing it to be identified as a folksong style, a singable style if you will, while still maintaining a stylistic distinction from the more simple style of the score9s third theme, the 5ast of 5den theme 4 Adam9s humming of the tune also e"okes a sense of simplicity, which >osenman may ha"e used to suggest both Adam9s lack of modern sophistication and his preference for life on the ranch o"er the increasingly comple world of the city. Gn a certain le"el,


perhaps the choice to introduce this theme and the one to follow by ha"ing them hummed e"okes a sense of nostalgia for the past, for a simpler time. The score9s third and final principal theme is the 5ast of 5den theme '5of5 theme(, which is first introduced into the diegesis by Abra as she hums it to, and then later with Aron in the scene in the ice house. The first fully orchestrated "ersion of the 5of5 theme does not come in until 0al and Abra are together on the 3erris wheel. This theme, which has a grand and open sense of sweep, and a simple tonal language5 reminds one of the lyrical style of much nineteenth-century Italian opera, a fact which will be further reinforced below, by >osenman9s decision to begin the score with an o"erture. The theme is most clearly associated with Abra or with those who are relating to Abra. In its way it represents the musical and emotional antithesis of the 0al theme, but it is also in many ways the pi"ot on which the entirety of the narrati"e re"ol"es. Gn this we shall ha"e more to say later. The two e isting academic musical analyses of the score for East of Eden, concentrate respecti"ely on the musical aspects of the score '1issiras, 1,,,(, and on a combination of the psychological and musical parameters of the score '8urt, 1,,.(. 1issiras9s analysis, with its reliance on the traditional tools of music theory is hampered by the same problems that we identified in the preceding chapter. 0on"ersely, 8urt9s discussion of the musico&psychological aspects of the score and their relationship to the harmonic duality represented by the atonal&tonal dyad seems to offer more hope of generating a deeper and more complete analysis. >osenman himself indicated that the filming of East of Eden coincided with a general increase in interest in the "arious aspects of psychology on the part of the entertainment industry '>osenman, 1,24) 1:?(. Bowe"er, 8urt9s analysis of the film9s opening !uickly


thwarts our hopes of enlightenment by arguing that the 0al theme represents 0al9s inner psychological turmoil. Be cites the end of the music for the opening credits, which as it transitions into the first cue, suggests something psychological relating to 0al9s inner life '8urt, 1,,.) :2(. 8urt suggests that this reading is born out by the difference in musical style and the sudden difference in the orchestration '8urt, 1,,.) :2(. 0ertainly, on a simple le"el 8urt is correct here, yet his argument that the 0al theme is internal, rather then ser"ing to open the score to further analysis seems instead to close off the discussion entirely. The mere fact 8urt has obser"ed the ob"ious, the conflictedness of 0al as represented by >osenman9s atonality, and later the purity and simplicity of Abra&@America9 in general as represented by simple tonality and lyrical beauty, would seem to lea"e him with little else to say and this is borne out by his subse!uent analysis. As we e plained abo"e the 0al theme is in essence a series of gestures. If we follow the usual formalistic analytic de"ice of identifying these gestures 'the 0al theme( as a leitmotif which re(resents 0al, we pro"ide them with a meaning that e cludes further e egesis. In other words, if the 0al theme functions as a leitmotif through which >osenman represents 0al musically, then the theme is limited to this role and is unable to represent, suggest or infer deeper le"els of meaning in relation to other aspects of the filmic uni"erse. In essence we become bo ed in by the "ery thing which at first seemed to offer so much promise of freeing us. Gnce we establish a role which identifies a meaning there is little else that can be re"ealed through traditional analytic methodologies. The identification of a @meaning9 becomes a straight-jacket pre"enting us from seeing anything else.


In the preceding chapter we demonstrated how employing the $eleu%ian concept of sensation might pro"ide us with a new foundation for a reconsidered methodology of film music analysis. As 5ugene Bolland points the concept of sensation can be understood as the material singularity of a gi"en medium, something that comes to embody in the artist9s hands what $eleu%e and #uattari call a sensation 'Bolland) :<<.) :-(. Bowe"er, there is a problem here, for as we attempt to apply this concept to an analysis of East of Eden, we find it less straightforward then we did in L’Atalante$ This is because of the score9s atonal&tonal harmonic dyad, which seems to deny the possibility of a discussion which pri"ileges the concept of a material singularity. In order to successfully discuss the score for East of Eden in this fashion we will need to employ an additional le"el of abstraction which will allow us to reconcile what at first appears to be two irre"ocably opposed core areas of sensation. In order to do this we will ha"e to "iew the concept of sensation through the lens of another $eleu%ian concept) nomadology. As we shall see below, this will pro"ide us with a proper platform from which to discuss >osenman9s score and its intimate interaction within the internal world of 6a%an9s film. 6omadology as a theoretical concept: The $eleu%ian concept of sensation, which we used in the preceding chapter to establish the basis for a new methodology for film music, will continue to be the basis for our work in this chapter. Bowe"er, as we mentioned abo"e, >osenman9s score for East of Eden presents a methodological problem, because the score makes use of two distinct and separate musical uni"erses, in essence two distinct and separate instances of sensation. In order to make these two instances of sensation communicate on a le"el that does more than describe what can be inferred, we need


to find a way to allow the two to build an e pressi"e relationship, not one that merely communicates in a representational or figural manner. To accomplish this we will enlist the $eleu%ian concept of nomadology into ser"ice. Bowe"er, before discussing the 'h# and the 'hat 'the haecceity( of nomadology, we will need to pro"ide a bit of historic conte t for our decision. Arior to the late compositions of >ichard /agner, the majority of harmonic mo"ement in music proceeded teleologically towards a final tonic chord. The arri"al at this final chord needed to be achie"ed in order for any rigorously constructed classical composition to be concluded 'Kesbitt, :<<.) 74(. An e ample of this makes this easier to understand. /hen first studying piano as a young child I played e clusi"ely in the key of 0 major. The reasons for this were simple) the key of 0 major uses only the white keys of the piano and thereby a"oids the need for the beginner to play any of the black keys, which makes performance simpler. Thus e"ery piece of music that I played began on the 0 chord 'the tonic&principal chord of 0 major( and went through a series of simple progressions in order to reachie"e the point of repose and finality represented by the 0 chord at the end of the piece. /ithin the key of 0 major e"ery chord, as codified by Bugo >iemann in his 14,- treatise on harmony, 8ereinfachte Harmonielehre, relates in some way to the tonic chord of 0 major 'Kesbitt, :<<.) 7?(. Thus, there e ists a structural hierarchy in traditional classical music which is represented by the chordal structure ofany gi"en key. Gn a basic le"el this sense of order and teleological process go"erned and organi%ed /estern art music until the music of >ichard /agner9s late music dramas destabili%ed its influence and sent music on a new course. /agner9s ad"anced "ocabulary of late nineteenth-century harmonic progressions liberated music from the


tyranny of classical control and pushed the limits of harmonic progression far beyond pre-established limits. As >ick Kesbitt points out, @in a general sense, the problem of internal difference can be said to be the problem /estern concert music addresses from /agner9s Tristan '147?( through to the period in which $eleu%e constructs his properly philosophical notion. The concept of internal difference transforms our understanding of music in opposition to a classical model of harmonic analysis.9 'Kesbitt, :<<.) 7?( Indeed, as Kesbitt posits, it is possible to trace the crisis in traditional harmonic practice at the end of the nineteenth century to the destabili%ation of the traditional harmonic progression that reached its first full flowering in the music of /agner. 3ollowing this /agnerian-imposed harmonic crisis, music turned in a new direction which ultimately culminated in 1,:< with Arnold =choenberg9s complete @dehierarchising codification of a twel"e-tone system of harmonic practice.9 'Kesbitt, :<<.) 7,( In this system none of the twel"e notes of the chromatic scale bears any relation of dominance or superiority o"er any other, each becomes an internally differentiated entity unto itself, each of which must simply follow another in a predetermined order 'Kesbitt, :<<.) 7,(. As Kesbitt suggests, this new system of musical go"ernance, broke away from the control of a >iemannian imposed teleology and instead worked to cut off e ternally imposed forms and replace them instead @with internally generated distinctions.9 'Kesbitt, :<<.) 21( Thus in a $eleu%ian sense it is possible to understand music before the /agnerian crisis as one predicated on order, uni"ersal process and control. In their 1,42 te t omadolog#: The .ar &achine, $eleu%e and #uattari refer to this process of order and control as =tate-science5 a term which is certainly non-nomadological.


Thus, music before /agner might be considered a process of =tate-science. The other term which $eleu%e and #uattari use within the concept of nomadology might more readily be used to refer to post-/agnerian music, which is characteri%ed by internally generated distinctions. In other words, in a nomadological sense, the pre-/agnerian in music represented the empiricism of a state-controlled system, a royal science, which $eleu%e argues must proceed by e tracting in"ariant ']uni"ersalU( laws from the "ariations of matter, while keeping this in line with the binary opposition of form and matter 'Bolland) :<<.) ::(. This state imposed science, represents a type of interiority that has at its core a need to reproduce itself, remaining identical to itself across its "ariations yet remaining easily recogni%able within the limits of its pole '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,42b) 12(. As such it is possible to understand the role of state imposed royal science to be an @ideal of reproduction.9 '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,42b) -2( This is in great part because the modern state defines itself in principle as @the rational and reasonable organi%ation of a community9 '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,42b) .:(C a community in which @reproduction implies the permanence of a fi ed "iew that is e ternal to what is reproduced.9 '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,42b) -2( This concept can be best understood as what $eleu%e calls the @striated space of the cogitato uni!ersalis9, a method which traces a path that must be followed from one point to another in order to conform to the state-mandated system '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,42b) ..(. The post-/agnerian system of music occupies a position not of statemandated science but as nomosC the one outside the city walls, free from the empiricism, teleology and organi%ation imposed by state controlled royal science 'Bolland) :<<.) :1(. In other words, as $eleu%e says, the atonal system de"eloped


after /agner created a musical space which @is no longer a di"ision of that which is distributed9, but is instead @a di"ision among those who distribute themsel!es in open space Z a space which is unlimited, or at least without precise limits.9 '$eleu%e, 1,,.) -2( +iewed in this way it is possible to understand the atonality in >osenman9s score not as an e tension of the sensation world of the tonal, but instead as one which is charged with @warding off the formation of a =tate apparatus,9 and instead making such a formation impossible '$eleu%e, 1,42b) 11(. This of course allows us to "iew the two areas of sensation as part of one world thereby allowing us to "iew them as a deri"ati"e of the essence, or @the power that creates difference.9 '0olebrook, :<<2) 1.( As 0laire 0olebrook states, @An essence is what allows for in"ention, creation or time in its true sense, a time of change not a time of sameness.9 '0olebrook, :<<2) 17( As $eleu%e suggests in a different but helpful conte t, these two poles, the tonal and the atonal, stand @in opposition term by term, as the obscure and the clear, the "iolent and the calm, the !uick and the weighty, the fearsome and the regulated NMO 8ut their opposition is only relati"eC they function as a pair, in alteration, as though they e pressed a di"ision of the Gne or constituted themsel"es a so"ereign unity.9 '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,42b) 1( 5mploying the $eleu%ian concept of nomadology will thus become e tremely important to our discussion of >osenman9s score for East of Eden because it enables us to de"elop a plane on which these two seemingly opposed worlds, the atonal and tonal can e ist separately and yet as part of a greater wholeC the di"ision of the Gne. This concept of the Gne stems from the concept of uni"ocity which $eleu%e ad"ances in ,ifference and @e(etition, where he argues that no e"ent or process is more real


than any other$ Thus in a $eleu%ian sense there are not two harmonic worlds, the atonal and the tonal, but rather one world of harmony which allows for a unity of process, the Gne, which encompasses all music, whether =tate-science or nomadscience. This allows a conceptuali%ing of the @becoming-music9 of >osenman9s two poles of core sensations which does not ha"e to be either uniform or homogenousC but instead are a becoming in which, as 0laire 0olebrook states, @there is no o"erall goal or end towards which change is directed. 5ach flow of life affirms its distinct power to becomeC there is no e"olutionary trend in general, only the stri"ing or creati"e change of singularities.9 '0olebrook, :<<:) 7?( Therefore, in a sense >osenman9s score is true to the open-endedness of the film and the lack of a sense of closure in the narrati"e. /e really do not know what happens to Adam, 0al and Abra after the film9s final scene, and as such the film remains true to the immanent mo"ement in music. This freedom to e plore the two areas of sensation, which e ist distinctly as a pair united not only as opposites but within a whole, gi"es us the freedom to mo"e past the simplistic reading which intuits the score as a communication of a basic good&bad psychological framework, a reading against which $eleu%e would caution us. As 8rian 1assumi reminds us, $eleu%e and #uattari "iewed the concept of communication as a !uestionable one. Instead they preferred to suggest that the essence of communication was a kind of e pression '1assumi, :<<:) iii(. 1assumi goes on to suggest that one of the reasons $eleu%e and #uattari found the basic communicational model !uestionable was because adopting it assumed that there e isted a world of @already-defined things ready for mirroring.9 '1assumi, :<<:) "( In other words if we merely attempt to understand >osenman9s atonality as a referent


for 0al9s psychological displacement we are guilty of merely replacing one set of signs with another. That is, by asking what it means, we do not consider how art works '0olebrook, :<<:) 1??(. The result is that we learn little about what

>osenman9s two tonal worlds e press, only what they refer to. $eleu%e suggests that @one can ne"er assign the form of e pression the function of simply representing, describing, or a"erring a corresponding content) there is neither correspondence nor conformity '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,4?) 42(. This is e tremely helpful to the unresol"ed conundrum represented by >osenman9s two tonal worlds, because it gi"es us permission to do away with our initial e pectations and instead allows us to mo"e beyond them. /e do not ha"e to simply rely on the music as representing or fulfilling an e pectation, an implication if you will, which is not conscious or e plicit. Instead, we can understand it as a force which pushes the music forward without specifying where it can, should or must go '5"ens, :<<:) 141(. In other words, we no longer ha"e to understand the point of the atonality in the 0al theme as merely representing 0al9s inner turmoil, a simple becoming-other in music, but instead are now free to see it as one pole of a core of sensation, a di"ision of the Gne that results in a becoming-0al, or e"en more e citingly, a becoming of the entire filmic uni"erse of East of Eden$ /e will see, as we mo"e forward, that the nomadological aspects of 0al9s theme make the theme more immediately sensiti"e to the connection between the content of the narrati"e and the emotional and affecti"e e pression of the internal in 0al than the score9s other two themes do. The reason for this can be found in the fact that the atonality of >osenmanQs theme can be understood to represent the "arious streams of becoming in 0al) his search for the truth, his need to understand the past,


his psychological conflictedness, and his longing to communicate and engage with his world. Bowe"er, the 0al theme9s atonality, the otherness of the theme9s musical language enables it to project not only the immediately ob"ious elements of 0al, but also the "arious elements which are less ob"ious in him, such as his internalness. It is the atonality of the 0al theme which places 0al in opposition not only to the other characters in the film, but also to all film music that precedes >osenman9s score. Thus, 0al and the 0al theme represent the nomadological essence of the warmachine. $eleu%e and #uattari understand the war-machine to be the mechanism which works against the =tate and its9 imposed striation of space, by interrupting this and replacing it with smooth space. Thus, 0al and the 0al theme stand in opposition not only to the other themes in the score, but to the history of film composition to that point. It is for this "ery reason that $eleu%e argues that nomad science, is ne"er a @prepared and therefore homogeni%ed matter, but is essentially laden with singularitites.9 '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,42b) -1( In essence, the 0al theme e ists as local singularity in the film, but also an historical one in the film music uni"erse. Bowe"er this reali%ation does not by itself refute the possibility of dialogue between the two harmonic cores in >osenman9s score. As >onald 8ogue suggests, e"ery milieu is in contact with other milieus and each code is in a state of perceptual transcoding and transduction '8ogue, :<<-) 1?(. The film9s three themes, although drawn from two distinct and uni!ue musical synta es are deri"ati"e of the same core area of musical sensation. 0ertainly, the syntactical elements of the two harmonic worlds may differ, but they are none the less drawn from the same core area of


sensation, and as such communicate and interrelate with each other on "arious le"els of comple ity. Therefore, when approached in a nomadological sense, the two worlds of the score remain e!ual and indi"isible parts of the Gne which is the score. As such they are able not only to embody an entire series of dualities, but also the whole, the core area of sensation that is in a constant state of becoming throughout the film&score. /e can understand this by illustrating the point with a number of the dyads represented in the film&score) honesty& dishonesty, good &bad, lo"e&hate, American&foreign, traditional&untraditional, tonal&atonal, and territoriali%ed&unterritoriali%ed. 5ach of these represents a di"ision of the Gne and is a separate part of a di"isible dyad, yet each is counterbalanced by its opposite to create a whole within the film. $eleu%e reminds us that @the nomad can be called the $eterritoriali%ation (ar excellence$’ '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,42b) 7:( $eleu%e9s concept of the deterritoriali%ation&territoriali%ation is particularly helpful here as we shall see below, because it allows >osenman the opportunity to establish the musico&narrati"e worlds of the 0al&Aron, 0al&Adam dyads. $eleu%e "iews the deterritoriali%ation&'re(territoriali%ation concept as a way of establishing an oppositional dyad that does not fragment, but rather represents the duality which is the traditional underpinning of /estern philosophy) the two areas of regulated state science&thought and the less regulated nomadic thought. 3or $eleu%e, these two areas form a constantly fluctuating and immanently reproportioned di"ision of a larger whole. Bowe"er, in spite of this they remain One and must be concei"ed as one and not a dyadinal pair. $eleu%e9s concept frees us to do this and remo"es the traditional duality which is often present in /estern philosophical thought. This frees us to


understand the area of sensation which is >osenman9s score, and indeed the narrati"e flow of the entire film as an area of Gne, comprised of two di"idual units which are constantly reorienting and disorienting the other member of the dyadinal pair. In this way the film&score allows the nomadological to deterritoriali%e the accepted status !uo represented by 0al9s relationship with his brother and father and in so doing the concept becomes particularly useful for representing not only the dyadinal world of the score 'tonal&atonal within one area of sensation( but also the dyadinal relationships between 0al&Aron and 0al&Adam. Bowe"er, this "ery fact ser"es to remind us that the purpose of the atonal in the score is to be the deterritoriali%ation of the filmic score&world& uni"erse. In turn the world of the tonal ser"es to be e pressi"e of the opposition end of the dyad pole inasmuch as it ser"es to construct a territory. That territory, constructed by the state defends against the an ieties, fears, pressures of the dyadinal conflict present in the film9s diegesis yet, it does not do away with these, gi"ing them instead a proper form '8uchanan, :<<.) 12(. Therefore, if as $eleu%e reminds us, articulated sound was at first a deterritoriali%ed noise that is again reterritoriali%ed in sense, the same now becomes sound itself that is deterritoriali%ed irre"ocably and absolutely '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,42a, :1(. 8ecause of this it is possible for the dyads of the atonal&tonal di"ision of the Gne to e ist as both separate and yet complete within the whole that represents the score, for as each tra"erses the new deterritoriali%ation it no longer @belongs to a language of sense, e"en though it deri"es from it, nor is it an organi%ed music or song, e"en though it deri"es from it, nor is it organi%ed music or song, e"en though it might appear to be.9 '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,42a, :1( Instead it is possible


to "iew it as a dyadinal oppositional structure represented as two sensations that are a ^di"idual_ part of the whole that is the score) the Gne. /ith this in mind, the harmonic duality which originally appeared to create a methodological straightjacket for us when first considering >osenman9s score for East of Eden can now be "iewed through the liberating lens of $eleu%ian nomadology to allow for an unlimited number of lines of flight. In fact the "ery idea of a duality represented as an ine tricable part of a di"idual whole, present in whate"er manifestation, cuts to the "ery core of not only >osenman9s score for East of Eden, but to the "ery essence of the film itself. * 6omadological analysis of eonard 3osenman2s score for East of Eden In e"ery sense, 5lia 6a%an9s East of Eden is a film that embodies the "ery $eleu%ian concept of nomadology. The film creates a series of di"isions of the Gne that are constructed from seemingly opposed poles. As we mentioned abo"e, these poles, which often appear to stand in direct opposition to each other, are opposites only in a relati"e sense. They stand as a pair in alteration, as @though they e pressed a di"ision of the Gne or constituted themsel"es a so"ereign unity.9 '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,42b) 1( In East of Eden the simplest most direct di"ision of the Gne deri"es from the narrati"e9s good& bad dyad which dominates the entire film. Bowe"er, we can e tend this much farther by including other di"isions of the GneC each of which ser"es in some way dri"e and propel the narrati"e) 1onterrey& =alinas Gcean& +alley Gpen &0losed /orldly& Fnworldly 1other& 3ather ;ies& Truth Fnrepentant& >epentant Immoral& 1oral


Away& Bome 3ar& 0lose Beathen& 0hristian Ko communication& 0ommunication 0onstrained& 3ree 5 ternal& Internal /ar& Aeace Fs& Them In an e tra-filmic sense we might also draw interpersonal, e tra-filmic di"isions of the Gne from the internal struggles and tensions that e isted both on and off screen between >aymond 1assey, a stage trained classical actor of the repertoire school, and *ames $ean, an actor of the new school emerging out of Kew Dork. This conflict created an interesting series of relational dynamics that might be enumerated in the following way) 1assey& $ean Traditional& >enegade 5 ternal& Internal >ehearsed& Fnpredictable >ational& Irrational Thus, the di"isions of the Gne in East of Eden e ist on a number of filmic and e trafilmic le"els, which ser"e to create a professional tension that allowed for the onscreen dynamic relationship between actors to be enriched. Indeed, on one le"el the film seems to be structured as a litany of polar dichotomies. This of course can and should be e tended to include ;eonard >osenman9s score for the film. Gn the surface it would appear that what for us will become the primary di"ision of the Gne can be assigned to the composer9s bifurcation of the score9s harmonic scheme into tonal and atonal areas. Bowe"er this is only the beginning of >osenman9s nomadological approach to scoring the film. ;et9s begin by taking a closer look at one of the film9s anomalies) The O!erture$


If we look closely at the only e isting soundtrack recording of ;eonard >osenman9s score for East of Eden we will note that the score seems to begin with the music for the opening credits. Bowe"er, when we watch the recently restored print of the film a"ailable from /arner 8rothers ':<<7(, we are struck by the fact the film actually begins with an O!erture$ 0ertainly, this was not entirely unusual during the 1,.<s and 7<s when many major studio films were premiered in spectacular road show presentations which featured additional music often including o"ertures, interme%%i and epilogues. These e tras were subse!uently stripped away when the films were shown in smaller markets, thereby shortening the films and allowing for each film to be screened more often, thereby raising re"enues. The majority of films treated to road show treatments were either epics or large budget productions. 3ilms such as *ing *ong '1erian 0. 0ooper J 5rnest 8. =choedsack, 1,--(, )one 'ith the .ind '+ictor 3lemming, 1,-,(, The @o1e 'Benry 6oster, 1,7-(, The Ten Commandments '0ecille 8. $emille, 1,72(, Ben2Hur '/illiam /yler, 1,7,(, La'rence of Ara1ia '$a"id ;ean, 1,2:(, ,r$ :hi!ago '$a"id ;ean, 1,27(, and ABBC: A S(ace Od#sse# '=tanley 6ubrick, 1,24( all featured o"ertures. Bowe"er, what is striking here is not so much that East of Eden contained an o"erture, whether for road show purposes or not, but e actly how that o"erture functioned within the film. /hile most o"ertures were performed with either a black screen and no "isuals ' *ing *ong, La'rence of Ara1ia, ABBC: A S(ace Od#sse#, etc$D or with a camera shot fi ed in place on a title card or piece of matte art 'Ben2Hur, )one 'ith the .ind, The Ten Commandments, The @o1e,D >osenman and 6a%an choose to open their film in a "ery different fashion.


The film, which was shot in 0inemascope, opens with a stationary shot of the open ocean taken from off the 0alifornia coast. In the camera9s "iew we can see a rocky shoal and the wide open e panse of the ocean. This shot is held for two minutes with the word G"erture imposed o"er it. At slightly o"er two minutes the camera pans to the right and a small "illage is brought into "iew. The !uestion which immediately strikes one is why would >osenman and 6a%an choose to open the film this wayE Gne could argue that the film9s production in 0inemascope lends a certain grandeur to "isuals of the film, but e"en with this said one can still hardly classify it as an epic or big-budget blockbuster. The !uestion of why the opening, if the film was treated to such a theatrical opening, is a perple ing one and the treatment remains unlike any 1,7<s film o"erture with which I am familiar. Gn a basic le"el, the genre of the o"erture can be understood as a composition of short to medium length which is used to introduce a dramatic work. /e are most familiar with this type of o"erture through its association with opera, theatre and 8roadway. In the case of an opera or 8roadway o"erture the composition ser"es to introduce the primary musical themes of the work that is to follow, making the themes or melodies more familiar to the audience, and by e tension more enjoyable to them when they are reheard later in the work. 0ertainly, one could argue 'and I belie"e wrongly( that that is what is happening here. It is possible to read the o"erture as >osenman and 6a%an9s attempt to familiari%e their audience with a new and challenging style of film music. This reading howe"er seems not only o"erly simple but also unnecessarily manipulati"e, because the same thing could ha"e been accomplished without the o"erture simply by composing a similar piece for the opening credits. In fact there is something "ery different going on here.


The G"erture to East of Eden ser"es the purpose of territoriali%ing the character of 0al before the narrati"e begins. The concept of establishing a territory is particularly appropriate to a nomadological consideration of the score, because it allows us to understand the role of 0al9s theme "ery clearly form the outset. In other words, most readings of the score understand 0al9s theme to represent the inward manifestation of 0al9s psychological conflictedness. As we noted earlier, on one basic and simplistic le"el this certainly is true. Bowe"er, on a more comple le"el such a reading clearly stifles any ability to understand the role of the theme and its inherent atonality in any deeper or more e pansi"e way. >osenman composed the o"erture using gestures drawn from the 0al theme, thereby completely a"oiding any suggestion of either the 5of5 or 3= themes. This was ob"iously an intentional choice on >osenman part, for there is a moment in the G"erture which seems to prepare the way for the introduction of the 5ast of 5den theme in a manner that is "ery similar to one he will use momentarily in the music for the opening credits, howe"er, >osenman purposely elides the 5of5 theme9s entrance and blocks, if you will, its entrance into the world outside of the film. Det, during the cue for the opening credits which follows shortly on, we will hear the "ery same progression, but here >osenman will allow the 5ast of 5den theme to emerge in and become a co-partner in the score. >osenman9s possible reasons for doing this may be more comple than they at first might seem. >ather, that simply presenting his 0al theme as part of an o"erture designed to familiari%e the audience with an unfamiliar style of music, he is instead establishing a musical and psychological territory which will ser"e to moti"ate and propel a majority of the film9s subse!uent narrati"e. As we mentioned abo"e, >osenman often suggested that the role of film music was to create a sense of


supra-reality. Indeed, in many respects >osenman9s score not only creates a sense of supra-reality, but in fact creates a secondary hyper-narrati"e, a meta-te t if you will, within the greater filmic narrati"e. Thus the role of the G"erture ser"es not only to introduce the supra-reality he seeks '0al9s psychological and emotional conflictedness(, but also to set up the subse!uent deterritoriali%ation of the film9s remaining musical and narrati"e elements. In essence, e"erything that proceeds from the G"erture onward will be shaped, affected and determined by its interaction with the essence of 0al9s theme. )he nomadological structure of the score for East of Eden As we stated abo"e, it is possible to understand the "ery essence of ;eonard >osenman9s score for East of Eden as a musical and narrati"e study of the @di"ision of the Gne9. >osenman de"elops this on an initial le"el by di"iding the score9s primary area of musical sensation into two polar regions represented by the atonal and the tonal. Bowe"er, we can e pand the implications that are inherent musically in >osenman9s duality by understanding the 0al theme as a territory which will be used nomadologically to deterritoriali%e the film9s other characters and musical themes. 8y "irtue of its dyadinal structure we can conceptuali%e >osenman9s score as a series of musical& character interactions that ser"e as a series of nomadological conflicts between the "arious polarities enumerated abo"e. 8y conceptuali%ing the score in this way, it is possible to understand the film9s structure as the atonal deterritoriali%ation of the con"entional tonal& narrati"e aspects of the score, both in a musical and filmic. In essence, >osenman9s conception of the score allows him to illustrate the film9s dyadinal conflicts on a much deeper le"el than a more traditional approach would ha"e allowed.


Bowe"er, before illustrating this it is important that we understand the "arious relationships that are affected by this di"ision of the Gne. 8ecause of the film9s operatic musical structure, it is nearly impossible to understand the unwinding of the narrati"e chronologically. Therefore, before understanding the score9s narrati"e implications musically we must first understand the narrati"e9s implications structurally. /e will then be in a position to understand the relati"e de&territoriali%ing effect of the film9s "arious themes. 1. Adam deterritoriali%es 0al) Adam9s role as the patriarch of the family, the guardian of traditional "alues and by e tension of the truth as he wishes to portray it causes him to deterritoriali%e 0al9s sense of self. 0al wants to understand his father, to be noticed and lo"ed by him as his brother Aron is.

:. 0al deterritoriali%es Abra) 0al by "irtue of his position as other, his innate dangerousness causes Abra to be attracted to him. Abra reali%es that she is not perfect and pure as Aron belie"es her to be. Ber attraction to 0al deterritoriali%es her relationship with Aron. -. Abra territoriali%es Adam) Abra territoriali%es Adam because he accepts her as pure and the embodiment of good. =he in essence restores his belief in the goodness of women that was destroyed by hi s wife 6ate. .. Adam territoriali%es Aron) Adam9s lo"e for Aron and belief in his moral and personal superiority o"er 0al territoriali%es Aron. 7. Aron deterritoriali%es 0al) Aron9s percei"ed moral and personal superiority o"er 0al deterritoriali%es 0al9s relationship with Adam. 2. 0al deterritoriali%es 6ate) 0al9s disco"ery that 6ate is his mother deterritoriali%es 6ate and causes her to reengage with her past. ?. 6ate deterritoriali%es Aron)


6ate9s position as Aron9s mother deterritoriali%es his ideali%ed notion of who his mother was, and deterritoriali%es his relationship with Adam, who lied to him about his mother. 4. Aron deterritoriali%es Adam) Aron, who has been deterritoriali%ed by meeting 6ate, now deterritoriali%es Adam by becoming e"erything that Adam dislikes in 0al. ,. Adam territoriali%es 0al) Adam9s acceptance of 0al9s help after his stroke territoriali%es 0al. This series of relationships can be represented by understanding them as a series of dyads as demonstrated below)

1& ,. Adam& 0al & ` S 4. Aron& Adam ` :. 0al& Abra & ` S ?. 6ate& Aronaaa=5K=A TIGK)aaa -. Abra& Adam S Tonal& Atonal & S ` & 2. 0al& 6ate ` .. Adam& Aron S ` & 7. Aron& 0al The relationships in this chart can be read beginning from the top centre dyad, represented by Adam and 0al and then continuing around to the right successi"ely with the 0al&Abra dyad, etc. This chart represents the "arious relationships that are inflected not only by the narrati"e, but also by >osenman9s score. Bowe"er not all of these relationships functions in the same manner, and so it is necessary to e pand the graph by demonstrating the manner in which each relationship impacts the other) 1& ,. Adam deterritoriali%es& territoriali%es 0al & ` S


4. Aron deterritoriali%es Adam ` :. 0al deterritoriali%es Abra & ` S ?. 6ate deterritoriali%es Aronaaa=5K=A TIGK)aa -. Abra territoriali%es Adam S Tonal& Atonal & S ` & 2. 0al deterritoriali%es 6ate ` .. Adam territoriali%es Aron S ` & 7. Aron deterritoriali%es 0al /hat is interesting in presenting the film9s narrati"e structure in this way is the manner in which it becomes possible to understand each character9s role as it affects the others in the narrati"e. The two most ob"ious e ceptions to this understanding can be seen in Abra9s relationship to Adam and Adam9s relationship to Aron. In both these cases, rather than deterritoriali%ing the other in the dyad, their relationship actually helps to territoriali%e the other. It cannot, howe"er go unnoticed that in both cases, the relationship between the pairs is remarkably superficial, allowing them, as we shall see to also be treated insignificantly from a musical standpoint. In other words, Abra simply makes Aron feel good about his "iew of the world, while we of course are aware from Abra9s own words that his "iew of her is nai"e. =imilarly, Adam understands Abra as the antithesis of his former wife 6ate, another untruth in many ways. Thus, Abra finds herself in a type of triadic relationship stuck between Aron and his father, both of whom ha"e simply accepted that their "iew of her is her "iew of herself. The remainder of the relationships in our graph set up a series of deterritoriali%ations that can be best understood in terms of their musical relationships) 1.& ,. Adam deterritoriali%es& territoriali%es 0al KG 1F=I0& 5of5 ` 4. Aron deterritoriali%es Adam ` :. 0al deterritoriali%es Abra Cal Theme Z 3= Theme ` Cal Theme Z 5of5


` ?. 6ate deterritoriali%es Aronaaa=5K=A TIGK)aaa -. Abra territoriali%es Adam 0al Theme - 0al Theme Tonal Atonal 5of5 - 3= Theme ` 2. 0al deterritoriali%es 6ate ` .. Adam territoriali%es Aron 0al Theme - Cal Theme ` 3= Theme Z 5of5 ` 7. Aron deterritoriali%es 0al 1r. Albrecht Theme /hat is interesting in the relationships established abo"e is the way in which >osenman uses the score to create deterritoriali%ations which help to create the "ery sense of supra-reality that he stated he wished film music to facilitate. /e will spend the remainder of this chapter understanding just e actly how he accomplishes this. The principal relationship in East of Eden in"ol"es 0al and his father Adam. Interestingly, 6a%an and >osenman choose to represent this relationship as a musically silent one. As we mentioned abo"e, >osenman belie"ed that music contributed a !uality of supra-reality to the film. /e might understand the musical silence here more in a ;acanian sense. The absence of music here allows for the real rawnesses of the relationship between the two to come out. Indeed, until the final scene in the film, there are no important instances in which 0al and Adam communicate with each other, where we hear either of their themes being played. Gf course this is an effecti"e way to represent Adam9s inability to communicate personally&musically with his son 0al. At the same time the musical silence between the two has the effect of refuting the initial suggestion that the 0al theme simply represents his psychological conflictedness. Gb"iously, if this were the entire emotional message behind >osenman9s atonality, the con"ersations between 0al and Adam would ha"e been a "ery good place time to re"eal this.


Thus the initial musical component in the relationship between Adam and 0al is silence. This of course does not imply that no music is present in their relationship but rather that what music is present is unable to be communicated and therefore cannot resonate between them because of their relationship as nomad-science and state-science. In other words, 0al9s position as outsider to his father9s con"entional "iews makes the father e!ually unable to understand the @new music9 >osenman has composed to represent 0al. 8ecause of this, 0al is not able to communicate with his father in >osenman9s supra-reality, and as such their relationship remains musicless for the first two-thirds of the film. Interestingly, the one instance where 0al does share music with Adam comes pri"ately and completely unbeknownst to Adam, who is !uietly humming the 3= theme as 0al obser"es him through the window. Gne senses that as 0al ga%es through the window that there is a moment of resonance here that is both musical and catalytic. Interestingly, as we mentioned earlier, >osenman chose to ha"e Adam hum the 3= tune in its first complete incarnation within the filmic uni"erse, thereby establishing that Adam has the capacity to emanate and create music, but cannot always hear it. Bowe"er, while this is the first diegetic statement of the 3= theme, it is not the first time we ha"e heard the theme, which was alluded to earlier in the film when 0al returns to =alinas on the train after first encountering his mother in 1onterrey. As the train passes the sign for =alinas, 0al jumps into the farm field and the 3= theme is briefly suggested by the underscore. This brief statement suggests that the 3= theme can be understood not only as the musical-other of Adam, but also as the musical midpoint of the becoming-home, which 0al so longingly desires.


As we mentioned abo"e, 0al9s theme ser"es less to re"eal things about himself than to illuminate aspects of his relationships with others. Therefore it is not surprising that the 0al theme ser"es not only to deterritoriali%e Abra and draw her to 0al, but also to illuminate the falseness of her feelings for Aron. Bowe"er, unlike the stubborn disruption of the transmission of sensation between Adam and 0al, in this instance the deterritoriali%ation is gentler, and less intentional. As with the pre"ious introduction of the 3= theme, the initial intra-filmic statement of the 5of5 theme is also introduced diegetically by Abra who hums it to Aron in the scene in the icehouse while being obser"ed surreptitiously by 0al1. /hat sets this statement of the 5of5 theme off from Adam9s diegetic statement of the 3= theme is the manner in which Abra introduces it. As he did while obser"ing Adam through the window, here 0al also obser"es Abra and Aron surreptitiously. Bowe"er, in this case the implication of Abra9s diegetic statement is completely different from that of the 3= theme. In that instance, the theme ser"ed to communicate a sense of who his father was to 0al, to territoriali%e the position opposite to that of the 0al theme, the position that can only be e pressed outside of 0al9s presence. It is in essence a reinforcement of the fact that the two themes cannot e ist together, because the presence of the 0al theme ser"es to deterritoriali%e Adam9s world. 8y contrast, Abra9s introduction of the 5of5 theme ser"es to pre"ent Aron from answering the !uestions she has asked him about their future together. Abra introduces the theme in effect to silence Aron, a practice she will repeat again moments later when she senses that the two of them are becoming to intimate. In essence the beauty of the 5of5 theme allows it to persuade both Aron and

The 5ast of 5den theme is first heard in the music for the opening credits. Bowe"er, for the purposes of our discussion this cue is not considered a part of the actual filmic uni"erse and as such does not represent the characters musically.


e"entually Adam of Abra9s simple purity. It is for this reason that she is musically able to remain what they belie"e her to be. Abra9s attraction to 0al is due to what she belie"es to be a certain simpatico between the darker !ualities of their two natures. /ith 0al she can be honest and not posture herself, she can be what she is) an imperfect human. Ber attraction to the darker recesses of 0al9s character is another reason why a simple reading of the atonal&tonal duality of the score can ne"er sufficiently ser"e to capture the comple ity of the theme9s nature. It is the "ery darkness and comple ity of 0al9s internal-self, represented here by the atonality of the 0al theme that attracts Abra to 0al. Bowe"er, it is not merely the theme as the musical-other of 0al, but the theme9s ability to relate to the polar opposite in Abra9s theme, pro"iding a partial completing of the di"ision of the Gne, that enables the two to attract each other in the $eleu%ian world of sensation . Interestingly, the first fully orchestrated statement of the 5of5 theme will

again be used to stifle Abra9s true feelings. It will happen when she is on the 3erris wheel with 0al, after the two are drawn to each other se ually and ha"e kissed. In that case the 5of5 theme will be used to reterritoriali%e Abra9s false feelings for Aron, thereby momentarily deterritoriali%ing the 0al theme, in essence bringing her into line with the state-mandated trium"irate of Aron and Adam. =he is li"ing their lie about who she is. /e will further understand this when, after kissing 0al she e claims, @I lo"e Aron, I really doW9 Bere, the use of the 5of5 theme ser"es to fracture the polar dyad she has momentarily restored with the 0al theme and returns her for a brief moment to the simplicity of her uni"ocal relationship with Aron.


Two other scenes which re"ol"e around the 0al&Abra dyad need to be briefly e plored. The first takes place during the har"esting of the lettuce before it is shipped to Kew Dork 0ity under refrigeration. The music at the beginning of this scene is drawn from the 3= theme which emerges in full orchestration from Adam9s hummed diegetic statement of the 3= which concluded the preceding scene. 0al, in an attempt to please his father, is working fer"ently at the har"est and so the majority of the music for the beginning of the scene is underscored by the 3= theme. Bowe"er, when Abra comes to 0al the 3= theme ceases and no music is heard again until Abra finishes sharing with 0al about her own poor relationship with her father when she was growing up. As Abra tells 0al that she now "iews her father simply as her father and nothing more, the 3= theme returns and is destabili%ed by harmonies drawn from the 0al themes atonal language. Thus Abra9s speech ser"es to bring together both the 3= theme with the 0al theme and the two briefly deterritoriali%e each other. This union is then disrupted by Aron9s entrance which introduces a corrupted "ersion of the 5of5 theme into the cue and silences the earlier composite statement of the 3= and 0al theme entirely. /hat happens hereE /ell on a simple le"el we might say that by sharing her story about her father with 0al, Abra has softened him enough to allow him to entertain his father9s theme, but in essence this is not what has happened. 1usically 0al is not being brought closer to his father, but instead is being brought closer to Abra, and it is the introduction of the 5of5 theme as embodied in Aron which silences the dialogue of the two themes. This of course is similar to what Abra does to both Aron in the icehouse and 0al later on the 3erris wheel, but here it is a foretaste


of the relational shift that 0al and Aron will e"entually undergo after fighting in front of 1r. Albrecht9s home. The second scene that we must briefly consider takes place outside Abra9s bedroom window. As 0al tells Abra about his plan to raise money to gi"e to his father as a birthday gift in the form of a repayment for all he has lost on his failed lettuce "enture, >osenman introduces the first destabili%ed statement of the 5of5 theme, which is combined with a lighter palate of atonal harmonies. Bere, unlike the scene we ha"e just considered abo"e, the effect is not to deterritoriali%e the 0al theme, but rather for the 0al theme to reterritoriali%e the 5of5 theme. In essence >osenman9s atonal gesture for 0al has caused the simplicity of the 5of5 theme to be musically deepened, making it more interesting and less simple and naT"e. 8y doing this the 5of5 theme has been, along with Abra, gi"en the chance to e perience a new beginning, one which is not stereotypically pristine and simple, but rather recogni%es the truth about both 0al and Abra. It is perhaps at this moment that 0al has deterritoriali%ed Abra9s relationship to Aron, and, while the two cannot "erbali%e or recogni%e it yet, the score establishes that they ha"e found a common ground musically, one which will ultimately lead both of them to a new beginning. The 5of5 theme will ne"er again be associated with Aron and in fact the 5of5 theme is in the process of being reterritoriali%ed as a @new9 theme e pressing a new union. Thus, in essence the score also becomes deterritoriali%ed. It is interesting and perhaps telling that >osenman chose to utili%e the same theme for 6ate that he composed for 0al. Bere of course the musical similarity acts as a counterbalance to the shared thematic world of Abra and Aron '5of5( and Aron&Adam J Abra&Adam '5of5&3=(. >osenman creates musical territories in both


these instances that in"ol"e shared characteristics within appropriate dyadinal pairings. /hat is interesting is that we do not know whether 6ate actually possesses a musical identity before coming into contact with 0al, beyond that of the honky-tonk piano that plays in her bar. /hat we do know is that 6ate is deterritoriali%ed by 0al, who in"ades the world of the bordello and brings the comple ity of the 0al theme into her otherwise emotionally closed off world. >osenman introduces the 0al theme into 6ate9s world in a "ery unusual way making use of a procedure that he does not use for any other character. As the cue for the opening credits lapses, we are drawn into the comple ity of 0al9s world through a series of starts and stops of the 0al theme. Bowe"er, once 0al becomes more and more sure of who she is, the theme achie"es a le"el of confidence which allows it to become more complete and de"eloped. This approach demonstrates clearly that the 0al theme must relate to someone else in order to gain completeness, to become the Gne. This is another e ample of the fact that the 0al theme e presses 0al in relationship to other characters and not merely to his internal relationship to himself. 0al9s theme finally emerges in all its comple ity when he in"ades the closed off world of 6ate9s office for the first time. Interestingly, the hallway to 6ate9s office, which 6a%an frames in a manner that effecti"ely cuts off all reference to the 0inemascope film techni!ue, also acts as the insulator between the honky-tonk 'the pianist in a later scene is ;eonard >osenmanW( world of 6ate9s bar and the e"entual intrusion of the 0al theme into her office. The second time 6ate speaks with 0al, she meets him on the road and the two discuss 0al9s need to borrow b7,<<< from her. The music used for this con"ersation is again the 0al theme, but what is interesting is that as they pass into 6ate9s office and


she learns that the money 0al needs is to go to help Adam, the music ceases entirely. In effect Adam, the father, has not only silenced the becoming-music in 0al, as we saw at the beginning of our analysis, but still has the power to silence the music in 6ate as well. 0al ser"es the same purpose for 6ate here that he did for Abra, in that he pro"ides her with an opportunity to become-musicC music that is not artificial in the honky-tonk sense, but although painful, is real. In essence, 0al pre"ents 6ate from being silenced by her past with Adam, a past we ha"e to belie"e she has long attempted to forget, and a past which has been perhaps replaced by a superficiality represented by the music of the bordello. In much the same way that 6ate is deterritoriali%ed by 0al9s presence and forced to remember, embrace, reterritoriali%e the 0al theme as her own, Aron is similarly deterritoriali%ed by his interaction with 6ate. In what appears to be a moment of e treme and une pected cruelty on 0al9s part, 0al forces his brother and mother to confront each other by physically sho"ing them together. The resulting collision, which is both physical and emotional, creates a coming together of 0al9s theme and the 5of5 theme that effecti"ely reterritoriali%es both. In other words the two themes&worlds ha"ing collided ha"e now in essence become the internal characters9 dyadic completion and restoration of the Gne. 0al and Aron ha"e effecti"ely been reterritoriali%ed by fulfilling and completing the dyadic opposition of their own di"isions of the Gne. This restoration of the di"ision of the Gne in Aron now compels him into a collision with Adam, one that places Aron in the position of other, the possessor of the 0al theme, and results in Adam9s e"entual reterritoriali%ation with 0al. In essence, Aron has become the musical and psychological embodiment of what both Adam and


Aron belie"ed 0al was. The difference here, is that >osenman now @corrupts9 the 0al theme, compelling it to represent a darkness and anger that it has not heretofore embodied. >emarkably, Aron has adopted the implication of the 0al theme, the psychological turmoil, the anger, the instability, but rather than this now being implied in Aron, they ha"e become a "isual and psychological reality. In other words, Aron has become what 0al was percei"ed to be, and this results in the most shocking reterritoriali%ation of any di"ision of the Gne, in >osenman9s scoreC the suggested has become the understood. Aron9s beha"iour and its subse!uent deterritoriali%ation of Adam ser"es to complete the circle of deterritoriali%ation that dri"es the musical sub-narrati"e. Interestingly, this final shock now remo"es from Adam his ability to communicate "erbally, let alone musically with 0al. It is possible to read the final scene of the film as the internal musical e pression of Adam9s reterritoriali%ed feelings for 0al. Bowe"er, I belie"e that such a reading is too simple and naT"e. Instead, I would like suggest that we understand the final section of the film, the part following Adam9s stroke, as a sort of fulfillment of the large di"ision of the Gne that began with the o"erture, a study of immanence "ersus transcendence. >eading the final scene in this way will help us not only to understand why >osenman begins the film with an G"erture, but also how the immanent progression of the three themes results in a sub narrati"e that produces a much more significant film. I will go on to e plain this in the ne t section. It is important for us to take a moment to discuss the only secondary theme that >osenman introduces into his score. This cue, which was omitted from the soundtrack recording, accompanies the march of the angry townspeople to the home


of 1r. Albrecht, following the carni"al scene. This is the only non-diegetic cue in the film which is not drawn directly from one of the three major themes in the score. It is interesting because it ser"es, as we shall obser"e at the end of this chapter, as a line of flight that allows the three major themes in the score to be disturbed and reterritoriali%ed. The Albrecht theme in essence ser"es as a pi"ot, a musico&dramatic rhi%omic intersection if you will within the narrati"e. This cue, with its unusually jaunty rhythm and certain almost clownish countenance pro"ides the perfect foil for the other two worlds of the score because it is so easily distinguishable from them. In fact when the cue first appears, its newness is almost shocking 4 It is the Albrecht theme9s position as outsider to both worlds, a sort of midpoint between the Americanist folksong synta of the tonal cues, and the se"ere angular synta of the atonal cues, that upsets the dyadinal e!uilibrium that has e isted between the two thematic worlds throughout the film. The Albrecht theme essentially represents a courage, forthrightness, and goodness that, as 1r. Albrecht himself does in the film, upsets the dyadinal e!uilibrium that has e isted between the opposing di"isions of the Gne. It is something new, something une pected and it is this "ery position as other, halfway between the two tonal worlds that will allow it to set in place a mo"ement of fulfillment in the trajectories of immanence that began, as we shall see in the ne t section, with the o"erture.

)he di0ision of the One as organizing principle As we ha"e seen repeatedly, ;eonard >osenman9s score for East of Eden pro"ides an enlightening study in the nomadological uses of film music. The film is a "eritable catalogue of @war machine9 like di"isions of the Gne, which result in a series of de& reterritoriali%ations, which in turn dri"e and complete the narrati"e. /e ha"e also


seen how >osenman9s score acts on the sub-surface le"el as a sort of meta-narrati"e, which re"eals, comments on and challenges our e perience of the narrati"e. Bowe"er, such an epistemological application of film music cannot be in and of itself considered re"olutionary. /hat is remarkable is the manner in which >osenman9s score creates a trajectory of immanence among the principal characters&themes, which allows him to maintain the score9s core of sensation&di"ision of the Gne, while embracing consistent nomadological attacks that result in a series of narrati"e reterritoriali%ations that reorient the filmic uni"erse. The subtlety with which this is achie"ed in the film would not ha"e been possible without >osenman9s score and so a full understanding of the way in which this is accomplished is essential to grasping the film9s musico&narrati"e structure. 5arlier we e plored, on a more microscopic le"el, the way in which this takes place in relationships between "arious indi"idual theme9s characters, howe"er, it is now important that we attempt to understand how the largest instance of the di"ision of the Gne functions. /e began our analysis by attempting to understand >osenman and 6a%an9s reasons for beginning the film with an G"erture. /e suggested that the G"erture helped to open 0al9s theme to the filmic uni"erse, howe"er, this does not in and of itself gi"e us a full picture of its function. This can only be understood by seeing the o"erture as part of a whole, the largest structural di"ision of the Gne in the score. In essence we need to identify the missing part of the score9s musical dyad in order to do this. Fnderstanding this is the key to grasping the becoming-music, the becominghuman, the becoming-0al of the film. ;et9s e amine how this is so. The 0al theme, as we ha"e discussed abo"e begins the film associated with 0al9s character and with aspects of 0al9s relationships with other people. It functions


as the musical truth of the beginning of the film, but in and of itself it is not a complete truth which in the $eleu%ian sense is as it should be. *ames /illiams reminds us that $eleu%e defines truth both in terms of creati"ity and construction, but not in terms of definable systems. /illiams says, @/e create truth in comple constructions of propositions and sensations that e press the conditions for the genesis and de"elopment of e"ents. Truth then would not be a property of single propositions in a book or paper. It would be a property of a series of them through a work as it captured and changed our relationship to the e"ents e pressed in the work.9 '/illiams, :<<7) :4,( In other words it is the "ery musical path which >osenman begins with the G"erture which must be allowed to become in order for us to truly understand the truth that is e pressed both musically and narrati"ely, that is reali%ed in the closing of the di"ision of the Gne. Bowe"er, here we are not only interested in closing the musical di"ision of the Gne by restoring our core of sensation to completeness. >ather, we are also interested in understanding how the musical atonal& tonal dyad functions nomadologically in the film. The work of the G"erture is to open the 0al&0al theme to the world of the film. Bowe"er, 0al is not the only one without a "oice, the only one whose theme is detached from the traditional world, the opposite pole of the dyad. There is of course Adam, whose music cannot be heard by 0al, but can only be sung to himself. There is the relationship between Abra and Adam, whose theme is used to interrupt rather than complete at the film9s beginning. In fact, all of the themes at the film9s beginning are in search of a defined territory, and it is the mo"ement of these "ery themes that ser"es to create and reinforce this fact during the first section of the film. 0al9s theme deterritoriali%es Abra9s 5of5 theme, which cuts Abra off emotionally from Aron.


>osenman e presses this by allowing the 5of5 theme to be corrupted by the gestures from 0al9s theme during the scene on Abra9s porch roof. This sets in place a series of increasingly "iolent deterritoriali%ations that culminate in the fight between Aron and 0al in the front of 1r. Albrecht9s home. Dou will recall that earlier we referred to this scene with its secondary subtheme, as the film9s pi"ot. There was an important reason for doing this. In essence the sub theme ser"es as a @line of light9 which allows the themes to mo"e towards reterritoriali%ing themsel"es at the film9s conclusion. It was necessary for >osenman to introduce a new theme here because to utili%e one of the e isting three themes would ha"e resulted in an inability for that theme to reterritoriali%e itself. Thus the Albrecht sub-theme, allows the "ery deterritoriali%ation of both the 0al theme and the 5of5 theme to be achie"ed. Indeed, following the Albrecht scene we will ne"er hear the 5of5 associated with Aron again. Aron will instead mo"e in an immanent trajectory towards becoming- the 0al theme, a fact that will result in his deterritoriali%ing Adam and remo"ing the 0al theme entirely, lea"ing Abra and 0al to reterritoriali%e the 5of5 theme. Thus, by the time we reach the film9s final scene, at the time one of the longest musical cues e"er recorded at almost ten minutes 'Thomas, 1,??) :<-(, we are left only with the 3= theme and the 5of5 theme with which to contend. Gf course Adam9s internal forgi"eness of 0al allows the 5of5 theme to become the dominant thematic element at the film9s conclusion, but the 3= theme remains present if in a less audible and forceful way. >osenman scores the final moment of the film in a lush and sentimental way, one that allows the 5of5 theme to be in a sense fulfilled. Bowe"er, we are not


allowed to merely drift away on the simplicity of the 5of5 theme, for the score9s final sonority is instead a massi"e added note chord that, while not completely atonal is still dissonant. This chord suggests to us that on some le"el we are about to be led back into the 0al theme, howe"er this does not happen. This elision of our e pectations suggests a sort of mirroring of the techni!ue >osenman used to abort the entrance of the 5of5 theme during the G"erture. Thus, the inclusion of the 5of5 and 3= themes in the final scene, and the a"oidance of the 0al theme altogether, completes the immanent trajectory which >osenman began during the G"erture, when he opened 0al9s theme and 0al9s theme only to the filmic uni"erse. Be has restored and completed the di"ision of the Gne. The core of sensation has been restored to its completeness and the score9s sub-narrati"e has come full circle. The di"ision of the Gne has been reterritoriali%ed, albeit in a new form, a form which reorients and reshapes, a new form which is drawn from itself, now completed and yet still complete.


Chapter Fi0e: Dmitri +hosta7o0ich2s score for 8ozintse02s Hamlet Boward Bodgkin9s 1,,, painting Learning a1out @ussian &usic is in many ways a perfect metaphor for the artistic world that surrounds #rigori 6o%intse"9s 1,2. film Hamlet$ The painting is comprised of manifold layers which ha"e been painted, scraped off and then relayered with new colours and dynamics. It seems as if we are "iewing the painting from the inside of an immanent and ongoing temporal process, one which not only continues past us but one that also rhi%omatically contains all that has happened, is happening and will happen in the future. 3rom this one senses that Bodgkin understood on a "ery intimate le"el the complete trajectory of >ussian music during the twentieth-century. Indeed, in many ways the history of =o"iet art in the twentieth-century is one of layers, one of eternal return. =o"iet artists in all mediums worked within an e"er shifting and changing comple of political, cultural and artistic influences during the first half of the century and no where can this be seen more clearly than in the e"olution of #rigori 6o%intse"9s film Hamlet$ Bowe"er, to understand fully the e"olution of 6o%intse"9s Hamlet, it is essential to understand the way that the film project9s three principal artistic figures fit into it. Bere of course we are speaking of 6o%intse", who directed the film and wrote the screenplayC 8oris Aasternak, who translated =hakespeare9s original play into >ussianC and $mitri =hostako"ich who composed the score. $mitri =hostako"ich9s score for Hamlet is in many senses the crowning achie"ement of the composer9s long engagement with film. Det, while =hostako"ich composed nearly forty film scores during his lifetime, it is clear that the task of composing for the screen did not particularly interest him, but rather that he saw it simply as his duty as a =o"iet composer and as a painless way to pay his bills.


Indeed, the majority of his film work seems uninspired and perfunctory at best. The one director with whom =hostako"ich appears to ha"e enjoyed working howe"er was #rigori 6o%intse", and the two collaborated on eight different films. These collaborations resulted in three of =hostako"ich9s finest scores) e' Ba1#lon '1,:,, with ;eonid Trauberg(, Hamlet '1,2.( and *ing Lear '1,?1(. =hostako"ich began working in the film industry during his student days at the ;eningrad 0onser"atory, when he played the piano for silent film screenings as a way to allay the financial difficulty brought on by his father9s death in 1,::. /ith his innate dramatic talent =hostako"ich seems to ha"e e celled at the work, and he soon became well known for it '>iley, :<<7) :(. In his early days in the cinema =hostako"ich seems to ha"e enjoyed the work, but it clearly soon became a chore for him. Be repeatedly o"erworked himself in order to sa"e up enough money to enable him to lea"e his position and concentrate on composing. Bowe"er, financially he was ne"er able to manage this and was often forced to return to the work '>iley, :<<7) -(. It must not ha"e gone unnoticed by =hostako"ich that while both draining and artistically frustrating, the work paid him nearly a third more than the a"erage =o"iet worker9s salary at that time '>iley, :<<7) -(. As *ohn >iley has pointed out, apart from the generous salary, =hostako"ich seems to ha"e used the work primarily to de"elop his own compositions '>iley, :<<7) -(. In 1arch 1,:2, following the publication of his 3irst =ymphony, =hostako"ich was finally able to lea"e his position as a cinema pianist for good '>iley, :<<7) -(. Throughout his career =hostako"ich would return to film composition regularly, either because of pressure from =talin or for financial reasons. $uring the last fifteen years of his life he was able to dispense with film composition altogether,


making rare e ceptions for friends, such as ;eo >anshtan, #rigori 6o%intse" and #alina =erebryako"a. Aerhaps the ape of =hostako"ich9s film work can be found in his final two collaborations with 6o%intse", Hamlet and *ing Lear$ /hile in earlier film scores =hostako"ich had often been called upon to contrast =o"iet and anti=o"iet themes, in Hamlet as I shall go on to e plain, the major contrast is between the corrupt state and the righteous citi%en. 1oreo"er, following a pattern set by Arokofie" in his score for 5isenstein9s Alexander e!s"#, in Hamlet =hostako"ich came close to the creation of a musical work which was at once completely engaged with and organically absorbed into the mise-en-scène while maintaining its indi"idual integrity as a work of classical art music. In many ways, this score forms an integral symphonic work, composed as we shall see using traditional structural de"ices. =hostako"ich published the score as a series of symphonic suites gi"ing it the Gpus number 112a. =hostako"ich embraced Hamlet at three different times during his career) Akimo"a9s notorious @comic9 "ersion in 1,-:, and twice with 6o%intse" Z a 1,7. staging that used music drawn from their 1,.1 *ing Lear, and the 1,2. film '>iley, :<<7) ,.-7(. =hostako"ich seems to ha"e had a genuine interest in collaborating with 6o%intse" on the project from the beginning, yet there is contradictory e"idence about the actual time frame in which he began and composed the score. After accepting the commission in 1,2:, =hostako"ich claimed to ha"e had the score almost finished by Gctober. Bowe"er, when he was inter"iewed in =eptember of 1,2-, he stated that he was about to begin work on the project. In Gctober of 1,2- he commented that work on the score awaited his attention, adding that he had seen some of the first se!uences for the film and that they seemed e cellent. It is possible


that the se!uences that =hostako"ich referred to may ha"e been early test shots of =moktuno"sky in the title role. It appears that the majority of the score was composed in 1oscow and ;eningrad, and that the composer finished it while he was in #orky in early 1,2. '>iley, :<<7) ,7(. As $a"id #illespie has pointed out #rigori 6o%intse"9s reputation as a director will most likely be secured by three films which he directed towards the end of his career) ,on 6uixote '1,7?(, Hamlet '1,2.( and his last film, *ing Lear '1,?1( '#illespie, :<<-) 1,(. 6o%intse"9s interest in filming Hamlet coincided with a period of increasing de-=talini%ation that swept the =o"iet Fnion after the dictator9s death. $uring his reign as =o"iet Aremier =talin had discouraged Hamlet from occupying a position of importance within =o"iet theater. Bis "iew was outlined clearly by K. K. 0hushkin who wrote @BamletMwith his tragic doubts and indecisi"eness, his inability to see concrete ways of eradicating e"il, was distant from contemporary =o"iet audiences that were filled with acti"e courage, optimism, and a clear purpose in lifeM9 '!uoted in 1endel, 1,?1) ?--( =talin "iewed Bamlet as a man who !uestioned and "acillated, and for =talin such beha"ior was simply unacceptable in =o"iet society. Bowe"er, following =talin9s death in 1,7- the official "iew of Hamlet began to change and he was rein"ented as a @brother-in-arms9Min the arduous and tortuous efforts of =o"iet society to li!uidate =talinism '1endel, 1,?1) ?-.(. In the opinion of =o"iet critics of the period, what was rotten in $enmark was the deep and per"asi"e moral corruption of the people, which they suggested was not caused by class relations or capitalist e ploitation, but instead by the tyranny of a corrupt ruler '1endel, 1,?1) ?-.(.


6o%intse" mounted a stage production shortly after =talin9s death in ;eningrad in April 1,7.. Bis interest in Hamlet grew directly from his understanding of the play9s relation to contemporary =o"iet life. Be remarked that @they often stage Hamlet in modern dress, but tell a tale of ancient life. The tragedy must be played in si teenth-century costume but must be dealt with as a modern story.9 '6o%intse", 1,22) :-?( This modern story as "iewed by 6o%intse", was to understand Hamlet @as a tragedy of conscience.9 '1endel, 1,?1) ?-?( Arthur 1endel suggests that for 6o%intse" the primary !uestion that Hamlet poses is what should a man of conscience do in the @prison9 which was $enmarkE '1endel, 1,?1) ?-2(. In this regard 6o%intse", unlike many other directors, "iewed Bamlet not as a man of indecision, but rather as a man who knew that he must act, but instead of reacting attempts to find the proper path to do so no matter how long this takes. It is significant that for the films that 6o%intse" made of both Hamlet and *ing Lear, he used translations by the >ussian author 8oris Aasternak. Aasternak spent much of the late 1,-<s and 1,.<s translating many of =hakespeare9s plays into >ussian and these translations are unusual because they a"oid the translating of language faithfully. Instead, Aasternak employed an artistic and poetic approach to his translations, one that made use of twentieth-century collo!uial >ussian. 8y doing this he succeeded in making the plays completely accessib le to the =o"iet audiences of his day. Aasternak9s translations do not shy away from occasional slang or e"en anachronism. In his otes he ad"ises a translator to a"oid "ocabulary not

characteristic of his own e"eryday speech '1arko") 1,21, 7<.(. Aasternak9s translation of Hamlet is interesting because it pro"ides @a re"ealing "iew of the


conflict of creati"e personalities, the nature of the functioning of a highly original writer in the role of interpreti"e artist.9 '3rance, 1,?4) 7( Aasternak was not alone in his "iew that artistic translation cannot be wholly objecti"e, rather he was one of a number of theorists and translators in the =o"iet Fnion who emphasi%ed subjecti"e poetic interpretation '3rance, 1,?4) :(. As Anna 6ay 3rance suggests, it was not uncommon to find translators such as 1arshak and ;e"ik openly asserting that translation constituted a form of interpreti"e art, and that it could not be carried out effecti"ely without considerable latitude for the play of the indi"idual imagination '3rance, 1,?4) -(. Aasternak himself argued that translations should ideally @be works of art and, in sharing a common te t, should stand on a le"el with the original, through their own uni!ueness.9 '!uoted in 3rance, 1,?4) 1( In many ways Aasternak9s translations ser"ed him as a means of personal creati"e e pression at a time when other a"enues of artistic self-e pression were closed to him because he could not e press himself freely or hope to ha"e his own work published in the =o"iet Fnion '3rance, 1,?4) 2(. Bowe"er, not all scholars in the =o"iet Fnion were enthusiastic about Aasternak9s translations of =hakespeare, and he recei"ed particularly se"ere criticism for the free approach that he took with Hamlet '3rance, 1,?4) ,(. /riting in 1,72, Aasternak himself described Bamlet as @a heroic figure, a man of high purpose, selflessly dedicated to a cause that will mean his ruin.9 '3rance, 1,?4) :1( Det in his unfinished play The Blind Beaut#, Aasternak commented that Hamlet was a play about a course of action that @fell to a man9s lot by the will of destiny9, and as such was really a play about predestination, about being the chosen one if you will '3rance, 1,?4) :1(.


In general, throughout his translations of =hakespeare9s tragedies, Aasternak attempted to mitigate the dark, pessimistic strain of the original works, and by so doing he attempted to make e"il seem less ine orable and not so completely beyond the characters to control and o"ercome '3rance, 1,?4) 1-7(. Aasternak9s translation of Hamlet, broke away from the practice of translating words and metaphors and instead focused on a translation of thoughts and scenes '3rance, 1,?4) 11(. 8y doing this he allowed himself the freedom to turn Hamlet into a distinctly >ussian workC one that took the 8ard out of si teenth-century $enmark and placed him firmly into the post =talin twentieth-century =o"iet Fnion.

9lacing the players: )he concurrent tra:ecories of 8ozintse05 +hosta7o0ich and 9asterna7 As a way of understanding the e"olution of 6o%intse"9s Hamlet, it is important that we take a moment to place the li"es of Aasternak, =hostako"ich and 6o%intse" in their respecti"e social, artistic and political conte ts during the years leading up to the project. As we shall see, all three artists e perienced similar trajectories of artistic oppression, personal artistic self-denial and e"entual, if momentary artistic rebirth and freedom. As mileposts for our discussion we will use three years) 1,-4, the year of Aasternak9s translation of HamletC 1,7-, the year of =talin9s deathC and 1,2., the year of 6o%intse"9s Hamlet$ The period of the late 1,-<s was a difficult one for =o"iet artists, and was marked by increasing suspicion on the part of *oseph =talin for any art that did not correspond with the reality of =ocialist >ealism. $uring this tense period, Aasternak became increasingly disillusioned with the ideals of =o"iet communism, and as such was constantly accused of writing poetry in a colourful modernist style that was


difficult for the a"erage =o"iet citi%en to understand. Aasternak became reluctant to publish his own poetry and instead turned to translation, an outlet which as we ha"e seen abo"e allowed him to remain artistically engaged in his craft. =hostako"ich also endured a period of political and artistic e ile at this time. 3ollowing performances of his opera Lad# &ac1eth of &tsens" in 1,-2, =hostako"ich was officially "ilified and denounced in the famous anonymous article, @1uddle instead of 1usic9 published in +ra!da on *anuary :4, 1,-2. This article, which may ha"e been penned by =talin himself, ser"ed to knock =hostako"ich from his position as the leading =o"iet composer of the day to the bottom of the pro"erbial heap, and during the period after its publication the composer regularly feared for his life. 6o%intse"9s early films had been strongly critici%ed by =o"iet authorities for their modernist tendencies and for his use of techni!ues that were assumed to be drawn from #erman e pressionism. As a result 6o%intse" de"oted himself during this period to work on the &axim trilogy '1,-7--,(, a series of films about the >ussian re"olutionary hero. This trilogy marked a direct departure from the e periments of his early career and instead represented a blend of solid film making and =o"iet propaganda. The period following the death of *oseph =talin in 1,7- marked the beginning of a politically sanctioned period of de-=talini%ation. In 1,72 =o"iet premier Kikita 6hrushche" made a secret speech denouncing =talin and this was followed by a subse!uent inter"al of increased artistic freedom in the =o"iet Fnion. 3or Aasternak the period was a time of rich artistic rebirth. The completion of his no"el, ,r$ :hi!ago in 1,72 and the subse!uent awarding of a Kobel Ari%e for ;iterature in 1,74 'an award that Aasternak turned down( brought him into a position of international prominence. 6o%intse" also e perienced a period of renewed artistic rein"igoration,


making what many critics feel were his finest films during this time. =imilarly, =hostako"ich benefited from the 6hrushche" @Thaw9 and was allowed greater freedom to tra"el, making trips to the Fnited =tates and 5ngland. Bowe"er, in return for this artistic freedom =hostako"ich was also e pected to fulfill an increasing number of political and official commissions and duties. The year 1,2. besides being the year of the premiere of 6o%intse"9s Hamlet, was also the final year of the 6hrushche" Thaw and he was subse!uently displaced by ;eonid 8re%hne" who imposed an almost immediate tightening of artistic control. $uring the period leading up to 8re%hne"9s take-o"er of the =o"iet go"ernment, there was, as we ha"e seen abo"e, a period of renewed enthusiasm for the figure of Bamlet as a man who saw and acted upon corruption in go"ernment. It is perhaps for this reason that both 6o%intse" and =hostako"ich 'Aasternak had died in 1,2<( pursued the project with such enthusiasm. 1,2- had seen the publication of Ale ander =ol%henitsyn9s One da# in the life 0!an ,eniso!ich, a story about life in a political prisoner camp at the end of =talin9s regime. In many ways the publication of this book, which was officially sanctioned by the go"ernment, can be understood as the cultural&political ape of the period of de-=talini%ation. Aerhaps 6o%intse"9s Hamlet can best be understood in the light of the success of =ol%henitsyn9s no"el. As such it is possible that the reaction against the political repression of the =talin years found perfect "oice in the figure of Bamlet, the man who did not "acillate as =talin had suggested, but instead saw corruption and decay and chose to act upon them.

+hosta7o0ich2s score for Hamlet Gn the surface, =hostako"ich9s score for Hamlet appears to be similar to many of his other scores. There are a number of recogni%able repeated themes, including principal


themes for Bamlet and the #host. There is also a @theme group9 associated with Gphelia, but this theme group, much as we e perienced with the @0al theme9 in our preceding discussion of East of Eden, is more easily identified with one element of the theme9s orchestration, the use of the harpsichord, then recogni%able as an actual melodic theme. /hile there are no thematic elements related directly to 0laudius or #ertrude, there are repeated fanfares which are used to e"oke the power of the court and the military. The score is remarkable for the high density of music that it contains, with more than 71V of the film being accompanied by the score. The film9s full running length is :)::):7 and of this =hostako"ich scores 1)1-)<,, using a remarkable fortyeight cues. Bowe"er, the score would still be only mildly remarkable if only for its musical density. Instead, what makes the score for Hamlet remarkable at first glance is the manner in which the composer links issues of orchestration with the narrati"e needs of the film, thereby reinforcing the narrati"e subliminally by painting it in"isibly with sound, creating a further le"el of abstraction that in many ways reminds one of the "ertical montage that 5isenstein used in his collaboration with Arokofie" on Alexander e!s"#. 8y this I mean that =hostako"ich9s score seems to concern itself much more closely with the internal narrati"e of the film, than with "isual aspects of the mise-en-scène. In this sense =hostako"ich9s score is an internal one rather than a "isually e ternal one. As such there is something remarkably introspecti"e about it and this introspection is reinforced in great part by the richness of =hostako"ich9s orchestration. =hostako"ich purposely links his orchestration to particular characters and by doing this he creates a secondary le"el of sub-plot and @family groupings9. 8efore


going on to consider the structural disposition of the score, I would like to e amine the way in which =hostako"ich allocates the "arious sections of the orchestra to the principal characters of the film. This allocation is telling and will pro"ide us with a basis for coming back to the more intricate aspects of the score. As we mentioned abo"e, the score contains three principal themes) those for Bamlet, the #host and the theme group for Gphelia. Bowe"er, with this said, =hostako"ich creates a much richer associati"e palate by establishing a series of orchestrational hierarchies that are used on a sub-le"el to delineate the indi"idual characters and ser"e to group them together. The orchestration of the score can be broken into fi"e families) strings, woodwinds, harpsichord, brass, percussion and chimes. /hat is interesting here is that the strings, by appearing a notable twentyfour times, far outstrip the other four instrumental families in terms of fre!uency. The percussion family comes ne t with fourteen entrances, the woodwinds and harpsichord share the third strata with si entrances each and the brass appears fi"e times. The tower chimes also appear si times, but these appearances are di"ided e"enly between the tolling of the hour and the presentation of the #host theme. 5ach of these orchestral families and their resulting instrumental colours is associated by =hostako"ich with a particular character, characters or narrati"e theme. The tower bells clearly represent @fate9 and the continuing presence of the #host, his legacy and legitimacy at 5lsinore. The string, woodwind and percussion cues are identified most strongly with Bamlet, although there are se"eral unrepeated string cues that are affi ed both to Gphelia and the court. Bowe"er, because these are singular and non-recurring they are heard as artificial references, perhaps, as we shall see below, to the tenuous relationship of both Gphelia and the court to Bamlet.


=hostako"ich establishes a second interesting orchestrational o"erlap in writing for the brass. Bere the use of brass sonorities is shared by Bamlet, 0laudius and the #host) Bamlet9s "igourous main theme making use of the higher brass registersC the #host9s cues making use of the lower brass including the tuba and trombone and 0laudius9s fanfares utili%ing the more martial aspects of the trumpet. /hat is interesting here is that by allowing the three characters to share this highly distincti"e instrumental family, =hostako"ich creates a sub-family grouping here that links the film9s three main protagonists in a manner that is at once sonically identifiable and yet subconscious. Gn an elemental le"el, the disposition of the score9s three main thematic elements appears to be dri"en directly by the narrati"e needs of 6o%intse"9s film. Det when one e amines the score closer it becomes apparent that there e ists a deeper sense of structural organi%ation here. It was Tatiana 5goro"a '1,,?( who first suggested that =hostako"ich9s score could be understood as being organi%ed along the traditional lines of a sonata-allegro mo"ement. =onata-allegro form, also known as sonata form, was the most important musico&structural form used during the period of the se"enteenth to the twentieth century. A typical sonata-form mo"ement is comprised of three main sections, and takes the form A-8-A. The first part of the structure is called the e position 'A( and is di"ided into two thematic areas or theme groups. The second part of the structure is made up of the @de"elopment9 '8( during which the "arious elements presented in the e position are de"eloped and manipulated. The @recapitulation9 'A9( begins with a return to the main theme group and most regularly continues with a restatement of the second theme group, now


presented in the tonic key. /ith this understood the general sectional di"ision of =hostako"ich9s sonata-allegro form plan would look like this) =ection 'A( 5 position '8( $e"elopment 'A9( >ecapitulation Totals 0oordinates <)<<)<<-<).2)17 <).2)14-1)-2)<< 1)-2)<1-:)::):7 ;ength <).2)17 <)-,).: <).1)<2 :)::):7 1usic <)--)<7 <)14)7. <):1)1< 1)1-)<, Aercentage of 1usic ?:V .4V .4V 71V

In her monograph @ussian Film &usic 5goro"a writes) It is not difficult, based on the collision and struggle between contrasting images, to make a circumstantial analogy with sonata form in Bamlet. This circumstance allowed =hostako"ich to introduce naturally the classical sonata-allegro, with in"erted recapitulation. The role of the principal, the transitional and second subjects were laid upon the leading characteristics of the protagonists Z Bamlet, the #host and Gphelia. '5goro"a, 1,,?) 1?-( /hile I agree with the basic thesis that 5goro"a has stated here, I think she has misread the structural purpose of the three themes. I do not feel that the Gphelia theme plays the role of a structural thematic element within our proposed sonataallegro organi%ation of =hostako"ich9s score. This is partly because it functions more as a thematic group or area rather than a melodic theme in the traditional sense. 8ut there is also another problem, in order for the Gphelia theme as 5goro"a suggests to be identified as the second subject it would need to return as a structural element in the recapitulation and the Gphelia theme does not do this. It dies with Gphelia and is not heard again. I would suggest that in the e position the Gphelia theme plays the role of a transitional closing group, a secondary thematic element designed to pro"ide a bridge between the e position and the de"elopment. In such case the structure of =hostako"ich9s sonata-allegro plan would look like this)



=onataAllegro 3orm Theme) 3irst Theme =econd Theme Transitional Theme

=core Theme)

0oordinates 0ue =ection ;ength) ;ength <)1:)17

E;position Bamlet #host Gphelia <)<:).1<)<7):1 <):1)<2<):?)14 <):4)1?<)-1).< <)<:).< <)<2)1: <)<-):-

De0elopment Bamlet) 1onologue <).2)14I <).,)1: #host) The Alay 1)<<).<1)<.)-, 3ecapitulation <):)7. <)<-)7,


<)<?)-. 3irst Theme =econd Theme 0oda Bamlet #host :)1-):2:)1?)-, Imbedded in cue abo"e at :)17):: :)1,)<7:)::):. <)<.)1-




I would propose the preceding as a more satisfactory way of reconciling what we ha"e proposed as the underlying structural organi%ation in =hostako"ich9s score. It is possible and desirable for us to e tend this principal of three-part musical organi%ation in =hostako"ich9s score into the dramatic structure of 6o%intse"9s reading of Hamlet$ Bar"ey 8irnbaum has suggested that such a reading is not incompatible with =hakespeare9s intentions, concluding that the play can easily be discussed in terms of a three-part mo"ement. The first segmentation coinciding with Act I is the e position of Bamlet9s predicament) he confronts the ghost, comprehends his mission, and then reacts to it. 8irnbaum suggest that the second part is the e tended period during which Bamlet does many other things instead of acting. Gf course the third part consists of Bamlet9s return and the culmination of his destiny '8irenbaum, 1,41) 1,-:<( /hat is remarkable about understanding the score in this way is that by doing so we disco"er, much as 5goro"a suggests, that =hostako"ich has managed brilliantly to combine the symphonic structural form of the sonata allegro mo"ement with the scenic structural organi%ation of =hakespeare9s play as interpreted by 6o%intse". 8y doing this he has managed to project a symphonic method onto the pictorial composition of the film '5goro"a, 1,,?) 14.(. Bowe"er, as we ha"e seen in preceding chapters, we need to ask oursel"es just e actly what is gained by understanding the underlying structure of =hostako"ich9s score in this wayE 0ertainly, we can, as 5goro"a has suggested abo"e, draw links and comparisons between form of both film and score, but what do we ultimately learn if anything about the interaction between the twoE In order to do this we will need to relate it to another $eleu%ian concept) the refr ain.


)he )hree 32s of <amlet As we ha"e obser"ed abo"e, the multilayered comple ity of 6o%intse"9s Hamlet makes any discussion of =hostako"ich9s score a challenging endea"our. The score is not merely situated diegetically and nondiegetically around the film but rather it is drawn directly into the internal narrati"e. Gn this we shall ha"e more to say later, but for the time-being it is incumbent upon us to unpick the film9s multiple layers. In order to do this we will need to distinguish between the "arious layers of 6o%intse" film as one would peel back the layers of an onion. Gnly by positioning the score within this comple structure will we be able to truly to understand the way in which it functions within the film9s uni"erse. In order to do this we will need to employ three distinct but subtly related $eleu%ian concepts) the eternal return, repetition and the refrain. /e will use the concept of the eternal return as a way to understand the outer structure of the film, its origins, its influences and the deri"ati"e effects of these on the film. The concept of repetition will be discussed as it relates to issues of thematic return within the score and also as a way of bridging the gap between sonata-form and $eleu%e9s concept of the refrain.

/e will begin our preliminary analysis in the area of the eternal return. $eleu%e draws his concept of the eternal return from the teachings of 3riederich Kiet%sche. The eternal return was crucial to $eleu%e9s radical e tension of a philosophy of immanence and uni"ocity '=pinks, :<<7) 4:--(. $eleu%e suggested that Kiet%sche directed the aim of his philosophy towards the freeing of thought from the constraints of nihilism and its "arious forms. 3or $eleu%e this implied a new way of thinking, a "eritable o"erturning of the principle on which pre-Kiet%schean thou ght had depended. In its place $eleu%e proposed a new way of thinking, one that


affirmed both life and the will to life, and did this by e pelling the whole of the negati"e. This was replaced by a belief in the innocence of the future and the past, and a belief in the eternal return '$eleu%e, :<<2) -7(. $eleu%e suggested that for Kiet%sche the eternal return is not a form of the identical, but instead was a form of synthesis, and that this "iew of life called for a new principle outside of traditional philosophical models. This new thought pattern pri"ileged the reproduction of di"ersity and the repetition of difference. $eleu%e argued that when employing the concept of the eternal return, it is not the @same9 or the @one9 which returns, but instead the return is the one that belongs to di"ersity and to that which differs '$eleu%e, :<<2) .2(. Thus Kiet%sche9s account of the eternal return ad"ances a criti!ue of the terminal or e!uilibrium state by suggesting that if such a state was in fact reality and becoming indeed had a terminal state, then it would ha"e already been achie"ed '$eleu%e, :<<2) .?(. 3or $eleu%e the eternal return becomes an answer @to the problem of (assage’, and as such it should not be interpreted as the return of something that already is, something that is the @same9. Be suggests that we misinterpret the concept if we understand it as @return of the same9. It is not the pre-e istent that returns but rather the returning itself that constitutes being because it is affirmed of becoming and of that which passes. In other words, $eleu%e does not suggest that identity in the eternal return describes the nature of that which returns, but instead that it is the mere fact of returning which is that which differs, it is ne"er the same '$eleu%e, :<<2) .4(. It is for this reason that the eternal return can only be understood as the e pression of a principle that ser"es as an e planation of difference and its repetition '$eleu%e, :<<2) .,(. In a sense, this is self-e"ident. =ince time and space ha"e mo"ed on,


nothing can return as @the same9. '=ee below for a more in-depth e planation in relation to the Bamlet te ts(. 8y e tension, if difference occurred in order to arri"e at some terminal point, then we could also infer that the process of becoming also possess some ideal end point '=pinks, :<<7) 4-(. Instead, the eternal return ser"es as the fundamental a iom of a philosophy of forces in which acti"e force separates itself from and supplants reacti"e force and ultimately locates itself as the motor principle of becoming '=pinks, :<<7) 4-(. 8y "irtue of this we fail to understand the eternal return if we concei"e of it as the ceaseless return of the sameC instead, eternal return inscribes difference and becoming at the "ery heart of being '=pinks, :<<7) 4--.(. Gf course when we consider the e ternal layer of the film Hamlet we find that it is hea"ily imbued with the concept of the eternal return. Gn the most elemental le"el there is the return of =hakespeare9s original play in the form of Aasternak9s translation, which of course transposes the play from =hakespeare9s setting in renaissance $enmark and places it on an unspoken le"el in =o"iet >ussia. Aasternak of course en"isions the role of 0laudius to be filled by *oseph =talin. 8y e tension the play ceases to be about =hakespeare9s original conception and returns instead as Aasternak9s creati"e translation into a =o"iet morality play which !uestions the role of inaction against a corrupt state. The return in this instance can be carried farther, for of course Aasternak9s stage play then returns as 6o%intse"9s screen play. Kot only does the stage play return as cinema, but Aasternak9s morality play now becomes a "ehicle for de-=talini%ation. ;astly of course, 6o%intse"9s film returns as =hostako"ich9s score, a composition which the composer subse!uently arranged and released as a series of symphonic suites. Thus 6o%intse"9s film and =hostako"ich9s


score ha"e now returned as a series of concert works that bear no tangible "isual or aural markings of =hakespeare9s original effort, yet remain one with it. The play has become something different while maintaining itself within the difference of its return. It becomes something new in its difference, while remaining what it was in its instance of repetition. Gf course there are other manifestations of the eternal return within the narrati"e world of =hakespeare9s original stage play. Bamlet returns to 5lsinore which is now no longer the world he left, but rather the same space and physical location but returned as the castle and throne of his Fncle 0laudius. Bamlet9s father, the #host, returns to the world of the li"ing and in so doing remains himself, but without the corporal body which has been replaced by a spirit body. Gne must also mention the return of justice as injustice, and the return of structure as the lack of structure. /e must also mention the role that =hostako"ich9s score plays in the film. As we mentioned abo"e, and as we shall further de"elop shortly, =hostako"ich9s score was something "ery new and remarkable in the realm of film music. In essence, =hostako"ich9s score is an instance of film music returning laden with the formal organi%ational structure of /estern art music. In other words, by imposing a sonataallegro plan upon the o"erall structure of the score, =hostako"ich has caused the film score to return as something new. It is still a film score and yet it is different by "irtue of what it is organi%ed by. 0ertainly, composers had used symphonic forms in multimedia works before this time. Gne thinks of 8ernard Berrmann9s scores for The &agnificent Am1ersons 'Grson /elles, 1,.:( and Citi7en *ane or Arnold 8a 9s score for Oli!er T'ist '$a"id ;ean, 1,.4(, each of which drew hea"ily upon standard


structural forms drawn from traditional orchestral genres. Bowe"er, =hostako"ich9s score is something different because the o"erall score is organi%ed symphonically on a large scale. Thus, in =hostako"ich9s score for Hamlet, the film score has returned as something different, yet the same. Aerhaps we will lea"e the final word here to $eleu%e who suggested that in the eternal return being ought to belong to becoming, but the being of becoming ought to belong to a single becoming-acti"e '$eleu%e, :<<2) 1,<(. In essence in each case cited abo"e, the intricacies of the layering in 6o%intse"9s Hamlet ha"e affirmed the power of the film to become something new. The eternal return has become @the distinct return of the outward mo"ement, the distinct contemplation of the action, but also the return of the outward mo"ement itself and the return of the actionC at once moment and cycle of time.9 '$eleu%e, :<<2) :7( Ba"ing unpicked the first layer of 6o%intse"9s Hamlet with the help of the concept of the eternal return, it is now important that we peel back another layer of the film by considering the concept of repetition. The concept of repetition is "itally important for understanding the ways in which =hostako"ich9s score for the film functions. 3irst, the concept of repetition helps us to better understand the organi%ational principals of sonata-allegro form, a form which pri"ileges the "ery notion of repetition. =econdly, the concept of repetition allows us to find a way in which to speak meaningfully about the elements of the score that are not part of the sonata-allegro structure, whether those elements repeat literally or just thematically. ;ast of all, the concept of repetition allows us to relate elements of the larger scheme of the eternal return to our e"entual di scussions of the refrain.


3or $eleu%e, to repeat is to begin again and as such repetition becomes a form of creati"e acti"ity resulting in transformation 'Aarr, :<<7) ::.(. In this regard $eleu%e encourages us to repeat because he sees in the action of repeating the possibility for rein"ention 'Aarr, :<<7) ::.(. As Adrian Aarr suggests, for $eleu%e repetition is best understood as disco"ery and e perimentation, a processes that allows for new e periences, new affects and new e pressions to emerge. 8y repeating we are able to affirm the power of the new and the unforeseeable 'Aarr, :<<7) ::-(. Bowe"er, repetition should be understood as a repeating of the same thing o"er and o"er again, e"en though each repetition is in itself not the same Z each iteration of the same thing is itself different 'Aarr, :<<7) ::-(. /hile it is true that repetition is infinite, it is not true that it occurs in a linear se!uence whose ending marks the beginning of a new cycle 'Aarr, :<<7) ::.(. =imilarly repetition is not produced by mimesis but rather "ia difference 'Aarr, :<<7) ::-(. 5ach indi"idual repetition can be understood as a limited form of remaking, suggesting, as we obser"ed abo"e that the precursor te t is ne"er singular and that the repetitions and remakes differ te tually from other e amples not so much in kind, but rather in degree '+ere"is, :<<7) ::2(. /ith this in mind it is correct to discern repetition when we are confronted by identical elements with e actly the same concept. Bowe"er, as $eleu%e reminds us, we must distinguish between the discrete elements, the repeated objects, and a type of hidden subject which is in many ways the real subject of repetition. This hidden subject repeats itself through the other less co"ered elements of repetition. If we are able to unco"er the hidden subject we can locate the =elf of repetitionC the singularity within that which repeats '$eleu%e, 1,,.) :-(.


Thus, in essence the concept of repetition as proposed by $eleu%e allows for the emergence of fresh e periences, affects, and e pressions. /ith this in mind both 6o%intse"9s film and =hostako"ich9s score can be understood as instances of repetition that differ from =hakespeare9s original, not in intent, but rather in degree of relation. As $eleu%e suggests, @to repeat is to beha"e in a certain manner, but in relation to something uni!ue or singular which has no e!ual or e!ui"alent.9 '$eleu%e, 1,,.) 1( As an e ample of this $eleu%e offers the e ample of the rhyme, suggesting that while it can be concei"ed of as a form of "erbal repetition, it is still repetition which includes the difference between two words and by "irtue of this inscribes that difference at the heart of a poetic Idea, in a space which it determines '$eleu%e, 1,,.) :1(. As we mentioned abo"e, by discussing =hostako"ich9s score in terms of sonata-allegro form we are in essence pri"ileging the concept of repetition as a structural boundary, for sonata-allegro form is constructed with the idea of thematic repetition and return at its "ery core. As a way of understanding the role that this principal plays in =hostako"ich9s score and the manner in which this relates the score to the film9s internal narrati"e we will be employing $eleu%e9s concept of the refrain. The refrain of course is understood musically as analogously recurring passages in musical forms. Bowe"er, for $eleu%e the concept of refrain has much farther reaching implications and these will become particularly useful as we consider =hostako"ich9s score for Hamlet$ ;et us e amine why. $eleu%e suggests the aim of music is the rendering audible of inaudible forces '8ogue, :<<-) 127(. This is "ery helpful, because it suggests that music possesses an internality which can only be re"ealed by the power of sensation rendered audible. In


other words music is not simply what we hear, i.e. sound, but it is more specifically what it transmits which we can understand as force rendered through sensation. 1usical refrains ha"e "enerable associations with territoriality, with many being associated with a specific region or pro"ince or with nature, as in birdsong '8ogue, :<<-) 12(. $eleu%e suggest that refrains can be classified in one of four ways) '1( territorial refrains that seek, mark, and assemble a territoryC ':( territoriali%ed function refrains that assume a special function within an assemblageC '-( territoriali%ed function refrains that mark new assemblagesC and '.( refrains of confrontation that collect or gather forces, either at the heart of the territory, or in order to go outside it '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,4?) -:2-?(. 5ach of these instances re"eals a particular power of the refrain and unleashes a particular @force9 which performs a specific role. ;et9s e amine how this happens. $eleu%e offers three e amples) '1( A child who is afraid in the dark sings a song to reassure herselfC ':( a cat sprays the corners of a house and the trees and bushes of a yard in order to demarcate a dimensional areaC and '-( impromptu bird songs at the break of day that opens territories to other milieus. These three e amples can be summed up in the following way, which $eleu%e suggests are the three principal aspects of the refrain) a point of stability, a circle of property, and an opening to the outside '8ogue, :<<-) 1?(. ;et9s us consider each of these instances of the refrain in turn. A child in the dark is gripped by fear and is comforted by singing under their breath. Bere the refrain becomes a shelter, orienting the child as much as it is able. The song pro"ides a model for calming and stabili%ing and in essence becomes a safe center in the heart of chaos '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,4?) -11(.


In the second instance the refrain creates a home, a domain, but it is a home that did not pree ist. Instead it becomes necessary to draw a circle around an uncertain and fragile center in order to organi%e a limited space against the forces of chaos, which are now located outside of the circle as much as possible. The defined internal territory in essence protects the germinal forces of a task that remains to be fulfilled. In this instance the sonorous or "ocal components become a form of sound wall, which in essence keep the forces of chaos at bay '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,4?) -11(. Thus, as Ian 8uchanan suggests, @the refrain is our means of erecting hastily if needs be, a portable territory that can secure us in troubled territory.9 '8uchanan, :<<.) 12( In the final instance the refrain is opened to the cosmos through a small crack in order to allow communication with some concept, person or thing. Bowe"er, this is done not on the side which is challenged by the forces of chaos but in some new area, some line of flight which is created by the boundary itself. The new opening becomes an impro"isation, but an impro"isation which forces the inhabiter of the territory to join with the /orld, or to meld with itC one "entures away from home carried forth on the notes of an impro"ised refrain and as such becomes one with something new '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,4?) -11(. In other words, as $eleu%e argues, the refrain is an @open structure that permeates the world.9 '8ogue, :<<-) 1.( Bowe"er, the refrain is also a means of pre"enting music, or of warding it off and forgoing it '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,4?) -<<(. The refrain is essentially territorial, territoriali%ing, or reterritoriali%ing. In essence, music is a creati"e, acti"e operation that consists of deterritoriali%ing the refrain. The act of music makes the refrain a deterritoriali%ed content for a deterritoriali%ing form of e pression '$eleu%e J


#uattari, 1,4?) -<<(. It is the refrain9s role musically to stabili%e the instability created by the free flight of chaos. The refrain pro"ides structure and preempts the co-opting of music by the reterritoriali%ation of the refrain, which returns either in the cloak of repetition or of difference. =o just what is a refrainE /ell for $eleu%e the refrain @is a prism, a crystal of space-time9, something that acts upon that which surrounds it and by "irtue of this e tracts "arious "ibrations, decompositions, projections, or transformations from it. The refrain, also possesses a catalytic function which not only increases the speed of e changes and the reactions in the things which surround it, but also assures indirect interactions between elements de"oid of so-called natural affinity, and thereby forms organi%ed masses '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,4?) -.4(. Bowe"er, according to $eleu%e the deterritoriali%ed refrain can also be the final end of music, a line of flight released to the 0osmos in essence opening the entire assemblage onto a cosmic force. $eleu%e warns that in the passage from one state to the other, from an assemblage of sounds 'sensations( to the 1achine 'the film apparatus( that renders it sonorous many dangers may crop up '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,4?) -7<(. In the pages below we will e amine the way in which =hostako"ich9s score, organi%ed as it is embraces the concepts of the refrain and its subse!uent return and repetition to bear this fact out.

*n *nalysis of +hosta7o0ich2s score for Hamlet As we mentioned abo"e, the possibility that =hostako"ich organi%ed his score around the principals of sonata-allegro form would be little more than an interesting side note if nothing further could be said about it other than this. Bowe"er, the e istence of such a structural de"ice does ha"e far-reaching ramifications for the narratological


interaction between the sensation of the score and the film9s combined internal narrati"e and mise-en-scène. ;et9s e amine how. The sonata-allegro form in"ol"es a three-part structure that can be summed up in the following way) statement-de"elopment-restatement. Fnderstanding this structure in a $eleu%ian way we can see that at the "ery minimum the sonata-allegro form in"ol"es three statements each of two separate refrains) =tatement Z $e"elopment Z >estatement A-8 A-8 A-8 Gf course such a structure in fact allows for many more statements of the two refrains because of the constant manipulation practiced during the de"elopment portion of the score. In the case of =hostako"ich9s score we might delineate structure in this way) =tatement Bamlet-#host $e"elopment Bamlet- #host >estatement #host Z Bamlet

Thus the two principal refrains of =hostako"ich9s score pass through three separate and indi"idual incarnations. 3irst they are e posed and stated, a practice that allows them to become associated with the principal thematic characters) Bamlet and the #host. =econd, they are then de"eloped, altered and combined in "arious ways, paralleling the =hakespeare&Aasternak&6o% intse" narrati"e. Third and finally the themes are restated although in the film this happens in an in"erted order paralleling the narrati"e. As we discussed abo"e, $eleu%e suggests that the refrain can be reduced to three functions) a point of stability, a circle of property, and an opening to the outside '8ogue, :<<-) 1?(. /ith this in mind, I would like to suggest that we can understand =hostako"ich9s use of the sonata-allegro form here by applying $eleu%e9s three possible refrain areas to the structure in the following way)


=tatement - $e"elopment - >estatement A circle of property - An opening to the outside - A point of stability Bamlet Z #host & Bamlet Z #host & #host Z Bamlet As we shall see below by concei"ing of the score in this way we become free to understand it as a series of refrains whose subse!uent repetitions and transformations re"eal internal aspects of the narrati"e and in a sense act as a type of meta-te tual component within the film9s greater discourse.

)he E;position as +tatement: * Circle of 9roperty 6o%intse"9s film begins with an establishing shot of the ocean from the coast on which 5lsinore 0astle sits. The camera then pans slowly to a close-up of a small portion of the massi"e stonework that makes up the castle9s wall. 6o%intse" lea"es the camera fi ed on the castle wall, yet we continue to hear the sound of the sea crashing against the rocks below. This se!uence of shots, in "arious incarnations will be re"isited regularly throughout the film. Gne might ask why 6o%intse" chose to begin his film in this manner, but the answer comes !uickly. The director cuts to a fast mo"ing shot of Bamlet racing on horseback across the $anish countryside as he returns to 5lsinore 0astle. This shot is accompanied by the first statement of the Bamlet theme, the frenetic energy and jaunty rhythm of the theme perfectly mirrors the desperate mo"ements of the horse and its rider. The jaunty and frenetic !uality of the G"erture is reminiscent of similar rhythms that =hostako"ich employed in 1,2: in his Thirteenth S#m(hon#, a work that also deals with issues of personal responsibility. Bamlet enters the castle by crossing a drawbridge contained within a circular tower. The drawbridge is raised after he crosses it, sealing the castle completely and in essence trapping Bamlet within the @prison9 that $enmark has become. The G"erture concludes as soon as the drawbridge rea ches its full upright position.


/hat has 6o%intse" achie"ed with this odd openingE /ell the ob"ious answer is that he has established that Bamlet is frantic to return the castle because he has recei"ed troubling news and he has established the Bamlet theme as the musical representation of the character Bamlet. In fact the Bamlet theme will ne"er be heard without accompanying the physical presence of the hero on the screen '5goro"a, 1,,?) 1?4(. Det such a reading seems entirely too simple and pro"ides no

justification for the odd opening shots of the sea and the castle wall, a recurring theme throughout the film. I would like to suggest that 6o%intse"9s opening for the film establishes that the sea represents the cosmos, the world if you will beyond the constraints of the castle. It is, as we shall see at the end of the film, the place where Bamlet will find his @opening to the outside9, his line of flight into the cosmos. In essence the sea represents the crack in the circle of property that Bamlet will form to protect himself in the first third of the film and will become the place to which he returns as he is seeks a course of action in the film9s middle portion. Bowe"er, before we get ahead of oursel"es, let us return to the e position and the statement& circle of property that Bamlet creates for himself after arri"ing at 5lsinore. As we mentioned abo"e 6o%intse" establishes the Bamlet theme as the musical representation of the man right from the film9s outset and the cue ends with the closing of the draw bridge. Interestingly, as the drawbridge closes it re"eals beneath it that the inside of the tower is actually a circular cistern filled with waterC water which is surrounded by the stones of the tower, a fitting "isual metaphor for the situation into which Bamlet is projected. In essence the statement of the Bamlet theme at the film9s beginning creates a cloak of identity inside which Bamlet will secure himself once he is drawn into the sickness of 5lsinore9s world. The closing of


the circle of property that he will create to protect himself will come later when the first complete statement of the #host theme is heardC a moment if which Bamlet will understand the complete story.As we mentioned abo"e, one of the roles of the refrain is to pre"ent music. In essence the refrain ser"es to pre"ent music from spinning off endlessly, without form or structure, because its role is to interrupt and oppose the freedom of the @"erse9 by calling the music to return to the order of the refrain. It is indicati"e of this that all of the themes associated with 0laudius and the 0ourt are brief and possess little musical interest and because of this ha"e little or no ability to de"elop musically. In fact one might suggest that the 0ourt related cues are so insignificant and artificial that there is no music to pre"ent and that this fact in essence reduces the 0ourt cues to refrains that pre"ent de"elopment. In fact immediately following the conclusion of the G"erture we e perience four !uick e amples of the inarticulateness and simplicity of =hostako"ich9s cues for 0laudius and his court. Inside the sealed castle, the snare drum rolls to call the people to attention as the court crier announces the news of 0laudius and #ertrude9s marriage. The snare drum roll is official, but uninteresting. It does not possess any of the interest and creati"ity that later moments of percussion related to Bamlet possess. The snare drum roll is followed by a cue which =hostako"ich calls 1ilitary 1usic, a cue used to accompany images of the return of a group of soldiers to the castle. Again, there is little interest here. In fact, =hostako"ich seems to ha"e composed the cue in a style that represents what one would ex(ect to hear from a mo"ie cue representing the court and its military. The harmonic "ocabulary alternates primarily between the tonic and the dominant and while it is suitably martial in character, the cue cannot by any stretch of the imagination be called imaginati"e.


Indeed as we shall see this sense of artificiality per"ades many of the cues that =hostako"ich composed for the court. The 1ilitary 1usic is followed by another brief cue which is used to accompany the proceedings in the castle ballroom. The cue is composed in two part form, A-8 with the first section comprised of high strings playing fast si teenth-note figurations that reminds one of passages from Tchaiko"sky9s Serenade for Strings$ =imilarly the 8 section, which introduces the high brass into the orchestration, is also reminiscent of passages from Tchaiko"sky, particularly the 3ourth =ymphony. This is perhaps telling because of =hostako"ich9s known dislike for much of Tchaiko"sky9s music, music which he found structurally and melodically unde"eloped and saccharine. This fact suggests that =hostako"ich was purposely linking what he considered the thematic immaturity of the @Tchaiko"sky9 style to the cues he composed for the 0ourt, and in so doing created cues that while simple and beautiful do not posses any of the interest of the cues associated with Bamlet or the #host. The inference seems to be that the illegitimacy of 0laudius9s 0ourt is best established musically by linking him with cues that are superficial, artificial and unimaginati"e harmonically. $uring the se!uence in the preceding scene in the ballroom Bamlet wanders amongst the guests conducting an internal monologue that !uestions the current state of affairs at the 0ourt and his mother9s marriage to 0laudius. This is our first indication that 6o%intse" gi"es that he "iews Bamlet is a man of internal retrospection. In fact one has the sense that as Bamlet circles the ballroom, pacing endlessly without paying more than passing attention to the other guests that he is conducting preliminary reconnaissance aimed at establishing the beginnings of the


protecti"e @circle of propertyC9 marking his territory as it were. Gf course this mar"ing cannot be accomplished completely until the facts surrounding his father9s death are e posed to Bamlet by the #host and for this =hostako"ich will need to introduce the #host theme. 8y doing this he will be closing not only Bamlet9s @circle of property9 1ut also concluding the formal e position& statement of both the musical and narrati"e elements of the first section of the film. /e are not made to wait long for the preliminary statement of the #host theme, for shortly after Bamlet meets Boratio in the ne t se!uence, Boratio re"eals to Bamlet that he belie"es that he had seen Bamlet9s dead father walking on the castle ramparts the e"ening before. =hostako"ich9s cue for the introduction of the #host theme makes use of unusual orchestrational elements including metallic percussion, harp and piano. These unusual elements help to establish a sense of otherworldliness as =hostako"ich e poses segments of the theme through thematic fragmentation. In essence he is re"ealing the #host to us musically as Boratio does so narrati"e ly. Interestingly, 6o%intse" felt that the part of the #host was insignificant at best, going so far as to suggest that it would e"en possible to simply cut the role '6o%intse", 1,22) 1.?(. 0ertainly, on one le"el 6o%intse" is right here, but one wonders how the elimination of the part would ha"e affected the structure of =hostako"ich9s score, where the #host theme plays the role of a primary structural theme. Fltimately, 6o%intse" may ha"e reconcei"ed the #host not as a mystic apparition, but as a character endowed with human thoughts and emotions, thereby making it possible to place the #host9s importance not in the fact that he is a ghost but more in that he is a father '6o%intse", 1,22) 1.,(. =trangely, in 6o%intse"9s film the #host does not make the three appearances that one finds in =hakespeare9s


original play, but rather one on-screen appearance, and that on the ramparts. Bamlet will see the #host later in his mother9s chamber, but we will only be aware of this because =hostako"ich will alert us to its presence with his music. Gn some le"el 6o%intse" seems to ha"e "iewed the #hos t as a sort of warning figure who comes to herald the fact that @$enmark is going to ruin9 and that the state of personal relationships has become unnatural '6o%intse", 1,22) 17:( Bowe"er, it is also ob"ious that for 6o%intse" the #host plays the role of a discontinuity in the order of being and the presence of a "oid '1c$onald, 1,?4) -,(. In essence for 6o%intse", the #host seems to be as much about the presence of the absence of the old Bamlet as he is about anything else '1c$onald, 1,,4) .<(. The first full statement of the #host theme is postponed until Bamlet9s encounter with the spectre later on the ramparts. Bowe"er, we are first di"erted to Gphelia9s chamber, where we obser"e Gphelia engaged in strangely detached @Allemande9 style courtly dance. At first glance it appears that we ha"e entered her chamber in the midst of a dancing lesson. 6o%intse"9s diaries shed some light on the origins of the cue) The dance lesson was originally scored for "iolin with piano or guitar accompaniment. Ba"ing heard it =hostako"ich decided to try it without the piano as a solo "iolin piece. Then with a celesta 'harpsichord(MThe work of the composer was similar to getting the focus in photography. Be had now found a completely accurate sound image. This is also true in the plastic artsC there is a certain rhythm of line which is proper to Gphelia. '6o%intse", 1,22) :72( In a letter to =hostako"ich, 6o%intse" suggests that in the dance lesson he wanted to show) Mhow they denaturali%e the girlMand here is how the figure is concei"ed) a sweet girl, half a child, whom they ha"e turned into a doll Z a mechanical plaything with artificial mo"ements, a memori%ed smile, and the like. They force her to renounce lo"e and to look for a dirty trick in e"erything. This


essentially, is the cause of her madnessM.I forgot to mention that in the first scene 'the dance lesson(, the music would be in the spirit of the time, as though it were authentic. In the later de"elopment 'it is seems appropriate to you(, it will already be a musical image, outside the framework of the =hakespearean epochM '6o%intse", 1,22) :77-72( The scene itself is "ery unusual because it seems artificial and staged. Det one wonders whether, as $eleu%e suggests, the mechanism of Gphelia9s dance is not designed to @keep at a distance the forces of chaos knocking at the door.9 '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,4?) -:<( In essence the mannerism of Gphelia9s ministrations becomes both homeland and style, as was often e"ident in territorial dances such as the Allemande @in which each pose, each mo"ement, established a distance of this kind.9 '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,4?) -:<( Thus in a sense Gphelia9s dance represents a micro"ersion of Bamlet9s own need to create a circle of property in which to protect himself. Bowe"er, one has the sense that because of her position as women&other she is unable to create an effecti"e space in which to feel secure. In fact in many ways the part of Gphelia represents, as /agner suggests, @a useful plot de"ice rather than a memorable character in her own right,9 and as such she is used by Bamlet, Aolonius and =hakespeare himself to meet there own ends. '/agner, 1,2-) ,.( 6o%intse" wrote in his diaries that Gphelia9s lo"e for Bamlet lacked @any sort of e alted abstract emotion9 '6o%intse", 1,22) :-7(, but rather that she was a woman in the throws of the first passions of new lo"e. Be suggested that @in the beginning, Aolonius9s daughter must ha"e all the nuances of these first feelings toward a man) the sinking of the heart, the e pectation, passion and breathlessness.9 '6o%intse", 1,22) :-7( Interestingly, =hostako"ich scored the Gphelia theme group for harpsichord, but the instrument that we see in the shot is a lute. This is a "ery subtle bit of "isual


trickery, for we know that 6o%intse" wanted =hostako"ich to score the scene in the musical style of the play9s period, yet the instrument we see is not the instrument that produces the sound. The lute is in fact a harpsichord much as the =hakespeare we e perience here is in fact Aasternak who has become 6o%intse". Gn another le"el the play has become a film and $emark has become =o"iet >ussia. It is for this "ery reason that Gphelia9s theme group cannot function as a structural pillar in =hostako"ich9s sonata-allegro form. The use of sonata-allegro form is a musical metaphor for the desire of Bamlet and the #host to bring order and structure to the instability and untruth of 5lsinore, and because Gphelia9s theme group is artificial and decepti"e it cannot participate in this. 6o%intse", ha"ing e posed the idea of the #host in the se!uence with Boratio, now brings the image of the #host to @life9 before Bamlet9s eyes. The internal manifestation of the #host is re"ealed by the first complete statement of the score9s secondary thematic element, the #host theme. 8y "irtue of this e position Bamlet9s circle of property, his defence against chaos is completed. This in essence completes the first conceptual area of the return&repetition&refrain, as reali%ed in =hostako"ich9s score through the application of the sonata-allegro form. This also completes the first section of the score9s sonata-allegro form 'e position&statement( and leads to the identification of the #host theme with the "isage of the #host. Interestingly, =hostako"ich9s orchestration for the #host theme leans hea"ily on low brass, an interesting choice to depict the lightness of a disembodied spirit. I would propose howe"er, that the scoring suggests another possibility, this being that the weight of the #host theme indicates that the #host is in fact bound to the earth by his rage and desire for re"engeC that he is ne"er far from the e"ents in the castle. This of course is


seconded by the statements of the theme that emanate from the castle9s tower clock. As 5goro"a has suggested, the most remarkable characteristic of the #host9s leitmoti" is its in"ariability. The rhythmic e"enness and cold impartiality of the Ahrygian mode, which is at the core of this leitmoti", causes it to resemble a chorale '5goro"a, 1,,?) 1?4(. This resemblance lends a spiritual !uality to the cue and makes it the perfect foil for the impetuous intellectualism of the Bamlet theme. $uring the scene where Bamlet speaks to his father on the castle ramparts he is constantly framed against the backdrop of the sea. Gnce again the sea represents a period of contemplation and openness for Bamlet, something that can only happen outside of the castle. Bamlet has been freed from things, as they appear, to see the things as they truly are. The #host theme has closed the circle of property around Bamlet, he understands what has happened and that, by "irtue of this, he is set apart from the remainder of the court. In the midst of the chaos that is the court Bamlet is now called to act and he can do no other because the truth has been e posed to him. In essence at this moment, Bamlet has been separated musically and personally to 1ecome a man of action. 8y "irtue of this the conclusion of the musical e position becomes the conclusion of the e position of =hakespeare9s play. The #host lea"es Bamlet who grasps and understands the situation as it is and, knowing this, falls into a deep sleep. As he awakes reali%ing that the time has become out of joint, that its position between what is and what will be, between life and death, truth and deception, has caused him to e perience complete openness to what must be. $eleu%e suggests that Bamlet9s re"elation that the time is out of joint signifies for the first time that because time is unhinged it is now open to the future. Time is no longer time in the cosmic sense, but the time of the city without a closure


'/ilson, :<<?) ::?(. Fltimately, Hamlet becomes a play about the future as a disrupti"e blast from the past, where @e"erything begins in the imminence of a reapparition9 '/ilson, :<<?) ::4(. In essence the past has returned and is repeated as the future) a future which forces Bamlet to become a man of action and one who must creati"ely allow the return to bring abou t the correction and not mere repetition. The e position concludes with a transitional scene&cue, in which Bamlet and Gphelia part without speaking a word to each other. The scene is accompanied by the artificial stiltedness of Gphelia9s theme group which is completely o"erwhelmed by the passion and obsession of Bamlet9s theme. Gphelia becomes the platform on which Bamlet9s becoming as a man of action, the ascendancy of his personal theme, his circle of property, can now be reali%ed and enacted.

)he De0elopment as an opening to the outside $uring the middle-third of the film Bamlet9s circle of property, established by the e position of the Bamlet and #host themes is opened to the outside, to the cosmos as he considers a course of action. $uring this portion of the film Bamlet will, for all intents and purposes, become an actor, a position he will maintain throughout the entirety of this section of the film. Bamlet9s role is to become an actor in the play&film that he is acting within. In order for this to happen, howe"er, Bamlet must be e posed to an opening in the circle of property that he created in the first section of the film. As $eleu%e reminds us the opening comes not from the side of the circle where chaos reigns but from another une pected side. '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,4?) -<<( Appropriately, the opening in the circle will be pro"ided by the arri"al of a troop of playersC performers who like Bamlet adopt roles in order to meet the particular needs of indi"idual re!uirements. In this section of the film the concept of


de"elopment in the form of role-playing, internal contemplation and thematic elaboration is pri"ileged o"er e"erything else. As such Bamlet reali%es that he must become, that he must act and thus it is only sensible that =hostako"ich9s score following the tenets of the sonata-allegro form must mirror this. Bowe"er, there is one more thematic sub-theme that must be introduced and =hostako"ich brings it into play as Bamlet offers his first principal monologue, @/hat a piece of work is man.9 Bamlet is in the company of >osencran% and #uildenstern, who themsel"es are playing the part of actors, ha"ing been asked by the 6ing and cueen to try and ascertain why Bamlet is suffering from what they percei"e to be a deep depression. Bamlet9s monologue is accompanied by a new element in his thematic portfolio, a sub-theme played on the clarinet that we will refer to from hereon-in as the 0ontemplation theme, a slow meditati"e melody that will accompany Bamlet9s most deeply contested internal moments. /hat changes in the middle&de"elopment section of the film&score is that e"erything associated with Bamlet becomes something other than it would appear to be on its surface. As the se!uence de"elops, Bamlet greets a troop of players who are accompanied by a theme that seems at once martial in character but farcical in tone. This is a "ery different approach than =hostako"ich used in his earlier representations of the Bamlet, #host and 0ourt themes. Fnlike the 0ourt related themes which are decepti"e, false and limited by their simplicity, here =hostako"ich represents the players with a cue that is at once sophisticated and sarcastic. 0ertainly the players are actors, decei"ers in the con"entional sense, but their deception is false in an o"ert way, not in the clandestine and artificial sense that characteri%es 0laudius9 0ourt cues.


The players9 role as re'en(actors is made clear almost immediately as Bamlet, who is descending the palace steps to greet the players, is greeted by a young boy who imitates the sound of a trumpet. Kow we ha"e seen this same decepti"e techni!ue earlier in the $ance scene in Gphelia9s chambers, where the decepti"e lute&harpsichord decei"ed, yet here the implication is !uite different. The boy imitating the trumpet is not concealing himself, he is doing so plainly. Bis deception in the form of a falsetto shriek is a performance "ehicle designed to display his ability to play the role of a woman. Bowe"er, unlike the earlier dance scene there is no effort to conceal the artifice here and the implications of this role of decei"er as actor begins a trajectory that will set in place a series of de"elopments that result in Bamlet9s becoming. This sense of becoming in Bamlet is de"eloped further as he listens to the players9 leader enact a dramatic scene. Fnknown to themsel"es the players bring the possibility of an opening and a line of flight to Bamlet9s capti"ity in the prison of 5lsinore. At their entrance, Bamlet is transformed. Bere as Bamlet concentrates on the player9s acting he begins the second important monologue in Aasternak9s translation, @G what a rogue and peasant sla"e I am9, again accompanied by the 0ontemplation theme. Bamlet has begun to play upon a small snare drum that he found in the players9 cart. As the scene de"elops, Bamlet9s drumming, inspired by the words of the actor&decei"er&de"eloper becomes more ad"anced and enthusiastic. The implication here is clear) Bamlet has heard, contemplated, and become. Be has opened his circle to an idea, he has contemplated this and now he has decided that he too must act, but act in the sense of becoming-actor. In what is clearly one of the most dramatic scenes in the film, Bamlet screams out @/e9ll hear a play tomorrow9 and


begins drumming again. Be screams like a mad man and the Bamlet theme returns o"erriding and intermingling with the ecstatic colour of Bamlet9s wild outburst. The camera cuts to some of the film9s most dramatic images of the wa"e9s crashing upon the rocky shore line. This "iolence of Bamlet9s sudden outburst suggests a decision has been made and the intensity of the subse!uent filmic e perience gradually lessens. As the intensity of the orgasmic moment dissipates, the accumulated peace is broken by the beginnings of Bamlet9s internal monologue, @To be or not to be9, again accompanied by the 0ontemplation theme. Time has past, time is out of joint, and Bamlet now facing the !uieted sea has become, he is now an actor, he is a player in the drama, he is. It is apparent that in 6o%intse"9s mind Bamlet was not particularly concerned with the !uestion of @To be or not to be.9 Instead, 6o%intse" suggests that Bamlet seems to ha"e had the more practical issue of pre"enting 0laudius and #ertrude from becoming gods in mind. 3or 6o%intse" this was Bamlet9s acti"ity, his goal, and the moti"e for his re"enge '6o%intse", 1,22) ::?(. 6o%intse" clearly understood

Bamlet9s moti"ation throughout the play to be the need to remain faithful to the memory of his father, and it is because of this moti"ation that he suggests that Bamlet was actually able to see his father9s reincarnation as the #host '6o%intse", 1,22) 17.(. /ith this in mind it is interesting that as Bamlet becomes clearer in his understanding of what happened to his father that the Bamlet theme @becomes9 more and more like the #host theme. In the scene on the shore, as Bamlet recites his monologue, the repeated rhythmic pulse of the #host theme is transferred to the Bamlet theme becoming in essence the first instance of a thematic de"elopment in the score. Gf course it is appropriate that the concept of musical de"elopment which is at


the "ery conceptual core of this section of the film would begin with the Bamlet theme taking on the character of the #host. Bere it is not surprising that, following 6o%intse"9s intent, =hostako"ich has composed a cue that pri"ileges the first instances of de"elopment and that he uses this to accompany the monologue that focuses our attention on the process by which the $anish Arince turns into a heroic fighter '5goro"a, 1,,?) 141(. Bamlet may not be particularly concerned with the !uestion of @To be or not to be9 as 6o%intse" suggests, but musically =hostako"ich belie"es he is "ery concerned with the !uestion of @To become& act or not to become& act.9 The internal monologue ends with the return to the clarinet 0ontemplation theme and as Bamlet ascends the steps of the castle ready to take on his new persona as a player in the play the cue fades and we are left again with the sound of the sea. Bamlet has opened himself to the cosmos and he has set a course, the outcome of which he does not comprehend yet, but the immanence of which he cannot a"ert. 3ollowing the pre"ious se!uence Bamlet is prepared to confront Gphelia and to end his relationship with her. This is the first large-scale se!uence in which music does not play any role. Gf course this is appropriate, for the music of each character plays its own role within that character9s narratological trajectory. 3or e ample, the #host9s theme is the musical embodiment of the disembodied 6ing. The Bamlet theme represents the inner meta-narrati"e of Bamlet9s character and therefore is the outward manifestation of an internal embodiment. The 0ourt themes associated with 0laudius are e ternal, artificial, and unde"eloped, representing the illegitimacy of his reign. ;ast of all Gphelia9s theme group represents Gphelia9s attempt to maintain control o"er the e ternal elements of her life o"er which she has no control as a


woman. In fact, it is this "ery nai"etH that makes it possible for Bamlet to destroy Gphelia, and for us not to lose our belief in his cause because he does so. Indeed, 6o%intse" seems to suggest that the "ery people who are responsible for dri"ing Gphelia to madness are the "ery same ones who lo"e her the most. 6o%intse" felt that in e"ery scene in which Gphelia appears it should be tangible that these "ery feelings almost demand her rejection of happiness, and as such it is a tender brother, an affectionate father, and an ardent lo"er who dri"e her to the gra"e, all in the name of the finest emotions '6o%intse", 1,22) :-7--2(. As we shall see =hostako"ich9s decision to lea"e the parting of Gphelia and Bamlet silent was the only way in which the scene could be successfully reali%ed. If, as we ha"e suggested abo"e, Gphelia9s theme group represents her attempt to maintain control o"er and order in her life and Bamlet9s theme represents the internal in him then the only possible solution here was silence, for to employ either theme would mean that the musico-narrati"e intention of that theme would be compromised. 1usic, as a meta-te tual commentary would not ha"e ser"ed the needs of this scene, but would ha"e rendered it artificial and contradictory. /e will see this same problem confronted again later in this section of the film, howe"er in this later case it will be the pre"ention of musical de"elopment that wi ll lea"e Bamlet completely isolated. Bamlet will now adopt his role as an actor who plays the @madman9 and begin to set in motion the plot which he belie"es will undo his uncle. Gf course such a plan entails a need for de"elopment and it is here that =hostako"ich9s score begins the earnest work of de"eloping the "arious themes and sub-themes that he has established indi"idually in the e position&statement. As the players prepare for the play they will present to 0laudius and the 0ourt, we are drawn to the sound of what first appears to


be an orchestra tuning up. This of course makes sense as the camera establishes that the scene we are watching is pre-play. Bowe"er, =hostako"ich has done something "ery cle"er here and it pro"ides the first instance of true de"elopment and "aried repetition in the score. The cue music which he composed for this scene draws on the earlier cue that he composed for the players9 arri"al and also on the music that accompanied Bamlet9s scream. /hat at first appears to be a diegetic cue that is openly audible to those in the narrati"e turns out in fact to be a non-diegetic cueC one representing the internal turmoil and e citement in Bamlet9s mind. The music returns now as a memory of Bamlet9s and also foreshadows his e citement of what is about to happen. Thus the cue represents past, present and future to Bamlet, but the "ariety of meanings implied and the cumulati"e e periences represented offer a much richer reading than what at first appears to be simple bit of diegetic stage music. The appearance of 0laudius and his court as they emerge to watch the play is heralded by a >oyal 3anfare. =hostako"ich has purposely returned to the fanfare from the film9s opening, yet as opposed to the instance cited abo"e, where the return has created something new, here the >oyal 3anfare is simply !uoted "erbatim. This is of course because the >oyal 3anfare, while certainly successful as a fanfare allows no possibility for de"elopment and e pansion, at least none that would be in keeping with the style and "ocabulary of the cue. This is followed immediately by the cue @In the #arden9 which is partnered with images of the 0ourt @processing9 out to "iew the entertainment. As he did in the earlier cue composed for the ball, =hostako"ich has composed a cue that has limited de"elopmental possibilities. Again, one has the sense that this cue was composed to imitate what =hostako"ich assumed "iewers might e pect from cinematic music


composed to accompany images of a royal family. The style, so unlike =hostako"ich, so unlike the cues for Bamlet and the #host, stands almost in sarcastic relief against Bamlet9s knowledge of the truth. The preceding cue is interrupted by a fanfare from the players, @The 8ooth 3anfare9, which draws the crowd9s attention to the beginning of the play. There are se"eral interesting things about this cue. 3irst, the cue itself pre"ents the finishing of the preceding cue @In the #arden,9 which is associated with 0laudius. =econdly, the cue is a "ariation on the >oyal 3anfare and as such offers the most de"eloped "ersion of that cue. Interestingly, =hostako"ich has created a repetition that attains its most de"eloped form in a guise that is not associated with its first incarnation. Thus, the return of the >oyal 3anfare becomes the @8ooth 3anfare9 and as such is used by the players to interrupt the goings on of the 0ourt in order to show them an artificial "ersion of themsel"es. =hostako"ich accompanies the play, which deals with the murder of the $uke of #on%aga with a "ariation of the Bamlet theme. 1uch as he had in the @8ooth 3anfare9, the sense of e pansion and de"elopment here is dramatically profound, but in this instance the e pansion represents the growing e citement in Bamlet9s mind as he obser"es 0laudius watching the play. 0laudius cannot hear the cues that support the tension in the early moments of the play, because these are internal to Bamlet. Bowe"er, as the play progresses 0laudius begins to recogni%e the player king who because he is not a mimetic king bears an uncanny resemblance to the reappearance of the figure of the #host '1c$onald, 1,,4) ..-7(. As 0laudius recogni%es the image of his brother on the stage =hostako"ich introduces the #host theme, which now takes precedence o"er the Bamlet theme essentially silencing it. The implication is


perfectly clear here) as 0laudius becomes aware that the player-king represents his brother, the presence of the #host o"erwhelms 0laudius and the #host theme becomes audible to him. /hat is interesting here is that both Bamlet and 0laudius share this cue. The cue has de"eloped and has now become internal to both of them as they acknowledge the presence of the #host. As 0laudius runs into the castle at the conclusion of the play he screams for light as if to banish the #host. Bamlet, now con"inced that 0laudius is guilty calls for music in a mock act of compassion. Gnce again the music of the player9s original cue is heard, howe"er this time in its original form. The comedy of the players9 arri"al and the possibility of a play ha"e now been replaced by the reality of the #host for 0laudius and as such a real play now threatens to undo him. In this light Bamlet9s call for the recorders to play is at once ironic, but also appropriate for the play he is directing. At this point in the film&score the opening created in Bamlet9s circle of property has de"eloped past the original intention of the "arious musical themes. This has happened in three instances. 3irst, in the case of Bamlet it has resulted in the e ternali%ation of the initial internali%ation of the Bamlet theme. Bamlet no longer needs to carry his anger inside. Be has had his fears confirmed and as such the time has come for action and not for inward anger. =econd, the manifestation of the #host theme to Bamlet has e panded to include and now to affect 0laudius, who is aware that his plot has been unco"ered and as such has been confronted by the presence, at least on the le"el of memory of his dead brother. Third and lastly, the narrati"e need for the "arious themes to relate and commingle has created a momentary confusion of themes, which as we shall see below, stifles the appearance of all musics but the


#host9s theme until the end of the first half. ;et us e amine this last idea in greater detail. As we ha"e seen abo"e, at the end of the play as 0laudius rushes into the ballroom, Bamlet calls for music to sooth the 6ing. The subse!uent cue, @3lutes9 is terminated abruptly when those in the room reali%e that something is wrong with Bamlet9s re!uest, that he is acting strangely and that his discourse may in effect condemn or implicate him in the 6ing9s unfortunate state. /hat is left for Bamlet the musician& actor to do at this pointE /ell as we suggested abo"e, his dilemma has been resol"ed internally at least momentarily. Bamlet knows that 0laudius is guilty and by "irtue of this the Bamlet theme can no longer represent his internal state because the internal in Bamlet has been reali%ed e ternally. As such the Bamlet theme is silenced. The #host theme, which has now been @heard9 not only by Bamlet but now also by 0laudius, now represents aurally the presence of the #host to both and as such is no longer heard. The ancillary themes of the 0ourt are too silenced because the illegitimacy of the 0ourt has been found out, or so it seems to 0laudius. 3inally, the players ha"e fled and with them their music. =o what is left to do musicallyE As with the earlier scene in which Bamlet and Gphelia parted, there is no space for music here. In fact with the e ception of the appearance of the #host 'represented by the #host theme and not by the physical incarnation of the #hostW( to Bamlet while he is scolding his 1other in her chambers, there is no music in the film for the ne t twenty-two minutes. The music has been silenced by a new line of flight for Bamlet, one that is directed through the opening in his circle of property and one that, until it returns in the recapitulation&restatement will remain muddled and most often silenced. Instead the music will be replaced by words about music which


Bamlet will speak in his famous instrument monologue @G the recorder9, where he will in"ite >osencran% and #uildenstern to play upon the instrument, much as they had attempted to play upon him. Interestingly, Bamlet9s monologue here is e ternal and his instrument becomes his "oice. The implication here is simple) Bamlet the actor has undone the plot to find him out. The de"elopment of his plan&theme&line of flight has undone the illegitimacy of the 0ourt and the 6ing is undone. In the closing moments of the first half of =hakespeare9s play, 0laudius deli"ers a monologue during which he laments his plight and the fact that his treachery has been disco"ered. Bere, beyond perhaps all other moments in the film&score the de"elopment of the Bamlet and #host themes reach their ape , as they influence, perfume and distort each other as a way musically of indicating that 0laudius "ery much understands what has happened. The intertwining of the two themes suggests that he has, in essence been o"erwhelmed by the fact that the persistence of Bamlet will e"entually undermine him and that his subconscious guilt will e"entually destroy him. =hostako"ich shows this by constantly placing elements of the #host theme and the Bamlet theme on each other. The persistent pulsing and the low brass of the #host theme in"ade the Bamlet theme, while the pi%%icato string playing of the Bamlet theme in"ades elements of the #host theme. Thus 0laudius is conflicted and is attacked from two sides all the while ha"ing taken the Bamlet theme and the #host themes into himself to reflect his own subse!uent indecision. The de"elopment section of the score will end when Bamlet, now banished after killing Aolonius, lea"es by ship for 5ngland with >osencran% and #uildenstern who carry secret orders to ha"e Bamlet arrested and e ecuted. As the strains of the clarinet 0ontemplation theme emerge, Bamlet remembers his father and strikes upon


a plan to undo >osencran% and #uildenstern and 0laudius as well. Interestingly, it is at this moment far out on the sea, open to the cosmos and to contemplation of a future course that Bamlet is at his most free. Bamlet, liberated by the openness of the sea sets in place a series of actions that will bring the circle full around.

* 9oint of +tability: 3ecapitulation5 restatement and return The third section of Hamlet begins with the silence that was established at the end of section two. The tower bells toll, instead of playing the #host theme, for the #host has done his job and is no longer an abiding presence. #ertrude and 0laudius speak, but the words bring no musicC 0laudius knows that he is in a position of e treme difficulty, and of course #ertrude e"okes no music at all because of her nai"etH. Indeed, #ertrude was so deaf to the truth that she was unable to hear the presence of her dead husband when his theme became audible to Bamlet during the scene in her chamber. Bowe"er, such intense silence within 5lsinore 0astle, such remarkable tension, could only ultimately turn into insanity if left unresol"ed and of course this is what happens to Gphelia. Gphelia9s descent into madness causes her to do something remarkable within the score) the body of Gphelia becomes the maker of the music. This is a natural e tension of Gphelia9s physical mo"ement in the dance lesson. There the dance lesson was used as a way to control and order her. It makes sense then that, freed from the constraints of a need to be ordered, the music within Gphelia would burst out as a physical manifestation of her insanity. This happens in the form of a folksong which Gphelia sings as a way of surrounding herself with a circle of property, thereby distancing herself from the reality of her father9s death, the loss of Bamlet and the physical distance from her brother. The musical reality of Gphelia9s descent into


madness is made complete by the ju taposition of two different musical worlds. 3irst there is the modern chromatic theme played on the anti!ue harpsichord, which by "irtue of its position as an early instrument bears no relation to the music which it is forced to play here. =econdly, the harpsichord theme is ju taposed against a homophonic diatonic theme orchestrated for string ensemble which bears an uncanny resemblance to music of the 5nglish folksong style of >alph +aughan /illiams, which of course creates a "ery striking and disparate connection that links the film artificially back to its original roots. The fact that =hostako"ich draws from two different and e!ually tenuous musical languages here, adds brilliantly to the growing sense of Gphelia9s desperation as her two worlds collide. 3ollowing Gphelia9s suicide the orchestra recapitulates the folksong which she sang at the beginning of the section. Gphelia is dead and so the folksong must become instrumental. Ber "oice is lost, but the remnants of control that oppressed her remain and as such the harpsichord makes one final return by repeating the eerie chromatic motif associated with it earlier. As the camera pulls away from the running brook we see Gphelia lying beneath the water. Aerhaps she has, like Bamlet, sought freedom in the openness of the sea, but here, as in e"ery aspect of her life at 5lsinore her attempt is too shallow, too naT"e. As such, rather than granting her freedom, it brings her the peace of death. 3ollowing the insanity which results in Gphelia9s death the narrati"e has no choice but to seek a point of stability and it finds this in Bamlet9s return from the sea. As Bamlet stands on the shore of $enmark ha"ing returned from 5ngland with the sea to his back, he has ceased to be an actor, he is now a man of action and as such he has no recourse but to follow his plan without de"iation. This clarity of purpose


creates a point of stability in the madness of 5lsinore and as such turns the oppositional forces towards the final denouement. Throughout this section the returning Bamlet is the point of stability and the strength of his theme signifies this "ery clearly. If we were to discuss theoretically the actual moment when the recapitulation of =hostako"ich9s score begins we would ha"e to say that it is at the beginning of the $uel between ;aertes and Bamlet. Gf course this creates a recapitulation that is !uite short in a traditional sense and places the preceding Gphelia suicide episode in a transitional role. Konetheless I feel technically that musically and cinematically we must allow this to be the moment when Bamlet9s position as a point of stability is reali%ed most fully. The duel marks the point of collision between 0laudius, Bamlet, the #host, Gphelia and the idea of the return. All of the players in this scene become part of one giant intersection of indi"idual paths, a sort of concurrent return, yet one that in spite of its manifold linear intersection will not result in a terminal point, but simply a further moment of return and recreation. As we mentioned abo"e, the duel represents the moment when themes collide, and here the Bamlet, #host and 0ourt themes engage in a dance that results in each of them being destroyed. =hostako"ich structures the duel cue in an interesting way. The cue is di"ided into three sections that clearly mirror the shifting perspecti"e of the "arious narrati"es. The cue begins with a tympani roll. This is followed by the >oyal 3anfare which is heard following Bamlet9s first strike. This is then followed by a cannon shot and a second instance of the >oyal 3anfare. This entire se!uence is then repeated e actly for the images that follow Bamlet9s second


strike. /e ha"e in fact heard this se!uence in a more rela ed manner at the beginning of the film and the implication here is the same) 0laudius belie"es that his treachery has gone undisco"ered and his plan to do away with Bamlet will allow him to be in control of the situation. Bowe"er, the Bamlet theme& refrain ha"ing established him as the point of stability in the recapitulation deterritoriali%es 0laudius and pre"ents the "arious elements of the 0ourt9s thematic catalogue from being de"eloped and taking flight. In essence, Bamlet9s refrain o"erwhelms the thematic elements associated with 0laudius and because of this they are heard from no more. The final moments of the duel represent a remarkable instance of an immanent trajectory for the score9s two principal themes. As we mentioned earlier, in the con"entional sonata-allegro form mo"ement, the recapitulation reestablishes the mo"ement9s two principal themes in the same order in which they were originally presented. Bowe"er, for reasons that will become apparent shortly, =hostako"ich chose to in"ert the recapitulation of the principal themes, presenting the #host theme first and then following it with the Bamlet theme. /hat is more interesting is the way in which the two themes @become9 or take on characteristics of the other theme. In the case of the Bamlet theme the orchestration mo"es closer to the sonic world of the #host theme featuring the low brass scoring which we ha"e come to associate with that theme. The Bamlet theme also is heard in an augmented form which seems to mo"e in the same temporal world as the #host theme does. Gf course this sense of timelessness is appropriate to the #host theme because of the #host9s position in the afterworld, but here =hostako"ich uses it to suggest the single mindedness of Bamlet as he seeks to a"enge his father9s death. In essence as the duel progresses, the two themes become part of the same spiritual world as Bamlet9s immanent trajectory


takes him towards not only the successful @pre"ention9 of 0laudius and his plan, but his own death and entrance into timelessness. After recei"ing his fatal wound and his subse!uent killing of 0laudius, the death of Bamlet takes place outside of 5lsinore on the rocky cliffs o"erlooking the sea. The soldiers of 3ortinbras raise the dead Bamlet on a bier made up of swords and spears and carry him away as one might a heroic fallen comrade. 6o%intse" closes the film by using a crane shot that allows us to "iew Bamlet and the procession from abo"e. The shot suggests that perhaps we are watching all of this from the point-of"iew of the #host, who now a"enged awaits a reunion with his heroic son. Gf course the music which we hear is the same music that accompanied the opening scene in which Bamlet raced across the countryside on his horse as he returned to 5lsinore. Bowe"er, here the music suggests another return, this time the return of the 6ing. As we ha"e come to e pect, the return here is not a mere repetition but allows for something new, something creati"e to inhabit the return, and of course the new king will be 3ortinbras. As the Bamlet theme returns to close the recapitulation, the camera opens to a wider shot and we once again see the openness of the sea, the recurring "isual refrain of Bamlet9s internal contemplation and becoming. Bere we are reminded that because the concept of the eternal return does not ha"e a terminal point nothing has been resol"ed, but instead the return has created something new. 1uch as the #host9s theme ser"ed as the aural representation of the spirit #host, now the Bamlet theme ser"es to do the "ery same. The physical Bamlet is no longer, but the result of his act of @becoming9 a man of action has caused stability to return to 5lsinore.


Conclusion The comple ity of layering in 6o%intse"9s Hamlet creates a work that is rich on many le"els, both internally and e ternally. 5 ternally, the original play by =hakespeare returns in two "ery different and creati"ely distinct works) first as Aasternak9s translation and then secondly as 6o%intse"9s screenplay. In each instance the original and then subse!uently the translation becomes something different and a"oids the pitfall of becoming merely a copy of the initial work. As we ha"e seen $eleu%e9s concept of the return as creati"e de"ice comes into play here, for not only is the initial model creati"ely adapted into something new, but the subse!uent meaning is changed and reappropriated in a manner that is specific to circumstance. Thus in both 6o%intse"9s film and =hostako"ich9s score the return and its incarnation as repetition has re"ealed something and opened the original to us in a new way. Internally, the concept of the return inhabits the deepest reaches of 6o%intse"9s direction of the camera work and =hostako"ich9s score. The recurring "isual leitmotifs of the open sea and the closed castle walls form "isual refrains that pro"ide cinematic depth to a =hakespearean world that e ists all to often on the plane of language. =hostako"ich9s score, which e isted first as a film score and subse!uently as a concert work carries the concept of the return to a further le"el and by e tension pro"ides a fourth layer of abstraction that lea"es us with a new artistic "ision far remo"ed from but still layered onto =hakespeare9s original conception of the play. In essence the score&suite becomes a Bamlet without words, much as 6o%intse"9s screenplay became a film without a stage, and Aasternak9s translation becomes a =o"iet play remo"ed from its 5nglish roots. =hostako"ich9s score also adds a further le"el of meta-te tual layering by the introduction of the structural de"ice of the sonata-allegro form, which in itself re"eals aspects of Bamlet9s internal


dialogue which would ha"e remained hidden if they had not been re-reali%ed musically. Thus through this analysis 6o%intse"9s Hamlet becomes a study of the concept of the eternal return as a creati"e actionC one in which repetition is not relegated to a mere repeating of what was, but rather is the creati"e act of en"isioning a new becoming. 8y "irtue of this, =hostako"ich9s use of the sonata-allegro form in the score of Hamlet allows what at first appeared to be a rigid structural de"ice to become instead a creati"e force that in spite of its prescribed form opens itself to e press the eternal.


Chapter +i;: Fragments of a 8ieslows7i2s Blue

ife: Becoming%music/ woman in 8rzysztof

The history of film music includes a number of significant and prolific associations between composers and directors. Gne thinks of teams such as 8ernard Berrmann and Alfred Bitchcock, =ergei Arokofie" and =ergei 5isenstein, 5nnio 1orricone and =ergio ;eone among others. Gne of the more successful of recent pairings was between the Aolish composer Pbigniew Areisner and his fellow countryman 6r%ys%tof 6ieslowski. The two collaborated on some se"enteen projects culminating in the Trois couleurs trilogy. Areisner was born in 8ielsko-8iada on 1ay :<, 1,77, and is largely selftaught. Bis father was an amateur musician who played the accordion at local social functions and as such his young life re"ol"ed around music. 8ecause music was part of his e"eryday life, Areisner chose not to study it at uni"ersity, opting instead to pursue history and art at the Fni"ersity of 6rakow '>ussell J Doung, :<<<) 121(. 8eginning in 1,?4 he worked as a pianist at the legendary 6rakow cabaret, @The cellar beneath the sign of the ram9, where he wrote and sang songs. It was during this time that he began to teach himself music theory and compositional techni!ues by reading a"ailable te t books '>ussell J Doung, :<<<) 121(. Gn the one hand Areisner9s compositional language reflects his position as an outsider to the world of the 5uropean conser"atory system. This is further e acerbated by his own self admission that he9s not inspired by music, but instead draws his inspiration from e tra-musical sources such as literature, philosophy, life, and painting '>ussell J Doung, :<<<) 12-(. 8ecause Areisner9s musical synta was formed outside of the traditional influence of /estern 5uropean models, his style is highly idiosyncratic and shows the strong influence of the 5astern 5uropean folk


music that he was raised with. Gn one le"el Areisner9s music sits on the borderline between a sort of !uasi-classical music and an uncon"entional type of film music. 8y positioning himself thus his scores often refute the spectator9s e pectations of film music9s role. Areisner refers to his music as @creati"e music9, arguing that the age of twel"e-tone music and atonality has passed, and has been replaced instead by a type of neo-romanticism '>ussell J Doung, :<<<) 12-(. Areisner began his scoring career by writing music for tele"ision, but it was based on his work for his first mo"ie, The .eather Forecast 'Antoni 6rause, 1,41( that he was recommended to 6r%ys%tof 6ieslowski as a potential composer for his films '>ussell J Doung, :<<<) 12-(. Bis collaboration with 6ieslowski began in 1,47 and lasted until the director9s death in 1,,2. It was through his rich and thought pro"oking work with 6ieslowski that Areisner9s career became truly international and now includes a substantial and flourishing career in both 5urope and the Fnited =tates. Areisner has since composed music for more than 4< films and has recei"ed numerous awards for his film scores including the ;os Angeles 0ritics9 Award '1,,1, 1,,: and 1,,-(, the 3rench @0Hsar9 Award '1,,7 and 1,,2( and a #olden $isc award in Aaris for his score for 6ieslowski9s The ,ou1le Life of 8;roni3ue '1,,1(C the latter was also nominated for an Academy Award in 1,,1 '0hmura, :<<?(. Areisner9s approach to composition belies the circuitous course of his musical education. Be writes, @I try and write emotionally and not mechanicallyC it9s always important to understand how the narrati"e in a film relates to music. 8ut for me the most important thing in music is silence. And in order for the silence to play, one has to prepare it with something before and after. Dou9ll hear a lot of silence in my scores.9 '>ussell J Doung, :<<<) 12-( In many ways Areisner9s music carries on the


lyric-musical tradition of the cabaret, with its subtle political and psychological subte t. The monumental !uality of his style as well as the sense of pathos are clearly deri"ed from his self-professed neo-romanticism, as well as his liberal and uncon"entional understanding of 5uropean art music. Areisner prefers to write for traditional orchestral forces 'often augmented by a choir(, against which he sets melodic parts for "arious solo instruments or soprano !ocaliseA. The economy of Areisner9s musical language allows his music to reflect the internal in the narrati"e, because it encourages an interaction between and emphasis on both the metaphysical atmosphere and the humanitarian meaning inherent in the films he scores. Kowhere can this be seen more clearly than in his work with 6ieslowski, who as we shall see belie"ed that music in film should e press the otherwise ine pressible. The regular closed structures of his compositions allow them to function e!ually well as recordings and concert pieces '0hmura, :<<?(. Areisner9s working relationship with 6ieslowski was both producti"e and collegial. This was no doubt because Areisner9s work was both instinctual and metaphysical. This makes for an outstanding fit with the inherently unspoken and minimalist nature of 6ieslowski9s films. 6ieslowski and Areisner de"eloped an unusual way of working, which was deri"ed in part from the fact that 6ieslowski considered music in his films to be a part of the film9s initial conceptuali%ation. 6ieslowski9s belie"ed that music must be used not only to underline the film9s atmosphere and ambiance, but must be an element in the film9s narrati"e. This approach can be seen in Areisner9s scores for the ,e"alog, but is carried to an e"en greater height in The ,ou1le Life of 8eroni3ue and the Three Colours trilogy. In these A "ocalise is a te tless "ocal e ercise or concert piece to be sung to one or more "owels.


instances the music was completely integrated into the performances and was allowed to become an integral part of the story. As Areisner suggests in this regard, @=ometimes there was no need for words or dialogue when N6ieslowskiO used my music.9 '!uoted in Aaulus, 1,,,) 2?( Areisner9s usual compositional process in"ol"es recei"ing a brief from the director outlining his conception of the film and listing what he belie"ed to be the moments of narrati"e significance. Areisner would then immediately begin to spot cues by de"eloping his ideas at the piano, at times composing the themes first and at other times de"eloping indi"idual te tures, which often become the basis for themes. Fnlike many of his contemporaries, Areisner a"oids the use of either the synthesi%er or the digital sampler, and does not use an orchestrator. Be considers the orchestration of his scores to be inseparable from the composition of his themes '>ussell J Doung, :<<<) 12-(. @I ha"e ne"er used an orchestrator. It would ine"itably create misunderstandings, since I ha"e no idea how I would define the boundaries between my creation and somebody else9s.9 '>ussell J Doung, :<<<) 1?-( Areisner9s style can best be understood as minimalist from an orchestrational standpoint because of his preference for the sense of intimacy that one gets by writing for a small ensemble. Gn one le"el this also makes it easier for Areisner9s scores to become part of the o"erall sound design of the score, because, as opposed to larger traditional Bollywood style score they can be integrated with greater ease into the sound design. This fact was important to 6ieslowski and as Areisner comments the two spent a great deal of time discussing @how to achie"e the perfect symbiosis of music and heightened natural sound effects.9 '>ussell J Doung, :<<<) 12-(


It was 6ieslowski9s belief that the most important thoughts and primary internal emotions of a film9s actors should be e pressed metaphysically through music, and not through acting. It was the ability of music to e press the internal that made it so "ery important to 6ieslowski. At his scoring sessions with Areisner, 6ieslowski would regularly point out and highlight what he belie"ed to be the most important inner feelings in each film and suggest to Areisner that these be e pressed musically '>ussell J Doung, :<<<) 124(. 3or his part Areisner agreed with 6ieslowski9s "iew that music should depict the internal, but he added that it needed to do so cle"erly 'Aaulus, 1,,,) 27(. 8y this he meant that music must not merely replicate or underscore the e ternal, but rather probe deeper into the minds and emotions of spectator and actor'Aaulus, 1,,,) 27(. 6ieslowski, much like Areisner preferred music that was simple. Although unlike Areisner, his scoring preferences were for a large orchestra. In order to accomplish and reconcile this difference with 6ieslowski, Areisner often achie"ed the intended emotional content by writing in unison and orchestrating the melody in widely spaced octa"es. This allowed him to gi"e the impression of e pansi"eness and monumentality without resorting to a large orchestral compliment '>ussell J Doung, :<<<) 124(.

8ieslows7i2s Blue Blue is the first installment in 6ieslowski9s Three Colours trilogy, which is an unusual and in"enti"e e ploration of the three concepts associated with the colours of the 3rench flag) 8lue&/hite&>ed and the colours link to the 3rench trium"irat, ;iberty, 3raternity, and 5!uality. The film e plores the idea of liberty through the eyes of *ulie, played by *uliette 8inoche, a woman who has just lost her husband, the


composer Aatrice de 0ourcy 'Bugues cuester(, and her little daughter Anna, in a horrible car crash. *ulie attempts to free herself from her past by di"esting herself from all memory. =he sells her possessions, returns to her maiden name and mo"es to an arrondissement in Aaris where no one knows her, and there she attempts to begin again. The !uestion that 6ieslowski e plores throughout Blue is whether it is possible to li"e without memory. Is this type of e istence a form of total freedom or is it a form of li"ing deathE 6ieslowski suggested in an inter"iew with Aaul 0oates that the core elements represented by the three colours of the 3rench flag were not particularly important to the Three Colours trilogy. Be suggested that if a different country had pro"ided the financing for the films Z #ermany, for instance Z then he would ha"e made the trilogy a #erman one, with yellow taking the place of blue and the trilogy would ha"e been @yellow, red and black.9 '0oates, 1,,,) 1?<( Gf course, such a suggestion is doubtful, because one would find it hard to imagine the trilogy being centred around the colours of the #erman flag, which draws its colours from the coat of arms of the Boly >oman 5mpire of the #erman 5mpire. The idea for Blue came to the author of the screenplay 6r%ys%tof Aiesiewic%, as he watched a Aolish composer being inter"iewed on tele"ision. The composer was with his wife, and Aiesiewic% reali%ed suddenly that the woman must ha"e played a "ery important role in the life of her composer husband '!uoted in Insdorf, 1,,,) 1-,(. The film shares some marked thematic similarities with 6ieslowski9s earlier film o End '1,4.(. 8oth films tell stories about mourning following the sudden

death of a well-known public figure and the focus is upon a beautiful, young widow whose e cruciating grief isolates her from the world. Interestingly, Areisner also


draws upon an earlier cue from an earlier work

o End, which he recasts as the

3uneral 1usic for use during the tele"ised memorial ser"ice in Blue 'Baltof, :<<.) 1:7(. This re-use of music from early film scores will play an important and significant role as we begin to analy%e how Areisner uses music in the film. Bowe"er, the film deals with more than just *ulie9s attempt to find disconnection from memory. The film also deals with an unfinished composition by her husband, Aatrice. The composition was commissioned to be played only once, simultaneously in the twel"e cities of the new united 5uropean Fnion. It remained unfinished on the composer9s death and as such it plays the position of @other9 in the film9s narrati"e trajectory. In this sense the score9s position as @other9 allows it to be the de"ice which must be either subjugated or e cluded in order for the narrati"e& *ulie to find fulfillment. Areisner9s score is unusual because its composition 'ninety-percent of the score was composed before the film was shot( predates the shooting of the film. 6ieslowski in"ol"ed Areisner in all aspects of the preproduction meetings and, once the composer understood what 6ieslowski9s intentions and musical needs were, he set to the composition of the score at once. This meant that by the time shooting began 6ieslowski already had e"erything that was needed musically, including the main themes and the @0oncerto for the Fnification of 5urope.9 'Aaulus, 1,,,) 22( Gn one le"el, as Areisner suggests, @Blue can be understood as a musical because it talks about a composer who composes for the sake of uniting 5urope.9 '!uoted in Aaulus, 1,,,) 2?( The fact that Areisner9s score predates the actual filming of 6ieslowski9s film opens up a series of methodological conundrums for us. Bow does one position the


story of a composer and his composition when the composer dies in the first few moments of the filmE Bow does one say anything meaningful about a score which reacts to a preliminary reading of the screen play, but does not respond to the actual mise-en-scène of the filmE 3or that matter how does one respond to a score that, from the story9s perspecti"e, is written by a great classical composer, yet in actuality is written by a composer who is largely self-trainedE Bow, finally, can one say anything meaningful about a film score which seems to defy the narrati"e implications of the film itselfE /hat is left to sayE Gf course these !uestions lead one further into the area of the national, both in terms of music and film. 3irst, how does 6ieslowski, as Aole working in Aaris on a film that celebrates the "ery unification of 5urope from which Aoland 'at the time( was e cluded, de"elop the idea of nation and unity if at allE Indeed, many 3rench critics responded poorly to Blue, attempting to define 3rench cinema through an assertion of the difference between 3rench and 5astern 5uropean cinemas '$obson, 1,,,) :-7(. As *ulia $obson points out @This is clearly not a reaction to a threat of cultural imperialism from the 5ast, but may be read as a confused an iety o"er the transgression of boundaries of national cinemas, enacted by the phenomenon of internal co-productions which the trilogy represents.9 '$obson, 1,,,) :-7( Indeed, these "ery discussions seem to re"ol"e around issues of nationality and authenticity '$obson, 1,,,) :-7(, and 6ieslowski9s inability to represent Aaris authentically because of his position as an immigrant outsider '$obson, 1,,,) :-7(. =ome critics were also unhappy with the musical !uality of Areisner9s score. >oyal =. 8rown referred to it as @colossally blah.9 '8rown, :<<?) -:?( 8rown would also suggest that @the interaction between film and its music in Bleu suggests


pro"ocati"e possibilities that, in the conte t of the mo"ie9s broader "ision, unfortunately remain unreali%ed.9 '8rown, :<<?) 1?1( Gf course such a criti!ue also smacks of nationalism, this time Korth American. 8rown is one of the more enthusiastic writers on issues of film music. Fnlike many musicologists, who suggest that film music is a prime e ample of the type of music that composers who cannot compose serious art music are relegated to compose in order to earn a li"ing, 8rown is sympathetic to the role and importance of film composers. Bowe"er, his criti!ue here plays part of a larger discussion which clearly positions both Areisner and 6ieslowski as @other9, within a discussion of the American film industry. Aerhaps on one le"el 8rown is correct about one thing, for Areisner9s score is not @polished9 in a traditional /estern sense. Indeed, because of the influence of 5astern 5uropean folk music on his musical de"elopment, Areisner9s tonal and melodic sensibilities were based, at least during his formati"e period, on non-/estern models. This of course raises a further issue which is, does Areisner9s score represent a style which would ha"e been used by a 3rench composer such as Aatrice de 0ourcyE As such does Areisner9s @0oncerto for the Fnification of 5urope9 represent a western-sensibility or does it more importantly represent a sense of @other9, e emplified by 6ieslowski and Areisner9s position as outsiders&immigrants in 3rance and Aoland9s position as @other9 in the initial 5uropean FnionE Aerhaps one way to relate the pre-composed score to the mise-en-scene is to understand it as a parallel trajectory to that of the narrati"e. In other words the score enters into the narrati"e in much the way that *ulie does at the beginning of the film, as a complete entity, a molar unit if you will, one that will howe"er need to be broken down and reassembled, becoming something new. Bowe"er, in order to analy%e the


score in this way we will need discuss to employ se"eral new $eleu%ian concepts. In the coming section we will e plore how $eleu%e9s understanding of becoming, including becoming-animal, becoming-woman and becoming-music, as well as the concepts of moleculari%ation and the e"ent which can help us to reconcile Blue’s score to the narrati"e and mise-en-scène.

Becoming as a way of understanding 9reisner2s score for Blue 8efore e amining the $eleu%ian concept of becoming, which will pro"ide the foundation for our analysis of Areisner9s score for Blue, it is important that we take a brief detour to introduce two other concepts which will be essential to our discussion of the score, these are the concepts of the e"ent and moleculari%ation. The narrati"e of 6ieslowski9s Blue is moti"ated by an automobile accident, an e"ent, which causes *ulie9s world to crumble or moleculari%e. The narrati"e momentum and direction of the film are precipitated by this e"ent. /e can understand the concept of the @e"ent9 in the $eleu%ian sense as an instantaneous production intrinsic to interactions between "arious kinds of elements '=tagoll, :<<7c) 4?(. $eleu%e suggests that 5"ents are idealMThe distinction howe"er is not between two sorts of e"entsC rather, it is between the e"ent, which is ideal by nature, and its spatiotemporal reali%ation in a state of affairs. The distinction is between e!ent and accident$ 5"ents are ideational singularities which communicate in one and the same 5"ent. They ha"e therefore an eternal truth, and their time is ne"er the present which reali%es them and makes them e ist. '$eleu%e :<<.b) 2.(


Thus, the indi"idual elements that play a role in the e"ent that *ulie e periences are loss, memory and the openness of the future. In essence *ulie9s e"ent has nothing to do with the physical crash of the automobile, but instead with the forces that remain as a result of it. The e"ent is not what changes because of the crash, because the crash is merely a passing surface effect, but rather the state that is constituted by it that, when actuali%ed, marks e"ery moment of the state as a transformation '=tagoll, :<<7c) 4?(. =o we can understand the concept of the e"ent as a series of changes that are @immanent to a confluence of parts or elements, subsisting as pure "irtualities or inherent possibilities and distinguishing themsel"es only in the course of their actuali%ations in some body or state.9 '=tagoll, :<<7c) 4?( Therefore, we can understand *ulie9s in"ol"ement in the crash, not in terms of the crash itself, which takes her husband and daughter, but rather as the results of the crash, the thing that precipitates her moleculari%ation. *ulie is not the sur"i"or of a horrific crashC instead she is a moleculari%ation that is the result of a confluence of forces. The e"ent of the crash forces *ulie to moleculari%e, reducing her former molar understanding of herself to a series of contradictions of memory, moment and future. 3or $eleu%e the concept of the molecular is positioned against that of the molar as represented here in the film by the complete mass of *ulie9s life, both in a physical and a psychological sense. The moleculari%ation of *ulie9s life both pul"eri%es her world and reduces her to spiritual dust '$eleu%e, 1,,-) 4?(. As we will see this separating of the mass which was *ulie is necessary in order for her to becomewoman in the $eleu%ian sense. It will also be necessary for a similar immanent moleculari%ation to take place in the score in order for it to mo"e from a mass of sensation, a pre-composed nonreacti"e score, to an interacti"e and narrati"e element.


=o in order for *ulie to become-woman, and for the score to become-music, it is necessary for both to be pul"eri%ed and reduced to a position of molecularity, which as we shall see in the ne t section of this chapter is e actly what happens. $eleu%e9s philosophy is often called a philosophy of immanence because of his concern with the possibilities of becomings as they relate to life or the body, rather than predetermined subjects and transcendent "alues '=otirin, :<<7) 1<1(. The concept of becoming was de"eloped by $eleu%e and #uattari in order to help en"ision the definition of a world presented anew, and as such it is a foundational concept in their work. $eleu%e9s initial understanding of the concept is drawn from 3riedrich Kiet%sche, with $eleu%e understanding @becoming as the continual production 'or @return9( of difference immanent within the constitution of e"ents, whether physical or otherwise. 8ecoming is the pure mo"ement e"ident in changes 1et'een particular e"ents, whether physical or otherwise '=tagoll, :<<7a) :1(. This suggests that becoming is not an e"olution in the sense of a descent or progression '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,4?) :-4(, but rather represents @the moment of arrest in the roll of the dice, is always open to, and tra"ersed by, becomings that are more than simple transformations of an e isting real.9 '0onley, :<<1) :1( 3or $eleu%e, becoming has a number of manifestations each representing different aspects and elements of becoming. 3or $eleu%e, the initial phase in becoming can be understood as a becoming-woman. The e pression @becomingwoman9 was first put forth in A Thousand +lateaus, the second "olume to Anti2 Oedi(us subtitled @0apitalism and =chi%ophrenia9 '0onley, :<<1) :<(. $eleu%e9s emphasis on becoming-woman does not pri"ilege 1an, instead it criti!ues man9s representation as the @molar9 paradigm of identity and subjecti"ity, opposed to


molecular subjecti"ity. $eleu%e opposes the notion of molecular to that of the @molar which he considers transcendent, as opposed to the immanent of the molecular.9 '3lieger, :<<1) .1( $eleu%e and #uattari9s notion of becoming-woman emerged from the same post-1,24 conte t as BHlène 0i ous9s Kewly 8orn /oman. $eleu%e9s becomingwoman shares with 0i ous9s concept a commonality which undoes the self-identical subject, thereby opening the self to metamorphoses and becomings '0onley, :<<1) ::(. 1uch as 0i ous had posited, $eleu%e suggests two se es representing the psychic conse!uences of these differences. Bowe"er, he suggests that these differences cannot be reduced to those that were identified by 3reud '0onley, :<<1) :7(. 8oth philosophers also suggest that bodies are neither natural nor essential, nor are they determined, rather they are marked and as such are @situated9 within a conte t '0onley, :<<1) :?(. As we mentioned abo"e, becoming-woman does not ha"e to do with being a woman or being like a woman. Instead, $eleu%e suggests that the concept of becoming-woman is a key threshold for a line of flight that passes through and beyond the binary distinctions that go"ern the teleological understanding of life. 8ecoming-woman is the first threshold because it must become molecular and function as a deterritoriali%ation of the dominant molar form '=otirin, :<<7) 1<:--(. Therefore, it is the "ery nature of a becoming to be molecular rather than molar, that of an infinite number of elements that remain connected rhi%omatically without entering into a regular, fi ed pattern of organi%ation '8ogue, :<<-) -.(. In order to deterritoriali%e the molar with its majoritarian emphasis, one must first deterritoriali%e oneself, and becoming-woman offers the first shift, one which destabili%es the


con"entions of the molar '3lieger, :<<1) .2(. This allows one to turn away from one9s present condition and in the case of Blue, results in *ulie9s beginning to turn away from the e"ent and become instead @an ongoing actuali%ation of "irtualities.9 '0onley, :<<1) -7( A second form of becoming in"ol"es becoming-animal which is neither a dream nor a fantasy, but a real perfectly real. @8ecoming animal does not consist in playing animal or imitating animal, and the human being does not really become an animal Mwhat is real is the becoming itself.9 '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,4?) :-4( Instead, the element of becoming-animal implies the adoption of characteristics that represent aspects of the animal, insect or bird. Thus one adopts an aspect of @beeness9, or @bird-ness9. @Dou do not become a barking molar dog, but by barking, if it is done with enough feeling, with enough necessity and composition, you emit a molecular dog.9 '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,4?) :?7( As with becoming-woman, one becomes-animal only molecularly '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,4?) :?7(. A third form of becoming in"ol"es a becoming-music. $eleu%e suggests that all musical in"ention proceeds "ia such a becoming-other, @since music is the deterritoriali%ation of the refrain and deterritoriali%ation is itself fundamentally a process of becoming.9 '8ogue, :<<-) -.( 8ecause of this music can be understood also as a form of becoming, and it is @inseparable9 from three specific forms of becoming, a becoming-woman, a becoming-animal '8ogue, :<<-) -.(. $eleu%e encourages us to consider just e actly what the art of music deals withC what content is indissociable from sound e pressionE Be suggests this is a difficult !uestion to answer and yet he suggests that it is still something) @a child dies, a child plays, a woman is born, a woman dies, a bird arri"es a bird flies off. /e wish


to say that these are not accidental themes in music 'e"en if it is possible to multiply e amples(, much less imitati"e e ercisesC they are something essential.9 '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,4?) :,,( The !uestion can be raised, why is music so often concerned with deathE @/ell on one le"el $eleu%e is aware of the danger inherent in any line that escapes, in any line of flight or creati"e deterritoriali%ation) the danger of "eering towards destruction, toward abolition.9 '8uchanan, :<<.) 17( In essence the becoming-music suggests a deterritoriali%ation of not only the refrain, but of life itself. 8y becoming music we become deterritoriali%ed, moleculari%ed, we interact with other milieus, whether they be animal, cosmos, or a circle of property personal enough to keep us safe from an e"ent. /e lose not only our conception of music as a thing, but by destabili%ing the "ery essence of the molar in music, music is reduced to something open to the cosmos, something which destabili%es our e pectations and reorients oursel"es towards becoming-something else, something pre"iously unreali%ed.

)he +core Pbigniew Areisner9s score for Blue is as we ha"e mentioned abo"e a difficult one to analy%e. The primary reason for this is that the score was ninety percent reali%ed and finished before shooting of the film began. =uch a practice is not entirely unheard of, one thinks immediately of Kino >ota9s score for The Leo(ard ';uchino +isconti, 1,2-( which was drawn from one of the composer9s earlier concert works. Bowe"er, scores drawn from pre-reali%ed music, whether the music is composed prior to filming as in the case of Areisner9s, or drawn from another source, as in the case of >ota9s score, do create analytical challenges for the film music theorist. The major !uestion becomes, how does one discuss a piece by a composer, who - although


informed about the screenplay and alerted to the director9s re!uirements for the music - still must compose a film score that ineluctably does not interact with the mise-enscène in the traditional fashionE ;et9s e amine how this might be undertaken. The score itself is comprised of two principal elements) the first is a 3uneral 1arch, the second a fully reali%ed score for the Aatrice de 0ourcy9s @0oncerto for the Fnification of 5urope.9 This second element, the @0oncerto9 is comprised of a number of indi"idual themes, including the 1emento, Aatrice9s theme, Gli"ier9s theme. As we shall see the full score itself does not enter into the film in its entirety until the "ery end, while the indi"idual themes are used to fulfill certain narrati"e needs within the film. Thus, work on 6ieslowski9s film began with a both precomposed score and a screenplay. The screenplay tells the story of *ulie de 0ourcy, who is married to a famous composer with whom she has a young daughter. These are the two great molar facts of 6ieslowski9s film. The first, that the score is e tra-diegetic at the beginning of the filmC the second, that *ulie9s life is both complete and as she wishes it to be. /hile both of these molarities are present at the beginning of the film, our initial understanding of them is concealed by elements of 6ieslowski9s camera work. ;et9s e amine how. The film9s first scene begins with an undisclosed sound which we hear but do not recogni%e. This techni!ue, a type of sensory depri"ation will be used by 6ieslowski throughout the film. /e will often hear, but not see and this techni!ue is used to great effect at the beginning of Blue$ Bowe"er, there is more than sensory depri"ation going on here. 6ieslowski9s camera work in this scene depri"es us of more than sight. Be gi"es us pieces,


fragments, of a life in motion. As the camera emerges from the tunnel we reali%e that it is positioned beneath a car and that the car is hurtling down the highway at a high speed. 8ut we do not know what kind of car it is, nor where it is located. /e do not e"en know who is in the car. Indeed, 6ieslowski will not pri"ilege us to any knowledge about anyone in the car, e cept for *ulie9s daughter Anna. /e will be introduced to Anna by seeing her hand outside of the car window holding a blue candy wrapper which blows in the wind. /e will see her face in a shot of the rear window of the car as she watches the car behind her. /e will see her point of "iew as she watches out that window. /e will watch her e it the car to relie"e herself in the bushes on the side of the highway, but we will ne"er hear her "oice. ;ikewise, we will hear *ulie9s "oice as she calls for Anna to return !uickly to the car, but we will not see her face. /e will see Aatrice stretching outside of the car as he waits for Anna to return, but we will not hear his "oice. ;ater on, when the family9s car crashes we will hear the crash but we will not see it. /hat is 6ieslowski doing hereE /ell, in fact he is introducing us to the dominant theme of Blue, the theme of fragments. If we understand the idea of a fragment as a piece of something that pree isted, something that was once whole we ha"e only a partial understanding of why 6ieslowski would chose to introduce this narrati"e de"ice. 8eyond this it is possible to understand the idea of fragmentation as something positi"e, something life affirming, for a fragment can also be the beginning of something that will become whole, something that will become. This trajectory will carry both *ulie and the score to a point of almost "acantness, but it will also bring them back to a new understanding of what it is to become.


The fragmentation of *ulie9s life means that 6ieslowski gi"es us "ery little information about any of the characters at the beginning of the film and it is only through the re"elation of these isolated fragments throughout the film that we disco"er anything about *ulie or the life she had. Thus, *ulie9s character is a complete, molar entity only to herself at the beginning, and it is this concealed molarity that is destroyed for *ulie when she awakes in the hospital to disco"er that her family has been killed. Ber sense of the molar nature of her own life will be destroyed by this news and she is moleculari%ed through the loss. Ber world is shattered. The issue for us, and the particularly skillful turn of 6ieslowski9s hand is that we do not know entirely what *ulie has lost, it will only be re"ealed to us in fragments. 3rom a musical standpoint, the film begins in silence. In fact it will be 49 7:9U into the film before we hear any music at all. /hy would 6ieslowski, chose to begin a film which is in so many ways about music, in this fashionE Again the answer can be found in the molarity of the score, which because of its completeness is unable to enter into the fragmentary nature of the film9s opening scene. This of course makes sense because on one le"el the score e ists as a narrati"e plot de"iceC the film is about a composer and his unfinished composition. To introduce the score into the film at the beginning would ha"e lessened the effect of disco"ering the composition as a series of fragments later in the film. Bowe"er, on another le"el the score cannot enter into the mise-en-scène because it is whole. The score e ists, and is present at the beginning of the film as the car speeds down the highway, but it e ists only in the e tra-filmic world of its composer Areisner, and the intra-filmic world of its creator, Aatrice. =o the score cannot be heard in the opening shots, because to do so would re"eal it as a finished


composition, the decepti"e product of another composer, one outside the mise-enscène. Therefore, the score e ists as a molarity before the film, much as *ulie9s life does, yet in this case the molarity pre"ents the score from entering the mise-en-scène. In order to enter the mise-en-scène the score will need to be moleculari%ed and this will be precipitated by the same @e"ent9 that facilitates *ulie9s moleculari%ation. It is interesting to note that the 5nglish translation of the film refers to Aatrice9s composition for the unification of 5urope as a concerto, yet the original 3rench calls it a (artition$ Gf course (artition refers to the concept of a total score or the indi"idual instrumental parts that make up that score. Gn one le"el this makes perfect sense, yet the use of this word as opposed to the 5nglish term concerto creates an interesting starting point for the discussion of the score. The word concerto implies a "irtuoso work for solo instrument and orchestra. The implication here is that while the te ture is unified, the work stands as a display "ehicle for a "irtuosic performer. The term partition relates in one way to the idea of a set of parts that comprise a whole, the score. Bowe"er, the term partita is also deri"ed from this same understanding. A partita is a set of pieces or dance mo"ements which are often not related to each other thematically, but are nonetheless loosely structured into a larger composition. Aerhaps this represents a better way for us to understand the score and its related diegetic incarnation, for Aatrice9s composition was intended to celebrate a union which was ne"er a true union in any sense. As such the score enters into the diegesis politically as more of a partition than a concerto. =econdly, because of the moleculari%ation inherent in the diegesis, the score is also best understood as a partition, a group of fragments, of pieces than the complete score that e ists outside the diegesis.


The moleculari%ation of *ulie9s life is of course caused by the car crash. Gn a physical le"el it begins almost immediately after the crash. =he is injured and awakes in the hospital. 6ieslowski subtly re"eals the fact that *ulie has suffered injuries in the crash by using an e treme close-up of her bed clothes shot from her point of "iew. The fraying of the blanket is blown gently back and forth by her by her breath as she lies in bed. The blurring of the outside of this image, a returning "isual distortion throughout the film suggests that she has suffered ocular damage in the crash. /e do not know the length of time that *ulie has been in the hospital and because of this we e perience the first e ample of a @memory gap9 in the film. /e understand *ulie9s moleculari%ation to be only physical at this point, and because of this, we like her must wait for the doctor9s words to learn the fate of her family. In one of the film9s most memorable scenes 6ieslowski beautifully frames the doctor9s image in an e treme close-up of *ulie9s eye. As Annette Insdorf mentions in her commentary on the 1,,- Alliance Atalantis $+$ edition of Blue, 6ieslowski used a special :<<mm lens which captures the doctor in an image that is both clear yet distorted. This remarkable camera work results in an e treme type of fragmentation and moleculari%ation as the totality of *ulie9s reaction to the news of her family9s death is e perienced by the spectator not through the e pected shot taken from her point-of-"iew, but rather from the doctor9s point-of-"iew albeit reduced molecularly to the smallest possible reflection seen in her eye. Gf course it is not difficult to e trapolate this further, suggesting that the image of *ulie9s eye represents the window to her soul, which is howe"er blocked by the doctor9s reflection making her incapable of fully reali%ing and internali%ing the tragic news. In essence, the doctor9s


news ser"es not only to deterritoriali%e *ulie9s molar conception of herself but cuts her off from memory and healing. 6ieslowski9s decision to cast *uliette 8inoche in the part of *ulie was a bold, but not entirely surprising one. Gn the one hand 8inoche is the !uintessential 3rench film star of her generation and as such she pro"ides the 6ieslowski9s effort with the re!uisite amount of @3renchness9. Gn another le"el, 8inoche also represents what #inette +incendeau calls the @embodiment of se y melancholy,9 a characteristic which is so essential to Blue that it is difficult to imagine anyone else in the role '+incendeau, :<<<) :7<(. *ulie9s inability to deal with the news about her family precipitates a desire to break away from her past. =he first tries to do this by committing suicide, ingesting a large amount number of pills which she has taken from the hospital pharmacy. Bowe"er, before she can do this *ulie needs to distract the nurse9s attention and so she breaks a large plate glass window in the hospital hallway. The implications of her action are unmistakable, but she is unable to carry them out. Ber desperation is e"ident, both in her desire to end her life, but also in her inability to do so. Bowe"er, there is more at play here than first meets the eye. *ulie9s breaking of the window creates a rain of fragmented glass which falls into the hospital hallway. Gf course the "isual image here suggests that *ulie9s life, like the window has been "iolently shattered. Bowe"er, we can also understand the breaking of the window as a "isual image that suggests escaping into a new life, a sort of opening into the cosmos, and perhaps this is why *ulie is not able to carry out her suicide. 1oments after ingesting the pills, *ulie is disco"ered by the nurse who sees her through the window which di"ides the hallway and the pharmacy. *ulie confesses to the nurse that she is unable


to take her own life and 6ieslowski uses this moment to establish both *ulie9s helplessness and her inability to act. This scene also introduces another recurring moti"e, that of glass. As we shall see the motif of glass will both enclose and di"ide *ulie from memory, feeling and the world around her . As we obser"ed abo"e for the first 49 7:U minutes of the film no music is heard. Indeed, we are not e"en aware at this point that *ulie9s husband Aatrice was a composer, or that he was composing a piece for the unification of 5urope. Gnce again, 6ieslowski uses narrati"e fragmentation to re"eal further details about both *ulie9s past and the e istence of the score. Aatrice9s assistant Gli"ier comes to "isit *ulie in the hospital and brings with him a small portable tele"ision set on which to watch the funeral of Aatrice and Anna. It is here that 6ieslowski first introduces the films two elements of music into the narrati"e doing so as *ulie watches the funeral on the tiny tele"ision set. Gn one le"el there is something ironic about watching such an enormously important e"ent on such a small screen. Gn a secondary le"el, as we shall see again in a later scene with the prostitute ;ucille, 6ieslowski chooses to re"eal something diegetically about the narrati"e by ha"ing *ulie watch tele"ision. Gf course here we learn that *ulie9s husband was both a composer and that he was composing a piece to celebrate 5urope9s unification. Interestingly, as >oger Billman has pointed out, the composition on which *ulie9s late husband was working would seem to be as impossible a task for any composer as the composition of the @Ari%e =ong9 in /agner9s &eistersinger 'Billman, :<<-) -:7(. Billman suggests that a composition of this sort can be understood as an e treme e ample of the fle ibility of cultural memory. This transcendence of borders, relationships and nationhood is blended in Aatrice9s musical composition supposedly illustrating a "ision of a new


5urope where music represents a binding force, one which releases spiritual energy that supersedes the political 'Billman, :<<-) -:7(. It is interesting to note that at the e act moment in the funeral eulogy where the speaker first mentions Aatrice9s composition, the screen of *ulie9s small tele"ision turns fu%%y and she is no longer able to see or hear the proceedings. Gne !uestions whether the manifestation of *ulie9s pain is so great here that she simply is unable to see and hear more, or whether the distortion is simply chance. /hate"er the reason, *ulie9s e perience of the funeral on the tele"ision suggests that she cannot, or perhaps will not enter into lifeC she can watch but won9t allow herself enter into it. It is in the funeral scene that 6ieslowski first chooses to introduce music into the diegesis. Bowe"er, his way of doing so is most interesting. >ather than ha"ing the ensemble at the funeral perform a composition which was written by Aatrice, Areisner instead reuses a cue that he had composed for 6ieslowski9s earlier film, o End$

Although originally concei"ed in a faster, almost pi!uant style the cue here is transformed into a slow, doleful funeral dirge. /hat is most memorable about the way that Areisner transforms the 3uneral 1arch '31 from here-on-in( march in Blue is the continued interpolation of starts, stops and silences in it. It is as if Areisner is purposely fragmenting the 31 into "arious smaller sections, sections which pre"ent the music from allowing for grie"ing. The constant starting and stopping pre"ents the 31 from creating a climate for mourning at the funeral. /hy would Areisner chose to utili%e a cue from an earlier filmE As you will recall abo"e, o End deals with a story that is !uite similar to Blue$ The 31 cue was first introduced in o End to underscore the dead Anton9s description of the day that he died. As such Areisner9s choice here to use a cue that is not directly related to


Aatrice, but instead suggests a memory of another cinematic death, creates a sense of memory in the sa""y cinematic audience, while also ser"ing to establish the cue9s association with the subject of death. As we shall see shortly, the 31 theme will be endowed with the capacity to cut *ulie off from an initial becoming, allowing her instead to e perience both isolation and moleculari%ation. Gn another le"el, the 31 ser"es as a refrain to accompany *ulie9s "arious blackouts and ellipses. If as $eleu%e suggests, the refrain pre"ents music, then the 31 is used by Areisner to pre"ent *ulie from interacting with the world, to pre"ent her from remembering and participating in her past. In essence the 31 ser"es both to cut *ulie off and to pre"ent the elements of Aatrice9s composition from being heard diegetically. As a result of Aatrice9s death both the score and *ulie9s life are reduced to a series of fragments, moleculari%ed by the e"ents of his deathC Aatrice9s composition by the fact that it remains unfinished and *ulie9s life by the fact that her conception of herself has been deterritoriali%ed. *ulie now begins a period in which she will mo"e away from her past by attempting to li"e without memory. Bowe"er, the 31 theme will ser"e to pre"ent *ulie from escaping from memory entirely and 6ieslowski will use the 31 theme as a way of indicating the internal conflict of *ulie9s struggle. The issue of whether *ulie composed her husband9s music is at first raised by a journalist who "isits her while she is recuperating in what appears to be a nursing home. Gn one le"el, such a !uestion is not particularly important. Aatrice is dead and his composition, if it is to be finished, will need to be finished by someone else, whether by *ulie or by her husband9s assistant Gli"ier '8enoit >Hgent(. Bowe"er, what is interesting here is that *ulie9s e change with the journalist is preceded by a


blackout. The ellipsis, which is accompanied as we shall come to e pect by the 31 theme is interrupted by the !uestion of the journalist. *ulie walks away from her and refuses to answer her !uestion. The issue of *ulie9s pain o"er the return of memory, represented by the blackout and the 31 theme is compounded by the journalist9s !uestion. *ulie9s memory of the past has been transferred into the tangible reality of the moment by the journalist9s !uestion about the thing that seems to bother *ulie more than anything else, the e istence of the score. /hy is *ulie so plagued by the memory of the scoreE Is it because she had a hand in itE Is it because it reminds her of her dead husbandE Fltimately, as 6ieslowski will suggest below, it does not matter. After her con"alescence, *ulie goes to reco"er what she belie"es to be the only e tant copy of her husband9s score. Gnce again *ulie is !uestioned about her role in the score9s composition. The woman she "isits, a copyist, suggests that she has noticed that the score contains a lot of corrections, implying that *ulie had a hand in the composition of the score. In an inter"iew, 6ieslowski suggested that perhaps we can understand *ulie as @one of those people who aren9t able to write a single sheet of music but is wonderful in correcting a sheet which has already been written. =he sees e"erything, has an e cellent analytical mind and has a great talent for impro"ing things. The written sheet of music isn9t bad but when she9s impro"ed it is e cellent.9 Bowe"er, he continues that ultimately @it9s not all that important whether she9s the author or co-author because what has been corrected is better than it was before.9 '6ieslowski !uoted in =tok, 1,,-) ::.( 3ollowing *ulie9s "isit to the copyist, she takes the score which she has retrie"ed and simply tosses it into the back of a garbage truck. *ulie9s personal denial will in"ol"e not only li"ing without memory, but also li"ing without music. In


essence she has dismissed both parts of herselfC her personal side represented by her role as wife and mother and her professional side which is that of a composer. /hat *ulie of course does not reali%e is that Gli"ier has asked the copyist to make a second copy of the score and send it to him. Therefore, *ulie9s attempt to pre"ent music in her life is futile and it is this fact that will e"entually ser"e as a catalyst of becoming both music and woman in her life. After making lo"e to Gli"ier in what can only be described as a @mercy fuck9, *ulie breaks her ties with her past, ha"ing made arrangements to gi"e away all of her possessions 'in essence a material moleculari%ation( she returns to her maiden name and relocates to an arrondissement in Aaris, where she belie"es she can li"e without either ha"ing to know anyone or being forced to negotiate with the memories of the past. *ulie rents an apartment, bringing with her "ery little, e cept for the blue crystal chandelier that hung in her daughter Anna9s room. It is an interesting side note that the blue crystals of the chandelier bear a striking resemblance to the corrections that *ulie made in Aatrice9s score, which resemble blue crystals. Installed in her new apartment, *ulie9s life becomes a series of rituals designed to isolate her from interaction and feeling. Aerhaps *ulie finds consolation and control in repetition, and she takes on regular routines such as "isiting the same cafH and ordering the same menu each time. Gne of the places to which *ulie regularly returns is too a large swimming pool, a place which seems to @act as a barometer for her emotional condition9. '5"ans, :<<7) 4<( As #eorgina 5"ans suggests, the right angles and rectangular closed nature of the pool perfectly replicates *ulie9s world '5"ans, :<<7) 4<(. >ather, I would suggest that instead of mirroring *ulie9s emotional state and acting as an area


of molarity as 5"ans suggests, the pool is instead an area of memory for *ulie, a place of change of affect which leads to becoming '=ee page 1,. J :<1(. *ulie9s first "isit to the pool @seems melancholy but curati"e, with *ulie9s backstroke creating arcs of sparkling droplets, recalling the crystal lights of Anna9s mobile and suggesting the presence of her memories.9'5"ans, :<<7) 4<-41( In this first instance, in the pool *ulie9s blackout is again accompanied by the 31 theme. The 31 here, as in earlier blackouts at her apartment and at the cafH, pre"ents *ulie from escaping from her memories. The refrain, in its solitary thematic power pre"ents the becoming-music in the score and in so doing pre"ents the becoming-woman in *ulie. =o great is the power of *ulie9s a"oidance of memory that in spite of her desire to rein"ent herself personally she is pre"ented by the 31 theme from doing so. Gf course a part of her inability to become is her unwillingness to embrace the music of Aatrice9s composition, which she is sure she has destroyed. *ulie9s second scene in the pool takes on a more oppressi"e mood than the first. After her swim, *ulie half lifts her body from the water to lea"e the pool, but instead slides back into the water either unable or afraid to lea"e its safety, floating face-down and curled in a fetal position As #eorgina 5"ans suggests, *ulie9s pain here seems e ternali%ed in @the cage of rectangles around her.9 '5"ans, :<<7) 4<-41( Bowe"er, something !uite remarkable happens in this second scene in the pool. Bere, for the first time in the film, the 31 is combined with a secondary theme called the 1emento. 5arlier, *ulie had disco"ered the 1emento on the piano in her home and we heard it as she listened to the music in her head. The 1emento is a fragment of a theme which *ulie recogni%es as a portion of a composition by the fictitious composer +an de 8udenmayer. 6ieslowski e plained that +an den


8udenmayer was a fictitious $utch composer created by Areisner and himself for their films. The two ga"e +an den 8udenmayer a date of birth and of death and catalogued all of his works using the catalogue numbers for their recordings '=tok, 1,,-) ::7(. +an den 8udenmayer made his first appearance in ,e"alog , when the main character, $orota, e periences a moment of re"elation in her apartment as she puts a record on. 6ieslowski and Areisner thought about using a classical recording of some kind but decided that it was better to ha"e Areisner write a piece of music. Ba"ing done this, they decided to in"ent a composer who they suggested actually e isted. The idea subse!uently de"eloped and after that +an den 8udenmayer cropped up in each of their films, including The ,ou1le Life of 8;roni3ue, where he is credited with composing the Concerto in E minor$ In essence the fictitious composer became an alter-ego for Areisner '>ussell J Doung, :<<<) 12-(. /hat is remarkable here is that the second cue introduced into the score by Areisner, is a fragment of a piece attributed to a fictitious composer who is in fact Areisner himself. Thus the world of the diegesis has merged with the world of reality and Areisner has become part of the screenplay in the guise of his other. There e ists a remarkable sense of interte tuality here that places Areisner as the mythical composer +an de 8udenmayer inside the diegesis. As we mentioned abo"e, the 1emento and the 31 come together for the first time in *ulie9s second "isit to the pool. In many regards the 1emento ser"es as the musical "ersion of the blue crystal chandelier which *ulie has brought with her from her daughter9s former room. In fact the chandelier is referred to by ;ucille as a sou"enir when she first meets *ulie. Thus, the act of memory represented by the presence of the 1emento deterritoriali%es the 31 as refrain and allows a crack in


*ulie9s uni"erse which opens her to the cosmos, to other possibilities. *ulie, who has been unable to feel pain of any kind is now open to the possibility of feeling and the 1emento allows for this. Arior to her first "isit from ;ucille, *ulie has constantly said no to e"ery element outside of herself. =he has said no to her downstairs neighbour who re!uested her to sign a petition to e"ict ;ucille from their building, she has said no to Gli"ier9s profession of lo"e and she has said no to AndrH9s attempt to return her cross. Bowe"er, ;ucille acts as the catalyst to her willing to be 'ith others$ Aerhaps this occurs because ;ucille asks nothing from her. 5"en Gli"ier has an ulterior moti"e wanting both se and lo"e from *ulie. Thus ;ucille ser"es as the catalyst to allow *ulie to relate to other milieus. ;ucille helps *ulie to be open to others "iew of herself and this is reflected in her ability to interact with ;ucille. Ber new openness to other milieus is represented by her willingness to e perience her grief and her memory e emplified by the ju taposition of both the 31 theme and the 1emento. *ulie9s first personal diegetic interaction with music in"ol"es the appearances of the mysterious street musician who plays the recorder on the street outside *ulie9s cafH. *ulie is perple ed and intrigued by the musician9s performances of music, which in spite of appearing to be impro"ised still bears an uncanny resemblance to music composed for the 0oncerto. *ulie is perple ed by this, but is also intrigued by the musician who, while he appears to be a street musician, perhaps e"en an indigent one, none the less appears one morning after seemingly ha"ing spent the night with a rich woman, who lets him out of her e pensi"e car. Is the street musician representati"e of *ulie9s alter-egoE 0ertainly his freedom and his ability to come and go as he pleases and his ability to impro"e music which others, burdened by the boundaries of traditional training must compose,


would ha"e been attracti"e to *ulie. 8ut then again his lack of a conser"atory training might ha"e caused *ulie to "iew him with contempt. Indeed, the segregation between the folk&pop musician and the classical musician is e tremely pronounced on the part of many conser"atory trained musicians, who demean the efforts of instinctual musicians as less than, placing them in a position of other. As *eremy #ilbert suggests, @This is the ordering which places composition clearly abo"e performance in terms of importance to the process of music-making, implicitly maintaining a rigid separation between the twoM9. '#ilbert, :<<.) 1:1( Thus, the street musician

represents e"erything that *ulie wishes for her own life, freedom from commitment, freedom to interact with whom she wishes, and a lack of social constraint. 6ieslowski himself was fascinated by the possibility that two musicians in two different places could, because of the limitations of the musical "ocabulary in"ent the same melody without any knowledge of each other. In the case of *ulie, who ob"iously has a traditional musical background, the possibility of this is beyond comprehension. In fact when she hears the street musician playing the tune which bears a close resemblance to music drawn from Aatrice9s composition she asks Gli"ier, who has come to find her in the cafH, if he hears what is being played. Be smiles, recogni%ing the tune as a portion of the composition that we shall refer to as Aatrice9s theme. Intrigued, *ulie goes into the street and asks the musician where he has heard this. Be responds that he in"ents lots of things, because he likes to play. Thus, a second element of Aatrice9s composition is introduced into the score diegetically, !uite by surprise by a character who represents *ulie9s alter-ego. A musician who is e"erything that *ulie wishes for herself, but is unattainable by her, because she is both blocked by memory and by a desire to block memory.


Interestingly, the Aatrice theme is introduced into the film by one that did not know Aatrice, or his composition, yet understands instincti"ely not only the essence of Aatrice9s music but also *ulie9s soul. The street musician is free enough to in"ent, to create, to become music, thereby representing *ulie9s other&possibility&potential for the process of becoming. 8ut there is something more at work here, the dichotomy between the classical and the impro"isational is being e posed and the freedom to create is being !uestioned. /hat is musicE /ell, perhaps here 6ieslowski has a rather $eleu%ian take on the issue. As $eleu%e and #uattari put it themsel"es it @orchestration Z instrumentation brings sounds together or separates them, gathers or disperses them.9 '$eleu%e and #uattari, 1,4?) ,7( The implication here is clear, *ulie with her formal training has separated music, and she has dispersed it. *ulie does not bring sound together, she does not become music and she may not become music because her moleculari%ation is not complete, and as such the street musician9 s role is to help us to understand what *ulie must do in order to become. Gne further aspect of this scene merits our consideration. The scene begins with *ulie at her local cafH. Interestingly, *ulie9s regular menu has now e panded beyond her usual espresso and ice cream. It now includes an empty mineral water bottle into which *ulie has inserted a spoon which reflects her image back to her. The conca"e nature of the spoon and the coldness of the metal distort her image. /e are reminded of the image in her hospital room where the doctor was reflected in her eye. Det there the image had a humanness to it which is missing here. *ulie simply appears distorted and almost inhuman in the spoon9s reflection and as such the shot marks the absolute nadir of her personal moleculari%ation.


As we mentioned abo"e, the arri"al of ;ucille allows *ulie to be open to people, but not open to being with them. The continuation of this can be seen from Gli"ier9s disco"ery of *ulie in the cafH. Be disco"ers her there and is o"erjoyed to see her, but she does not open herself to him, in fact she withdraws e"en further from him. As we mentioned abo"e *ulie9s moleculari%ation is nearly complete and because of this her world has been reduced to a point of absolute infinitesimality. In one of the film9s most memorable images, *ulie concentrates on a sugar cube as it is absorbs espresso from her cup. This beautiful, but also haunting and somewhat disturbing image, suggests that *ulie9s life has reach its molecular base. =he has reached a point of complete isolation and complete obfuscation of others9 attempts to be with her. *ulie9s trajectory is complete. =he is ready to become. The first e ample that we ha"e of *ulie being earnestly ready to @be9 with people is the "isit that she makes to her mother at the nursing home. *ulie9s mother is played by 5mmanuelle >i"a, who had been the star of Hiroshima mon amour 'Alain >esnais, 1,7,(, itself a film about memory. As 5mma /ilson suggests, >i"a9s appearance in Blue links the film to a particular generation of 3rench cinema. /ilson suggests that @using >i"a allows 6ieslowski to signal just how far he will pursue the e amination of memory9. '/ilson, :<<<) --( *ulie9s "isit to her mother suggests that she is searching for something and she reaches out to her mother to ask her !uestions about who she is. Bowe"er, her mother doesn9t recogni%e her as *ulie, assuming instead that she is her dead sister 1arie3rance. Gn a literal le"el we can understand this as a result of the mother9s loss of memory. Aerhaps she is a "ictim of dementia or of Al%heimer9s. Gn a deeper le"el it is possible that *ulie9s mother is unable to recogni%e her because of *ulie9s


moleculari%ation. *ulie has lost who she is, she has been reduced to a series of tiny particles which, whilst they may bear the same atomic weight as *ulie9s molar self, no longer correspond to the psychic and emotional resemblance which would allow *ulie9s mother to recogni%e her on a metaphysical le"el. If as 3lieger suggests, $eleu%e9s understanding of the relation of @becoming9 in lo"e and other transgressi"e processes, is not a !uestion of interaction between indi"idual subjects, but of multiple assemblages '3lieger, :<<1) .-(, then this is *ulie9s first attempt to form an assemblage of becoming with another person, albeit an unsuccessful one on a surface le"el. Det, *ulie still makes the attempt to form this assemblage of becoming with her mother and as becomings are always molecular this can be understood as the first step in *ulie9s progression towards becoming-woman. As such it ser"es as our first clear indication that *ulie9s moleculari%ation is complete and that she is opening herself towards becoming-woman. Gf course, in a $eleu%ian sense it will take a change in *ulie9s ways of being and thinking in order to effect a true becoming, rather than just a perpetuating of habits of thought that suppose @majoritarian business as usual9 '3lieger, :<<1) .?(. *ulie9s primary !uestion for her mother seems to be whether she was e"er afraid of mice. Gf course this !uestion is moti"ated by the fact that *ulie has disco"ered a family of mice, a mother and new born babies, in her apartment closet. *ulie9s re"ulsion at the thought of the mice is palpable and we obser"e her lying awake at night listening to the sound of the s!ueaking mice in a shot that is similar to earlier ones of her lying in the hospital bed. 8eyond *ulie9s ob"ious phobia about mice, not an altogether unreasonable one under many circumstances, what is the purpose of this narrati"e de"iceE In a


subse!uent shot we see the mother mo"ing her unprotected babies because the bo under which they were li"ing has been disturbed by *ulie. /hat is remarkable about this brief scene is that it is preceded by images of Gli"ier as he unwraps the copy of Aatrice9s score which he has asked the copyist to supply to him. As the mouse mo"es her babies, the images are accompanied by Gli"ier playing a section of composition for the unification of 5urope on the piano. The implications suggest that our conception of motherhood and the maternal are being challenged here. Gn one le"el, the mouse is caring for her babies, as one would e pect. Det, the "ery e istence of the mice is a source of trauma for *ulie, who is forced to remember the loss of her own child, whom she nurtured and cared for much as the mouse is doing, but also must now rid her apartment of. This leads to a secondary area of becoming for *ulie, who must now become-animal in order to continue her personal trajectory of becoming. Gf course the idea of becoming-animal suggests a certain need to become sa"age, to act cruelly, not because one wishes to but because sometimes one must do so to sur"i"e. Gn a secondary le"el, the issue of becoming-animal re!uires *ulie to act, to become interacti"e, because she will need to reach out to her neighbour and ask to borrow his cat. Thus *ulie, who has first gone to her mother to ask for the answer to a !uestion, must now go to her neighbour and ask a fa"or. The story line of the mice, the sad but necessary task of their destruction without conscience, enables *ulie therefore to become-animal. 6ieslowski9s and Areisner9s choice to accompany this scene with a new theme drawn from Aatrice9s score also challenges our understanding of the maternal. 3irst it establishes that *ulie has not managed to destroy Aatrice9s score. =econdly it establishes that Gli"ier cares for the score and intends to attempt to complete it for


reasons that we do not yet understand. ;astly, it opens up the possibility for *ulie to become-music along with Areisner9s score. Thus, the scene ser"es to map out the future trajectory of *ulie9s becoming. After borrowing her neighbour9s cat in order to destroy the mice, *ulie returns to the pool in order to seek the stability that it pro"ides. Bowe"er, this "isit to the pool is !uite different than the earlier ones, because this time *ulie is joined by ;ucille, marking the first time that *ulie has been in the pool while another person has been present. *ulie once again e periences a blackout, again accompanied by the 31 theme, howe"er, unlike her pre"ious blackouts which always came in pairs, in this instance *ulie e periences only one blackout. 3ollowing this she e plains to ;ucille that she borrowed the neighbour9s cat to kill the mice, and ;ucille remarks that it is only normal that she is afraid to go back into the apartment. ;ucille offers to help *ulie by going into the apartment and cleaning up for her. This marks the first time in the film that *ulie has said yes completely to an of fer of help. It marks another turning point in her trajectory of becomingC she has now mo"ed passed the willingness to 1e with the world and is willing now to interact with it on some simple le"el. 3ollowing this scene, 6ieslowski cuts to an ele"ated "iew of Aaris at night. /e do not know where we are or from whose apartment the shot is being taken, but the shot is the longest and most open in the film. The silence is broken by the sound of the phone ringing and as *ulie answers she recei"es a call for help from ;ucille who asks her to come to her se club because she needs her. Again, representati"e of *ulie9s trajectory of becoming, this is the first scene in which *ulie is asked for something and is willing to do it. =he responds to ;ucille9s plea for help and in so doing responds to something outside of herself for the first time


The scene in the se club is the most atypical in the film. The scene9s primary colour is red, which is not completely une pected considering the surroundings, but it also is reminiscent of the third film in 6ieslowski9s Three Colours trilogy, @ed '1,,.($ In that film the colour red suggests issues of fraternity, which is of course what *ulie is demonstrating to ;ucille by coming to help her. Another aspect of the mise-en-scène which is of interest here is the use music. 3or the only time in the film we hear music, a sort of techno-synthesi%ed pop music, which is not drawn from either Aatrice9s score or Areisner9s 31. The coldness and artificiality of the score is a perfect match for what is happening in the club and as such establishes !uickly that *ulie is in a place that is foreign and e otic to her . /hile *ulie is with ;ucille she sees herself on the club9s tele"ision. The inter"iew concerns her husband and is being conducted with Gli"ier. Gli"ier had disco"ered photos of Aatrice and pri"ate documents in the composer9s drawer while he was cleaning out Aatrice9s papers. *ulie, much as she does while watching the funeral of her husband and daughter at the beginning of the film, is once again a spectator and once again what she obser"es teaches her about her own life. =he disco"ers that her husband had a mistress and that her marriage was not what she had originally thought it to be. Thus, *ulie9s idyllic picture of her pre"ious life, and by e tension her understanding of herself, is completely deterritoriali%ed with the news that her husband has been unfaithful to her. In essence her understanding of the past is also moleculari%ed by thi s knowledge and she in fact is released from its hold. Bowe"er, during the inter"iew *ulie also learns that the score e ists and that Gli"ier holds a copy. 3or the first time since destroying the score, *ulie must confront the fact that Aatrice9s music, that her music has not been destroyed. =he e periences


here the same deterritoriali%ation musically 'by watching Gli"ier9s inter"iew( that she did about her personal life. The effect that the knowledge of the e istence of the score has on *ulie is similar to the effect that disco"ering the mice had on her when becoming-animal. *ulie must now choose whether to confront her conflictedness o"er the completion of the score and in so doing to confront Gli"ier from whom she has distanced herself, in spite of his professions of lo"e. *ulie has consistently preempted Gli"ier and pre"ented the becoming of his lo"e for her. Kow *ulie must interact with him and confront him not only about his knowledge of Aatrice9s infidelity but also about his knowledge about the score. /hen she does so, Gli"ier tells her his work on the score grew from the belief that the score9s completion would be force *ulie to li"e once again. Thus, the completion of the score becomes the "ery "ehicle for *ulie9s final becoming-music and the becoming-music of Areisner9s film score. The becoming-music of the score begins when *ulie and Gli"ier meet to consider and listen to Aatrice9s score and the work that Gli"ier has already done on it. /e hear portions of the score reassembled and reintegrated for the first time. Fp until this time the score had e isted as a series of fragments inside the diegesis. The cues may ha"e been internal either in the psyche and memory of *ulie, "isually in the form of the physical score or indi"idually as diegetic performances within the narrati"e. Kow for the first time the score begins to be combined as a becoming-music that is not a simple statement of indi"idual fragments, but rather a concord of harmonious lines. This is reinforced by the "isual nature of the score, which we can see clearly on the screen. The collegiality of the senses and the ease of the counterpoint is reinforced by the fact that the te t of the choral portions of the score is drawn from =t. Aaul9s 3irst ;etter to the 0orinthians, where he argues that one has nothing if one


does not ha"e lo"e. Bowe"er, certain translations replace the word lo"e with the word charity and in this case both are appropriate. 3irst, as *ulie opens herself to work with Gli"ier, she is not only enabling a becoming-music that rises out of her own journey of becoming, one which allows her to begin to e press lo"e for herself, the composition and perhaps Gli"ier, but she is also displaying a sense of charity which allows her to undertake these becomings. 3or this reason, *ulie is becoming-music by allowing the music to continue its own journey of becoming. Gf course such a course of becoming re!uires that *ulie9s trajectory include the remolari%ation, becoming whole of the score, whose own moleculari%ation was also influenced by the e"ent at the film9s beginning. Thus, the score re!uires *ulie becoming-woman, as much as *ulie does, for the e"ent-destructed minoratarian *ulie is incapable of a becomingmusic and as such pre"ents the score from entering into the narrati"e in anyway other than as a series of fragments. *ulie9s trajectory of becoming continues as she in!uires of Gli"ier about his knowledge of Aatrice9s mistress. =he decides that she must go and meet her. 3ollowing *ulie9s declaration she e periences a single blackout, again accompanied by the 31 theme. Bowe"er, this blackout will be *ulie9s final one and it will also mark the final time that we will hear the 31 theme. Ber disco"ery of Aatrice9s infidelity, followed by her willingness to now embrace her new understanding of the past has released her from the hold of the shadow that attempting to li"e without memory had caused her. /hen *ulie finally meets Aatrice9s mistress she disco"ers that the mistress is pregnant with Aatrice9s child. This disco"ery is the impetus for *ulie9s final healing and also the impetus for the final stage of her becoming. *ulie makes a gift of her


familial home to the mistress deciding that Aatrice9s unborn child should ha"e his name and his home. In essence the re"elation of the truth about her past has cut *ulie off from it. *ulie9s partner&husband and child ha"e now 1ecome the mistress9 partner and the mistress9 child. This fact frees *ulie from the constraints of memory, because the memory itself was an artificial construction of her own mind, not the reality of the physical world. *ulie has now freed herself and this is why we will no longer e perience the blackouts of earlier in the film, and why we will no longer hear the 31 theme. This fact is further reinforced by the subse!uent scene which once again takes place in the pool. /e hear *ulie di"e into the pool but we do not see her do so, a further e ample of the fragmentary nature of 6ieslowski9s mise-en-scène. This is followed by silence as the camera searches for her. >ather than the usual images of *ulie swimming fe"erishly, or the blackouts, or the accompanying 31 theme, the only thing that we hear and see is *ulie bursting from beneath the surface of the water gasping for air. In essence *ulie has become-new in the moments beneath the water and she can now fulfill a becoming-music in both herself andthe score. Interestingly, *ulie ne t returns to "isit her mother at the nursing home and as she approaches the building we hear stated for the first time Gli"ier9s theme. *ulie approaches the building but then turns and walks away. =he does not need to see her mother to ask about or "alidate herself. =he has nothing to ask, she knows who she is and does not need her mother to clarify it. 5 empt from the memory that caused her to escape from becoming) *ulie is no longer in need of anonymity. Gf course this has an effect on the becoming-music of the score as well and as the unchecked becoming of both is allowed to mo"e forward we again hear a new theme, the Gli"ier theme.


The Gli"ier theme fills the "oid created by the disappearance of the 31 theme and as such represents the first becoming-music that has happened in the film. Gli"ier9s becoming has not been at issue in terms of the music to this point, but in order for his music to create a becoming-music in the sense of joining with *ulie9s and Aatrice9s it was essential that *ulie9s moleculari%ation be complete to the point where she is able to allow the impediment of memory in the form of the 31 theme to be o"ercome. After lea"ing her mother9s nursing home, *ulie goes to Gli"ier9s apartment to hear what he has composed for the score. Gnce again the score itself becomes an aural and a "isual presence in the film. Together *ulie and Gli"ier work on the score assembling it and reorchestrating it. The score is audible to the spectator in a uni!ue wayC in spite of the fact that Gli"ier is performing the score at the piano, we hear the performance in *ulie9s mind as if the instruments that she chooses are actually present in the room. This is at first confusing, but soon it is apparent that it is a progression in the becoming-music of the score. 3irst of all, the fragmentation e perienced earlier in the mise-en-scène now no longer in"ol"es the denial of the immediately tangible sensory in"entory. /e are now able to hear the themes combining contrapuntally with other melodies. They ha"e ceased to e ist as indi"idual entitiesC they are now part of a becoming-music in the broader sense. The score itself is "isible in the scene "isually and this is a result of *ulie9s becoming which has freed the score itself to e ist both temporally and physically. *ulie and Gli"ier facilitate the becoming-music of the score tangibly in the room by reworking Aatrice9s ideas and bringing them together with Gli"ier9s themes and *ulie9s shaping. In essence what has happen here is that much as Aatrice9s mistress and her unborn child became Aatrice9s family supplanting *ulie9s position, here the score becomes *ulie9s with *ulie taking the place


that the world belie"ed Aatrice to occupy. Gli"ier has assumed the position that once was *ulie9s and in effect he is pro"iding the music for *ulie to shape. Thus the becoming-music of the score has caused a becoming-woman in Gli"ier. The full becoming-music of the score will be reali%ed when *ulie9s final becoming-woman is completed at the end of the score. In the following scene *ulie has returned to her own apartment. =he is working on the score and she calls Gli"ier to speak with him. The theme repeating concept of fragmentation is again at work in this scene. Bowe"er, this time the fragmentation is physical. 3or the first time *ulie is e periencing a fragmentation which separates her from a specific physical body, Gli"ier. Gf course *ulie9s moleculari%ation caused her to "oluntarily remo"e herself from contact with the larger majoritarian body of her past. The fragmentation away from the majoritarian body allowed *ulie9s moleculari%ation to begin. Det here the fragmentation has remo"ed a minoratarian figure of becoming from *ulie9s life. In order for both *ulie9s and the score9s becoming-music to be fully reali%ed *ulie will need to resol"e her immanent feelings for Gli"ier which result in a final becoming-music of the score. Gli"ier9s comment to *ulie that the music can be his or it can be *ulie9s, but if it is e"eryone will ha"e to know, is interesting, because in it we ha"e a kernel of the nature of becoming that so per"ades the score and the film9s narrati"e. *ulie9s answer is simply @Dou9re right.9 The answer is ambiguous and does not resol"e the !uestion of who composed the music. /hat is Gli"ier suggesting here and why is *ulie9s answer so ambiguousE Aerhaps as 6ieslowski suggested the answers do not really matter. /hat does matter here is that this interchange does not pro"ide us with answers, it pro"ides us instead with the reali%ation that the becoming-music of the


score is not limited to one, but rather is a becoming that in"ol"es a becoming-woman, becoming-animal, becoming-music that is greater than one becoming but is now a product of many. This reinforces the fact that *ulie is no longer emotionally isolated, but instead is now part of a larger community, much as the indi"idual themes of the moleculari%ed score are now interrelated and no longer isolated. *ulie returns Gli"ier9s statement with a !uestion moments later when she asks him if he still lo"es her. Be responds that he does and as *ulie looks at the score the chorus begins to sing the #reek translation of the te t from 3irst 0orinthians, @/ithout lo"e I am nothing.9 This is followed by one of the most unusual and pro"ocati"e images in the film, the image of *ulie and Gli"ier making lo"e behind glass in what appears to be a compartment below ground. 5mma /ilson has suggested that the image of the lo"ers behind glass here recalls the opening scenes of Hiroshima mon amour$ '/ilson, :<<<) -.( Gf course a metate tual allusion like that would be perfectly in keeping with 6ieslowski9s choice to utili%e 5mmanuel >i"a for the part of *ulie9s mother. Bowe"er, I belie"e that there is more at work here. The terrarium like !uality of image is striking and destabili%ing. Bowe"er, I belie"e that we can understand it as a metaphor for both the death of *ulie9s pre"ious understanding of herself and the new understanding of herself as she becomes. It is in one sense a burial plot and in another a rhi%omic merging of two becomings that is reminiscent of the bursting up through the surface of =pring9s new daffodils. As *ulie and Gli"ier make lo"e, the sound of the fully reali%ed score is heard for the first time, emerging into the fullness of a becoming-music that mirrors the becoming in *ulie. This remarkable shot is then followed by a series of shots of the "arious people who ha"e played a role in *ulie9s becoming. /e are reminded of her journey,


of the path to becoming that has taken place in her life and in the life of the score. This moment of the film in"ol"es two remarkable shots. The first is of an image of *ulie framed in Gli"ier9s eye but with her back to him. Gf course reminiscent of the earlier scene when the $octor was framed in *ulie9s eye, here the image suggests that *ulie9s becoming is sufficient enough for her to be reflected in such a small aperture, when earlier in the film she was not e"en recogni%ed by her mother. The second image is the film9s final one, the image of a single tear rolling down *ulie9s face. In one way the shot suggests that *ulie has been healed and that she can feel. In another way it suggests that she continues to feel pain and that her memories still cause her pain. Bowe"er, perhaps the ambiguity of the final shot is a commentary on the "ery notion of becoming, for as $eleu%e would remind us, becoming does not ha"e a point of termination, but is an ongoing process. There is no real resolution here because the becoming of both the score and of *ulie has only just begun. /e began this chapter by !uestioning how one might think about and analy%e a film score whose composition predates the shooting of a film. 8y utili%ing the $eleu%ian concept of becoming and its ancillary related concepts we ha"e demonstrated how a film score can not only be moleculari%ed but can actually become an acti"e character within the narrati"e trajectory of the film. 8y understanding the score as a sensate body whose becoming parallels that of the film9s characters we ha"e been able to relate a film score which did not originally respond to the images of the film to the actual mise-en-scene on a much deeper le"el than might ha"e first been thought possible.


Chapter +e0en: )he changing conception of space as a delineator in film score style: * comparati0e analysis of the scores for Things to Come and Scott of the Antarctic /hile separated by only twel"e years, Things to Come '/illiam 0ameron 1en%ies, 1,-2( and Scott of the Antarctic '>obert 3rend, 1,.4( are both films that speak to their times, times which were periods of profound historical realignmentC yet both films accomplish this in "ery different ways. In the case of Things to Come, the 1,-<s was a period of great unrest across 5urope which was a much @contested continent9, where competing political systems and ideologies were in"ol"ed in ongoing conflict '0hapman, :<<-) 1,7(. In 8ritain, a short li"ed economic boom which began following /orld /ar I had !uickly lost momentum, lea"ing more than two million unemployed '1a%ower, :<<<) 1<.(. 0ertainly, as it stood on the precipice of /orld /ar II 8ritain remained a great empire. Bowe"er, there were increasing pressures e ercised upon the empire from a number of different sides and these pressures, represented most directly by the political turmoil in India, signaled that the empire was perhaps already in a state decline. This fact, combined with the added pressures created by economic instability and the potential of war in 5urope suggest that, while Things to Come is about the potential for the continuing e"olution of great empire, it is nonetheless an empire which needs to face its foibles and faults and rein"ent itself if it is to retain confidence in it s future. Scott of the Antarctic speaks of a nation emerging from the de"astation of /orld /ar IIC a nation which won a war but lost not only its identity as a major world power, but also an empire, all the while incurring a post-war debt which was so great it feared it might ne"er reco"er economically. Scott of the Antarctic also speaks to a post-atomic world, a world standing at the abyss of hopelessness, poised at the edge


of the 6orean conflict with the possibility of an all out nuclear cataclysm. Scott of the Antarctic is the world of bombed-out buildings, any-spaces-whate"er and a sense of terror about what the future really holds. Det, there are certainly many scores that we could ha"e chosen from to illustrate this point and so the !uestion becomes, just why do the scores for Things to Come and Scott of the Antarctic merit our consideration. /ell in the first instance, as we shall discuss below, both scores are the product of important classical composers, who while resoundingly successful in their respecti"e non-filmic careers, chose to become in"ol"ed in film for "arying reasons. Indeed, the practice of engaging 8ritish composers of art music for the purpose of furnishing film scores was, in part the result of necessity, there can be little doubt that many of the scores resulting from this practice can be counted amongst the "ery greatest of their genre. In the case of Things to Come, the resulting effort produced what is considered by many to be the first soundtrack recording in 8ritish history, while the score for Scott of the Antarctic would e"entually become +aughan /illiams9 =e"enth =ymphony, the S#m(honie Antarctica$ =econdly, there has been a general neglect of 8ritish film scores in critical writing o"er the past fifty years, and while a few efforts ha"e appeared within the last few years, the field is still in need of thoughtful consideration. ;astly, both films&scores are positioned at the juncture of an important historical and cultural shift in the collecti"e national and continental thought of both 8ritain and 5urope as a whole. As such, the two films embody and encapsulate important shifts in both filmic and philosophical paradigms. In this chapter, taking my lead from $eleu%e who suggested that /orld /ar II created a theoretical di"ide between two distinct forms of film language, I would like


to argue that the war also ser"ed as a di"iding line in terms of film scoring. I will argue that Arthur 8liss9 score for Things to Come and >alph +aughan /illiams9 score for Scott of the Antarctic make use of "ery different musical milieus in their choice of compositional language. Gddly enough, here the di"iding line is centred around conceptions of space. In the collection ,eleu7e and S(ace, 0raig ;ambert and Ian 8uchanan argue that, following the war, thinking about place became dominated @by rubble-strewn "istas9 and that many philosophers, artists and film-makers began to @imagine a world without place, a world of any-spaces-whate"er .9 '8uchanan J ;ambert, :<<7) 1( This thinking is also echoed by $eleu%e at the beginning of his Cinema 00 where he says) /hy is the =econd /orld /ar taken as a breakE The fact is that, in 5urope, the post-war period has greatly increased the situations which we no longer know how to react to, in spaces which we no longer know how to describe. These were @any spaces whate"er9, deserted but uninhabited, disused warehouse, waste ground, cities in the course of demolition or reconstruction. And in these any-space-whate"er a new race of characters was stirring, a kind of mutant) they saw rather than acted, they were seers. '$eleu%e, 1,4,) i( It is this changing conception of space, which I will argue guides and influences the compositional choices made by 8liss and +aughan /illiams in their respecti"e scores. Along the way we will embrace $eleu%ian concepts such as the mo"ementimage, time-image, duration, utopia and smooth space. Bowe"er, before doing this we need to place the respecti"e films and scores into perspecti"e.

=aughan >illiams and the score for Scott of the Antarctic 1,-7 was a key year in the history of film musicC se"eral memorable, symphonicstyle scores were composed, including Arthur 8liss9 Things to Come, 5rich /olfgang 6orngold9s Ca(tain Blood '1ichael 0urti%, 1,-7(, and 1a =teiner9s The 0nformer


'*ohn 3ord, 1,-7( '=teiner, 1,,4) ,<(. The 8ritish film industry was plagued during the 1,-<s by the fact that there simply weren9t enough good home-grown composers to furnish the re!uired number of scores called for. Those who were particularly skilled were often booked up for months in ad"ance ';ack, :<<:) 1:<(. The lack of e perienced film composers led to studio9s adopting the strategy of approaching respected classical composers to write music for their more e pensi"e filmsC a trend that persisted until the 1,2<s '$onnelly, :<<7) 21(. Aerhaps the ape of this practice can be seen in >alph +aughan /illiams9 unprecedented full-screen card credit at the opening of Fort#2 inth +arallel '1ichael Aowell, 1,.1( '$onnelly, :<<7) 21(. +aughan /illiams9 entry into film music came when he suggested to Arthur 8enjamin that he might @like to ha"e a shot at writing for the films.9 '+aughan /illiams, :<<.) :-2( Be would e"entually write the music for ele"en films between the years 1,.< and 1,7?. +aughan /illiams9 approach to scoring and his "iews about it were !uite uni!ue for his time. Be belie"ed that while film music must always be "iewed as an applied and speciali%ed art, it nonetheless had the capacity to scale the artistic heights. Be warned howe"er, that in order to accomplish this, the score must always be composed to fit to the action and dialogue, e"en assuming a position as background when it was necessary '+aughan /illiams, :<<.) :-2(. +aughan /illiams suggested that film music might be understood in one of two waysC the first, in which e"ery aspect of the narrati"e was underscored by musicC the second, which he preferred, ignored the minutiae and instead intensified @the spirit of the whole situation by a continuous stream of music.9 '+aughan /illiams, :<<.) :-?( Fni!uely, +aughan /illiams felt it was crucial for the screen writer, director&producer,


cinematographer and composer to work together on the project from its inception '+aughan /illiams, :<<.) :-4(. +aughan /illiams preferred to approach film scoring from a position that he referred to as @parallel to the film9 'Aarker, :<<1) 11(, by which he meant that he composed the score as, or prior to, the film being shot, rather than composing to the direct "isual stimuli of the finished film. This practice mean that his scores were able to be freer in e pression, gi"ing them a more independent and self-contained !uality. This, freedom from "isual stimulation allowed him to achie"e a higher artistic plane than the work of many of his contemporaries 'Aarker, :<<1) 11(. After agreeing to compose the score for a gi"en film, +aughan /illiams would re!uest the script as well as a set of general directions for the project. Be would then begin to work on the score immediately, composing indi"idual cues, which were precisely timed and yet e tendable or compressible by means of a system of optional repeatsC a method which was "ery similar to the scoring methods adopted by =atie in the 1,:<s. Bowe"er, once finished, he left it to the discretion of the director and editor to make the necessary adjustments to the score as re!uired 'Aarker, :<<1) 11(. The end of /orld /ar II saw the beginning of a new sub-trend in 8ritish films, a type of semi-documentary film, in which an historical story was reenacted on the screen as drama, but with an eye towards being as authentic as possible '*ames, 1,.4) 1-2(. 0ertainly, Scott of the Antarctic can be seen to ha"e fitted into this subgenre$ Indeed, in some ways the fact that this enormous historical epic was a project of 5aling =tudios, a studio more associated with comedy than historical drama, seems !uite bi%arre, and leads one to !uestion just how the narrati"e of the Scott story fit in with the 5aling ethos. Bowe"er, as >ichard Doung has pointed out, Scott was an


appropriate choice for 5aling for three reasons. 3irst, the story fit perfectly with 1ichael 8alcon9s desire to see 8ritain portrayed as a country of !uesting e plorers and ad"enturers. =econdly, Scott can be understood as a "ariation on another 5aling studio theme of the family business which pits itself against bureaucracy, in that the film deals with =cott9s inability to gain go"ernment funding for his e pedition. This fact compels =cott to embark on a series of personal appearances in which he can"ases for pri"ate donations to o"ercome the lack of official go"ernment financial support. ;astly, the film can be "iewed as a continuing part of the 5aling tradition of heroic /orld /ar II films, such as Con!o# 'Aen Tennyson, 1,.<( 'Doung, :<<1) 11(. +aughan /illiams9 in"ol"ement with Scott of the Antarctic began in *une, 1,.? when he was approached by 5rnest Ir"ing, musical director of 5aling =tudios, with the idea of composing the music for the intended film. 5arlier in 1,.-, Ir"ing had written an article on @1usic in 3ilms9 which appeared in &usic and Letters in which he had critici%ed +aughan /illiams9 score for the film Coastal Command '*. 8. Bolmes, 1,.:($ Ir"ing referred to the score as being @not !uite up to N+aughan /illiams9O usual standard9, suggesting that it wasn9t @particularly good film music9. Be went on to suggest that while the score was @NsOolid, musicianly and melodiousM /ardour =treet will touch its hat and remain unimpressed.9 'Ir"ing, 1,.-) ::,( Bowe"er, in 1,.2 Ir"ing would apologi%e to +aughan /illiams, who at the time was working on the score for The Lo!es of -oanna )odden '0harles 3rend, 1,.?( 'Doung, :<<1) 1<(. +aughan /illiams responded to Ir"ing9s proposition with a letter that contained definite ideas about the way that music should be used in the film, and which asked for a conference with all in"ol"ed to discuss his ideas and reach general agreement on style and method before he began to compose '*ames, 1,.4) 1.7(.


The period following the end of /orld /ar II marked a decided change in +aughan /illiams9 musical style. Kowhere can this be seen more clearly than in his =i th =ymphony '1,..-?(C a work which is the antithesis of its predecessor the 3ifth =ymphony 'Aarker, :<<1) 1-(. The =i th =ymphony possesses a @nihilistic "ision9 that clearly represented an internal crisis for +aughan /illiams, one which perhaps was brought about by the horrendous inhumanity of the Bolocaust and the dropping of two atomic bombs on *apan 'Doung, :<<1) 1-(. The bleak language of the =i th =ymphony was still fresh in the composer9s mind at the time that he was working on the score for Scott, and perhaps to some e tent e plains the bleak and often emotionless !uality of the score. Interestingly, +aughan /illiams suggested that he felt that for an epic film of the scale of Scott of the Antarctic, the music needed to function @to bring to the screen the hidden and spiritual illustration into which the camera, howe"er ably directed, is unable to peer.9 '*ames, 1,.4) 1..( +aughan /illiams sketched the entire score for the film, including furnishing se"eral of the cues in full score, in just under two weeks '*ames, 1,.4) 1.7(. Bis score calls for an e tremely large orchestra of some se"enty-fi"e players Z twel"e woodwind, four horns, se"en brass, fi"e percussion, forty-fi"e strings, pianoforte, ylophone, and harp. The composer9s hea"y reliance upon pitched and unpitched percussion generated an entirely new sound world and e panded the orchestral palet te by encompassing sonorities that had not pre"iously been e ploited in 8ritish film scoring 'Aarker, :<<1) 1-(. The autograph full score for the film is ,,2 bars long, howe"er, only .2: measures actually appear in the film, and this trimming of the score was carried out under +aughan /illiams9 direction '*ames, 1,.4) 1.7(. In the post-production shooting script all of +aughan /illiams9 music is marked to function


as background music rather than featured music 'Doung, :<<1) 1-(. Bowe"er, in the end +aughan /illiams9 score can be said to ha"e played a much more significant role than this. Indeed, during the !uest for the Aole segment of the film, one might e"en say that the score assumes a position e!ual to or perhaps e"en more significant than that of the spoken dialogue. Gne of the more inno"ati"e introductions into +aughan /illiams9s score was the addition of a wind machine which ser"ed to create an audible reminder of humankind9s transitory e istence when pitted against nature 'Tolley, :<<1 ,(. The score also employs a wordless soprano chorus, which emphasi%es the almost impersonal nature of human suffering when it takes place against the backdrop of so "ast and unforgi"ing a place as the Antarctic. Ir"ing was not con"inced that +aughan /illiams9 use of this women9s chorus was necessary 'Doung, :<<1) 1.(. This opinion was also shared by director 6en >ussell, in his 1,42 tele"ision portrait of the composer, where he critici%ed +aughan /illiams for his use of what >ussell considered unnecessary sound effects 'Tolley, :<<1) ,(. Bowe"er, I belie"e that this criticism is harsh, ill-founded and probably misogynistic, for as Buntley and 1an"ell suggest in relation to the scene depicting the men9s final hours, the combination of "oices and orchestral sound mingles with the roar of the wind and the flapping of the can"as tent, interrupted by sparse dialogue from the men and the reading of =cott9s last letter home...Ne pressingO emotions that the men cannot re"eal directly through their speech and actions. 'Buntley J 1an"ell, 1,7?) 1..( The response to the score was generally positi"e, with no less than Berman 6eller writing that +aughan /illiams9 @noble and, in parts, grandiose score isM immeasurably better than the present film itselfC each of the more important sections will repay detailed study.9 '6eller :<<2) 1?:( 6eller added howe"er, that the music


disappointed to some degree because of what he called the o"er-economy and repetition-compulsion of the thematic material '6eller :<<2) 1?:(. +aughan /illiams would e"entually rework and e pand his score for Scott of the Antarctic, calling it the S#m(honia Antarctica, the first performance of which took place in 1anchester in 1,7- under the baton of =ir *ohn 8arbirolli conducting the BallH Grchestra.

<4?4 >ells and Things to Come 8eginning in 1,-. 8ritish cinemas saw a steady increase in attendance, with figures during the period 1,-. to 1,.< reaching almost one billion. 8esides being a source of entertainment, 8ritish cinema also assumed an important role in social contact and communication 'Ambrosius J Bubbard, 1,4,) 11-(. 8ritish films of the period projected the image of 8ritain as a @stable social hierarchy at home9, a @just colonial go"ernment abroad9, as well as presenting patriotic images of the monarchy and the armed ser"ices '0hapman, :<<-) :<:(. Gn the whole the 8ritish populace seems to ha"e been happy with the films that they were offered during the 1,-<s and those films ser"ed to help maintain consensus and the status 3uo '0hapman, :<<-) :<:(. A key demographic feature of 1,-<s 8ritain was the gradual @ascendancy of the middle class9. 3ew films o"ertly touched upon this crack in the status 3uo, yet in many cases it was present beneath the surface'=treet, 1,,?) .<(. In his autobiography B.#. /ells discusses the genesis of the book that would e"entually become Things to Come$ Be writes, @In this newly built =pade Bouse I


began a book which can be considered as the keystone to the main arch of my work. That arch rises naturally from my first creati"e imaginationsMand it leads on by a logical de"elopment to The Sha(e of Things to Come Nfor whichO The .or", .ealth and Ha((iness of &an"ind was, so to speak, the workshop.9 '/ykes, 1,??) ?,( Things to Come was not the first film "ersion of a /ells9 literary work. Are"ious film undertakings included The 0n!isi1le Thief 'Fnknown, 1,<,(, First &en in the &oon '8ruce #ordon, *. ;. +. ;eigh, 1,1,(, The 0sland of Lost Souls '5rle 0. 6enton, 1,-:( and The 0n!isi1le &an '*ames /hale, 1,--(. /ells was concerned to make sure that what he percei"ed to be the @"ertical social stratification of today9 should not be projected into the future world discussed by Things to Come '3rayling) 1,,7) .,(. Indeed, /ells, who had been raised in the downstairs world of late nineteenth-century 8ritain 'his mother was a chambermaid, and his father a gardener(, struggled to escape this world, belie"ing that an upperclass life was within his grasp. Ba"ing read, at an early age, Alato9s @e(u1lic, /ells also belie"ed that change was possible in the hierarchical structure of 5nglish society. This notion was later gi"en theoretical grounding while /ells was at uni"ersity, where one of his professors was Thomas Bu ley, a staunch defender of 0harles $arwin and his theory of e"olution. Bu ley9s teaching suggested to /ells that man was merely in the process of an e"olutionary progression, one which wasn9t fi ed but could actually be molded and shaped. Bowe"er /ells, soon came to belie"e that in order for this societal change to take place its was essential that indi"idual go"ernments be replaced by a central go"ernment, one that would regulate a series of nation-states.


B. #. /elles9 Things to Come, ad"ances a utopian "ision for the century which follows the year 1,-2. The story is set in the fictional 5nglish city of Q5"erytownQ, and begins prophetically, just prior to the e"ents of /orld /ar II. The narrati"e follows the attempts of *ohn 0abal and subse!uently his grandson Gswald, to establish a world where technology is not wasted in pursuit of war but is rather spent on the betterment of ci"ili%ation. The efforts of Gswald 0abal e"entually lead to the creation of a one world go"ernment, which ensures the safety of the citi%enry. This progression of space from a place of danger to a place of security is mirrored in Arthur 8liss9 score. The projected /ellsian @liberal9 utopia, with its renunciation of parliamentary democracy, pri"ate property and indi"idualism was not the type of society that con"entional liberal thinkers had en"isioned '0oupland, :<<<) 7.-(, but then /ells was not a typical ;iberal. In *uly 1,-:, while speaking to a group of Doung ;iberals at an G ford summer-school, /ells urged the students to transform themsel"es into @;iberal 3ascists9 and @enlightened Ka%is,9 @who would compete in their enthusiasm and self-sacrifice with the ardent supporters of dictatorship.9 '1a%ower, :<<<) :-( This suggestion is not as outrageous as one might at first think, for one of the reasons why fascist ideology succeeded was because of the @political and social failure of liberal democracy.9 '1a%ower, :<<<)1?( Indeed, by the mid-1,-<s the majority of 5uropean liberalism looked tired, with the organi%ed left ha"ing been smashed. This left the sole struggle o"er ideology to take place on the >ight-wing '1a%ower, :<<<):4(. Bowe"er, in fascist eyes, /ells was considered more of a @socialist9, a fact that was reinforced when /ells made a trip to the =o"iet Fnion to meet *oseph =talin.


/ells attempted to persuade =talin that technicians, scientific workers, medical men, a"iators, operating engineers, would best be in a position to supply the material for constructi"e re"olution in the /est. Be suggested that a dictatorship of technologists, as opposed to a dictatorship of the proletariat would be a more successful way to manage re"olution. =talin was @singularly unimpressed9, but the concepts e pressed by /ells would become key themes in Things to Come '3rayling) 1,,7) 1.(. In spite of /ells9 seemingly socialist o"erture to =talin, many were still perple ed by his seeming fascination with fascism. =pectators had to contend with the perple ing fact that Things to Come contained images of a race of re"olutionaries who wore both the black shirts and the broad shiny belts of the fascist mo"ement. These re"olutionaries appeared to mo"ed and carry themsel"es in the semi-military manner of fascistsC a fact which would ha"e been apparent to an audience familiar with the sight of @blackshirts9 on 8ritish streets during the pre"ious three and a half years '0oupland, :<<<) 7.1(. 3or /ells the presence of the 8lackshirts reflected his long-established theory of how the world state would be achie"ed, as well as the important changes which his thinking underwent in response to the specific political conditions of the early 1,-<s '0oupland, :<<<) 7.1(. It was feelings similar to /ells that attracted ;abour 1A Gswald 1osley to fascism, and indeed scholars such as 0hristopher 3rayling belie"e that it is possible that Gswald 0abal, the principal character in the second half of Things to Come, may ha"e been a "aguely disguised allusion to 1osley. 1osley was not alone in feeling e asperated by what afellow-1A called the ;abour leadership9s @passion for e"ading decisions.9 At the 1,-< ;abour Aarty 0onference, 1osley proposed a radical plan for economic reco"ery, which was rejected by the leadership on the grounds of cost. This failure prompted him to lea"e


the party and to begin the mo"e rightwards which e"entually culminated in the creation of the 8ritish Fnion of 3ascists '1a%ower , :<<<)1-.(. 1osley stated) This age is dynamic, and the pre-war age was staticMthe men of the pre-war age are much @nicer9 people than we are, just as their age was much more pleasant than the present time. The practical !uestion is whether their ideas for the solution of the problems of the age are better than the ideas of those whom that age has produced. '1a%ower, :<<<)1-.( /hile working-class fascism can not be said to be the traditional refuge of labour, there is little doubt that during the 1,-<s there was to a certain degree sympathy for 1osley9s Kew Aarty '1,-1-:( and its successor, The Fnion of 3ascists '1,-:-1,.<(. Indeed both of 1osley9s parties would e"entually enjoy a good deal of influential support '8enson, 1,4,) 14.(.

*rthur Bliss and the score for <4?4 >ells2 Things to Come Things to Come was the first of se"en film scores that Arthur 8liss would compose. /ells had met 8liss in 1arch 1,-., at the >oyal Institution in ;ondon, where 8liss was gi"ing a lecture on @Aspects of 0ontemporary 1usic.9 /ells was immediately drawn to 8liss and found that he agreed with many of his ideas about modern music and art. /ells suggested to Ale ander 6orda that they immediately engage 8liss to score the film, and 6orda was so enthusiastic that he e"en agreed to let 8liss compose much of the score before the shooting took place, allowing many of the film9s key scenes to be fit the music '1ac$onald, 1,,4) -2(. =uch a practice was highly unusual in con"entional film music practice, for the composition and application of the score is generally, the final stage in the post-production process. 0ertainly, there were e amples where the score predated the actual shooting or editing of certain scenes in a film. Bere one thinks of the 8attle on the Ice scene from 5isenstein9s film Alexander e!s"#$ In this instance Arokofie" precomposed the


music for the scene so that 5isenstein could edit the images directly to the rhythm of the music. Bowe"er, this practice was certainly more of an anomaly than the rule. 8liss was honest about the fact that his moti"ation to work in the cinema was primarily monetary, which was borne out by 8liss9 way of turning each of his film scores into independent concert works ';ack :<<:) 11.(. This fact did not limit the success of his film scoring, but certainly made his work more commercially "iable. Bis score for Things to Come is also remarkable for the fact that it satisfied music critics when understood as @pure music9, unattached to the cinema. The concert suite deri"ed from the score was performed with great success at the cueen9s Ball Aromenade 0oncert series in 1,-7, @winning many new friends for film music.9 'Buntley, 1,?:) .<( A set of three gramophone records of the score, issued by $ecca and performed by the ;ondon =ymphony Grchestra conducted by 8liss, certainly are one of the earliest 8ritish film score releases, if indeed not the "ery first. /ells9 "iews on film techni!ue were clearly collaborati"e, and he wished to include the composer as an integral part of the design. Be disagreed with those who "iewed the score merely as a type of decoration which could be added after shooting was completed. This "iew prompted him to seek 8liss9s suggestions regarding the o"erall design of the film almost from the "ery beginning '=nedden, :<<<) :4(. /ells was insistent upon recording the score in ad"ance, a proposition which would ha"e allowed him to construct the film around it. Bowe"er, 6orda argued for the score to be left in its pre-shooting pro"isional state, with 8liss finishing it in the postproduction process '3rayling) 1,,7) .:(. Fltimately, the outline which 8liss had completed by autumn 1,-. and which was based on /ells9 original screenplay remained largely unaltered.


According to 0hristopher Aalmer, 8liss and 1uir 1athieson Z 1usic $irector at ;ondon =tudios - saw the daily rushes as they came in each day and formed much of the score in reaction to these. 3ilm music scholar *ohn Buntley has called 1athieson @the most important single figure in the history of 8ritish film music.9 'Buntley, 1,?:) -.( Indeed, both 6orda and 1athieson would play an important role in the history of the de"elopment of 8ritish film music, for it was under their watch that important 8ritish composers such as 8enjamin 8ritten and Arthur 8liss were engaged to compose for film. 8liss and 1athieson worked on broader issues surrounding the score in collaboration with 6orda and /ells. And it has been said that 8liss9 music played an important role in bringing life to a rather stilted screenplay. >aymond 1assey, who played the dual roles of *ohn 0abal and Gswald 0abal in the film, remarked that the @picture was fantastically difficult to actM because /ells had deliberately formali%ed the dialogue, particularly in the later se!uencesM5motion had no place in /ells9 new world.9 '3rayling) 1,,7) ::( It was perhaps for this reason that /ells relied so hea"ily upon music for this project. Indeed, on the "ery first page of his original treatment, /ells described the story in musical terms, and made it clear that he wanted the film9s structure to mirror that of a dramatic opera, with the long speeches functioning as the opera9s recitati"es and the large set-pieces being accompanied only by orchestra '3rayling) 1,,7) -2(. It was certainly for this reason that 8liss9 music, which was always at its most "ibrant when it was responding to e tra-musical stimulus, clearly added the dimension of humanness to /ells and 6orda9s enterprise. In spite of /ells9 insistence that the film be dri"en and ordered by musical ideals, 8liss ne"er truly belie"ed that this was possible. In relation to this, 8liss


commented that it was unreasonable to pretend that it was possible to blend music and mise-en-scène as closely as had originally been planned by /ells. 8liss added that @The incorporation of original music in film production is still in many ways an unsol"ed problem.9 'Buntley J 1an"ell, 1,7?) 7<( Fpon the film9s completion, /ells wrote that 8liss9 score had been an integral part @of the constructi"e scheme of the film9, and that the importance of his contribution made him @practically a collaborator in its production.9 /ells continued that @in this as in so many other respects, this film, so far as at least its intention goes, is boldly e perimental. =ound se!uences and pictures se!uences were made to be closely interwo"en.9 0leary in /ells9 mind, his desire to integrate the score from the inception of the project had been fully reali%ed 'Buntley J1an"ell, 1,7?) .,-7<(. 0ritical response to the score was generally positi"e. Bowe"er, critic 6urt ;ondon took issue with 8liss9 choice to employ a large symphonic force for the score, suggesting that the sonic output of such an ensemble far e ceeded the recording limitations of the time ';ondon, 1,-2) :14(. ;ondon wrote that while 8liss showed Ean undoubted sense for film effects and the emphasis of pictorial ideas. Bis orchestra, a big symphony orchestra, has not yet managed to free itself from the symphonic tradition9, suggesting that @NiOn future scores 8lissMwill NneedO to re"ise his style.9 ';ondon, 1,-2) :1?-14( )he changing conception of space As we mentioned at the beginning of this chapter, we can understand the different approaches to these two film scores by seeing them in light of the changing conception of space that occurred at the end of /orld /ar II. As 8uchanan and ;ambert suggest, after /orld /ar II @The deserted streets and shabby buildings


signify not that ]a peopleUMis missing, but that it has been targeted for termination.9 '8uchanan J ;ambert, :<<7) 1( Indeed, in the aftermath of the bombing of Biroshima, the issue of space and habitability became all the more acutely central to the human e perience. It was this !uestion which would dominate the second half of the twentieth century as the key analytical issue concerning space. The primary issue was a "ery practical one) what does it takes to make space inhabitableE /hat does it take to make places from sites where the acti"e place making infrastructure had been either destroyed or remo"ed '8uchanan J ;ambert, :<<7) :(E This was a direct shift from pre-war spatial thinking, which was concerned with the seemingly damaging effect that space was ha"ing on the modern indi"idual '8uchanan J ;ambert, :<<7) :(. Bowe"er, after /orld /ar II, thinking about space changed with space being regarded as uninhabitable by definition. Arior to /orld /ar II the concern had been how space affected the indi"idual. 3ollowing /orld /ar II the emphasis shifted to !uite a different proposition) could indi"iduals affect space '8uchanan J ;ambert, :<<7) -(E =pace is essentially @a discursi"e practice of a place9. '0onley, :<<7d) :74( /ith this accepted, place can be understood as @a gi"en area, named and mapped, that can be measured in terms of surface or "olume.9 Thus place only becomes space when it becomes the site of @e istential engagement among li"ing agents who mark it with their acti"ities or affiliate with dialogue and acti"e perception.9 In this sense, place is the e!ui"alent of $eleu%e9s concept of any-space-whatsoe"er '0onley, :<<7d) :74(. Thus following on from this we might identify the following differences in the conception of space before and after /orld /ar II)


Arior to /orld /ar II) 1. Bow does space effect indi"idualsE :. Is e ternal space, as opposed to the safety of personal space, inhabitableE -. /hat are the damaging effects of spaceE 3ollowing /orld /ar II) 1. Bow can indi"iduals affect space, if at allE :. Is space uninhabitable by definitionE -. /hat is the meaning or lack of meaning in the any-space-whate"erE '8uchanan J ;ambert :<<7) -( The change between the prewar spatial thinking which was concerned with the damaging effect that space was ha"ing on the indi"idual, and the post-war reasoning which suggested that space had become largely uninhabitable can be clearly discerned in the different approaches to the two films under consideration. ;et9s e amine how. Things to Come is an ideological e ploration of the way that a one-worldgo"ernment can impro"e the !uality and stability of life on earth. Bowe"er, /ells soon came to belie"e that in order for this societal change to take place it was essential that indi"idual go"ernments be replaced by a central go"ernment, one that would regulate a series of nation-states. It was this idea of a single super-power, in /ells9 mind which would facilitate a better world, a world that was both part of the @utopian9 dream from mid to late 1,th century through to the 1,-<s and was also linked to the "arious economic difficulties of the time. This transformation in the conceptual idea of space can be seen in the progression of Things to Come, which begins with a clear, if thinly disguised sense of placeC a place which /ells calls 5"erytown. The film considers the way that space, 'initially considered in minoritarian terms as represented by 5"erytown and subse!uently in a remolari%ed, central @one world9 go"ernment( affects the life of the indi"idual. The film mo"es outward, from an initial filmic and spatial world that


e ists within the borders of 5"erytown, through the e"entual reimaging of the world under the go"ernment of /ings G"er the /orld. The film ends with Gswald 0abal suggesting the possibility of carrying the one world go"ernment into the far reaches of space. Thus it is clear that the narrati"e of the film embraces the three !uestions referred to abo"e on page :... 8liss9s score, which e hibits some elements of modernism, begins with a musical "ocabulary that can only be characteri%ed as almost as +aughan /illiams-ish in its 5nglishness. 8liss9s score reinforces the $eleu%ian pre-war notion of space e emplified in the mo"ement image by) 1. 5stablishing a sense of place at the film9s opening. :. 0reating a series of time mo"ement in fi"e e tensi"e se!uences of montage 'which I shall refer to as ballets( which ser"e to represent the passage of large portions of time within the narrati"e. -. 0reating a sense of motion and mo"ement in a style "ery similar to the use of music in silent film. .. 1o"ing the film outward by adopting a progressi"ely more modernist tonal "ocabularly. 8y contrast >obert 3rend9s Scott of the Antarctic, is a postwar film that clearly grew out of a desire to restore a sense of national pride in a 8ritain which had struggled both during and after the war. The film tells the story of 0aptain >obert =cott9s second failed attempt to be the first man at the =outh Aole. The score shares with the =i th =ymphony a sense of desolation and futility which perfectly underscores the composer understanding of =cott9s failed mission, an attempt which +aughan /illiams considered futile, self-absorbed and foolhardy. /hile the makers of the film desired to create a heroic image of =cott and his doomed team, +aughan /illiams9 conception of the score stood in direct opposition to this "ision, a parado which I will address during the analysis of the score later in this chapter.


8efitting, in the $eleu%ian sense, the post-war time-image film, Scott of the Antarctic mo"es steadily towards the "oid, or the any-space-whate"er. >ather than establishing a sense of national identity as 8liss9 score for Things to Come does, +aughan /illiams9 score establishes a sense of loss of identity for the members of =cott9s party. These men are clearly 5nglish, but they are not identified with 5ngland. The place ^5ngland_ does not e ist here as it did, albeit camouflaged, at the beginning of the former film. +aughan /illiams9 score for Scott of the Antarctic redefines the sense of the spatial in the following ways) 1. It establishes a sense of identity for the e peditionary party, but not a sense of the nationalC a sense of place. :. The score then sets to destroying this sense of national identity throughout the final half of the film. -. The score mo"es from what can be described in a general way as @5nglishness9 to a tonal palate which becomes increasingly ambiguous and less theme-dri"en, an any tune&score whate"er. The score in essence becomes one with the landscape, both emotional and physical and e"entually melds into it. .. The score, like elements of the mise-en-scène mo"es inward, reducing the "ast place of the Antarctic to an any-space-whate"er . 7. Fltimately, the score helps erase place entirely. 8eyond the application of $eleu%ian spatial thinking we will also need to e plore se"eral other $eleu%ian concepts. These will include the mo"ement-image and time-image duality, and for Things to Come the concept of utopia, while for Scott of the Antarctic we will need to employ the concepts of duration and smooth space. ;et9s begin by briefly e amining each of these in turn. /e will begin with the mo"ement-image. $eleu%e9s two cinema books '1,42 J 1,4,( designate a shift in cinematic thinking that coincides with the end of /orld /ar II, creating two different and distinct forms of cinema) the mo"ement-image and the time-image. $eleu%e uses the term mo"ement-image to define and describe the !uality of cinematic images that


pre"ailed during the period 14,7 to 1,.7, a time during which cinema @became the se"enth art by embodying images not in mo"ement but as mo"ement.9 '0onley, :<<7b) 1?.( 3or $eleu%e, the cinema of the mo"ement-image is characteri%ed by action and its inter"als and can be seen in the comedies of 0harlie 0haplin and 8uster 6eaton, as well as in the @molecular agitation of wind, dust or smoke in the films of ;ouis ;umière.9 '0onley, :<<7b) 1?7( Interestingly, 0haplin was working on his great modernist film &odern Times '1,-2( at the same time that /ells was o"erseeing the filming of Things to Come$ $eleu%e bases his concept of the mo"ement-image on 8ergson9s three theses of mo"ement. It is not unreasonable for $eleu%e to ha"e employed 8ergson in his argument surrounding the mo"ement-image, for 8ergson9s two most important books &atter and &emor# '14,2( and Creati!e E!olution '1,<?(, co"er the early history of cinema, and philosophical musings from this period often discuss the concept of the image of mo"ement in relation to thought '>odowick, :<<-) 1,(. As $eleu%e argues, in standard cinema time is deri"ed from mo"ement, and it is also deri"ed from the actual and e tended objects of ordered and slowed down perception. 8ecause of this the whole of time can be understood as a unity deri"ed from e tendable parts, which connect. In other words, our li"es are not e perienced as a series of indi"idual e"ents which point towards some designated terminal point. >ather they are a series of any-instances-whate"er, which e ist within the whole of time, much as our memories represent flows within the cumulati"e whole of time and not specific points. According to 8ergson we do not e perience time as a simple accumulation of actions and e"ents, but e perience these any-instances-whate"er within the flow of the totality of time, much as we e perience each new pitch as it


enters a melody. Therefore, standard mo"ement presents gi"en actions and e"ents, with time establishing the unity within which they are located '0olebrook, :<<:) 17-(. To this end, $eleu%e suggests that cinema can be defined as @the system which reproduces mo"ement as a function of the any-instant-whate"er, that is, as a function of e!uidistant instants, selected so as to create an impression of continuity.9 '$eleu%e, 1,42) 7( 8ecause of this, the e"ent of the mo"ing image owes to a @distribution of the points of a space or of the moments of an e"ent,9 a moment that can be understood as a @translation in space9. '0onley, :<<7b) 1?.( 3elicity 0olman offers the e ample of the film Lost in Translation '=ophia 0opolla, :<<-( as an e ample of such a @translation in space9, suggesting that the main characters 8ob and 0harlotte ha"e connected in a chance encounter and @come together in an asymmetrically cohabited durational passageway of becoming.9 '0olman, :<<.) 1.7( Fnlike space, @mo"ement cannot be segmented or di"ided into static sections without changing or eliminating its !uality as mo"ementM0on"ersely, all spatial segmentations partake of the same homogeneous space.9 '>odowick, :<<-) :1( 3or 8ergson the human dimension of time opens out onto a wider hori%onC one that neither denies nor pri"ileges the human dimension '1ay, :<<7) .7(. Be calls this conception of time a @spatiali%ed9 conception, and suggests that it has the character of e tension, for e ample, @a line that e tends from one point infinitely remote to another point infinitely distant.9 '1ay, :<<7) .:( This is "ery helpful because it allows us to understand the mo"ement-image as being comprised of moments in a gi"en whole, a single shot for instance, and it can be felt in the panoramic or tracking shots that confer motion upon the field of the image '0onley, :<<7b) 1?7(. This allows us to @understand the image as a "isual or aural ritornello to


the one who makes it, space appears as a motor ritornello to the one who tra"els through it.9 '$eleu%e, 1,,?) 12<( As we shall see when e amining Things to Come, the film functions "ery much as an @early9 sound film, which segments itself into periods of action, periods of decision and periods of transition. Indeed, the film9s application of the score suggests a certain continuation of silent film accompaniment techni!ue, with music being designed to co"er inter"als between scenes and to create a sense of mo"ement, which is "ery much consistent with $eleu%e9s concept of the mo"ement-image. According to $eleu%e, the mo"ement-image reached its end for fi"e reasons. 3irst, it no longer referred to a totali%ing or synthetic situation, but a dispersi"e one. =econd, characters began to multiply and become interchangeable. Third, it lost its definition as either action, affection or perception when it could not be affiliated with a genre. 3ourth, an art of wandering Z the camera seems to mo"e on its own Z replaced the storyline, and plots became saturated by clichHs. 3inally, opposing the traditional arc of narrati"e cinema, narrati"es were now dri"en by a need to denounce conspiracy '0onley, :<<7b) 1?7(. 8y contrast, $eleu%e theori%es that after /orld /ar II the direction of film changed. If as $eleu%e suggested early cinema was go"erned by the mo"ement-image, then modern cinema would be dominated by the timeimage. The primary difference being that modern cinema does not present mo"ing things or objectsC we do not e"en notice the mo"ement of the camera, but instead are @in"ited into the "irtual.9 '0olebrook, :<<:) 171( Images are no longer subordinated to a sense of time that is deri"ed from actionC instead the image gi"es us time itself, a form of the "irtual. '0olebrook, :<<:) 17.( This is not the cinema of actions which dominated the early period of filmC there the hero always knew how to react.


Bowe"er, after the war, people no longer belie"ed it was possible to react to situations '$eleu%e, 1,,7) 17-(. In modern cinema the spectator is often shown images which can be described as @recollection-images9C images with which the spectator has no possible historical connection and yet images which retain the power to affect. These images remain "irtual in their non-recognition. It is these images which become time-images because they disturb thought and memory through their display of time in cinema '0olman :<<7) 17-(. The time-image also fre!uently becomes what Tom 0onley calls @a site of amnesia9 because the "arious wa"es of @action turn the world at large into a matri in which personages seem to float indiscriminately.9 This creates a subjecti"ity which can only be felt through the perception of time, resulting in the possibility that humans are @determined by the en"irons of time in which they are held.9 '0onley, :<<7e) :41( Therefore, the time-image designates images which Benri 8ergson !ualified as imbued with duration) a component of time that is neither successi"e nor chronological. =een less as matter than felt as pure duration, time-images suggest that the configuration of the world has been altered, by drawing attention to the !ualities of their @on optical and aural properties as much as the signs or matter they present.9 '0onley, :<<7e) :4<( This suggest that time does not pro"ide a "essel in which life is li"ed, but rather that life is something that is li"ed first and then only !uantified in linear form later '1ay, :<<7) .:(. 8ecause of this we can understand time-images as time itselfC a becoming in space, or @the form of time as change.9 In this instance, time is associated here with the perspecti"e of uni"ersal "ariation. It is seen as a /hole which changes constantly but has no beginning, or end points. This criterion of a


perspecti"e on a /hole that changes results in the creation of what $eleu%e calls @direct images of time as special prehensions of duration or time as a becoming in space.9 '>odowick, :<<-) --( As we shall see below, Scott of the Antarctic functions "ery much after the manner of $eleu%e9s time-image. Gnce =cott and his men begin their !uest for the pole, they become immersed in a world without border, a world without beginning and end. Their sense of time ceases to e ist and is instead measured in terms of duration within the whole. $eleu%e9s concept of duration 'dur;e( is drawn, as we obser"ed abo"e from the work of 8ergson. The principal di"ision in his work was between space and time. Bowe"er, this di"ision is not just between space and time, but instead draws the di"iding- line between duration, which has the capacity to take on or hold all the differences in kind because it is capable of !ualitati"ely "arying with itself and space, which ne"er presents anything but differences of degree, because it is !uantitati"e homogeneity '$eleu%e, 1,,1) -1(. $eleu%e goes on to say that @$uration is always the location and the en"ironment of differences in kindC it is e"en their totality and multiplicity. There are no differences in kind e cept in duration Z while space is nothing other than location, the en"ironment, the totality of difference in degree.9 '$eleu%e, 1,,1) -:( =o, because of this, duration cannot merely be understood as li"ed e perience. It is already a condition of e perience, which presents us with a composite of space and duration. Aure duration offers us a succession that can only be understood internally and is therefore de"oid of @e teriorityC space, or e teriority without succession.9 '$eleu%e, 1,,1) -?( Gn a practical le"el 8ergson reali%es that reality tends to mi the two together, such as the representation of time imbued with space. Bowe"er, he suggests that is not where the difficulty lies, because the


representation of time imbued with space negates the more accurate representation of two separate and pure presences) duration and e tensity '$eleu%e, 1,,1) ::(.

8ergson understands e tensity to be the unfolding of duration into space as a form of creati"e acti"ity. It is the "ery emphasis upon the whole rather than the total which makes 8ergson so attracti"e to $eleu%e and his related concept of immanence, because duration encompasses the process of becoming as the continual creation of the new rather than disco"ery of what already always is. 8y doing this it a"oids a con"entional teleology of goals or outcomes and instead emphasi%es the interconnectedness of phenomena at discrete orders, le"els and distancesC each of which comprises an essential aspect of duration '>odowick, :<<-) :7-2(. Gne way of looking at this is thinking of the flowing together of mental states as similar to the way "arious aspects of a melody flow together. The pre"ious notes linger while future ones are as part of the whole of the piece. 5ach note is permeated by e"ery other note and each note must be present for the melody to e ist, yet it is impossible to grasp this flow as a complete set of notes, because music is always becoming and always affected by each addition '=tagoll, :<<7b) ?,(. Therefore $eleu%e suggests that duration is the whole, @a spiritual reality which constantly changes according to its own relations.9 '$eleu%e, 1,42) 11( =mooth space is measured in $eleu%e9s political writings according to degrees of smoothness and striation. A @smooth space9 is one that is boundless, a space that is without border and therefore a space without specific place '0onley, :<<7d) :74(. /e can understand $eleu%e9s definition of space as a type of @homogeneous whole within which mo"ement unfolds9, which thus forms @a totali%ed


construct of space that emerges from heterogeneous blocks of space-time.9 =mooth space is offered as a concept which frees us from this con"entional understanding of space. =mooth space @haunts and can disrupt striations of con"entional space9, and it unfolds through @an infinite succession of linkages and changes in direction9 that creates shifting and o"erlapping patterns of space- time out of the normally conceptuali%ed and understood blocks of different milieus ';orraine :<<7 ) :7--7.(. Therefore, smooth space allows us to understand the spatial not in terms of a totality, i.e. @I walk across the snow fi"e miles from the centre of town9, but instead in terms of the concept of speed, i.e. @snow under mo"ing feet as wind lifts hair9. This for $eleu%e e"okes the power to affect and be affected ';orraine :<<7) :7.(. Another way of looking at it would be to suggest that two people tra"eling might orient themsel"es in different waysC the one following a map to their point of destination, the other, more nomadic, tra"eling not from one point to a predesignated destination, but rather from one area where a need is met to another where it may be met when need arises. The first establishes specific points which orient a predesignated route which is deemed proper, while the latter establishes according to shifting needs. The difference in the spatial shifts described abo"e does not occur in spaceC but it is created by different configurations, such as the nomadic, the needs of the nomad and the search to satisfy these needs. These unfold as smooth space within the striated nature of normal spatial thinking ';orraine :<<7) :7.(. The concept of smooth space will be "ery helpful in our analysis of Scott of the Antarctic, because it will allow us to differentiate between the journey to the pole and the hopeless return from it. The fundamental difference is that prior to attaining the pole the men are in search of a point, they are acting. Bowe"er, after attaining the


pole, the Antarctic is transformed from a specific place into a /hole without borders or timeC a place which becomes the totality of their world and e perienceC a place without traditional mo"ement and e perience. =mooth space will aid us in understanding this fundamental shift. The last concept we need to e amine briefly before mo"ing on to a comparati"e analysis of the two scores under consideration, is that of $eleu%e9s concept of utopia. 3or $eleu%e, the term @utopia9 designates the "ery political "ocation of philosophy, which he understands as the attempt to bring about different ways of e isting, as well as certain new conte ts for our e istence which are facilitated through the creation of concepts. '>offe, :<<7) :,-( The most e tensi"e discussion of utopia can be found in $eleu%e and #uattari9s monograph, .hat is +hiloso(h#= There, utopia suggests an intersection between things as they are and the acti"ity of philosophy. Bowe"er, unlike the work on utopia of philosophers such as /illiam 1orris, $eleu%e and #uattari do not suggest that the outcome of this intersection will be an ideal future. Instead, what they maintain is that the present can always be negotiated through philosophical concepts with the result bringing about more freedom. Thus for $eleu%e philosophical utopia has @two temporal loci) the present and the future.9 '>offe, :<<7) :,.( Therefore, when discussing $eleu%e9s concept of the utopian, it is not possible to claim that his concept of utopianism will lead to a better future. Instead, what $eleu%ian utopianism does is to resist the present while opening up the projected future for us '>offe, :<<7) :,.(. $eleu%e9s concept of utopia will aid us in understanding the mo"ement of ci"ili%ation in /ells9 Things to Come, from an @5"erytown9 to the supposedly impro"ed society of the one-world-go"ernment under the leadership of /ings-G"er-


the-/orld. The concept will enable us to find a richer way of understanding /ells9 desire to build an impro"ed worldC one that both suggests an engagement with the ills of the present, and an opening up of the interpretation of a utopian future.

*n analysis of *rthur Bliss2 score for Things to Come B. #. /ells9 Things to Come is ninety-se"en minutes in length, of which slightly o"er thirty-si minutes '-291-U( of the film, or -?V is accompanied by music. The film can be segmented into three large sections, which we might call 1( 1,.<) Are-war, :( 1,22) /ar and -( :<-2) Ftopia. =ection I is the shortest of the three sections at just under twenty-four minutes ':-97,U(, yet o"er fifty percent of the section is accompanied by music '1:9-4U) 7:V(. This is by far the largest percentage of music in any of the three sections. =ection II is the longest section at just under thirty-nine minutes '-497,U( and yet it has the smallest percentage of music at thirty-percent '119.?U) -<V(. =ection III is thirty-four minutes '-.9<<U( in length and is accompanied by music thirty-fi"e percent of the time '11971U) -7V(. The segmentation makes it clear that while music was intended to play an integral part in B. #. /ells9 conception of the film, the o"erall amount of music used in the film is not particularly high. The film9s three sections each play a different role in the unfolding of the narrati"e. =ection I of the film - 1,.<)/ar - begins in the "aguely disguised city of 5"erytown, a place which is intended to be anywhere, but which seems !uite clearly to be ;ondon, at least in the mind of art director +incent 6orda. The film begins "ery near to 0hristmas and 8liss9 score is used to establish this sense of both place and time while also enhancing a sense of mo"ement in a style "ery similar to that of a silent film accompanimentC an approach which will be used commonly throughout


the film. The score will be used to accompany large blocks of the mise-en-scène in which there is no dialogue, but in which the narrati"e calls for mo"ementC whether mo"ement by a large group of people or by a block of time. Bowe"er 8liss9 score does not merely ser"e to pro"ide co"er sound for dialogue-less segments of the film, instead it is used more importantly to manipulate our conceptions of space and time. The film begins with an opening montage, which alternates shots of e pectant 0hristmas re"elers busily preparing for 0hristmas 5"e, with cross-cuts of newsboys, billboards and newspapers ominously predicting the coming of war. The effect is certainly reminiscent of the type of silent film montage that the film9s production team might ha"e been familiar with from e posure to films by 5isenstein and 0lair. These films, many of which were banned by the 8ritish go"ernment from public screenings because of their political content 'especially those of the new =o"iet Fnion(, were nonetheless shown at the ;ondon 3ilm =ociety, which was founded in 1,:7 with the e pressed purpose of circum"enting the restricti"e 0inematograph censorship laws of 1,<,. Among the early films screened at the 3ilm =ociety was 5isenstein9s Battleshi( +otem"in '1,:7( 'Thompson, :<<4(. The opening 0hristmas montage establishes a sense of place and time, by defining a space, a nation, and an attitude. There is disagreement as to whether 8liss himself actually composed the music for the opening 0hristmas montage, but regardless of whether he did or not, the impact which the cue has is unmistakable and it immediately suggests that music in the score will be responsible for creating and manipulating space, time and mo"ement. Bow does the score accomplish thisE As we saw abo"e, $eleu%e9s concept of the mo"ement-image suggests that in early film mo"ement is no longer directed towards some @proper pre-gi"en goal, but at each of


its moments is altering from itself.9 '0olebrook, :<<2) .7( In other words, the mo"ement here is not constructed to create a sense of mo"ement but to disclose the production of change within those mo"ements '0olebrook, :<<2) .7(. In essence this concept encapsulates the results of 8liss9 approach to the first section of the film, for the film deals with the changes that occur because of the mo"ement from peace to warC from safety to dangerC from the protection of national space to the danger of e posure to e ternal milieus. Bowe"er, such a mo"ement would not be possible without the inter"ention of the score, which allows us to understand the sense of mo"ement as a spatial one. ;et us e amine how this happens. $eleu%e suggests that the modern dialectic of 5isenstein manifested itself in his ability to capture a local pri"ileged instant which was then immediately followed by an image of an altered @whole or mo"ing mass of bodies.9 '0olebrook, :<<2) .7( Gf course this is e actly what is happening here, yet in this instance it is 8liss9 score which establishes the sense of continuity in the montage by not only binding the two aspects of the montage together but also, as we suggested abo"e, by establishing the place, time and location of the montage. The 0hristmas carols heard are all 5nglish, which of course suggests that the location of 5"erytown is also 5nglish or at least somewhere in the 5mpire. Det, the 0hristmas carols also do much more than this, for they locate the image as taking place during the 0hristmas season, for without the music there would be some !uestion as to what each scene of the montage was suggesting. Thus the musical montage suggests not just that the place defined is 5ngland, and that the time is 0hristmas, but also through its ominous ju taposition of dark, minor harmonies, it establishes that the spatial content of the 5"erytown is about to be altered in a way which is similar to $eleu%e9s understanding of


5isenstein9s techni!ue of montage. If, as Tom 0onley suggests, space is essentially @a discursi"e practice of a place9 which only becomes space when it becomes the site of an @e istential engagement among li"ing agents who mark it with their acti"ities or affiliate with dialogue and acti"e perception9 '0onley, :<<7d) :74(, then in Things to Come 8liss9 score enables this interaction to take place. /hat is the impending change in spatial consciousness which the opening montage suggestsE 0learly, as they go about their preparations for 0hristmas the citi%ens of 5"erytown seem unaware of the danger that being e posed in the street brings. The music of the 0hristmas montage projects a confidence in things as they are, in tradition as locator of place and person. Det the ominous interpolations of the @war music9, while unheeded by the populace in general suggests that their understanding of space and its effects on their li"es will change. This change is reflected in what Anthony +idler suggests was a recognition of the damaging effects that space could ha"e on the indi"idual. Be writes that, @1etropolis rapidly became the pri"ileged territory of a host of diseases attributed directly to spatial conditions, diseases took their place within the general epistemology of 8eard9s neurasthenia and 0harcot9s hysteria, but with a special relationship to their supposed physical causes.9 '+idler, :<<<) :7-2( As 8uchanan and ;ambert suggest, @/hether it was the busy thoroughfares, the phantasmagoria of the arcades or the wide open space of the boule"ards, there was an associated malady diagnosed for each new type of spatial e perience.9 '8uchanan J ;ambert :<<7, -( Thus as war approaches it is only the internal which is safe to the inhabitants of 5"erytown, and /ells9 film clearly sets up this dichotomy which ju taposes the internal and the e ternal as areas of safety and danger. Bere the issue of the safely internal plays an e panding role. Gne finds the


inside of the home, the underground, the country represented by the nation, being placed in direct opposition to the street, the air 'as represented by the airplane( and those @others9 who embody the foreign nation. The safety which is projected by the internal, represented in the home, can be seen "ery clearly in 8liss9 second cue, @The 8allet for 0hildren9. This cue, which is naT"e in its childlike synta , is used to accompany the scene in which the 0abal family celebrates 0hristmas. =afe inside their home, the children play with their toys, and the cue suggests that all is wellC that the internal is protected and immune to the danger of the e ternal. This image is reinforced by 8liss9 cue, music which is almost saccharine in its simplicity, yet music which plays the role of reinforcing the "ery idea of the home as fortress against the danger of the e ternal. This dichotomy is further de"eloped following the 0hristmas gathering at the 0abals, as Aassworthy '5dward 0hapman( bids farewell to his hosts outside their home. $uring this scene the @8allet for 0hildren9 is still audible, but barely so. The implication of this suggests that the music is internal, representing the safety of @inside9 and while it can be heard outside the house this is only a matter of projection and not an inference that the outside is safe. /hat e"entually silences the sound of the @8allet for 0hildren9 is the news on the radio that an aerial bombing attack has taken place and there ha"e been great losses to the fleet. This attack which comes from outside of the country brings danger to those inside the country in much the same way that the radio broadcast, which deli"ers the news of the attack from outside the 0abal home, brings danger into the home, subse!uently silencing 8liss9 cue. The mo"ement to counteract the impending danger to 5"erytown takes the form of a general mobili%ation from within. The @1arch9 which 8liss composed for


this montage ser"es the purpose of establishing a sense of frenetic and kinetic mo"ement in both those enlisting and those frantically attempting to get inside to safety. =hortly after the cue begins, it is interrupted by an army "ehicle rigged with speakers which pulls into the s!uare of 5"erytown and announces that, e"eryone must get inside to be safe. The speaker tells the assembled crowd that @the streets will be dangerousM.#o homeW9 This is followed by shots of the crowd running from the streets in an attempt to find safety indoors. This mo"ement from e terior to interior functions as a metaphor for $eleu%e9s concept of the mo"ement image, as well as an aural refrain underscoring the "ulnerable nature of being e posed on the city streets. ;et9s e amine how. $eleu%e proposes that one way of understanding the mo"ement-image is as the mo"ement of a human body, which may be connected to a mo"ement of machines and in turn to a social mo"ement '0olebrook, :<<2) .7(. As such we can understand the terrified mo"ements of the citi%ens of 5"erytown as a product of the coming war, a fact which brings increased insecurity to the majoritarian public space. This idea of war is then subse!uently moleculari%ed, suggesting the danger represented to the indi"idual by the machines of warC a presence against which the indi"idual can do little. A final moleculari%ation, here represented by the idea of war as incarnate in the lack of security brought by the machinic, compels the indi"idual towards mo"ement, thus translating a space which once was public and corporate into a place of personal terror. In light of this the mo"ement e perienced in this scene can be understood not so much as a change within space, but rather as a change in the whole of space, meaning that it is not only the people that change because of their fear, but also that their relationship to e"erything around them changes, thereby becoming manifest in


mo"ement. Therefore, we can understand the scene as a metaphor for the mo"ementimage because the e istence of both machinic and human mo"ement is responsible for bringing about the translation of space that alters both 5"erytown and its citi%ens. The insanity and panic of the scene in 5"erytown9s public s!uare is immediately followed by a shift representing security and safety in a scene which takes place in 0abal9s son9s bedroom. As 0abal and his wife contemplate issues of family and future, there is no sense of the e ternal danger forecasted in the s!uare. In spite of the coming of war, the interior of the 0abal child9s bedroom is a place of sanctuary. The one interesting change in the 0abal household is the absence of music which had earlier been used to establish a comforting sense of childlike nai"etH during the family9s 0hristmas celebration. The absence of music here suggests that such comfort no longer e istsC that while the area inside the home remains safer than that outside, it is no longer in"ulnerable to pain and worry, indeed as the music had faded earlier so now security is seen asmore fallible. This moment is followed by a scene in which we e perience the only images of mobili%ation that one might call @personal9 in anyway. Bere we obser"e the images of 0abal9s associate Aassworthy as he says goodbye to his son before going off to war. 8liss9 @1arch9 returns, but now in a new incarnation, becoming part of a comple montage which features the ju taposition of image, spoken "oice, sound and music. /ells and 1en%ies suggest the growing animation of the war-machine in an interesting way. >ather than showing images of indi"idual soldiers enlisting or preparing for battle or e"en large groups of soldiers mustering, we are shown soldiers marching in silhouette, in a faceless procession mo"ing towards battle. >emarkably, the only face that can be seen is that of Aassworthy9s little son, who marches below


the soldiers as part of their mock formation. The ju taposition of Aassworthy9s son, whose childlike marching represents the innocence which was 5"erytown, against the faceless forms of those who march to war, dying in e"er greater numbers, dramatically illustrates what the translation of space means to the inhabitants of the city. Gnce again, the "oice of the public-address announcer warns the inhabitants of 5"erytown that a coming air raid, which may e pose them to gas, will make the city streets unsafe. This is followed by an accelerating montage of panicked citi%ens attempting to flee while the batteries of gunners prepare to defend the city against the coming air raid. 8liss9 @1arch9 suggests the possibility of heroism and e"en the possibility of o"ercoming the danger of outside, but this misleading inference is o"ercome by the panic of the citi%ens, a fact which is represented musically by the intensification of the @1arch9 theme and the increasing bre"ity of the montage9s shot length. Interestingly, the strains of 8liss9 @1arch9 are silenced by the first shot from the anti-aircraft gun. 3ollowing, the gun shot, the score is sub"erted by what can only be called a @futurist9 appropriation of non-musical sound for musical purposes. The sounds of destruction as the air raid progresses pro"ide a dramatic and contrasting middle section to 8liss9 @1arch9 which can only be described as @noise music9. In essence the music of the mechanical, the machinic and the destructi"e turns the horror of being caught in the open space into a terrifying reality. >emarkably, following the de"astation of the air raid and the images of the subse!uent destruction of 5"erytown, 8liss9 @1arch9 returns as if nothing has happened. The only hint that we are gi"en that this recapitulation is not simply a looping of earlier film is the fact that the silhouette of marching soldiers now contains


many more soldiers. This is followed by the images of the escalation of war suggested by e"er more modern weaponry, a fact which signals that the @1arch9 no longer functions to suggest war or the preparations for it, but rather now functions to create the passage of time. Thus, the function of the 1arch, originally used to create a sense of physical mo"ement within space, has now been co-opted by time&space, and has become instead the facilitator of the translation of both. 3ollowing a brief scene in which 0abal attempts to sa"e a downed enemy airman, =ection I comes to a conclusion with further battlefield images. Bowe"er, these images are no longer accompanied by 8liss9 @1arch9, but are instead paired with the score9s ne t cue, @The /orld in >uins9. This cue is ambiguous in its temporal and tonal direction, suggesting a rapid acceleration of the progression of time that would not ha"e been possible with the specificity of the @1arch9s9 affect. Indeed, because 8liss a"oided the patriotic emotions that the @1arch9 might ha"e stirred in the audience, the rapid progression of time and the translation of space, is allowed to pass in an unheroic and directionless manner. This acceleration of time, without regard for narrati"e temporality 'the years are shown to pass by the use of giant numerical title cards designating the passing decades( is subse!uently underscored and reinforced by the ambiguous and unemotional !uality of @The /orld in >uins9 cue. It is interesting to note that in spite of his e perience with the 3irst /orld /ar, /ells was ob"iously still thinking in Things to Come in terms of wars that lasted many decades, not unlike the Thirty or Bundred Dears /ars. The passage of time represented by this final scene brings the first section of the film to a close. As we mentioned abo"e, this section contains the largest amount and percentage of music of any of the three. This is the e act opposite of =ection II of


the film which, while the film9s longest section, contains the smallest percentage and amount of music in the film. The reason for this is not immediately apparentC howe"er, as we shall see in =ection II the amount of music is smaller by necessity because the narrati"e rarely mo"es outside of the immediate space of 5"erytown. /ith the e ception of a few minor skirmishes, the war is for all intents and purposes finished, resulting in little need for the music to create mo"ement, or suggest the passage of time. Thus, the space that e ists in the post-1,22 world of 5"erytown is "ery different from that of the world before the war began. It is a world of stagnant and controlled space, space without mo"ement, space which e ists as a world and as an end in itselfC resulting in the destruction of the sense of place which was established at the beginning of the film. In an early essay entitled @The $esert Island9, $eleu%e discusses the difference between what he terms continental islands and oceanic islands. The essay begins with a discussion of these two species of islands and the two ways Z one based on science and the other on the imagination Z of comprehending them. $eleu%e suggests that what scientific geographers call continental islands are deri"ed through accident. They are born of @a disarticulation, of an erosion, of a fracture9, and they are sur"i"ors of the swallowing up or the @engulfing of what used to retain them.9 '0onley :<<7a) :<,( In many respects we might consider the 5"erytown of =ection II to be an e ample of this type of sur"i"alC a land separated from its past and culture through the erosion caused by an e"ent. Thus, the translation of the @space9 which is 5"erytown might be understood as regressi"e as the film progresses, at least as this mo"ement is manifested in =ection II. 8y this I mean to suggest that the translation of space from =ection I to =ection II is regressi"e because at the beginning of the film,


5"erytown can be understood to be contemporary with that of the world of the spectator obser"ing the film. Bowe"er, because of the e tended war which bridges =ection I and II, the space which is 5"erytown actually regresses to a more primiti"e position, one that would ha"e predated the e perience of the majority of the film9s spectators. Thus the translation of space from =ection I to =ection II destroys not only the illusion of an empire9s ability to make space safe for its citi%ens, but also the "ery nature of that empire9s sophisticated contemporary culture. Indeed, as mo"ement in =ection II of the film ceases, the concept of space is also altered. Kow it is the world outside of 5"erytown which is unsafe, not the e ternal area within 5"erytown. In the stagnant and spatially controlled post-1,22 5"erytown, the notion of space becomes minimi%ed and the idea of a smaller, less dangerous @world9, one where nations don9t matter as much as @areas of control9, begins to takes hold. Gf course in one way this e plains the need for less music in =ection II, as the need for less mo"ement and less delineation of space re!uires less music. /hat becomes interesting here is that in =ection II, the music employed is used to introduce or reintroduce someone or something from outside of 5"erytown. The music is designed to bring the outside into 5"erytown, not to establish the spatial integrity of the internal city. Indeed, with the e ception of the 0hief9s return at the beginning of =ection II and his "ictory speech following the battle with the Bill Aeople for the coal pit 'both of which make use of the @1arch9 from =ection I(, the primary cue in the section is the @Aestilence9 cue, which 8liss composed to accompany images of the wandering sickness. It is interesting that /ells chose to call this disease the wandering sickness, a disease which essentially destroys the


indi"idual sense of place, condemning the wanderer to carry this dislocation to all they meet. Thus, it is the wandering sickness moti"ated by the @Aestilence9 cue that brings danger into 5"erytown. The introduction of the harmonic and melodic language of the @Aestilence9 cue concludes a purposeful shift away from the earlier tonal language of the filmC a language which might be described as purposefully @5nglish9 in intent. This tonal reorientation began with the cue, @The /orld in >uins9, which concluded =ection I. The composer9s choice to make use of an 5nglish musical "ernacular at the beginning the film makes sense on one le"el, because 8liss and /ells were attempting to establish a sense of place there. Bowe"er, with the mo"e into =ection II of the film, with its translated and more limited spatial sense, the harmonic "ocabulary of the score mo"es away from what might be described as a national synta and instead embraces a more tonally ambiguous, modernist one. Indeed, such a mo"e away from the modernity of =ection I might be understood as a direct effect of the machinic intrusion of war, which resulted indirectly in the pestilence which cause the isolation and spatial constriction of =ection II of the film. This change results in the one instance in which music affects space in =ection II. As we obser"ed abo"e, earlier in =ection I, the score was employed not only to establish a sense of spatial location in a temporal or physical sense, but also to facilitate the translation of space that occurs in that section. Bowe"er, in this instance, the music does not pro"ide any such translation of spaceC we do not "enture outside of the delineated space, and, because of this, time and space become smaller and less creati"e, thereby re!uiring only a translation of space between =ection I and II. Thus,


@The /orld in >uins9 cue is responsible for bringing about a constriction which is at once temporal, spatial and harmonic. The only creati"e alteration to space within =ection II comes from the outside of the milieu of 5"erytown and is created by the arri"al of 0abal, some nine minutes into =ection II, who brings with him the message of the one-world-go"ernment) /ings-G"er-the-/orld. Arogress, here represented by a return to mo"ement and because of this e pansion and restoration in 5"erytown comes with and from 0abal9s arri"al. This change suggests the reality of the fact that the space outside of 5"erytown can now cease to be seen as an area of danger, instead becoming an area for translation. 1uch as the transition between =ections I and II, begins with a translation of space through the erosion of what was, the end of =ection II predicts a translation of space which will bring about the arri"al of the /ellsian utopia. Aerhaps on one le"el this projected mo"ement can also e plain the reason for the lack of music, for $eleu%ian utopianism suggests a resisting of the present, in fa"our of an opening up of a projected future for us '>offe, :<<7) :,.(. Fntil mo"ement towards the future can reopen the creati"e translation of space there is a much smaller place for the application of music. This return to the creati"e translation of mo"ement and space in =ection III coincides with the mo"e towards a totalitarian utopia, a fact which nicely mirrors the totali%ing or synthetic aspect of film which is often embodied in the character of $eleu%e9s mo"ement-image. 3or the first time since =ection I music again becomes in"ol"ed in the creation of mo"ement within the film. This takes place during the trilogy of cues called @5 ca"ation9, @8uilding the 3uture9 and @1achines9. Bowe"er, in this instance rather than participating in what we understood between =ections I


and II as the erosion of space, here 8liss propels us into a futuristic translation of space. =pace and time are redefined as what will be and it is "ery much 8liss9 trio of cues that cause this mo"ement to take place. The grouping of the three cues share a cohesi"eness of synta , their organi%ation being !uite modern, and their o"erall musical aesthetic would ha"e struck listeners of the day as !uite modern. The three cues also form a disjunct but related groupingC cues which are related to each other through their shared "ocabulary and compositional approach. /hat is most unusual about this grouping is that 8liss concei"ed of the three cues as indi"idual, self contained compositions, rather than composing them as one contiguous piece with three di"ergent sections. /hy would 8liss ha"e done this, especially considering the suggestion made through the montage that the e ca"ation and building of the new 5"erytown were in fact conceptuali%ed by /ells as one continuous segment of the filmE As was mentioned abo"e, 8liss composed the music for this scene prior to the actual cutting and editing of the film. /ells was eager to fit the image to the music and so it was possible that his description of the scene9s three pronged approach suggested three separate cues to 8liss. Det, as I mentioned abo"e, what is interesting about this trio of cues is that while 8liss9 original score brings each to a "ery definite close replete with a terminal cadence, the indi"idual cues are treated as one composition within the film. Indeed, @5 ca"ation9 and @The 8uilding of the Kew /orld9 are actually composed in the same key and metre and were recorded, perhaps not une pectedly at the same tempi. All three cues make use of a modernist "ocabulary, but this is e ploited less e tensi"ely in terms of dissonance as the trio progresses. Gf course such an approach helps to underscore the translation of time and space which this e tended segment suggests is


taking place in 5"erytown. Indeed, e"en the mo"ement from the primiti"ism of the 5"erytown of =ection II to the future utopianism of =ection III is represented musically by the progression of the three cues. The first cue, @5 ca"ation9 makes use of metallic percussion to represent the translation and e ca"ation of the space which brings about the new 5"erytown. This application of subtle @noise music9 techni!ues forges a link between the earlier stagnant barbaric 5"erytown and its pristine future successor. >emarkably, the future for 5"erytown is located beneath the ground, hearkening back to the calls of the public address announcer in =ection I, who suggested that if one couldn9t go home, one could perhaps find shelter and safety beneath ground. This suggests that while /ells understood the utopian 5"erytown to be an impro"ement o"er pre"ious incarnations, the o"erall "iew of space in the film has perhaps not changed as much as might ha"e been first through. @The 8uilding of the Kew /orld9 and @1achines9, the second and third cue in =ection III9s trio of compositions, mo"es progressi"ely away from the connection with the old 5"erytown and instead looks towards the @sterility9 and safety of the new utopian world by becoming increasingly less o"ert in its use of modernism. 8liss progressi"ely remo"es what I will call crude modernisms 'brash dissonances, wide striding melodic leaps, and rhythmic barbarity( and replaces these with more subtle e amples of a modernist language. =uch a mo"ement befits the representation of /ells9 new 5"erytown. Interestingly, with the e ception of the cue, @The Attack on the 1oon #un9, which ser"es the simple musical purpose of creating mo"ement and reinforcing dramatic and "isual intensity, /ells called for no more music in the film9s third section until the films final few moments) the 5pilogue. Gf course this is as it


should be, for /ells9 new 5"erytown has been created, there is no longer any need for the music to translate the space for the future, the perfection of utopia is now. The final use of music in the film takes place during >aymond 1assey9s dramatic monologue in the 5pilogue, following the successful firing of the space gun. The music here is justifiably dramatic, indeed almost operatic in its scope and intention. /ells no doubt called for music of this grandeur and dramatic intensity in order to underscore the glory of continued e ploration and ad"ancement in his "ision of a totalitarian utopia, yet instead of suggesting this, the cue here proposes something !uite the opposite. >ather than making use of a progressi"ely more modernist "ocabulary, 8liss for reasons that might ha"e been dri"en by a need to appeal to public taste at the film9s conclusion, chose to compose the final cue, the @5pilogue9, in a style which harkens back to the 5lgarian symphonic style of the early part of the twentieth-century. =uch a stylistic and musical choice reinforces the spatial references to place from the film9s beginning, rather than creating something new. This does not project the future, for 5"erytown appears to remain "ery 5nglish in its musical nature. Indeed, the compositional synta of the @5pilogue9 suggests that the film9s translation of space has been decepti"e. Aerhaps ultimately, /ells9 "ision of a one-world utopian go"ernment remains directly related to his "isions of a transformed 8ritish 5mpire. 0ertainly, 8liss9 cue suggests that the possibility of the pre-war understanding of space remains in place at the end of the filmC suggesting that while one may dream outwardly of a new and transformed society, a sense of security and safety remain fore"er in the familiar and the internal.

3alph =aughan >illiams score for Scott of the Antarctic


Scott of the Antarctic e"okes an entirely different philosophical conception of space, one that was inflected by the horrors of /orld /ar II. As we mentioned earlier on page :.., the primary !uestions surrounding space following the war were) 1. Bow can indi"iduals affect space, if at allE :. Is space uninhabitable by definitionE -. /hat is the meaning or lack of meaning in the any-space-whate"erE 0ertainly, these !uestions relate strongly to the narrati"e of the film and to the images of the Antarctic and =cott9s battle with it. The film also lends itself "ery much to $eleu%e9s post-war conception of the time-image. If, as 0laire 0olebrook suggested abo"e 'see p. :7< abo"e(, the primary difference between modern cinema and the earlier mo"ement-image is that modern cinema does not present mo"ing things or objects, then Scott of the Antarctic can be understood to be a prime e ample of this post-war cinematic shift '0olebrook, :<<:) 171(. In Scott we do not e"en notice the mo"ement of the camera or the mo"ement of the men because such mo"ement is obscured by the bleakness of thefro%en, white and hori%onless Antarctic. +aughan /illiams9 approach to scoring is, as we shall see below, "ery different from that of 8liss9 in Things to Come$ Indeed, while we might think of 8liss as gi"ing at least the appearance of complicity while working 'ith B. #. /ells to e"oke his "ision of a new utopian world, +aughan /illiams9 approach can be characteri%ed as almost sub"ersi"e. +aughan /illiams did not hold with 8alcon9s belief that =cott9s tragic death made him a hero. Instead, he belie"ed that the death of =cott and his men had arisen directly from poor planning and egotism on =cott9s part. 8ecause of this 8alcon and +aughan /illiams disagreed on the manner in which the film should end, with 8alcon preferring and e"entually getting a heroic ending, while +aughan /illiams pushed for one that stressed the tragedy of the e"ent. +aughan


/illiams would ha"e to wait to get his way until his subse!uent reworking of the score into his later S#m(honie Antarctica, where he would create a "ery different aural picture of the e"ents leading to =cott9s death. 8ecause of +aughan /illiams9 personal feelings about the narrati"e and the control which 8alcon e ercised in suppressing them, we might understand +aughan /illiams9 relationship to the film as sub"ersi"eC in fact as we shall see there are a number of aspects of the film that can be understood to be decepti"e or artificial in character. Gf course this "ery sense of deception and artificiality will, as we shall see, become an indispensable part of our deliberations on the changing concept of space in post-war 5urope, certainly in a way which is "ery different from that of 8liss in Things to Come. As we mentioned abo"e, only about half of the music which +aughan /illiams composed for the film actually made it into the final cut. This is made all the more interesting by the fact that se"eral of the cues that were used performed double duty, being and pressed into ser"ice for scenes for which they were not composed, while large portions of other cues where simply omitted. =uch a practice is not entirely unusual, but is noteworthy when such a large portion of the score was omitted. +aughan /illiams9 score accompanies some thirty-se"en percent of the film, which at one hour and forty- se"en minutes in length means that music is only heard during forty minutes of the film. This is a "ery similar percentage to the amount of music used by 8liss in Things to Come, which at ninety-se"en minutes in length, used slightly o"er thirty-si minutes '-291-U( of the music for an o"erall percentage of music used of thirty-se"en percent. 0ertainly one could argue that 8alcon9s Scott project was a more important and prominent studio project than the earlier /ells9 effort, and as such one might perhaps e pect that music might play amore major role.


Bowe"er, this percentage of music does not imply that the score did not play an important role in the film, or that the gifts of such a prominent composer as +aughan /illiams were wasted. Kothing could be farther from the truth. As a matter of fact, as I will argue below, in spite of the percentage of music being a reasonably low for such a major project, the score is in fact indispensable to the o"erall narrati"e and dramatic integrity of the entire film. The film can be partitioned into four sections, each of which plays a distincti"e narrati"e role. =ection I which is :79 14U in length, contains only 29.<U seconds worth of music, yielding a total ratio of music to film of twenty-eight percent. There are se"en cues in this section, and while the longest is a respectable 19 7:U in length, the remaining cues are dramatically shorter than this. 3or reasons which we shall e amine below, =ection I is the most musically insignificant of the four sections in the film. =ection II is the shortest of the four sections in the film and lasts for just 149 72U. Bowe"er, there is a larger percentage '.:V( and amount of music '49::U( than was utili%ed in =ection I. =ection II also contains eight cues, with the longest being two minutes and thirty-three seconds. Gn the whole the cues in this section are more substantial than those is =ection I. =ection III is the longest of the film9s four sections at -:9 74, and contains 119 .:U worth of music '-2V(. =ection III also contains the greatest number of cues at fourteen, with the longest cue being :9 <7U. The final section of the film, =ection I+, is :,9 .:U in length, but contains the highest percent of music at 1-9 :?U, yielding a sectional percentage of forty-fi"e percent. =ection I+ contains ele"en cues, as well as the film9s longest cue at :9 7?U. As we will see below, the high percentage of music in =ection I+ is not an accident, but plays a direct role in the dramatic and narrati"e trajectory of the film.


As we suggested abo"e, +aughan /illiams9 score functions in a manner which is !uite different from the way than 8liss9 score for Things to Come did. +aughan /illiams9 score establishes a sense of identity for the e peditionary party, but not a sense of the nationalC rather it creates a sense of place within time and space, which the score subse!uently aids in deconstructing. 8efitting the $eleu%ian sense of the post-war time-image film, Scott of the Antarctic mo"es steadily towards the abyss, or the any-space-whate"er . +aughan /illiams9 score both creates a sense of identity and enacts a loss of the same, by becoming increasingly ambiguous musically. This results in the score becoming drawn progressi"ely into the landscape, a fact which causes it to e"entually meld with and disappear into the ambient noise of the Antarctic. As elements of the score mo"e inward, they reduce the "ast place of the Antarctic to an any-space-whate"erC a space which e"entually erases the e istence of =cott '*ohn 1ills( and his party, drawing them into the abyss of post-war space.

+ection I =ection I is the most idiosyncratic section in the film, and there are se"eral reasons for this. =ection I centers around =cott9s time in 5ngland, during which he is between e peditions. Gddly, the film begins with a title se!uence that is set o"er what can only be described as a sea blue background. It is as if we begin the film beneath the Antarctic ice, encapsulated in the ice that will e"entually o"erwhelm =cott and end his e pedition in tragedy. The cue which accompanies the title se!uence is entitled simply, @1ain Titles9. This is an innocuous and non-descripti"e title for music that will be used later for some of the film9s most dramatic moments. /e might understand the concealing of this fact as the first instance of the sub"ersi"e and decepti"e nature of Scott of the Antarctic and the truth here is concealed in se"eral


ways. 3irst, the beginning of the film does not establish a sense of placeC the location of the film is concealed by the blue screen. =econd, the e"entual intention of +aughan /illiams9 cue is concealed by a lack of "isual information and as such the implication of the music is not re"ealed. Indeed, when compared with the opening of Things to Come, the difference between the pre-war and post-war understanding of space are made clear in a "ery dramatic way. /here Things to Come clearly defines a space&place which it calls 5"erytown, here the possibility of place is not e"en suggested. Indeed, the concealing of place here is "ery much in keeping with the post-war notion that nationhood does not guarantee identity or security. /hen we are finally pro"ided with an image of place, what we see is not ;ondon, but rather the Antarctic =ea, effecti"ely thwarting our e pectations. This leads one to !uestion why the film begins with images of Antarctica. 0ertainly, on one le"el it is not all that unusual for a film about 0ommander =cott to begin in this way. Det it is still disorienting that the first images we see from a film which will begin in ;ondon, are not of ;ondon, but rather of the disconnected, "ague and placelessness of the Antarctic =ea. +aughan /illiams9 cue for this Aolar =ea montage is called simply, @Arologue9. Bowe"er, the images that we see do not function as a prologue, but rather seem to be drawn from =cott9s past. /e are not seeing what will be or what is, but rather what wasC the world that =cott left behindC the world that precedes his return to ;ondon, and the world that will dominate his thinking until he returns. In a 8ergsonian reading, this makes sense because time is not presented here as a series of points on a line, but rather as a whole. Indeed, we might e"en understand this as an opening sal"o towards a breakdown in the traditional understanding of time as a succession of points. In fact, as we shall see in =ection I+,


the Antarctic will come to represent, "ia the $eleu%ian concept of duration, the whole into which =cott and his party will lose themsel"es, their identities and their e istence. As we mentioned abo"e, one of the more striking issues found in =ection I is the sense of artificiality and deception which per"ades it. This also e tends to the artificiality of +aughan /illiams9 musical style in this section of the scoreC music which bears no resemblance to the other cues in later sections of the film, or to +aughan /illiams9 general compositional style. Indeed, all of the music in =ection I with e ception of the @1ain Title9 music and the @Arologue9 could ha"e been composed by someone other than +aughan /illiams. 0ertainly, one could e plain this by suggesting that =cott9s domestic world, his home, is both foreign and uncomfortable to him, bespeaking his position as a nomad, one who has no home, or at the "ery least is not comfortable there. As such, the narrati"e calls for music that is different affecti"ely from the music later in the film. =uch a claim does not seem totally implausible, because =cott clearly feels confined by his internal domestic state which pre"ents him from being free to e plore. Indeed, one might e"en suggest that, based on the rapidity with which =cott decided to return to the Antarctic and lea"e his young wife, that he is only truly happy when he is free from the confining nature of internal&domestic space. Gf course such a truth is also reflecti"e of the fact that the post-war sense of space no longer considers the internal, the space inside, to be a place of safety and peace. Bowe"er, there is more at work here than =cott9s internal emotional make-up. ;et9s e amine what. Gne of the more striking facts of =ection I is that the physical sets seem both strangely contri"ed and poorly concei"ed. The artificiality of the set


for $r. /ilson9s back yard and home are so ridiculously amateurish that, one is left to !uestion how a studio with the resources of 5aling, could allow them to be used, especially when ju taposed with the ob"ious care that is taken to ensure that the scenes set in the Antarctic are so con"incing. /hile there is no easy answer for this, the result of it is that the atmosphere created by many of the sets in =ection I are at once artificial, claustrophobic and spatially contri"ed. The claustrophobic nature of the sets in =ection I can be seen in the drawing room of =cott9s home during the sculpture scene, the interior of =cott9s tiny na"al office, and the lack of appropriate e ternal perspecti"e in the matte paintings in $r. /ilson9s 'Barold /arrender( backyard. The first two scenes cited abo"e are accompanied by brief, inconse!uential cues, which are interrupted without reason, pro"iding the music no time de"elop or e pand. This is of course in keeping with the interruption that the internal and constricted create in =cott9s life. All of this seems more remarkable when one remembers that while at 5aling, 8alcon de"eloped the concept of the docudrama, which attempted to be as realistic as possible in the telling of an historical story, almost to the point of documentary accuracy. =uch an approach makes the artificiality of the sets in =ection I seem all the more bi%arre. Det in terms of the shift in post-war spatial thinking the lack of attention paid to creating an interior which is realistic is not particularly shocking. As 8uchanan and ;ambert remind us, the interiors created by Bitchcock were ne"er intended to decei"e us, rather they were the @affect9 of the shopping mallC @junk space9. '8uchanan J ;ambert, :<<7) .( The only scenes in =ection I in which music is allowed to reach at least some le"el of de"elopment and in which +aughan /illiams9 style can be recogni%e as his


own, are the scenes which take place outside and these include the aforementioned cues for the main titles and prologue, but also the brief cue @$oom9 which accompanies the brief scene between Kansen and =cott in Korway. As with the earlier artificiality of the set in /ilson9s backyard, nothing in this scene is real or fulfilled. Keither the music, which is appropriated and pressed into ser"ice from elsewhere, nor the space itself, both of which possess the elements of a spatial modality, elicit anything other than a sense of spatial contri"ance. The title chosen for the appropriated cue represents its position and use later in the film, when it will be one of the cues blended into the thematic melee in =ection I+. Bowe"er, it makes an interesting choice for this scene because it foreshadows the e"entual result of =cott9s inability to heed Kansen9s ad"ice to use dogs and not ponies. The final cue of =ection I, @The =hip9s $eparture9 is an odd amalgam of sentimental hymn style combined with +aughan /illiams9 own folksong style. Gne has the sense here that the intention of the cue is to suggest a sense of heroic bra"ery on the part of those in the e peditionary force and a sense of melancholy on the part of those they are lea"ing behind. Det, one cannot help but notice the almost operatic !uality of the music, music which ser"es more as a funereal lament than an inspiring hymn to bra"ery. Bowe"er, this is the one instance in the film in which a cue is meant to establish a sense of 5nglish-ness. The cue reinforces the fact that these men are 5nglishmen li"ing in the year 1,1<. It is proud and solemn and e"okes the sense of stoicism and cultural security which had been the hallmarks of the 8ritish 5mpire. It gi"es no hint of the fact that these men face an economic future which is anything but secure, e"en though by the early years of the twentieth century, 8ritain9s economic fortunes were in relati"e decline. =cott himself was in considerable debt, and his


financial pressures may ha"e in fact moti"ated him to push prematurely for the Aole in the hopes of finding both fame a fortune by being the first to achie"e it. Det, as =cott and his men sail into the openness of the sea, the cue reinforces the artificiality of their historical @8ritishness9 without re"ealing the truth about their contemporary dilemma. 8ecause of this we are confronted by the fact of post-war spatiality) national identity is of no importance or assurance of security when facing the ambiguity and impersonal nature of the any-space-whate"er.

+ection II =ection II ser"es as a transitional fulcrum between the claustrophobic, artificial, decepti"e world of =ection I9s internal space and the timeless, tenseless world of =cott9s Aolar camp. This is a world which is fro%en, but real, referring to a real moment in history. Det it is also a world remo"ed from the falseness and insecurity of ci"ili%ation and yet seemingly more secure because of its distance from the reality of post-war 5urope.- =cott9s world in Antarctica is a world where family does not e ist, but a world in which the relationships formed are much more sincere than those that are created within the artificial space of ci"ili%ation. It is also a world were the normal progression of time results in a night which is many months longC a world where time does not e ist in a con"entional sense. $eleu%e suggested that in the post-war period the time-image would no longer make use of images which would be subordinate to a sense of time deri"ed from action, but would instead gi"e us time itself '0olebrook, :<<:) 17.(. 0ertainly, in =ection II the predominant effect is that of waiting. /e see images of men
It is important that we bear in mind that this is a film which refers to two worlds simultaneously) the first, an 5ngland of 1,1< and =cott9s e pedition, the second an 5ngland which was still reeling after the de"astation of the war.


preparing for a journey, preparing to become one with the duration which is the Antarctic, yet these men remain on the periphery of the any-space-whate"er . They pause, they wait and they e perience the passage of time. Indeed, until they enter into the "astness which is the Antarctic, they remain unaffected by its e istence as duration) it is an any-space-whate"er, where time and space cease to e ist as points along a line. =ection II also ser"es as a musical transition point between the stultified and artificial musical world of =ection I, and the clearly established mature style of +aughan /illiams in =ections III and I+. =ection II begins as =ection I did, with a series of images of the Aolar =ea accompanied now by the cue @Ice 3loes9. 8efitting the image9s cold and impersonal nature, the melodic world of @Ice 3loes9 can be described as both ominous in its hea"iness and detached in its affect. Bowe"er, before this, the cue begins with an interesting rhythmic figure, of recurring metric regularity, which is scored for the upper strings, winds and percussion. This is the first cue in the score that makes use of this strict sense of temporal organi%ation, utili%ing a !uickly mo"ing repeated rhythmic figure that denotes both the crystalline nature of the place, but also the rhythmic passage of time. Interestingly, +aughan /illiams chose to utili%e this idea at the e act moment of transition between the temporal regularity of ci"ili%ation and the world of the Antarctic, where time no longer e ists as it was formerly understood. Bowe"er, this instance of temporal organi%ation does not last long, for the cue9s beginning, with its clock-like precision is !uickly replaced by a stronger, less tonally focused and slower mo"ing figure, composed for instruments drawn from the contrasting lower registers of the orchestra. This slower figure, seemingly slowed down by the weight of the orchestration, gradually loses its metric


impetus and !uickly displaces the earlier regularity of time with a new temporal ordering in which time passes with much less urgency. This mirrors the gradual deceleration and e"entual elimination of time as it was, and the beginning of time as it will be. Bowe"er, the most pressing musical issue to be considered in =ection II concerns the cues which accompany the interior scenes in the e pedition party9s cabin. Gn a simple le"el these cues are all diegetic, yet what is striking is that with the e ception of the men9s singing of the 0hristmas carol, @#od rest ye merry, gentlemen9, the remainder of the diegetic cues are produced mechanically, either by the "ictrola, or by the player piano. 8oth of these items would ha"e been owned by members of the wealthier classes and as such would ha"e been signifiers of both class and modernity prior to /orld /ar I. This is an interesting choice on the part of +aughan /illiams, because by utili%ing diegetic music he pre"ents the e pected nondiegetic cues from being used as a window into the men9s emotional condition. The use of machinic music, allows music to enter the cabin and in"ade the e"er-narrowing space of the internal as it sits on the edge of the abyss, which is the any-spacewhate"er. It also refers back to the interiority of =ection I, ser"ing to mark the internal space as different from the e ternal, the any-space-whate"er. Det here it is the music which is decepti"e, possessing an artificiality which is on the edge of the Antarctic, but which, unlike the later cues of =ection III J I+, not of it. It makes sense that the music which is internal to the safety of the cabin should be diegetic and machinic, for as we shall see in =ection III J I+ +aughan /illiams9 non-diegetic score represents the Antarctic and because of this it cannot represent the man9s internal world within the cabin. Therefore, it is only right that the cues here are


e ternal to the score, for the score represents +aughan /illiams9 position at the edge of the spatial and emotional abyss which followed /orld /ar II. Therefore, much as internal space in =ection I was artificial and contri"ed, here in =ection II, it is the music of the diegesis which has crossed o"er into a state of artificiality. 8ecause of this, much as the unreal and constricted space of =ection I represented a break with the pre-war notion of the internal as real and safe, here it is the music which has mo"ed from its position as the generator of the internal emotional world of the miseen-scène, to a position of emotional inconse!uentiality represented by the artificiality of its diegetic mechanical reproduction. The music reflects nothing, e cept for itself. As the internal space of =ection I was freed to mo"e towards the abyss of the anyspace-whate"er of the Antarctic, so now the non-diegetic score has been freed, through the artificiality of the diegetic cues to do the same. This fact, which positions the music of =ection II largely as either artificial, decepti"e or inconse!uential, is reinforced by two cues which appear to e ist within the mise-en-scène only to pro"ide non-narrati"e distraction. The first of these is the cue for the @Aenguin $ance9, a comical di"ersion which adds little to the narrati"e or our understanding of the Antarctic, e cept to position it as a type of petting %oo populated with adorable animals. +aughan /illiams9 cue, while more recogni%ably in his own style, is none-the-less used here to mimic the images and duplicate musically the jerky mo"ements of the penguins. /hile the purpose of this scene is to lighten the mood of =ection II, what is really accomplished here, is to suggest that the e peditionary party does not completely unders tood the brutality of the Antarctic. A second instance of non-narrati"e distraction closes =ection II. Bere the beauty of the southern lights is presented as a way to distract us from the danger of


the any-space-whate"er. +aughan /illiams9 cue @Aurora9 captures a sense of awe and wonder at the beauty of the sight, an approach which we will encounter again in =ection III when the glacier is sighted. The effect of the combination of the cue and the mise-en-scène is to suggest once again that the Antarctic is a place of beauty and not danger. As with the first instance discussed abo"e, the effect of this is to decei"e the spectator and attempt to position the Antarctic as a space of something other than hopelessness. This concludes the translation of spatial paradigm from pre-war to post-war thinking. The internal is no longer safe in the pre-war sense because it has ceased to e ist, becoming instead an artificial, constricting and decepti"e space. 5 terior spaces, once a place of terror and peril alone, ha"e now become places of hopelessness and impersonality. This spatial translation now makes it possible for the men of =cott9s e peditionary party to mo"e into the any-space-whate"er of their journey. It also allows +aughan /illiams9 score to begin a trajectory towards becoming one with the mise-en-scèneC a position which e"entually destroys it.

+ection III As we mentioned abo"e, =ection III contains the greatest number of cues in the film with fourteen. /hat is interesting about this is that ele"en of the fourteen cues are shorter than one minute in length, and of these si are shorter than thirty seconds. Another interesting aspect of the use of music in =ection III is that the indi"idual cues follow each other with greater fre!uency and generally o"er short inter"als. Gf the thirteen inter"als that e ist between the section9s fourteen cues, only fi"e of them are longer than one minute in length and four of the inter"als are less than thirty seconds. This near incessant use of the music in =ection III points to the heightened


importance of it as a narrati"e de"ice. Det the music in =ection III does not function as an element of the internal, by which I mean it does not ser"e to e plicate the psychological or emotional responses of the men on the e pedition. >ather, as we shall see below, the music ser"es to represent the passage of time and the relation of the men to a world which for them has no border, neither any beginning nor end. 8efore mo"ing on to consider the position of the score in relation to the miseen-scène in =ection III, it is important that we consider one "ital aspect of the way in which +aughan /illiams9 score is treated in this section. /ith few e ceptions of the @Aony 1arch9, which appears at .79:.UC the cue @8li%%ard9 which appears at 719C and the cue @0limbing the #lacier9 which is heard at 7.971U the remainder of the score in this section is treated as a series of fragments which represent neither the whole of any gi"en cue, or in many cases the original intended use for the cue in !uestion. 0ues are often cannibali%ed to yield just a short burst of music, other times a cue written for one purpose is used for another. As such, the altered and appropriated cues no longer function as +aughan /illiams originally intended them, instead becoming something new. As we suggested earlier, +aughan /illiams9 score does not function in a con"entional sense as the representation of the internal emotional states of the indi"idual characters or in order to fill in missing pieces of information from the mise-en-scène. As such it does not function as a traditional part of the narrati"e. =imilarly, with the e ception of the cue that accompanies the departure of =cott9s ship from 5ngland, the music does not function with the intent to manipulate the spectator9s emotions through the use of sweeping melancholy themes. >ather, the score in =ection III functions as a representational "irtuality within the wholeness of the any-space-whate"er. ;et us e amine how this happens.


/e can understand the score9s relation to the any-space-whate"er by looking once again at $eleu%e9s concept of smooth space. As we saw abo"e, a smooth space is one that is boundless and contains no borders. 8ecause of this we can understand it as a space without specific place '0onley, :<<7d) :74(. +aughan /illiams9 score is indispensable to this projection, because it actually completes the dimensionless, homogeneous whole which is the monochromatic-ness of the Antarctic, and allows for the passage of time and of space. 5arlier, we suggested that following /orld /ar II, two of the principal !uestions surrounding space became, how can indi"iduals affect space, if at allEC and is space uninhabitable by definitionE As we shall see in =ection III, the answer to the first !uestion becomes an une!ui"ocal no. /ith the e ception of the first cue in =ection III, @The Aony 1arch9, which suggests a sense of e citement on the part of the men as they embark on their journey, the remainder of the cues do not relate to the men and their e periences in any tangible sense. The implication in this is that the insignificance of human life, when ju taposed against the "astness of the Antarctic, pre"ents any aspect of the men9s e periences from being measured. As such it is the role of the score to relate the Antarctic to the men and not the men to the spectator. Det +aughan /illiams9 piece does not do this, and we can obser"e instead how, without the indi"idual cues to represent the mo"ement of the men through the totali%ed construct of space which emerges from the heterogeneity of space-time, the progression of time and the sense of mo"ement in =ection III ceases to e ist. This, as we shall see in =ection I+ is precisely what happens. Thus, smooth space functions in =ection III to free the score from its con"entional position within cinematic space, thereby disrupting our normal e pectations. The incessant interruptions created by =ection III9s remaining thirteen


cues create @an infinite succession of linkages and changes in direction9, which as $eleu%e suggests, @create shifting mosaics of space-times out of the heterogeneous blocks of different milieus.9 '$eleu%e J #uattari, 1,4?) .,.( There are se"eral ways in which the score in =ection III accomplishes this. 3irst the score is positioned as part of the homogeneous whole within which the mo"ement in =ection III unfolds. It does not function traditionally as an adjunct to the wholeC instead it is the "irtual representation of that which cannot be seen or represented. The score remains "irtual because it represents the unrepresentable, which is to say that in the Antarctic, where the passage of space and time are obscured by the unidimensionality of the monochromatic physical space, the music represents the "irtual passage of the temporal and the spatial. In $eleu%e9s philosophy the "irtual represents with the actual, two mutually e clusi"e, yet jointly related ideali%ations of the real '8oundas, :<<7):,2(. 3or $eleu%e the idea of the actual&real can be understood as e"ents&bodies which are present in instances such as situations, bodies or indi"iduals. The "irtual&real can be understood as @incorporeal e"ents9 belonging to the pure past, a past which cannot e"er be completely present '8oundas, :<<7) :,2-,?( In this regard we can understand +aughan /illiams9 score as occupying the place of the "irtual in relationship to the actual of the Antarctic. The score creates this sense of the "irtual by allowing for a totali%ed construct of space to emerge from the heterogeneous blocks which are the any-space-whate"er. /ithout the score9s representation of the "irtual, the spectator would ha"e only a partial e perience of the space& time relationship of the any-space-whate"er. This allowance for the "irtual as an aid in completing the construction of a totali%ed space, begs the !uestions of just what space is being constructedE /ith this in mind it might


be ad"antageous to consider the answer to the final !uestion of the three !uestions posed at the beginning of our discussion regarding post-war space) /hat is the meaning or lack of meaning in the any-space-whate"erE The any-space-whate"er can be understood as any space which might be called anonymousC a place which we pass through on the way to somewhere else. Gne might understand this as a non-pri"ate place such as train station, or a doctor9s waiting room. It is an area of generality which we pass through on our way to some other place of importance or becoming. This notion of a place which we pass through pro"ides us with a seeming conundrum as it relates to Scott, because it would seem that the narrati"e9s thrust deals specifically with the !uest for the Aole, a place which is a destination. Det, this is not the understanding of the any-space-whate"er which our post-war spatial considerations suggest. The !uest for the +ole positions home&8ritain as a place of importance, yet as we ha"e seen abo"e home is a place of deception and artificiality. In spite of this, it remains a place from which the men come and to which they hope to return. Thus, in their minds the e pedition to disco"er the Aole renders the Antarctic an any-space-whate"er, for they will certainly return home to a different world, one in which they are now famous as the @first men to the =outh Aole9. As such their destination while physically the same as their point of departure will be a new place, an important place, upon their return. Det, in terms of the actuality of the historical story&narrati"e, =cott9s !uest for the Aole does not result in a passage to this new place, the heroic return to 5ngland, but rather to a terminal point created by Amundsen9s flag. =cott has been beaten to the Aole, his dream is dead, and with it his understanding of the Antarctic has been replaced by a "ista at the edge of the abyss.


3rom this point on, any fantasies which =cott and his men had of fame, fortune and title, ha"e been completely o"erwhelmed by the reality that they did not succeed in their !uest. This reality creates a terminal point that marks the end of their fantasy, here represented by their desires e pressed through the film9s narrati"e, and marks the ascendance of the historic narrati"e, which represents their ultimate fate. In essence, the men9s only reality now is to cross the endless any-space-whate"er of the Antarctic in the hope of sa"ing their own li"es. This circum"ention, which is a direct result of the establishing of a point of termination, re"eals the film9s internal narrati"e to also be artificial and decepti"e. In spite of 8alcon9s desire to understand =cott9s disastrous mismanagement of the e pedition as a story of heroism, the true narrati"e, the meta-narrati"e has won out and the result is a completion of the spatio-temporal shift which we suggested per"aded the film at the outset of our discussion. /ith this, the film9s positioning as a post-war time-image becomes complete. Scott is no longer a pre-war cinema of actions, a cinema where the hero always knows how to react. In =ection I+ of the film, it becomes clear that =cott no longer understands what to do. Aerhaps on an instincti"e le"el, many of those who sat in theatre in 1,.4 and watched him on the screen, understood this and no longer belie"ed that it was possible for a leader to react at all '$eleu%e, 1,,7) 17-(.

+ection I= =ection I+ of the film now positions the entirety of the filmic uni"erse, including the narrati"e, +aughan /illiams9 score and the mise-en-scene within the totality of the duration of the brutal Antarctic. This makes sense, for as 0onley argues in his entry on the time-image in the ,eleu7e ,ictionar# ':<<7(, $eleu%e following on from 8ergson9s concept of pure duration, understands the time-image to embody duration,


a component of time which is e perienced less as matter than felt as pure durationC suggesting that time-images represent a configuration of the world that has been altered '0onley, :<<7d) :4<(. As we saw abo"e, =ection III positioned +aughan /illiams9 score as a fragmentary, incessant and increasingly complicit participant in the e"ocation of the affect of the any-space-whate"er on the men of =cott9s party. This caused the score to mo"e away from an association with the men and towards an association with the any-space-whate"er. After reaching the terminal point represented by Amundsen9s flag, the men can no longer nai"ely participate in their own deception and as such they are forced to accept that they are now at the mercy of the Antarctic. 1uch as +aughan /illiams9 score did in =ection III, the men in =cott9s party now progress towards being completely absorbed into the wholeness of the duration which is the Antarctic. Interestingly, once we ha"e attained the terminal point represented by Amundsen, the deception of the narrati"e is ended and we are then able to understand the actuality of the e pedition as a progression through a true any-space-whate"er. This meta-narrati"e progression will e"entually lead the men to a new destination and they will stand at the same abyss of despair at which +aughan /illiams9 stood at the conclusion of /orld /ar II. Bowe"er, before this final destination can be achie"ed, the men will, like +aughan /illiams9 score, need to be assumed into the totality of the AntarcticC a progression for which we will need to employ $eleu%e9s concept of duration. $eleu%e, pursuing 8ergson9s thinking on this concept of duration, suggests that duration @is always the location and the en"ironment of differences in kind9 '$eleu%e, 1,,1) -:(C and as such the parallel uni"erses of the "irtual and actual e ist here in their totality and multiplicity. 3or $eleu%e, @space is nothing other than


location, the en"ironment, the totality of difference in degree.9 '$eleu%e, 1,,1) -:( Be goes on to suggest that because of this, duration cannot merely be understood as li"ed e perience, which is of course where =ection I+ of the film begins. =cott9s men belie"e that their e perience will allow them to escape, but their e istence within duration suggests that this is not possible. Their e perience represents nothing other than their e perience as part of the composite of space and duration and as such it is not possible for them to escape because the world of duration is without beginning and end. There is no e it, because there is no beginning. As such they can only e perience and understand the pure duration of the Antarctic internally, resulting in their being present in a world de"oid of @e teriorityC space, or e teriority without succession.9 '$eleu%e, 1,,1) -?( This poses a problem which on a practical le"el 8ergson understood as reality9s tendency to mi duration and e tensity together in a representation of time imbued with space. In terms of duration, =cott9s men can ne"er co"er enough territory to escape their plight, because to do so they would ha"e to separate time from space, suggesting that there is a point of destination in duration, which is !uite ob"iously not the case in $eleu%e9s mind. Thus, as the men attempt to escape the duration of the Antarctic, the separation between the "arious elements of the whole become less and less tangible. Gn one le"el the score becomes progressi"ely less cohesi"e, with elements of "arious themes crossing o"er and becoming less identifiable and distinguishable. +aughan /illiams9 harmonic language becomes darker and the music is called upon to do sonic battle for supremacy with the increasing ferocity of the wind which is represented on the soundtrack. The wind has played an increasingly combati"e aural role since the third cue in =ection III of the film. Det in =ection I+, the wind becomes


so dominant that it begins to obscure the sound of the score, seeming to almost draw it into the physical world of the Antarctic. The eeriness of the wordless soprano chorus, which made its first appearance in the @Arologue9 at the beginning of the film, is now at times indistinguishable from the sound of the wind. The one place where the score does not intrude during the first one hour and thirty-nine minutes of the film is into the e peditionary party9s tent. Aerhaps this is a last ditch effort to hold on to the pre-war illusion of interior space as being safe and protected from the dangers of the e ternal. 0ertainly, one is always conscious of the sound of the wind during the earlier scenes within the tent, but music is to this point ne"er allowed to enter into the space. This makes perfect sense, if as we suggested, the music is the "irtual representation of the actuality of the Antarctic, for under these circumstances the totality of the whole is held at bay to some decreasing degree by the artificial protection of the tent. A fundamental change in the men9s relationship to their surroundings is signaled by the increasingly claustrophobic camera work used during the ad"ancing scenes in the tent. The camera grows closer and closer to the men in =ection I+ and one has the sense that the men are being smothered by the weight of their predicament. =imilarly, the e ternal camerawork and mise-en-scène become increasingly short in their shot length, and absorbed with minutiae, such as the odometer on the men9s sled, and shots of their feet and hands as they march and prepare food in the tent. Det, con"ersely the first part of =ection I+ also features long shots which position the men as miniscule when compared to the "astness of the Antarctic. The intention here is simple, compared to the giganticness of duration the men are insignificant, yet when faced by such o"erwhelming power, the only thing


that they can do to attempt to maintain control is to concentrate on the aspects which are within their grasp, such as mo"ing, cooking, and grasping. The defining musical moment in the film occurs at 1)-?9<,U as music finally enters the tent, suggesting that =cott9s men cannot escape being absorbed into the wholeness of duration, and will now fore"er be a part of the world that they thought they were merely passing through on their way to eternal fame. /hat is perhaps more interesting than this, is the fact that +aughan /illiams9 score also assumes the same fate, as it is subse!uently o"erwhelmed by the sound of the wind and silenced. Thus the circle becomes complete) humankind cannot affect spaceC space is uninhabitable by definitionC and the any-space-whate"er no longer protects one from the abyss, but can indeed lead one straight into it. =uch is the fate of +aughan /illiams9 score, a fact which perhaps represents both its true strength and the true nature of all music after the war. 3or in light of the horrors of the cataclysmic e"ents of /orld /ar II, what true music can e ist unchallenged and remain unsilenced by the weight of space as it e ists in both its historical and emotional translationE


Chapter Eight: Conclusion I began this thesis by suggesting that film music analysis was at an impasse and in need of some original impetus to mo"e it in a new direction. This theoretical road block was, I suggested, caused by the inability of music theory and film theory to speak to each other on a common theoretical plane. I argued that this inability to communicate often results in analyses which lean to hea"ily on the analytical methodologies of one discipline o"er the other. This lopsided approach often engenders results which tell us much about either score or film, but little about how the two function together. It was my contention that it is this reliance on a bifurcated methodology which pre"ents film music analysis from being successful. I also posited that what was needed for film music to progress beyond this seeming impasse was the construction of a methodological bridge which would allow for music theory and film theory to be able to communicate, thereby enabling the "arious components of the filmic uni"erse to relate on an e!ual plane. I suggested that we might find assistance in the construction of this methodological bridge in the philosophical concepts of #illes $eleu%e. $eleu%e9s lifelong engagement with film, along with the fle ibility of his philosophical concepts made him a particularly appealing choice on which to construct our new methodology. The use of $eleu%ian philosophical concepts to address film music9s conceptual problems meshed perfectly with the primary !uestion considered by this thesis, which was to in!uire into what film music does when it enters the mise-enscène. I began my analysis by selecting si films, each of which posed a particular theoretical challenge. In each instance, the score of these si films contained a theoretical conundrum which seemingly pre"ented a deep analysis from being


undertaken. =trangely, in spite of these seeming theoretical limitations, all of the scores, with the e ception of Areisner9s score for Blue, are regularly cited in discussions about historically important film scores. It therefore became our task to o"ercome these difficulties through the application of appropriate $eleu%ian philosophical concepts. ;et9s e amine how this process aided our analyses. Gn the surface, the musical simplicity of 1aurice *aubert9s score for L’Atalante appeared to pre"ent an in depth analysis. The issue here was that the musical content of the score, which is composed of simple melodies and primary chords, did not pro"ide enough substanti"e musical material to lend itself to a deep structural and melodic analysis. Bowe"er, with the application of the $eleu%ian concept of sensation to the score, it became possible to draw the musical synta into a deeper dialogue with the other aspects of the mise-en-scène. This process yielded a rich synthesis which allowed us to consider the score9s "arious incarnations in the form of the performati"e, mechanical and reproducti"e. The application of sensation o"ercame the roadblock caused by the score9s inherent simplicity, thereby allowing us to understand it as relating directly to the other areas of the film9s soundtrack and its filmic and narrati"e trajectory. Gur analysis of ;eonard >osenman9s score for East of Eden was initially troubled by the e istence of two distinct and separate harmonic worlds, which are most often e plained away by suggesting that the tonal content of the score represents the goodness of 0al9s brother Aron, while the atonal content represents the internal psychological turmoil of 0al. Fnfortunately, once one has established this there is little else that can be read into the comple structure of the score. Bowe"er, through the application of the $eleu%ian concept of nomadology, we were able to re-concei"e


of the score9s tonal polarity as representing a series of deterritoriali%ations& reterritoriali%ations which, while certainly representing the oppositional nature of the narrati"e, also meta-te tually moti"ates and dri"e the entirefilm. $mitri =hostako"ich9s score for Hamlet was structured either consciously or unconsciously around the classical music form of the sonata-allegro mo"ement, a structure which seemingly possessed little relation to the o"erall structure of the film. Bowe"er, after embracing sonata-allegro form9s inherent sense of structural recurrence and "iewing this through the $eleu%ian lens of the eternal return and its related concept of the refrain, it became clear that not only does the application of sonata-allegro form reinforce the "ery structure of =hakespeare9s play, but that it also parallels the narrati"e trajectory of Aasternak9s translation and the politico-historical circumstances of the film itself. Pbigniew Areisner9s score for Blue presented us with a completely different problem. In this case, the score was composed largely prior to shooting, with Areisner using a screenplay which 6ieslowski subse!uently altered once he began shooting. This set of circumstances negated the possibility of making a simple reading of the musico-"isual concordances which constitute many film analyses. =imilarly, Areisner9s position as a self-trained composer, an outsider to the /estern conser"atory tradition made his musical synta difficult to analyse using the

traditional tools of musicology. 0ompounding these issues was the fact that the score entered the mise-en-scène as a narrati"e de"ice. In spite of this, we were able to o"ercome this ine orably tangled web of theoretical challenges through the use of the $eleu%ian concept of becoming, which allowed us to relate the "arious narrati"e elements - *ulie9s tragedy, the score9s pree istence and the narrati"e trajectory of


*ulie9s journey - to each other through the related concepts of becoming-animal, becoming-music, and becoming-woman. Arthur 8liss9 score for Things to Come and >alph +aughan /illiams9 score for Scott of the Antarctic presented different "ersions of a related problem. 8liss9 score is often mentioned by scholars as the first soundtrack recording released on record. The score is also important because it is one of the earliest major film commissions on the part of a serious composer of art music. Bowe"er, in spite of this, 8liss9 score is rarely mentioned as a film which engages with the mise-en-scHne on any successful le"el. +aughan /illiams9 score is slightly different because its fame comes more from its subse!uent incarnation as concert work entitled S#m(honie Antarctica, which the composer produced by e tending and de"eloping material he had originally written for the film. /hile the S#m(honie Antarctica is not one of +aughan /illiams9 more popular works, it certainly recei"es more serious scholarly attention then does the film score. The reasons most often cited for the failure of +aughan /illiams9 score for Scott of the Antarctic are that only half of the composer9s actual music for the score e"entually made it into the finished film and that which did is often not used as he composer intended it to be. Thus, on one had we ha"e 8liss9 score, which is heralded for its historical importance but seemingly engages with the score only on a "ery superficial le"el, and on the other hand we ha"e +aughan /illiams9 score, which is musically profound but fragmented and incomplete and because of this seems to a"oid engagement with the mise-en-scène on any le"el. Bowe"er, by reimaging these two scores as respecti"e e amples of what $eleu%e identified as the changing conception of space which occurred after /orld


/ar II, we were able to re-concei"e of them as reinforcing the spatial conceptuali%ations of their respecti"e eras. In the case of 8liss9 score, this leads to an application of the $eleu%ian concept of the mo"ement-image, which reinforces the film9s historical position, while also establishing the score9s role as a definer of the safety of the internal "ersus the e ternal. In the case of +aughan /illiams9 score, the musical paucity of the composer9s approach helps to define the film9s historical position as a time-image film, while underscoring the notion of the Antarctic as an any-space-whate"er which, through the aid of the score, e"entually o"erwhelms the e peditionary party and draws them into the wholeness of $eleu%ian duration. The findings in this thesis suggest that the application of $eleu%ian philosophical concepts to the analysis of film music pro"ides an e citing alternati"e to traditional methodologies. ;et us e amine the ways in which $eleu%ian ph ilosophy accomplished this. 3irst, the application of $eleu%e pro"ides the film scholar with a fle ible and ine haustible tool kit for dealing with the "arious analytical challenges which are presented by the indi"idual score. Fnlike traditional analytical musicology, which approach analysis by applying a reasonably select and limited set of tools to a uniformly selected group, this new $eleu%ian methodology can be reinterpreted indefinitely and applied to the specific challenges presented by each score. 0ertainly, $eleu%ian philosophy doesn9t negate the importance of traditional music theory, but it does allow for a much richer and more fle ible analysis. =econd, the fle ibility and adaptability of $eleu%ian philosophy allows it to function as a methodological bridge between music and film theories. 8ecause of this it now becomes possible to relate score and mise-en-scene to each other in a way once thought impossible. In light of the successful application of $eleu%ian


philosophy as a bridge between film and music it becomes possible to think of further applications which become e"en more specific. Gne can imagine for instance a study of film music and colour, or film music and sound design. The successful application of $eleu%ian philosophy in this thesis allows for the possibility of "ery specific and pre"iously impossible projects. ;ast of all, throughout this thesis we ha"e e amined scores which posed "arious theoretical challenges to film music scholars. In each case $eleu%e9s philosophical concepts alle"iated the respecti"e impasse and allowed a deeper e amination of a film score pre"iously thought either inconse!uential or difficult to theori%e. This suggests that this new methodology can be used to discuss and analyse a wide range of scores once thought too difficult or unimportant to write about. Indeed, one can e"en en"ision the application of $eleu%ian concepts to the areas of the appropriated score and the popular music score, areas which continue to be nearly impenetrable when considered outside the area of literary or economic theory. I began this thesis by suggesting that film music studies were at an impasse. Through the creation of a $eleu%ian methodological bridge that unites film and music theories it is my hope that I ha"e shown one way in which this impasse might be broken. 0ertainly, there is much work to be done, both in the limitless application of $eleu%ian philosophical concepts to film music, but also in terms of the creation of other methodological platforms. Through this new analytical methodology it is my hope that film music scholarship will progress beyond its current limitations and that film music will finally be appreciated and understood as both a rich and challenging area for scholarly in!uiry.


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6ickasola, *oseph #. ':<<.( The Films of *r7#s7tof *ieslo's"i, ;ondon) 0ontinuum. 6o%intse", #rigori '1,22( Sha"es(eare: Time and Conscience, +ining, * 'tr( KewDork) Bill J /ang. ;ack, >ussell ':<<:( T'ent# Four Frames %nder, ;ondon) cuartet 8ooks. ;ambert, 0onstant '1,-.( &usic Ho4, Kew Dork) 0harles =cribner9s =ons. ;ondon, 6urt '1,-2( Film &usic, ;ondon) 3aber J 3aber. ;orraine, Tamsin ':<<7( @=mooth =pace9, In) Aarr, Adrian 'ed( The ,eleu7e ,ictionar#, Kew Dork) 0olumbia Fni"ersity Aress, pp. :7--7.. 1ac$onald, ;aurence 5. '1,,4( The 0n!isi1le Art of Film &usic: A Com(rehensi!e Histor#, ;anham) Ardsley Bouse. 1arko", +ladimir '1,21( @An unnoticed aspect of Aasternak9s translations9, Sla!ic @e!ie', +ol. :<, Ko. -, pp. 7<--<4. 1assumi, 8rian ':<<:( @Introduction) ;ike a thought9, In) 1assumi, 8rian 'ed( A Shoc" to Thought: Ex(ression after ,eleu7e and )uattari, ;ondon) >outledge, pp. iii- i . 1ay, Todd ':<<7( )illes ,eleu7e: An 0ntroduction, ;ondon) 0ambridge. 1a%ower, 1ark ':<<<( ,ar" Continent: Euro(e’s T'entieth Centur#, Kew Dork) +antage. 1c8ride, *oseph '1,4-( Filmma"ers on Filmma"ing, 8olume One, ;os Angeles) *. A. Tarcher. 1c$onald, $a"id *. '1,?4( @Hamlet and the 1imesis of Absence9, Educational Theatre -ournal, +ol. -<, Ko. 1, pp. -2-7-. 1endel, Arthur A. '1,?1( @Bamlet and =o"iet Bumanism9, Sla!ic @e!ie', +ol. -<, Ko. ., pp. ?---.?. 1issiras, 1ichael '1,,4( @1usical >eference, =ynta , and the 0ompositional Arocess in 3ilm 1usic.9 Ah$ $iss, KDF. 1yers, >ollo B. '1,77( @1aurice *aubert9, In) 8lom, 5ric 'ed( )ro!e’s ,ictionar# of &usic and &usicians, "ol. I+. Kew Dork) =t. 1artins Aress, p. 7,4. Kesbitt, Kick ':<<.( @$eleu%e, Adorno, and the 0omposition of 1usical 1ultiplicity9, In) 8uchanan, Ian J =wiboda, 1arcel 'eds( ,eleu7e and &usic, 5dinburgh) 5dinburgh Fni"ersity Aress, pp. 7.-?7. Aalmer, 0hristopher '1,,-( The Com(oser in Holl#'ood, ;ondon) 1arion 8oyers. Aalmer, 0hristopher J =teiner 3red ':<<?( @;eonard >osenman9, In) )ro!e &usic Online, ed. ;. 1acy 'accessed 11-<:-<?( http)&&www.gro" Aarker, 0hristopher *. ':<<1( @The 1usic for Scott of the Antarctic9, -ournal of the @al(h 8aughan .illiams Societ#, Ko. :1, pp.11-1.. Aarr, Adrian ':<<7( @>epetition9, In) Aarr, Adrian 'ed( The ,eleu7e ,ictionar#, Kew Dork) 0olumbia Fni"ersity Aress, pp. ::--:7. Aaulus, Irene '1,,,( @1usic in 6r%ys%tof 6ieslowski9s 3ilm Three Colors Blue. A >hapsody in =hades of 8lue) The >eflections of a 1usician9, 0nternational @e!ie' of the Aesthetics and Sociolog# of &usic, +ol. -<, Ko. 1, pp. 27-,1. Aearson, *onathan ':<<1( @=infonia Antarctica) Introduction and 0$ >e"iew9, -ournal of the @al(h 8aughan .illiams Societ#, Ko. :1, pp. --4. Aorcile, 3rancois '1,?1( &aurice -au1ert, musicien (o(ulaire ou maudit=, Aaris) ;es 5diteurs francais reunis.


Aowrie, Ahil ':<<2( @Guting the synch) music and space in the 3rench heritage film9, In) 1era, 1iguel J 8urnand, $a"id 'eds( Euro(ean Film &usic, 8urlington) Ashgate, pp. 42-,,. Arendergast, >oy 1. '1,,:( Film &usic: A eglected Art, Kew Dork) /. /. Korton. Audo"kin, +. I. '1,74( Film Techni3ue and Film Acting, 1ontagu, I"or 'tr( Kew Dork) #ro"e Aress. >ajchman, *ohn '1,,4( Constructions, 0ambridge) 1IT Aress. >iley, *ohn ':<<7( ,mitri Shosta"o!ich: A life in film, ;ondon) I. 8. Taurus. >odowick, $. K. ':<<-( )illes ,eleu7e’s Time &achine, $urham) $uke Fni"ersity. >offe, *onathan ':<<7( @Ftopia9, In) Aarr, Adrian 'ed( The ,eleu7e ,ictionar#, Kew Dork) 0olumbia Fni"ersity Aress, pp. :,--.. >osenman, ;eonard '1,?.( @5ast of 5den9, In) ;imbacher, *ames ;. 'ed( Film usic: from !iolins to !ideo, 1etuchen) =carecrow, pp. 42-44. >osenman, ;eonard '1,24( @Kotes from a sub-culture9, +ers(ecti!es of e' &usic, +ol. ?, Ko. 1, pp. 1::-1-7. >ussell, 1ark J Doung, *ames ':<<<( Film &usic: Screencraft, /oburn) 3ocal Aress. =nedden, /illiam ':<<<( @Ahead of its time9, Film Score &onthl#, +ol.7, Ko. 4, pp. :4--1. =otirin, Aatty ':<<7( @8ecoming-woman9, In) =ti"ale, 0harles *. 'ed( )illes ,eleu7e: *e# Conce(ts, 1ontreal) 1c#ill-cueens9 Fni"ersity Aress, pp. ,4- 1<,. =pinks, ;ee ':<<7( @5ternal >eturn9, In) Aarr, Adrian 'ed( The ,eleu7e ,ictionar#, Kew Dork) 0olumbia Fni"ersity Aress, pp. 4:-4.. =tagoll, 0liff ':<<7a( @8ecoming9, In) Aarr, Adrian 'ed( The ,eleu7e ,ictionar#, Kew Dork) 0olumbia Fni"ersity Aress, pp. :1-::. =tagoll, 0liff ':<<7b( @$uration9 In) Aarr, Adrian 'ed( The ,eleu7e ,ictionar#, Kew Dork) 0olumbia Fni"ersity Aress, pp.?4-4<. =tagoll, 0liff ':<<7c( @5"ent9, In) Aarr, Adrian 'ed( The ,eleu7e ,ictionar#, Kew Dork) 0olumbia Fni"ersity Aress, pp. 4?-44. =teiner, 3red '1,,4( @/hat were musicians saying about mo"ie music during the first decade of soundE A symposium of selected writings9, In) 1c0arty, 0lifford 'ed( Film &usic 0, ;os Angeles) The 3ilm 1usic =ociety, pp. 41-1<?. =tok, $anusia '1,,-( *ieslo's"i on *ieslo's"i, ;ondon) 3aber and 3aber. =treet, =arah '1,,?( British ational Cinema, ;ondon) >outledge. Thomas, Tony '1,?,( Film Score: The 8ie' from the +odium, =outh 8runswick) A. =. 8arnes. Thomas, Tony '1,??( &usic for the &o!ies, =outh 8runswick) A.=. 8arnes. Thompson, ;ara ':<<4( @1,:7) The 3ilm =ociety is 3ormed, ;ondon9, L%NO L0 E 'accessed April 1-, :<<4( http)&&,<<-1,.,&theefilmesociety.html. Tolley, $a"id ':<<1( @The ;ast Fnknown >egion) Aolar Ambition or Ailgrimage9, -ournal of the @al(h 8aughan .illiams Societ#, Ko. :<, pp ?- ,. +aughan /illiams, >alph ':<<.( @3ilm 1usic9, In) 8ernstein, 5lmer 'ed( Film &usic ote1oo": A com(lete Collection of the 6uarterl# -ournal, CHJL2CHJF, =herman Gaks) 3ilm 1usic =ociety, pp. :-2-.<.


+ere"is, 0onstantine ':<<7( @>epetition and 0inema9, In) Aarr, Adrian 'ed( The ,eleu7e ,ictionar#, Kew Dork) 0olumbia Fni"ersity Aress, pp. ::7-:?. +idler, Anthony ':<<<( .ar(ed S(ace: Art, Architecture, and Anxiet# in &odern Culture, 0ambridge, 1IT Aress. +incendeau, #inette ':<<<( Stars and Stardom in French Cinema, ;ondon) 0ontinuum. /agner, ;inda /elshimer '1,2-( @Gphelia) =hakespeare9s pathetic plot de"ice9, Sha"es(eare 6uarterl#, +ol. 1., Ko. 1, pp. ,.-,?. /arner, 1arina '1,,-( L’Atalante, ;ondon) 8ritish 3ilm Institute. /illiams, *ames ':<<7( @Truth9, In) Aarr, Adrian 'ed( The ,eleu7e ,ictionar#, Kew Dork) 0olumbia Fni"ersity Aress, pp. :4,- :,1. /ilson, 5li%abeth '1,,.( Shosta"o!ich: A life remem1ered, Arinceton) Arinceton Fni"ersity Aress. /ilson, 5mma ':<<<( &emor# and Sur!i!al: The French Cinema of *r7#s7tof *ieslo's"i, ;ondon) ;egenda. /ilson, >ichard ':<<?( Sha"es(eare in French Theor#, ;ondon) >outledge. /ykes, Alan '1,??( H$ )$ .ells in the Cinema, ;ondon) *upiter. Doung, >ichard ':<<1( @+aughan /illiams and the Scott of the Antarctic Film &usic’, -ournal of the @al(h 8aughan .illiams Societ#, Ko. :<, pp 1<-1..


0orpus of 3ilms) L’Atalante '1,-.( 4, min., b&w $irector) *ean +igo Aroduction 0ompany)Argui-film Aroducer) *ac!ues-;ouis Koune% Aroduction manager) Benri Arbel Adaptation, dialogue) Albert >iHra, *ean +igo, from a scHnario by *ean #uinHe =cript super"isors) *ac!ueline 1orland, 3red 1atter 0amera) *ean-Aaul Alphen, ;ouis 8orger, 8oris 6aufman 1usic) 1aurice *aubert ;yrics) 0harles #oldblatt 5ditor) ;ouis 0ha"ance Art $irector) 3rancis *ourdain Art $epartment) *ean-;ouis 8ompoint, Aierre ;estringue% 1ake-up for 1ichel =imon) Acho 0hakatouny =ound $epartment) ;ucien 8aujard, 1arcel >oynH Assistant art director) 1a $ouy Assistant directors) Aierre 1erle, Albert >iHra, 0harles #oldblatt Arincipal actors) 1ichel =imon ';e Aère *ules(, $ita Aarlo '*uliette(, *ean $astH '*ean(, #illes 1argalitis 'The peddler(, ;ouis ;efèb"re 'The cabin boy(, 3anny 0lar '*uliette9s mother(, 1aurice #illes 'The head clerk(, >aphaIl $iligent '>aspoutine, *uliette9s father(, >enH 8leck 'The best man( 3ilmed in studio and on location in Aaris. Three Colours: Blue '1,,-( 11: min., widescreen $irector) 6r%ys%tof 6ieslowski Aroduction 0ompany) 05$ Aroductions, 5urimages, 3rance - 0inema, 16: Aroductions, 0A8 Aroductions and =tudio 3ilmowe TG>. Aroducer) 1arin 6armit% Aroduction manager) D"on 0renn =creenplay) 6r%ys%tof 6ieslowski, 6r%ys%tof Aiesiewic% 0inematography) =lawomir Id%iak 1usic) Pbigniew Areisner 5ditor) *ac!ues /itta Aroduction design) 0laude ;enoir =et decoration) ;ionel Acat, 0hristian Auben!ue, *ean-Aierre $elettre, *ulien Aoitou/eber, 1arie-0laire cuin Art department) 1ichel 0har"a% 0ostumes ) Kaima ;agrange, +irginie +iard 1ake-up) *ean-Aierre 0aminade, +alerie Tranier =ound editors) 0laire 8e%, 8etrand ;enclos =ound recorder) Aascal 0olomb, 8rigitte Taillandier =ound effects) +incent Armadi Assistant directors) 3ranRois A%ria, *ulie 8ertucelli, 5mmanuela $emarchi, 5mmanuel 3inkiel, =tHphane ;ibiot Assistant camera) Aiotr *a a, Benryk *edynak, 1uriel 0oulin


Assistant editors) ATlo Auguste-*udith, 0atherine 0ormon, 1ichele $9Attoma, Frs%ula ;esiak Arincipal actors) *uliette 8inoche '*ulie +ignon(, 8enoit >Hgent 'Gli"ier(, 3lorence Aernel '=andrine(, 0harlotte +Hry ';ucille(, BHlène +incent ';a journaliste(, Ahilippe +olter ';9agent immobilier(, 0laude $uneton ';e mHdecin(, Bugues cuester 'Aatrice(, 5mmanuelle >i"a ';a mère(, 3lorence +ignon ';a copiste( 3ilmed on location in Aaris East of Eden '1,77( 114 min., /arnercolor, print by Technicolor. $irector) 5lia 6a%an Aroduction 0ompany) /arner 8ros. Aictures Aroducer) 5lia 6a%an =creenplay) 3rom a no"el by *ohn =teinbeck, Aaul Gsborn 'screenplay( 0amera) Ted $. 1c0ord 1usic) ;eonard >osenman 5ditor) Gwen 1arks Art direction) *ames 8ase"i, 1alcolm 0. 8ert =et decoration) #eorge *ames Bopkins 0ostumes) Anna Bill *ohnstone 1ake-up) #eorge 8au =ound department) =tanley *ones =tunts) 1ushy 0allahan 0amera operator) 0onrad ;. Ball 'uncredited( 5ditorial department) *ohn Bambleton 'colo ur consultant( $ialogue director) #uy Thomajan Arincipal actors) *ames $ean '0al(, >aymond 1assey 'Adam Trask(, *ulie Barris 'Abra(, >ichard $a"alos 'Aron(, 8url I"es '=am the =heriff(, *o +an 3leet '6ate(, Albert $ekker '/ill Bamilton(, ;ois =mith 'Ann(, Barold #ordon '#usta"Albrecht(, Kick $ennis '>antani( 3ilmed on location in 1endocino, 0A and the =alinas +alley, 0A. Hamlet '1,2.( 1.< min., b&w, =o"scope $irector) #rigori 6o%intse" Aroduction 0ompany) ;enfilm=tudios =cript) Translation by 8oris Aasternak, #rigori 6o%intse" 'screenplay( 0amera) *onas #ritsius 1usic) $mitri =hostako"ich 5ditor) De 1akhanko"a Aroduction design) De"geni Denej Art direction) De"geni Denej =et decoration) #eorgi 6ropachyo" 0ostumes) =olomon +irsalad%e =ound department) 8oris 6hutoryansky Assistant director) Iosif =hapiro


Arincipal actors) Innokenti =moktuno"sky 'Bamlet(, 1ihail Ka%"ano" '6ing(, 5l%a >ad%ina 'cueen(, Duri Tolubeye" 'Aolonius(, Anaf-stasiya +ertinskaya 'Gphelia(, +adim 1ed"ede" '#uildenstern(, +ladimir 5renberg 'Boratio(, =tepan Glesenko ';aertes(, Igor $mitriye" '>osencran%( 3ilmed on location at 3ortress of I"angorod, >ussia and in the studio. Scott of the Antarctic '1,.4( 1<4 min., Technicolor $irector) 0harles 3rend Aroduction 0ompany) Aroducer) 1ichael 8alcon Aroduction managers) >aymond An%arut, 0. >. 3oster-6emp Aroduction super"isor) Bal 1ason =creenplay) /alter 1eade, I"or 1ontagu Additional dialogue) 1ary Baley 8ell 0amera) Gsmond 8orradaile, *ack 0ardiff, #eoffrey Fnsworth 0amera operators) Aaul 8eeson, 8ob 1oss, 0hic /aterson 1usic) >alph +aughan /illiams 5ditor) Aeter Tanner Art direction) Arne Akermark 0ostumes) Anthony 1endleson 1ake-up) 8arbara 8arnard 'hair stylist(, Barry 3rampton J 5rnest Taylor 'makeup( =ound super"isor) =tephen $alby =ound recordist) Arthur 8radburn 1usic performed by) Ahilharmonia Grchestra, 5rnest Ir"ing 'director( =pecial effects) >ichard $enby, #eoffrey $ickinson, *im 1orahan, Korman Gugh, =ydney Aearson Associate producer) =idney 0ole Assistant directors) >owland $ouglas, #ordon =cott, 0yril Aope Art $epartment) Korman $orme, *ack =hampan Arincipal actors) *ohn 1ills '0aptain >. 3. =cott, >. K.(, $iana 0hurchill '6athleen =cott(, Barold /arrender '$r. 5. A. /ilson(, Anne 3irth 'Griana /ilson(, $erek 8ond '0aptain ;. 5. #. Gates(, >eginald 8eckwith ';t. B. >. 8owers, >. I. 1.(, *ames >obertson *ustice 'A. G. @Taff9 5"ans, >. K. (, 6enneth 1ore ';t. 5. #. >. @Teddy9 5"ans, >. K. (, Korman /illiams '0hief =toker /. ;ashley, >. K. (, *ohn #regson 'A . G. T. 0rean, >. K.(, *ames 1c6echnie '=urgeon ;t. 5. ;. Atkinson, >. K.( 3ilmed on location in Korway and in studio.

Things to Come '1,-2( ,? min., b&w $irector) /illiam 0ameron 1en%ies Aroduction 0ompany) ;ondo n 3ilm Aroductions Aroducer) Ale ander 6orda Aroduction manager) $a"id 8. 0unynghame


=creenplay) B. #. /ells from his no"el The Sha(e of Things to Come, assisted by ;ajos 8irf 0amera) >obert 6rasker 1usic) Arthur 8liss 1usical director) 1uir 1athieson 5ditors) 0harles 0hrichton, 3rancis ;yon =et $esign) +incent 6orda Assistant art director) 3rank /ells 0ostumes) *ohn Armstrong, >enH Bubert, The 1archioness of cueensbury =pecial effects) Ked 1ann, ;awrence /. 8utler Assistant director) #eoffrey 8oothby Assistant camera) 8ernard 8rowne Arincipal actors) >aymond 1assey '*ohn 0abal, Gswald 0abal(, 5dward 0hapman 'Aippa Aassworthy, >aymond Aassworthy(, >alph >ichardson 'The chief(, 1argetta =cott '>o ana, >owena(, 0edric Bardwicke 'Theotocopulos(, 1aurice 8raddell '$r. Barding(, =ophie =tewart '1rs. 0abal(, $errick de 1arney '>ichard #ordon(, Ann Todd '1ary #ordon( 3ilmed in studio.


3ilms 0ited in Te t ABBC: A S(ace Od#sse# '=tanley 6ubrick, 1,24( A Sim(le Chance '+se"olod Audo"kin, 1,-:( Alexander e!s"# '=ergei 5isenstein, 1,-4( An American in +aris '+incent 1innelli, 1,71( L’Argent de (oche '3ranRois Truffaut, 1,?2( L’Assassinat du duc de )uise '0almettes J ;e 8argy, 1,<4( Battleshi( +otem"in '=ergei 5isenstein, 1,:7( Ben2Hur '/illiam /yler, 1,7,( Ca(tain Blood '1ichael 0urti%, 1,-7( La Cham1re !erte '3ranRois Truffaut, 1,?4( Citi7en *ane 'Grson /elles, 1,.1( The Co1'e1 '+incent 1inelli, 1,77( Coastal Command '*. 8. Bolmes, 1,.:( Con!o# 'Aen Tennyson, 1,.<( ,e"alog '6r%ys%tof 6ieslowski, 1,4,( The ,eserter '+se"olod Audo"kin, 1,--( ,on 6uixote '#rigori 6o%intse", 1,7?( The ,ou1le Life of 8;roni3ue '6r%ys%tof 6ieslowski, 1,,1( ,r$ :hi!ago '$a"id ;ean, 1,27( First &en in the &oon '8ruce #ordon, *. ;. +. ;eigh, 1,1,( Fort#2 inth +arallel '1ichael Aowell, 1,.1( )one 'ith the .ind '+ictor 3lemming, 1,-,( Hamlet ';aurence Gli"ier, 1,.4( Hiroshima mon amour 'Alain >esnais, 1,7,( L’Histoire d<Ad9le H$ '3ranRois Truffaut, 1,?7( L<Homme 3ui aimaut les femmes '3ranRois Truffaut, 1,??( The 0sland of Lost Souls '5rle 0. 6enton, 1,-:( The 0nformer '*ohn 3ord, 1,-7( The 0n!isi1le &an '*ames /hale, 1,--( The 0n!isi1le Thief 'Fnknown, 1,<,( *ing *ong '1erian 0. 0ooper J 5rnest 8. =choedsack, 1,--( *ing Lear '#rigori 6o%intse", 1,?1( La'rence of Ara1ia '$a"id ;ean, 1,2:( The Leo(ard ';uchino +isconti, 1,2-( Lost in Translation '=ophia 0opolla, :<<-( The Lo!es of -oanna )odden '0harles 3rend, 1,.?( The &agnificent Am1ersons 'Grson /elles, 1,.:( &odern Times '0harlie 0haplin, 1,-2( e' Ba1#lon ';eonid Trauberg J #rigori 6o%intse", 1,:,( e' Hori7ons '#rigori 6o%intse", 1,-,( o End '6r%ys%tof 6ieslowski, 1,4.( O15ecti!e Burma '>aoul /alsh, 1,.7( Oli!er T'ist '$a"id ;ean, 1,.4( +ersona 'Ingmar 8ergman, 1,27( Le +etit cha(eron rouge 'Alberto 0a"alcanti, 1,:,( The (lo' that 1ro"e the (lains 'Aare ;orent%, 1,-2( @al(h 8aughan .illiams '6en >ussell, 1,42(


The @eturn of &axim '#rigori 6o%intse", 1,-?( The @o1e 'Benry 6oster, 1,7-( The Ten Commandments '0ecille 8. $emille, 1,72( Three Colours: @ed '6r%ys%tof 6ieslowski, 1,,.( The .eather Forecast 'Antoni 6rause, 1,41( The Oouth of &axim '#rigori 6o%intse", 1,-7( :;ro de conduite '*ean +igo, 1,--( .


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