Music, the Moving Image and Ireland,

1897–2017 John O’Flynn

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Music, the Moving Image and
Ireland, 1897–2017

Music, the Moving Image and Ireland, 1897–2017 constitutes the first
comprehensive study of music for screen productions from or relating to the
island. It identifies and interprets tendencies over the first 120 years of a field
comprising the relatively distinct yet often overlapping areas of Irish-themed and
Irish-produced film. Dividing into three parts, the book first explores
accompaniments and scores for 20th-century Irish-themed narrative features that
resulted in significant contributions by many Hollywood, British, continental
European and, to a lesser extent, Irish composers, along with the input of many
orchestras and other musicians. Its second part is framed by a consideration of
various cultural, political and economic developments in both the Republic of
Ireland and Northern Ireland from the 1920s (including the Troubles of 1968–1998).
Focusing on scoring and other aspects of soundtrack production for domestic
newsreel, documentary film and TV programming, it interprets the substantial
output of many Irish composers within this milieu, particularly from the 1960s to
the 1990s. Also referring to broader cultural and historical themes, the book’s third
and final part charts approaches to and developments in music and sound design
over various waves of Irish cinema, from its relatively late emergence in the 1970s
to an exponential growth and increasingly transnational orientation in the early
decades of the 21st century.

John O’Flynn is Associate Professor of Music at Dublin City University. He is

author of The Irishness of Irish Music (2009) and co-editor of several books,
including Music and Identity in Ireland and Beyond (2014) and Made in Ireland:
Studies in Popular Music (2020).
Ashgate Screen Music
Series Editors: James Deaville
Carleton University, Canada

Kathryn Kalinak
Rhode Island College, USA
and
Ben Winters
Open University, UK

The Ashgate Screen Music series publishes monographs and edited collections
about music in film, television, video games and in new screening contexts such
as the internet from any time and any location. All of these titles share the common
dedication to advancing our understanding of how music interacts with moving
images, supporting narrative, creating affect, suspending disbelief, and engrossing
audiences. The series is not tied to a particular medium or genre, but can range
from director-composer auteur studies (Hitchcock and Herrmann, Leone and Mor-
ricone, Burton and Elfman), through multi-author volumes on music in specific
television programmes (Glee, Doctor Who, Lost), to collective explorations of
topics that cut across genres and media (music on small screens, non-Western
music in Western moving-image representations). As such, the Ashgate Screen
Music Series is intended to make a valuable contribution to the literature about
music and moving images.

Heavy Metal at the Movies

Gerd Bayer

The Screen Music of Trevor Jones

Technology, Process, Production
Edited by David Cooper, Ian Sapiro and Laura Anderson

Scoring the Hollywood Actor in the 1950s

Gregory Camp

Musical Sincerity and Transcendence in Film

Reflexive Fictions
Timothy B. Cochran

Music, the Moving Image and Ireland, 1897–2017

John O’Flynn

For more information about this series, please visit: www.routledge.com/music/

series/ASM
Music, the Moving Image
and Ireland, 1897–2017

John O’Flynn
First published 2022
by Routledge
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DOI: 10.4324/9780203710395
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Dedicated to the memory of my mother, May
Contents

List of illustrations x
Acknowledgements xii
List of abbreviations xv

Introduction: music, the moving image and Ireland 1

Conceiving the field 1
A national cinema? 3
Aims and methods 6
Representing Ireland 6
Musical tropes and their alternatives: a book of three parts 7
Musical and ideological readings 10

PART 1
Irish themes on screen and in sound 13

1 The first half-century: from silent newsreel to

narrative sound film 15
The beginnings of Irish cinema 15
Early Irish-themed sound film 18
Max Steiner and Irish-themed film 20
British and Irish film: the mid-to-late 1930s 28
Irish-themed British film music: William Alwyn 32
The luck of the Irish? 36

2 Harping on? the 1950s–1990s 41

The early to mid-1950s 41
Irish-produced and Irish-themed 46
Fighters, writers and leprechauns 47
viii Contents
Different directions in the 1970s 54
Reworking sonic Irishness 60

3 Literature-to-film adaptations and music 66

O’Casey and Synge 66
Joyce, music and film 70
New generations of writers 73
Elmer Bernstein and adapted Irish screenplays 75
End-of-century adaptations 79

PART 2
Perception and production from within 85

4 Sounding nation and culture on screen 87

Early perspectives on the independence struggle 87
Anthropology and ideology 89
Nation-building 91
Tourism, heritage and the natural world 96
Commemoration 100
Documenting tradition in a modern age 105

5 Soundtracks to Ireland’s troubles: dramas and

documentaries 112
The long 19th century on TV 112
The Northern Ireland Troubles in documentary film 115
The mid-1990s: a new aesthetic for Troubles
documentaries? 121
Critical perspectives on the Republic: the 1960s 123
Continuing themes of unemployment, emigration
and diaspora 126
Abuse, abjection and marginalization 129
Millennial perspectives on Irish history 131

6 Irish composers and 20th-century film and TV 135

Mid-20th-century composers 136
Combining tradition and modernity? 139
Experimental scoring: Brian Boydell 141
Composing for TV: A.J. Potter 145
From newsreel to feature film: Gerard Victory 148
The late 20th century: Seóirse Bodley, John Buckley
and Roger Doyle 151
 Contents ix
PART 3
Cinematic and musical developments 161

7 Soundtracks for an emerging Irish cinema: margins,

borders, troubles 163
On the margins: first-wave Irish cinema 163
Early narrative features on the Troubles 170
Troubles films go mainstream 174
South of the border: past troubles 180

8 A plurality of genres 188

Documenting music on screen 189
Traditional and folk soundtracks 191
Traditional music and orchestral scores: Mícheál
Ó Súilleabháin, Bill Whelan and Shaun Davey 193
From stage to soundtrack: music hall, dance
bands and jazz 198
Popular music: composition and compilation 201
The Irish music-film 204

9 21st-century themes 212

Soundtracks, places, spaces 212
Crime drama 217
Past traumas 219
Looking back at the Troubles 224
Outsiders 229
Beyond Ireland 234

Conclusion: retrospectives and recent developments 237

Music, the moving image and Ireland: the first 120 years 237
21st-century documentary features 238
Retrospectives and (re)composition 241
Developments in screen music production 245

Glossary of musical terms 250

Select filmography 255
Bibliography 264
Index 276
Illustrations

Figures
4.1 American GIs gather for a communal song in A Letter from
Ulster (1943) 93
5.1 Conductor/composer Proinnsías Ó Duinn, producer/director
Tony Barry and members of the RTÉ Concert Orchestra
recording music for Strumpet City (1980) 113
6.1 Mezzo-soprano Bernadette Greevy, tenor Edwin Fitzgibbon
and other cast members of the RTÉ TV opera Patrick (1965) 146
7.1 Isobel Stephenson and Brid Brennan in Anne Devlin (1984) 166
8.1 Ciarán Burns as Luke in Night in Tunisia (1982) 199
8.2 Richard Dormer as Terri Hooley with fans in
Good Vibrations (2012) 207
8.3 Ferdia Walsh-Peelo as Cosmo with band in Sing Street (2016) 210

Music examples
1.1 Steiner, The Informer, ‘It’s Ireland’ 23
1.2.1 Traditional melody to ‘The Wearing of the Green’ 24
1.2.2 Steiner, The Informer, Frankie McPhillips on the run 24
1.2.3 Steiner, The Informer, Frankie and Gypo
meet (‘Dunboy Home’) 25
1.2.4 Steiner, The Informer, IRA volunteers’ scene 26
1.3 Ó Gallchobhair, West of Kerry, ‘Blaskets theme’
opening figure 31
1.4 Alwyn, Odd Man Out, ‘Johnny’s Walk’/main title theme 35
2.1 Alwyn, No Resting Place, ‘Kyles in the Carrot Field’ 42
2.2 Alwyn, Shake Hands with the Devil, main title theme 48
2.3 Alwyn, Shake Hands with the Devil, main title motif 48
2.4 Jarre, Ryan’s Daughter, extract from ‘Rosy’s theme’/
main title theme 56
2.5 Williams, Far and Away, extract from ‘The Fighting Donellys’ 63
 Illustrations xi
2.6 Williams, Far and Away, extract from ‘Joseph and Shannon’ 63
3.1 Bernstein, Da, extract from ‘Main Title’ 76
3.2 Bernstein, The Field, extract from ‘Sun up’/main title theme 78
3.3 Williams, Angela’s Ashes, extract from ‘Angela’s Prayer’ 81
4.1 Ó Riada, Saoirse?, second theme 102
4.2 Victory, Another Island/Oileán Eile, main title theme 109
5.1 Davey, The Hanging Gale, extract from ‘Famine Road’ 115
6.1 Boydell, Yeats Country, main title opening 142
6.2 Boydell, Ireland, ‘Clew Bay’, transitional figure 143
6.3 Boydell, Ireland, ‘Clew Bay’, main title theme 143
6.4 Victory, Shannon, Portrait of a River, first movement opening 150
6.5 Buckley, The Woman Who Married Clark Gable, main title music 155
6.6 Buckley, The Woman Who Married Clark Gable, ‘Palm House’ 157
8.1 Davey, Waking Ned Devine, ‘Fill to Me the Parting Glass’ 198
10.1 Ó Súilleabháin, Irish Destiny, ‘Love theme’ 244

Tables
10.1 IFTA awards for best original music, 2003–2017 247
Acknowledgements

This book was something of an undertaking, and could not have been completed
without the support, advice and goodwill of many people along the way.
I would first like to express my gratitude to series editors James Deaville, Kath-
ryn Kalinak and Ben Winters for having faith and patience in equal abundance,
and for their very helpful comments and suggestions. I’m also very grateful to the
anonymous reviewer of draft chapters for their engagement and encouragement.
Many thanks to those at Routledge who provided valued advice from proposal to
editing stages, including Genevieve Aoki, Heidi Bishop, Kaushikee Sharma and
Annie Vaughan; and to Chris Mathews and colleagues at Apex CoVantage. Addi-
tionally, I greatly appreciate Donal Fullam’s meticulous work in preparing
the index.
The research support given by St Patrick’s College, Drumcondra, and by the
Faculty of Humanities and Social Sciences at Dublin City University (DCU) was
extensive and much appreciated; a special note of thanks is due to Patricia Flynn
for facilitating the project during its early stages.
The following colleagues and friends read draft chapters and offered invaluable
feedback: Laura Anderson, John Buckley, Rhona Clarke, Mark Fitzgerald, Peter
Gahan, Áine Mangaoang, Stephen Millar, Kayla Rush and Laura Watson. I am
deeply indebted to all, and to Peter also for accommodating me during my visit to
Los Angeles and sharing a memorable road trip to Provo, Utah.
Other support from colleagues came through advice on particular queries, feedback
after conference papers or the sharing of materials or ideas that led me down produc-
tive pathways. Many thanks are due to Emilio Audissino, Desmond Bell, Lorraine
Byrne Bodley, Nicholas Carolan, David Cooper, Annette Davison, Síle Denvir, Bar-
bara Dignam, Ronan Guilfoyle, Thomas Johnston, Aylish Kerrigan, the late Danijela
Kulezic-Wilson, Tony Langlois, Frank Lehman, James McAuley, Paul McIntyre,
Noel McLaughlin, Seán Mac Liam, Wolfgang Marx, Aimee Mollaghan, Mick
Moloney, Christopher Morris, Kieran Moynihan, Áine Mulvey, Deirdre Ní Chong-
haile, Méabh Ní Fhuartháin, Teresa O’Donnell, Peadar Ó Riada, Nathan Platte, Mir-
iam Roycroft, Adrian Scahill, Gerry Smyth, Brian Trench and Harry White.
Over the years that it took me to complete this work, I also benefitted from the
collegiality and support of many at DCU; as well as those already mentioned, they
include Peter Admirand, Brad Anderson, Marie-Louise Bowe, Róisín Blunnie,
Michelle Brennan, Susan Byrne, Carol Diamond, Seán Doherty, Solomon
 Acknowledgements xiii
Gwerevende, Mary Hayes, Ailsing Kenny, Hazel Langan, Eugene McNulty, Roisín
Nic Athlaoich, Pádraig Ó Duibhir and Ethna Regan.
I would also like to register my appreciation for those who convened film music
and sound design conferences that I attended and gained much from while prepar-
ing this book: Gillian Anderson and Ronald Sadoff (Music and the Moving Image,
NYU Steinhardt); David Cooper, Ian Sapiro, Laura Anderson and Sarah Hall
(Music for Audio-Visual Media, University of Leeds); Antanas Kučinskas (Music
and Sound Design in Film and New Media, Lithuanian Academy of Music and
Theatre); Alessandro Bratus, Alessandro Cecchi, Maurizio Corbella and Elena
Mosconi (Mapping Spaces, Sounding Places: Geographies of Sound in Audiovi-
sual Media, University of Pavia); and Laura Anderson (Music and Sound Design
for the Screen, Maynooth University).
I am especially grateful to the composers John Buckley, Shaun Davey and the
late Mícheál Ó Súilleabháin for generously sharing copies or lending me originals
of their film and TV scores. John and Shaun provided further insights into their
work through extended interviews as did music producers Brian Masterson and
Maurice Roycroft (Seezer). Other composers who supported my research via email
correspondence included Deirdre McKay and Patrick Cassidy.
A wide range of materials was accessed for this book. This would not have
been possible without the professional support and advice of many librarians
and archivists at institutions in Ireland, the UK and US. Many thanks are due
to the following for facilitating on-site visits: James D’arc, Ben Harry and Jeff
Lyon, L. Tom Perry Special Collections Library, Brigham Young University;
Aoife Fitzmaurice, Irish Film Institute; Sandra Garcia-Myers, USC Warner
Brothers Archives, University of Southern California; Margaret Jones, Music
Collections, Cambridge University Library; Aisling Lockhart, Caoimhe Ní
Ghormáin, Ellen O’Flaherty and Dáire Rooney, Manuscripts & Archives
Research Library, Trinity College Dublin; Vicky Moran, RTÉ Archives; Warren
Sherk, Special Collections, Margaret Herrick Library, Academy of Motion Pic-
ture Arts and Sciences; Emer Twohey, Boole Library, University College Cork;
and Susan Brodigan, Jonathan Grimes and Evonne Ferguson, Contemporary
Music Centre. I am very grateful also to Sarah Burn, executor of A.J. Potter’s
estate, who provided valuable access to the Potter Archive and answered many
queries, and to Bill Hughes of Mind the Gap Films for lending several DVDs.
Thanks are also due to the following: Espen Bale, British Film Institute; Mark
Bollard; Breeda Brennan, RTÉ Photo Sales; Barra Boydell; Philip Devine, Irish
Film Institute; Lisa Edmondson, Amber Records; Andrew Knowles, The Wil-
liam Alwyn Foundation; Aoife Murphy and colleagues at DCU Library; Helen
Phelan; The Trevor Jones Archive at the University of Leeds; Isolde Victory;
and staff at my local public library in Phibsboro, Dublin (across the street from
the site of Phibsboro Picture House, which opened in 1914).
While preparing for this book, I greatly benefitted from materials and/or infor-
mation publicly available via online archives and databases, including Irish Film
& TV Research Online, School of Creative Arts, Trinity College Dublin; Contem-
porary Music Centre, Dublin; BBC Genome Project; BFI Player; IFI Player;
Northern Ireland Screen; RTÉ Archives; National Library of Ireland; Libraries
xiv Acknowledgements
Ireland; Screen Ireland; Irish Film and TV Academy; Screen Composers Guild of
Ireland.
Finally, I would like to express my deep appreciation for the support given by
my family and friends, and most of all by Hertz, who demonstrated patience,
understanding and encouragement at every stage of what not only seemed, but was
a long journey.
Abbreviations

BAFTA British Academy of Film and Television Arts

BBC British Broadcasting Corporation
BBC NI BBC Northern Ireland
BBC NIHS BBC Northern Ireland Home Service
BBC NIO BBC Northern Ireland Orchestra
BFI British Film Institute
bpm beats per minute
CMC Contemporary Music Centre (Dublin)
CMI Computer Musical Instrument
COI Central Office of Information
DCU Dublin City University
ESB Electricity Supply Board
EWI Electronic Wind Instrument
EVI Electronic Valve Instrument
FCOI Film Company of Ireland
GAA Gaelic Athletic Association
HBO Home Box Office
IFI Irish Film Institute
IFO Irish Film Orchestra
IFTA Irish Film and TV Academy
IMRO Irish Music Rights Organisation
IRA Irish Republican Army
ITMA Irish Traditional Music Archive
ITV Independent Television Network
MGM Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer
MIDI Musical Instrument Digital Interface
mm. measures (bars)
NBC National Broadcasting Company (USA)
NCH National Concert Hall (Dublin)
NILO Northern Ireland Light Orchestra
NITB Northern Ireland Tourist Board
PRS Performing Rights Society
QUB Queen’s University Belfast
xvi Abbreviations
RÉLO Raidió Éireann Light Orchestra
RKO Radio-Keith-Orpheum
rpm revolutions per minute
RTÉ Raidió Teilifís Éireann
RTÉCO RTÉ Concert Orchestra
RTÉSO RTÉ Symphony Orchestra
RUC Royal Ulster Constabulary
SBS Special Broadcasting Service (Australia)
SCGI Screen Composers’ Guild of Ireland
SXSW South by Southwest
TCD Trinity College Dublin
TG4 Teilifís na Gaeilge
UCC University College Cork
UCLA University of California, Los Angeles
UDA Ulster Defence Association
UTDA Ulster Tourist Development Association
UTV Ulster Television
UVF Ulster Volunteer Force
WASP White Anglo-Saxon Protestant
WWI First World War
WWII Second World War
Introduction
Music, the moving image and Ireland

Conceiving the field

The year 2016 represented a landmark year in Irish history, marking a century
since the fateful republican insurrection that was shortly followed by independence
from Britain and political partition of the island. Commemorating 1916 gave cause
to Irish governmental agencies, statutory organizations and specialist sectors to
reflect on the social, economic and cultural achievements of Ireland in the inter-
vening 100 years. The result was a series of curated events, including ‘Appraising
the Uprising’ at the Dublin-based Irish Film Institute (IFI). Its programme included
ciné concerts of live musical accompaniment to archival newsreel and a screening
of Irish Destiny (Dewhurst 1926), a rare example of a domestic silent feature
produced in the early years of the Irish Free State. It was accompanied on piano
by Mícheál Ó Súilleabháin, composer of its contemporary score.
At the National Concert Hall (NCH) in Dublin, concert music1 was celebrated
under the series ‘Composing the Island: A Century of Music in Ireland 1916–
2016’. Although music composed for film or TV was not considered under that
series’ programming, on three separate occasions in 2016, Seán Ó Riada’s widely
popular score for George Morrison’s commemorative documentary Mise Éire
[I, Ireland] (1959) was performed by the RTÉ Concert Orchestra to live screenings
at the NCH. Moreover, the national broadcaster RTÉ commissioned and televised
a number of special concerts and TV documentaries marking the centenary. It
further produced the drama series Rebellion (Louhimies 2016) with a substantial
orchestral score by Stephen Rennicks.
The year 2016 also saw the release of The Secret Scripture, directed by estab-
lished filmmaker Jim Sheridan and featuring original music by Brian Byrne, one
of a growing number of Hollywood-based Irish film composers. The film was part
of a trail of high-profile productions for Irish cinema that decade, including two
critically acclaimed and commercially successful films in 2015—John Crowley’s
Brooklyn and Lenny Abrahamson’s Room. The latter featured a sophisticated, inte-
grated soundtrack that included music by Stephen Rennicks.
The activities listed above point to a vibrant milieu for Irish film and TV produc-
tion, including the involvement of composers, performers and sound
designers. However, this belies a scenario where Ireland lagged behind other

DOI: 10.4324/9780203710395-1
2 Introduction
national film industries for much of the 20th century. While a significant corpus of
independent films were produced from the 1970s to the mid-1980s, a period often
interpreted in experimental and avant-garde terms, it was not until the late 1980s
and 1990s that a sustainable base for Irish film industries began to take hold.
Generally benefitting from improved state investment and infrastructural provi-
sion along with increased global capital flow, Irish (co-)produced films of the late
20th century aligned more with mainstream commercial interests. While this did
not necessarily negate their critical potential, one observable compromise for
domestic-produced films of the time was the casting of Hollywood or British actors
in local roles and the commissioning of recognized Hollywood and other interna-
tional composers to produce original scores. Two of Jim Sheridan’s earliest films,
My Left Foot (1989) and The Field (1990) involved collaborations with the then
seasoned Hollywood composer Elmer Bernstein. Other Irish directors, notably
Neil Jordan, exercised a general preference for the integration of pre-existing
popular music tracks, while also working with international composers. A corol-
lary to these tendencies was that Irish composers were significantly underrepre-
sented in mainstream film production at the time. However, a substantially different
history can be interpreted when appraising activities beyond dominant Hollywood
practice, including music for independent features, documentary subjects and TV
dramas.
One of this book’s goals is to document the considerable involvement of many
Irish composers, performers and other music personnel in a variety of screen pro-
ductions from the early 20th century. In identifying this field, it nonetheless
acknowledges how various political, economic and cultural factors impeded the
growth of domestic film industries following independence. The same underlying
constraints did little to sustain composers and professional performers over this
period, with the Irish state providing limited infrastructural supports for music
development.
The greatest obstacles to direct Irish involvement in film music were the lack of
sound recording facilities and the restricted scope for indigenous film and TV
production until the 1960s, although the contributions of domestic musicians in
the mid-20th century were by no means negligible. At the same time, both Hol-
lywood and British studios produced a significant corpus of Irish-themed narrative
features, and with this came a host of original scores involving renowned film
composers and orchestras. Accordingly, this book also encompasses a substantial
body of externally produced soundtracks. The range of compositional and other
creative forces arising from these two major strands of screen music—Irish-themed
and Irish-produced—forms a subject of appreciable national and international sig-
nificance that has hitherto been unexplored.
Spanning 120 years of cinema history, Music, the Moving Image and Ireland
presents analyses and discussions of music from selected Irish-themed and Irish-
(co-)produced films. State involvement in newsreel and TV from the mid to late
20th century is also considered, as it was through these production bases that
facilities and opportunities for domestic composition, orchestral involvement and
various music and sound department roles gradually developed. The book further
 Introduction 3
explores music and sound design for independent Irish features from the 1970s to
the 2010s, as well as transnational productions and selected TV series from this
time.

A national cinema?
In its appraisal of music for domestic as well as international screen productions,
this book addresses historical and material conditions that were unique to Ireland.
Critically, indigenous film industries failed to establish a sustainable production
base until the latter decades of the 20th century (Barton 2004; McLoone 2000;
Pettitt 2000a; Rockett, Gibbons and Hill, 1988). Furthermore, early 21st-century
film and TV continued to involve various forms of international co-production,
collaboration and investment, trends that led Gillespie (2008) to regard the very
conception of an Irish national cinema as a myth.
While also dismissing essentialist or vague definitions, Barton (2004, 6–10)
proposes several characteristics that loosely delineate an Irish national cinema: a
body of films produced internally and externally that addresses local and/or dia-
sporic cultures; a national archive of images; a concentration of productions and
industries; a dialogue with national culture; distinctiveness as an art form; and
accommodation of a national cinema culture beyond production. This set of char-
acteristics comes close to how this book’s subject matter is conceived, while also
recognizing increasingly transnational dimensions of the field (Barton 2019,
11–12).
The framework for Music, the Moving Image and Ireland elaborates on one of
Barton’s defining characteristics and adds another. First, while regarding the
national as a critical factor, a nuanced sense of this is required to embrace two
political jurisdictions as well as multiple rather than singular ethnicities and cul-
tures. A key concern here is how sonic markers of nationality and ethnicity, whether
projected as homogeneous (and/or homologous) or contested, contribute to the
potential meanings afforded by screen productions. The soundtrack for the BBC
drama series Harry’s Game (Clark 1982) presents an example where music demar-
cates political and ethnic differences. Its plot centres on a British secret agent
attempting to infiltrate IRA circles in Belfast during one of the most disturbing
periods of the Northern Ireland Troubles. The narrative, while somewhat sympa-
thetic to Irish republican perspectives, is clearly framed by a colonial gaze. These
differences are accentuated by the modernist piano trio underscore by Mike Moran
that associates dramatically with the series’ British protagonists, and an Irish-
language end credits song performed by Celtic/New Age band Clannad—a beauti-
ful yet eerie track that subliminally communicates Otherness on the part of its Irish
protagonists, and an ahistorical sense of pathos surrounding the Troubles.
A second critical point of qualification for this book’s framework is that any defining
set of characteristics for Irish national cinema also requires consideration of an archive
of sound. While several scholars, including Barton (2004; 2019), Condon (2008;
2018), Donnelly (2007; 2015b; 2019), Monahan (2009; 2018), O’Brien (2004),
Pramaggiore (1998; 2008), Smyth (2009) and Zucker (2008), have contemplated
4 Introduction
music and sound in textual analyses of Irish-themed and/or Irish-produced film, to date
this integral aspect of the audiovisual text has not been systematically considered in
histories and appraisals of Irish cinema and TV. This follows a well-established argu-
ment in international film music studies, with the titles for both Gorbman’s Unheard
Melodies (1987) and Kalinak’s Settling the Score (1992) referring to film analysts’
oversight of music composed for mainstream narrative film (see also Gorbman 1980).
Later studies evaluated music and sound across a wider range of genres (e.g. Brown
1994; Donnelly 2001; Wierzbicki 2009), extending to alternative non-Hollywood prac-
tices, auteur theory and the use of pre-existing music (Davison 2004; Inglis 2003;
McQuiston 2013; Powrie and Stilwell 2006), with others addressing music and cinema
in the decades preceding synchronized sound film (Altman 2004; Anderson 1987;
Barton and Trezise 2018).
All of the aforementioned point to the central role of music and sound in film
and TV studies. Indeed, several authors not only argue for their inclusion on
grounds that they are integral to the audiovisual text but also more radically sug-
gest that music is intricately and holistically involved in the creation and reception
of film narrative structures (Heldt 2013; Winters 2012; 2014). Moreover, following
Chion’s conception of integrated sonic environments in film (1994), a significant
number of audiovisual texts can be considered analogous to musical forms by
virtue of the shared dimensions of time, rhythm and movement; accordingly, the
lines between music and sound design increasingly become blurred (Greene and
Kulezic-Wilson 2016; Kulezic-Wilson 2015; 2020).
The approaches to film music studies briefly mentioned thus far inform different
sections of this book. So too does the comparable literature on music and national
cinema, although to date there have been relatively few monographs or edited
volumes that consider music for the screen in national entities outside the US and
Britain. Titles pertaining to American film music are largely based on dominant
Hollywood practice, with many focusing on musicals (Altman 1987; Cooke 2010;
Darby and Du Bois 1999). Mostly, these do not engage with sociological concep-
tions of the national, although this lacuna is addressed in more specialized studies,
including music for suburban-themed film (Pelkey and Bushard 2015) and repre-
sentations of minority ethnicities (Garcia 2014) or ‘mainstream’ national identity
in film musicals (Knapp 2018).
Histories of British film music include those by Huntley (1947), Swynnoe
(2002), Donnelly (2007), Mazey (2020) and Brown and Davison’s (2013) vol-
ume on music for silent film. Donnelly’s work also encompasses an examina-
tion of the substantial tradition of British film musicals and of popular music
in British film and TV (2015a), the latter also addressed in Inglis (2016). These
texts have relevance to Irish contexts for several reasons: first, insofar as Brit-
ish studies sometimes encompass Northern Irish interests; second, because of
many British composers’ historical involvement in Irish-themed productions;
thirdly, because of the wider political legacies and shared cultures across both
islands, including influences from British popular music and media in
Ireland.
 Introduction 5
Hillman’s German Film, Music, and Ideology (2005) provides a rare example
where potential interrelations between cinema, music and nation state are exten-
sively interrogated. His consideration of traumatic historical legacies resonates to
a degree with some of this book’s themes, albeit addressing very different political,
economic and cultural trajectories. Other comparable studies include Egorova’s
1997 history of Soviet film music exploring interrelations of political and creative
developments, and McMahon’s (2014) monograph on score composers’ collabora-
tions with French New Wave filmmakers.
A 2007 article by Brownrigg explores how music is conventionally utilized
to signify ethnicity and/or place in mainstream screen productions, a tendency
also examined in Coyle’s edited volume on Australian multicultural contexts
(2005), including O’Shea’s chapter on music and Irish-Australian male identi-
ties. The present study also considers analyses that frame national cinema as
Other to the mainstream of Hollywood and multinational interests, while
acknowledging the problems of articulating or interpreting national distinctive-
ness in an era of increasing global capital and cultural flows. Earlier studies
(McLoone 2000; Barton 2004) explored ideas of an in-between ‘third space’ or
‘third cinema’ (after Homi Bhabha), positioning Ireland and reading its audio-
visual texts through the relatively unique vantage point of a European postco-
lonial nation state. This remains a useful concept for appraising various ‘waves’
of independent Irish cinema from the late 1970s. A third space approach reso-
nates with film music studies in global contexts. Slobin (2008) maps out the
international field in terms of Hollywood ‘supercultures’ and ‘subcultural cin-
ema’, while a later collection of essays (Gil-Curiel 2016) adopts Deleuze and
Guattari’s conception of ‘minor cinema’, interpreted by Stock (2016, 2) as
‘located firmly in the postcolonial moment, and . . . [involving] the imaginative
remaking of national spaces through emancipatory uses of the language of
“major cinema”’.
This book does not claim or delineate a unique strain of Irish film music. Instead,
it interprets multifarious influences, approaches and resources in its overview of
scores and soundtracks that relate to and/or are created in Ireland. These include
original scores by Hollywood, British, Irish and continental European composers;
colonial as well as national appropriations of indigenous and diasporic (Irish)
musical repertoire and style (primarily, from traditional music); alternative
approaches to music soundtracks (including those featuring avant-garde, electro-
acoustic, popular music, contemporary jazz, and sound-design led elements); and
the potential for integrating ideas, idioms and materials from cultures and locations
that are neither Hollywood nor Irish.
Music, the Moving Image and Ireland represents the first comprehensive study
in its field, and complements existing case study analyses of original scores and
soundtracks from Irish musicology and film studies (many of which are referenced
throughout the book). It further aligns with a growing corpus of studies that con-
sider music and national cinema in Europe (e.g. Mera and Burnand 2006) and
beyond (e.g. Avila 2019; Morcom 2007).
6 Introduction
Aims and methods
The book’s aims are threefold. The first aim is to map out the field by bringing
together perspectives and case studies of music created for or reused in interna-
tional Irish-themed screen productions and in national cinema and TV. This
embraces distinct contributions by selected composers, directors and other produc-
ers. The second aim is to interpret a history, specifically, to consider material and
ideological contexts underlying developments in domestic production or the lack
thereof; to explore interrelations between music, film and national narratives (or
counter-narratives); to consider the role of music in Hollywood and British produc-
tions based on Irish subjects; and to appraise music and sound design in modern
and contemporary Irish cinema. The book’s third aim is analytical. It sets out to
evaluate and discuss selected scores and soundtracks in relation to film texts, as
well as to literary and other cultural works. Its analytic approach further considers
the interplay of style, genre, space and place in Irish-themed and/or domestic
screen productions.
The primary method undertaken for this work involved systematic readings of
soundtracks and scores in combination with integrated audiovisual experiences,
following Kassabian (2009, 44–50). Accordingly, most of the films referred to
were viewed in their totality, with subsequent analyses of specific scenes or audio
components. Score analysis is employed in some sections to illuminate the discus-
sion; in these cases, technical concepts are kept to a minimum, and a glossary is
provided for readers who may be unfamiliar with some of the musical terms used.
A small number of notated examples are included for illustrative purposes. Several
are based on composers’ original scores and sketches, with others aurally tran-
scribed. For the most part though, textual analysis is based on audiovisual engage-
ment with the hundreds of analogue and digital recordings viewed either on DVD
or via streamed formats. A substantial number of reel-to-reel and VHS copies were
consulted at collections held by the IFI and RTÉ, with additional rare titles accessed
through the inter-library loan facility of Dublin City University. The research also
involved consultation of letters, royalty statements and other archival materials
and interviews with several composers and music producers.

Representing Ireland
Relative to its size and population, Ireland is the subject of considerable interna-
tional attention. While this is arguably advantageous, many of its external cultural
representations are built on national and ethnic stereotypes, a result of the coun-
try’s complex historical associations with the UK and the US, and a 20th-century
history predominantly interpreted via the opposing yet dialectically linked per-
spectives of (post-)colonialism and nationalism. A related factor has been an his-
torical pattern of economic emigration that reached its peak during and following
the Great Famine from 1845 to 1849.
Essential ideas of Irish characterization and culture have varied roots. Overtly
racist stereotypes of colonized and immigrant Irish groups in the mid-19th century
 Introduction 7
gradually gave way to more sympathetic if patronizing cultural depictions at the
turn of the 20th century. This change reflected the growing influence and agency
of diasporic groups, including the substantial involvement of Irish-America in
theatre, music and early film. Concomitantly, several cultural movements were
taking place across Ireland and among Irish communities in Britain, notably the
literary and Gaelic revivals. This was a turbulent political and artistic milieu in
which romanticized ideas of Irish culture, community and landscapes were con-
solidated in the imaginations of many internal and external observers. It coincided
with and was in many ways linked to an emerging cinema culture from the 1900s.
The half-century following independence saw a decline in domestic screen pro-
duction as dominant political, religious and cultural interests advanced nativist and
essentialist conceptions of Irish culture within a much contracted economy
(although narrow ideologies of Gaelic-Catholic nationalism did not go uncon-
tested, and cinema remained highly popular). This mid-century cultural conserva-
tism was echoed in international films based on Irish subjects, with many employing
residual romantic or stage-Irish tropes, along with those based on insurrection and
political violence.
As a separate entity constitutionally and culturally linked to Great Britain, while
geographically and no less culturally connected to the Republic, Northern Ireland
constitutes a society characterized by many unresolved political, sectarian and
economic issues, notwithstanding a sustained period of peace since the Good Fri-
day Agreement of 1998. Mid-century narrative films based on conflict in Northern
Ireland were rare, and often reverted to Irish stereotypes in their avoidance or
simplification of historical and political contexts (Hill 1988; 2006); and it was not
until the 1980s that Irish and British filmmakers engaged substantially with the
Troubles that erupted in 1968. A recurring theme identified in this book is the
perpetuation of musical tropes in screen representations of political violence and
sectarian strife in Northern Ireland, and how such characterizations obscure the
complexities of British colonial involvement with the island as a whole.

Musical tropes and their alternatives: a book of three parts

On the negative side, screen representations of Ireland have typically focused on
cultural isolationism, moral conservatism, economic stagnation, mass emigration,
sectarian division, political conflict and depictions of aggression and violence. On
the seemingly positive side, benign stereotypes have underlined rural asceticism,
communitarian values, romantic pastoralism, picturesque Irish landscapes and the
population’s proclivity for language, literature, music and other arts. Musical ste-
reotypes often involved a Janus-faced ‘Paddy Mad/Paddy Sad’ persona (Smyth
2004, 4–5): one side reflecting the exuberance and, at times, frenetic abandon of
traditional dance tune performance, the other evoked through elegiac or haunting
slow airs. These reductive ideas have their origins in a complex amalgam of colo-
nial and national constructions that delimited perceptions of the country’s musical
culture to indigenous sources (White 1998, 1–13), thereby excluding other aspects
of domestic production and reception, notably across classical and popular
8 Introduction
forms. Irish musical stereotypes were further embedded and racialized in 19th-
century stage productions across the Anglophone world through the regular
employment of stock dance tunes and songs—and later, through original pseudo-
Irish material—to signify Irish characters (Cave 1991; Williams 1996).
Part 1 of this book, ‘Irish Themes on Screen and in Sound’, comprises three chapters
that explore the considerable number of Hollywood, British and continental European
composers commissioned to score for Irish-themed features throughout the 20th cen-
tury, on subjects ranging from diaspora/emigration to history/politics to cultural and
literary themes. It also embraces the contributions of Irish composers, whose opportu-
nities within this sphere were initially quite limited, but gradually increased, and the
parallel engagement of local musicians, including orchestras and traditional groups.
Chapter 1 begins with a brief account of cinema and musical accompaniment in
Ireland during the silent era. It then looks at Irish-themed sound film of the
1930s–1940s, appraising the extent to which Hollywood, British and Irish compos-
ers adopted stock/formulaic or more authentic materials and idioms of Irish music.
Chapter 2 details how musical tropes of Irishness continued in original scores and
other soundtrack components throughout the century’s second half. Although some
1970s soundtracks departed from conventional approaches to Irish themes, the
1980s–1990s saw several composers and musicians rework Irish stereotypes into
mainstream film and TV scoring. Literature-to-film adaptations provide the theme
for Chapter 3 that first explores music for screen versions of works by Synge,
O’Casey and Joyce. It then examines an eclectic range of scoring practices for
narrative features based on later 20th-century literature, some adopting non-
Hollywood approaches, with others returning to conventional sonic markers of
Irishness.
Part 2, ‘Perception and Production from Within’, focuses on associations between
music and the moving image that primarily emerge from productions filmed in
Ireland and Northern Ireland, spanning the many political, economic and social
changes experienced across the island from the 1920s to the millennium. That his-
tory included incremental developments in studio facilities, TV broadcasting, musi-
cal infrastructures and vernacular music-making, and a considerable involvement
by Irish composers and performers in domestic screen productions. Combined,
Chapters 4, 5 and 6 contemplate music produced for newsreel and various formats
of TV programming, as well as for feature-length narrative and documentary film.
Chapter 4 first considers insider perspectives on the independence struggle
and broader anthropological-ideological constructions of Irish culture in the
1920s–1950s. It then examines music’s role in demarcating national identities in
mid-century newsreel and rhetorical documentary, culminating in a series of
commemorative productions from 1959 to 1966. Ensuing sections address
soundtracks for later documentaries based on local industries and ways of life—
including musical practices—and an interrogation of Celtic music theories and
their subsequent influence on Irish-themed soundtracks. Historical and contem-
porary problems provide an overarching theme for Chapter 5. Beginning with
music for TV series set during the long 19th century, it then appraises soundtracks
to newsreel and documentary films based on the Northern Ireland Troubles. The
 Introduction 9
focus next turns to music for essay films and documentaries critiquing the mod-
ern Republic, with a final section that examines soundtracks to millennial per-
spectives on post-independence history. Chapter 6 presents an overview of
20th-century Irish composers’ involvement with film and TV, from the first
arrangements of traditional melodies to heroic commemorative scores to experi-
mental approaches to soundtrack. It features composers who were/are primarily
engaged with concert music, and includes analyses of selected works for Irish
screen productions.
Encompassing the 1970s through to the 2010s, Part 3, ‘Cinematic and Musi-
cal Developments’, charts evolving approaches to soundtracks for Irish-based
narrative film and TV. The first wave of an independent Irish cinema from the
1970s to the mid-1980s was largely experimental, with many filmmakers
directly or indirectly critical of contemporary Ireland. A second wave from
the late 1980s through the 1990s benefited from greater international invest-
ment if somewhat creatively limited by that influence. While traditional and
popular musicians increasingly featured on soundtracks, Irish composers
struggled for commissions in a more mainstream, commercial milieu. At the
same time, domestic facilities for soundtrack production greatly improved
through Windmill Lane, Westland and similarly equipped recording studios,
and through the founding of the Irish Film Orchestra (IFO). Increasingly
decentralized production processes from the early 21st century ensured a more
sustainable base for Irish filmmakers, some of whom re-addressed the critical
concerns of first-wave directors, albeit now more oriented towards transna-
tional themes and collaborations.
Chapter 7 begins by considering music for first-wave narrative film, much of
which addressed contemporary themes of marginalization. It then appraises
soundtracks to Irish and internationally produced narrative features based on the
Troubles, before its final section explores music for screenplays set during the War
of Independence and Civil War, and the decades following independence. Chapter
8 charts the considerable presence of Irish traditional and popular music (contem-
porary and historical) in soundtrack compilations and original scores. It contem-
plates the film music contributions of composers/performers with traditional music
backgrounds, before reviewing Irish-produced narrative features wherein music
variously features in soundtrack and screenplay, from dance band and jazz to rock
and pop genres.
The early 21st century saw an exponential rise in the number of Irish (co)pro-
ductions. Chapter 9 reviews music and sound design for narrative film over this
period, interpreting creative innovations and the resilience of established conven-
tions through themes of soundtracks, places and spaces; crime drama; past trau-
mas; contemporary social experience; and transnational perspectives. A concluding
chapter appraises the first 120 years of associations between music, the moving
image and Ireland. This leads to a review of soundtracks to 21st-century documen-
tary features and newly composed scores for remastered silent film. The book
closes with a discussion on recent developments in music and sound design for the
screen, in Ireland as well as further afield.
10 Introduction
Musical and ideological readings
Music, the Moving Image and Ireland is concerned with ways that scores and
soundtracks interrelate with screenplays, cinematography and characterization.
This introduction closes by contemplating the ideological implications of residual
Irish tropes in Hollywood soundtracks at the turn of the 21st century.
The 1990s witnessed a penchant for integrating ‘authentic’ Irish traditional
music in soundtracks to Hollywood and British film (O’Shea 2005; Smith 2007),
representing a development from the arrangements of stock material for earlier
Irish-themed scores. Such a sound world was developed for Titanic (Cameron
1997) that featured James Horner’s generic Celtic style and included Gaelic Storm,
the traditional group specially formed for the production. Two years earlier, Horner
scored Irish uilleann pipes rather than Scottish bagpipes to lead the main title
theme of Braveheart (Gibson 1995). He later composed an Irish traditional-
inspired score for The Devil’s Own (Pakula 1997), a film that reproduced conven-
tional representations of both Irish-America and the Northern Ireland Troubles,
including stereotypes of Irish masculinity and political violence. Its orchestral
underscore featured modal melodies, traditional instrumentation and plaintive
vocals by Dolores O’Riordan.
Music in Irish traditional style was subsequently employed in films whose
subjects had no connection with Ireland. Morris (2013, 383–384) interprets
this as a ‘commercial maturity’ for domestic music production, insofar as it
reversed previous patterns of Hollywood or British composers scoring for
Irish-themed film. An observable trend was the use of ostensibly Celtic music
to signify communitarian values, peasantry and pre-modern sensibilities
(Nugent 2018), as in the use of Seán Ó Riada’s original slow air, ‘Mná na
hÉireann’ [‘Women of Ireland’] for a peasant dance scene in Robin Hood
(Scott 2010). Similarly, in Snow White and the Huntsman (Sanders 2012), the
traditional song ‘Preab san Ól’ [‘Jump in the Drink’] is performed diegetically
during a campfire drinking scene by the seven dwarfs, characterized by their
‘rough’ working class and/or regional accents. The song is perhaps an apt
choice given its rolling tempo yet relaxed 3/4 metre, and its translated lyrics
from Irish (Gaelic) extolling the benefits of drinking alcohol. The dwarfs’
gravelly voices suggest an intertextual connection with an English-language
recording of the song by The Dubliners. All of these factors point to an authen-
tic use of the source material. However, when compared with James Newton
Howard’s orchestral underscore for scenes involving the film’s tall, attractive
and broody central protagonists, ‘Preab san Ól’ and the dwarfs’ accents can be
heard as English nobility’s Other, connoting persons of lower stature. The
singing and drinking scene projects the dwarfs as working-class English, Scot-
tish and (by sonic extension) Irish, and characterizes them as humorous, spon-
taneous, musical and generally harmless.
The imbrication of music in discursive tropes positioning Celticity as Other
to WASP identities is well noted (e.g. Chapman 1994); arguably, its capacity
to signify such distinctions intensifies when combined with moving images.
 Introduction 11
At the same time, some forms of Irish-produced music lend themselves to
more fluid interpretations. Thus, while the scoring of uilleann pipes and other
generic Celtic elements in Howard Shore’s Lord of the Rings score associates
with the infantilized hobbits of Tolkien’s fiction (Donnelly 2006), the remote-
ness and timbral clarity of Enya’s voice as featured in the trilogy’s first instal-
ment, The Fellowship of the Ring (Jackson 2001), suggest an affinity with the
loftier race of elves. This presents an example of how music construed as
Celtic not only becomes involved in representations of particular ethnicities
but is also subliminally involved in demarcations of whiteness (Negra 2006;
O’Flynn 2014).
Another recent example of Irish folk entering mainstream cinema is Hans
Zimmer’s use of ‘Rocky Road to Dublin’ in Sherlock Holmes (Ritchie 2009).
This involves a striking pairing of a 1960s recording of the song by The Dub-
liners played at full volume over a memorable action-packed boxing scene,
as well as Zimmer’s motivic treatment of the tune’s driving slip jig or 9/8
metre in sections of his original score. The choice of The Dubliners track for
Sherlock Holmes suggests an ideal match for the fight scene, with the song’s
relentless and almost breathless pace, the 19th-century lyrics charting the
exploits and travails of vagrant Irish workers (‘Paddies’) in Victorian Britain,
and the added masculine energy suggested by The Dubliners’ folk revival
performance. The result is clearly effective in that the music and action work
to the same rhythmic drive, to a point of perfect coincidence between the
duration of the original track and the boxing scene. However, the use of a fast
ballad by Irish musicians to underscore a brawly underground fight sublimi-
nally reinforces stereotypical associations between male violence and Irish
ethnicity on film. For the most part, Robert Downey Junior as Sherlock
Holmes is portrayed as quintessentially English, albeit with some twists to the
original character created by Irish-Scots writer Arthur Conan Doyle. In the
film soundtrack, ‘Rocky Road’s ethnic and intertextual associations
are invoked to unleash the gentleman detective’s more primitive and aggres-
sive traits.
The aforementioned cases illustrate how even where Ireland or Irish people
are not directly represented on screen, ethnic-specific music can encode and
communicate assumed characteristics of Irishness or Celticity to protagonists,
fictional communities or action scenes. The internationalization of some genres
of Irish music within mainstream soundtracks therefore represents a double bind;
as re-contextualized musical sources are employed to project subliminal codes,
such affordances may in turn reinforce stereotypes of the original sources
involved. This is not to say that the use of ethnic-specific music in soundtracks
inevitably leads to negative or inappropriate readings. A strategy adopted
throughout this book is to balance evaluations based on artistic selections with
questions of cultural representation and ideology; the fight scene from Sherlock
Holmes presents one example where music combines spectacularly with visual
and temporal elements, while also raising questions about cinematic conventions
and stereotypes.
12 Introduction
An interpretive approach
As already noted, this book considers a broad range of music from and about
Ireland, including music falling into classical, jazz, popular, traditional, and other
categories. Regardless of musical genre, what is of primary concern are the con-
texts in which scores and soundtrack are set, and the ways in which they interact
with other components of audiovisual texts.
The Dubliners’ celebrated recording in Sherlock Holmes had featured much
earlier as the main title track to Rocky Road to Dublin (1968). This cinéma vérité
feature by Peter Lennon was a biting commentary on the modern Irish state, noting
its failure to deliver on the egalitarian promises proclaimed by the country’s revo-
lutionary forebears in 1916. In this context, The Dubliners’ folk revival rendition
affords more radical meanings. The film contextualizes the track with cutaway
shots and location-recorded sounds that include an amateur rendition of the ballad
in a pub. Given the narrative’s indictment of Irish political, religious and cultural
establishments of the time, the scene’s combination of singing and drinking now
takes on a darker meaning that interrupts stereotypical representations—and
readings—of the same musical sources and associated social behaviours.

Note
1 ‘Concert music’ is used throughout the book to embrace classical music (in the everyday
sense), including historical and contemporary genres.
Part 1

Irish themes on screen

and in sound
1 The first half-century
From silent newsreel to narrative
sound film

The beginnings of Irish cinema

This chapter first considers music and the earliest developments in Irish cinema,
during what is conventionally referred to as the silent film era. The term is of
course misleading, since from the very first projections of moving images at the
end of the 19th century to the onset of synchronized sound technology, films were
in most cases accompanied by live theatre performances or recordings of music
(Altman 2004; Anderson 1987). This applied in Ireland as elsewhere, with numer-
ous accounts of performances during cinematograph screenings in music halls and
theatres, and later in purpose-built cinemas. Many of these are documented in
Condon’s Early Irish Cinema (2008) who elsewhere (2018) reveals a highly active
and diverse cinema music scene in Dublin from 1910 to 1920. This included all-
female orchestras as well as Irish and international virtuosi, and a general prefer-
ence for musical accompaniment over music synchronization during screenings.
Hughes (2014) notes the presence of many musicians and orchestras in Belfast
cinemas over this time, while the Liam O’Leary Archive, located at the National
Library of Ireland, includes recordings of interviews with early 20th-century cin-
ema musicians (O’Leary 1990, 5).
The earliest films were projected in 1896 when the entire island was still part
of the UK (and British Empire), just two years after the first cinematographic
screenings by the Lumière brothers in Paris. In 1897, the first Irish-themed foot-
age was projected at the Star Theatre of Varieties, Dublin (Condon 2008, 40).
These and subsequent reels by the Lumières comprised metropolitan images of
Dublin and Belfast, followed by indigenous production in various locations
across the island (O’Brien 2004, 21–31). Succeeding years and decades saw a
rapid rise in newsreel activity, much of it concerned with political developments
at home and abroad.
The turn of the 20th century represented a critical period for modern Ireland in
respect of the political, social and cultural movements that arose alongside new
technologies in media and communications. Referring to the literary and Gaelic
revivals that dominated Irish cultural life prior to independence, Gunning (2004,
21) notes how the emergence of cinema was highly influential in ‘the launching
of the Irish Renaissance’. Meanwhile, Condon (2008, 84–85) considers theatre’s

DOI: 10.4324/9780203710395-3
16 Irish themes on screen and in sound
influence on early cinema in Ireland, interpreting an intermedial trajectory that was
unique to the island (ibid. 118–120).
Theatres were places people frequented for entertainment, and not necessarily
for cultural-nationalist reasons. That said, the divisive politics of the time meant
that the presentation of films, including musical accompaniments, were often con-
tentious among audiences, whether nationalist or unionist in persuasion (Condon
2008, 74, 93–94). While music halls initially incorporated projections of short
films into variety shows, many of these gradually transformed into dedicated pic-
ture houses. Dublin’s Queen’s Royal Theatre was re-launched as one such venue
in 1908, although its programming continued to feature an orchestra and vocalists,
not only to accompany films but also for interval acts (ibid. 218).
Internationally, early cinema melodrama gave rise to narrative film, a genre that
from 1907 to 1908 had overwhelmingly surpassed newsreel in terms of volume
and popularity (Wierzbicki 2009, 29) and that in silent form dominated the first
three decades of the 20th century. The first narrative films alluding to Irish subjects
were produced in the US and later Britain, and invariably featured unflattering
portrayals of stage Irish characters that represented a throwback to tropes of
19th-century music hall and vaudeville (Barton 2004, 16–19; Rockett 1988,
51–70). A number of British productions also projected politicized ideas of Irish-
British assimilation by way of historical romantic comedies. Increasingly though,
audiences, particularly Irish-American audiences, demanded more sympathetic if
not authentic treatment of Irish subjects, exercising the growing economic power
and influence of an ‘ethnic subculture’ (Slobin 1987, 52–53) that was simultane-
ously sustaining a niche market for recordings of Irish traditional music and popu-
lar song (Spencer 2010).
In Ireland, the 1910s was a highly productive decade for film production that
was not matched until the 1970s. Kalem, the first Irish-based film company estab-
lished in 1910, was an offshoot of the US-based Kalem enterprise (Slide 2013). It
was fronted by the prolific Irish-Canadian director Sidney Olcott and closely
involved the screenwriter and actor Gene Gauntier (‘the Kalem Girl’). Olcott and
Gauntier’s interactions with Irish-America and with the Irish-in-Ireland helped
advance more empathetic representations of Irish characterization and politics than
before. Indeed, their films based on revolutionary narratives were considered a
threat by British colonial authorities (Rockett 1988, 9), as were those later pro-
duced by wholly indigenous companies.
Many Irish-produced films of the 1910s were primarily intended for American
audiences, and were the first to ‘make much of the Irish landscape, playing on the
emigrant nostalgia for “home”’ (Barton 2004, 31). Music also constituted a key
signifier of Irish identity. Reynolds (2000, 428–429) provides evidence suggesting
that Kalem prepared music selections and cue-sheets based on popular Irish tunes
and songs for screenings of The Lad from Old Ireland (Olcott 1910), The Colleen
Bawn (Mervale 1911) and Arrah-Na-Pogue (Olcott 1911); these may have been
based on recommendations made by Clarence E. Sinn in columns for the US peri-
odicals Music for the Picture and Moving Picture World (Reynolds 2000, 430).
The composer Walter C. Simon later claimed to have written a complete original
 The first half-century 17
score for Arrah-Na-Pogue—supposedly the first of its kind for a motion picture—
although this has not been substantiated by the discovery of an extant copy or
related production records (ibid.). That honour should possibly go to the Dublin-
born, German-educated and US-domiciled composer Victor Herbert (1859–1924)
who provided an extensive score for the anti-pacifist fiction feature, The Fall of a
Nation (Dixon 1916).
Launched just one month before the 1916 Rising, the Film Company of Ireland
(FCOI) built on the Irish comedies and melodramas pioneered by Olcott, but now
hiring local actors from the Abbey Theatre1 and later, from the Irish Theatre Com-
pany (Barton 2004, 23, 27). Related to this, the Abbey’s first director of music,
John F. (Jack) Larchet,2 was also active as a cinema orchestra conductor, and many
renowned concert musicians of the time featured as soloists during and between
screenings (Condon 2018, 87–89). FCOI’s first feature Knocknagow (O’Donovan
1918) was adapted from Charles Kickham’s popular novel, originally published in
1873. Donovan (2012) sums up Kickham’s text as ‘a study of class relations
against the backdrop of land clearances in or around the late 1840s’ (in the after-
math of successive famines) with its screen version constituting ‘an episodic adap-
tation of an already episodic novel’.
As Rockett (1988, 18) suggests, the epic scale of D.W. Griffith’s Birth of a
Nation (1915) likely inspired James Sullivan’s Knocknagow, even though produc-
tion values for the two films differed vastly, including for music during screenings.
Birth of a Nation was accompanied by an extensive and largely classical compila-
tion soundtrack arranged by Joseph Carl Breil, performed by a full symphony
orchestra and chorus (Brown 1994, 51). And yet, as Condon (2012) explores, a
musical compilation also enhanced the multiple screenings of Knocknagow in
Ireland from 1918 to 1920, with two of its actors, Brian Magowan and Brefni
O’Rorke, singing selections of Irish and other folk songs. These performances
refined earlier intermedial associations between Irish cinema and theatre—and
also, between music and the moving image—insofar as singing was synchronized
with movement on screen, and performed songs were preceded by inter-titles con-
taining musical staves and the first lines of song lyrics (Condon 2008, 117). Knock-
nagow also enjoyed considerable commercial success in US cities (Rockett 1988,
23), including screenings at New York’s Lexington Theatre in 1921. The extensive
music selections for these included ‘Irish pieces’ performed by the Lexington
Festival Orchestra (Felter and Schultz 2006).
Subsequent domestic films of note included FCOI’s Willy Reilly and His Colleen
Bawn (MacDonagh 1920), after William Carleton’s 1855 novel set during the
period of Penal Laws.3 Although it played a minor propaganda role while in produc-
tion during the War of Independence (Barton 2004, 28), the eventual feature adopted
a broadly humanist approach to representations of ethnic, sectarian and class divi-
sions. Similar to screenings of Knocknagow, music for Willy Reilly involved per-
formances of ‘Irish music’. It premiered at the Free Trade Hall, Manchester, in
January 1920 as part of a ‘Grand Irish Film Week’ that also advertised ‘Irish Song
and Dance’ (Condon 2020a). Irish screenings later that year included those at Lim-
erick’s Theatre Royal with accompaniment by a ‘special ten-piece orchestra’,4
18 Irish themes on screen and in sound
and a run at the Bohemian Picture Theatre in Phibsborough, Dublin, that advertised
its musical content thus: ‘Bohemian Symphony Orchestra. Under the direction of
Mr. Leslie James will render a Special Programme of Irish Music to accompany the
Feature Film’5 (ibid.).
In the Days of Saint Patrick (1920), the first Irish film with bilingual inter-titles,
represented an overtly Gaelic nationalist narrative. It was directed and produced
by Norman Whitten under his company General Film Supply that also distributed
the film across the island. A survey of previews and reviews by Condon (2020b)
reveals limited details of musical accompaniment for its multiple screenings. Some
venues, such as the Elisson Cinema in Castlebar, Co. Mayo, advertised accompa-
nying concerts with featured soloists, but without programme details. The only
venue to specify repertoire in addition to artists was St Columb’s Hall in Derry,
advertising ‘a concert of Irish songs, many of them in Irish and by singers who
specialized in Irish-language material’ (ibid.).
Following the establishment of the Irish Free State under the 1921 Anglo-Irish
Treaty, and owing to a range of political, cultural and economic factors, domestic
filmmaking greatly contracted in the 1920s (Rockett 1988, 38–40). This state of
affairs continued during the early decades of sound film, in large part due to the
absence of studio recording facilities. Accordingly, the greater part of this and the
next two chapters are concerned with music for externally produced Irish-themed
features. However, the discussion also refers to related domestic productions of
the time, with further examples of early Irish narrative film considered under
Chapter 4’s theme of nation-building.

Early Irish-themed sound film

Early sound film involved music in several ways: for opening and closing titles/
credits, to underscore inter-titles and/or spoken dialogue and to accompany lengthy
action scenes lacking dialogue. Additionally, many narrative films of the late 1920s
were musical dramas or more generally music-themed, involving considerable
diegetic or ‘quasi-diegetic’ material.6 One such film, The Jazz Singer (Crosland
1927), heralded a new era for Hollywood film production. As will be outlined
below, its focus on singer biography was echoed in several mid-20th-century pro-
ductions on Irish subjects. However, the first Irish-themed film with synchronized
music, Arthur Robison’s The Informer (1929), was far removed from the aesthetics
of early American film musicals. Released by British International Pictures and
based on Liam O’Flaherty’s 1925 novel, it recounted a tragic narrative of betrayal
set in Dublin during the post-independence Civil War of 1922–1923. The Informer
was produced during the interregnum period of silent and sound film, its soundtrack
initially limited to an original score by Hubert Bath and Harry Stafford, with dia-
logue subsequently added to sections of the film.
To contemporary ears, Bath and Stafford’s score suffers from an overuse of
dramatic diminished seventh chord sequences and other chromatic effects (echoing
Liszt’s Les préludes). Yet it also contains several memorable themes that are heard
ambiguously as the narrative exposes ideas of friendship, love, loyalty and betrayal.
 The first half-century 19
Its opening section alludes to Celtic pastoralism through use of pentatonic and
modal idioms. Inter-titles for the prologue are first underscored by a plaintive
melody in E modal minor, after which a funereal march announces the first full
theme (later identified with the central protagonist’s actions and fate). The sequence
continues with a more lyrical and expressive melody led by cellos, which later
signifies the pathos of the informer’s predicament. A stinger chord then announces
The Informer’s main title card, with a succession of dissonant harmonies. These
are followed by the introduction of a lighter F major theme scored for clarinets,
flute and violins, with a vamp-style accompaniment in lower strings. This more
playful melody alludes to contemporary popular song, and throughout the film
varies in association from love interest to maternal love to friendship, loyalty and
good character.
Robison’s previous experience in film industries of the Weimar Republic can be
interpreted in the film’s formal expressionism. Sheeran (2002, 49–50) surmises
that the silent version of The Informer was likely adapted from a German transla-
tion of O’Flaherty’s text, leading him to observe how ‘Robison made only the most
perfunctory gestures towards establishing an Irish ethos for his work’ (ibid. 54).
This can also be interpreted in Bath and Stafford’s score. Apart from its Celtic
pastoral influences, which are overshadowed by an excess of clichés from 19th-
century Romanticism, no references to contemporaneous tropes of Irish music are
made. The film’s few instances of diegetic music (street barrel organ, coin-operated
player piano, dancehall band and church organ) could suggest life in any European
city. While this avoidance of Irish specificity throughout the soundtrack might be
critiqued, it also allows more space to emphasize the screenplay’s dramatic ele-
ments. This is especially effective where cues underscoring depictions of inner
angst are grotesquely juxtaposed with mechanically produced music for entertain-
ment. Overall, music contributes to the film’s translation of an Irish Civil War
drama into a more general expressionist text.
Contrasting with the universalizing aesthetic of Robison’s The Informer were
several early sound films containing significant Irish musical content. The US-
produced Kathleen Mavourneen (Ray 1930) was an adaptation of the 19th-century
text by Dion Boucicault whose melodramas were still well received by Irish- and
Anglo-American audiences during the early decades of silent film (Rhodes 2012).
The first sound version relocates Boucicault’s setting to Irish communities in New
York. While faithful to the original in placing Irish popular and traditional song
within its dramatic composition (Moloney 2006, 386), it bypasses the main title’s
source, ‘Kathleen Mavourneen’7 in favour of ‘Kathleen’, a Broadway-style num-
ber that echoes the broad melodic leaps and sentimental lyrics of the earlier com-
position. ‘Kathleen’ is employed narratively throughout the film, not only as male
lead Terry (Charles Delaney) sings it to woo the central protagonist (Sally O’Neil),
but also as a device to trigger a contrived dream sequence from which Kathleen
wakes up to realize where her true love lies.
Overall, the film’s sonic Irishness is characterized by the accents of Irish-
American actors and by extended scenes of a diasporic group frequently engaged
in communal dancing and singalongs. In addition to the Broadway-Irish numbers
20 Irish themes on screen and in sound
‘Kathleen’ and ‘You say it’s Blarney’, more mainstream American music features
as Kathleen and extended family are invited to a party at the Long Island mansion
of her other romantic interest. Here, they move with ease to a dance band perform-
ing ragtime, foxtrots and other popular dances. A sense of Irish-American assimila-
tion is further suggested during a sing-song when reflective renditions of ‘The
Wearing of the Green’8 and ‘The Last Rose of Summer’ are followed by an upbeat,
two-step version of the central ‘Kathleen’ song.
While musical and ethnic stereotypes abound in Kathleen Mavourneen, it also
records some plausible musical moments. On the one hand, stalwarts of Irish dance
tunes—‘The Irish Washerwoman’ and ‘Lannigan’s Ball’ jigs and ‘The Rakes of
Mallow’ reel—are arranged in keys not generally chosen by traditional musicians,
then or now. On the other hand, communitarian values are sympathetically repre-
sented, and instances of insider performer knowledge are convincingly portrayed.
These include the céilí dance Feile Luimní, an elderly male dancing in sean nós
style, and a group lilting ‘The Waxie’s Dargle’. Overall, the film’s sound world
conveys articulations of diasporic experience that equally accommodate Irish tra-
dition and popular culture.
The Fox production Song O’ My Heart (Borzage 1930) showcased the talents
of renowned Irish tenor John McCormack (1884–1945).9 Initially set in Ireland,
the melodrama centres on Seán O’Carolan (McCormack), a gifted tenor whose
career is suspended owing to a broken heart. Much of its second part is situated in
New York where O’Carolan, along with his accompanist Vincent (Edwin Schnei-
der), stages his comeback recital ahead of a coast-to-coast tour (this incorporates
audiovisual recordings of the duo performing in Los Angeles in 1929). While the
film’s Irish-based parts are ostensibly less staged, they too contrive scenes featur-
ing McCormack’s artistry as vocalist/song interpreter and Schneider’s understated
musicianship. In total, the diegetic soundtrack includes 12 complete performances
from light classical and Irish parlour song repertoires.
Apart from McCormack’s rather stilted dialogue, the film’s only authentic Irish
accent comes through comic relief provided by Peter (Joseph Kerrigan), the local
jarvey who revels in gossip and more than a modicum of begrudgery.10 Issues of
authentic Irish song performance are raised when O’Carolan overhears Peter criti-
cize the former’s outstanding voice. In essence, the jarvey considers that it lacks
‘nyaa’—a local term alluding to a perceived ‘Irish vocal grain’ (O’Flynn 2009,
155), which he demonstrates through his own ballad singing. O’Carolan is amused
at this criticism, and in a later scene reminds Peter of his words and embarrasses
him by spontaneously performing ‘The Magpie’s Nest’ with the exaggerated addi-
tion of ‘nyaa’. Though somewhat patronizing, the comic thread provides a telling
insight into negotiations of Irish musical identities at the time.

Max Steiner and Irish-themed film

By the mid-1930s, synchronized sound film production was firmly established in
Hollywood, and a ‘classical’ approach to original film scoring gradually developed
through such figures as Alfred Newman, Max Steiner and Erich Korngold.
 The first half-century 21
Building on and yet departing from the continuous score approach favoured in late
1920s silent film production, Hollywood-based composers began to write ‘musical
accompaniment which depended on original composition and incorporated the
selective nondiegetic use of music’ (Kalinak 1992, 72). The first three decades of
this approach to film scoring was a major component of what came to be inter-
preted as Hollywood’s golden era.
The most prominent Hollywood composer from this time to score for Irish-
themed film was Austrian-born Max Steiner (1888–1971). This first came about
through his collaboration with Irish-American director John Ford for a second
adaptation of O’Flaherty’s The Informer in 1935. Later, Steiner arranged material
and provided original cues for My Wild Irish Rose (Butler 1947), based on the early
career of Irish-American tenor Chauncey Olcott. In between those releases, Steiner
scored for one of the most acclaimed golden era films, Gone with the Wind (Flem-
ing 1939). Amidst its predominantly American sound world of the mid-19th-cen-
tury Civil War, the film communicated sonic Irish associations, not only through
diegetic instances of Irish and Scots-Irish song and dance tunes,11 but also most
memorably through Steiner’s ‘Tara’ theme. The latter’s soaring melodic leaps sug-
gest a nostalgia redolent of Thomas Moore’s Irish Melodies that were as popular
in 19th-century America as they were in Britain and Ireland (Gerk 2019). How-
ever, the view that Steiner set out to write an original pseudo-Irish melody is
questioned by Platte (2016) who suggests, first, that the Tara theme and its motivic
development throughout Gone with the Wind involved a collaboration between
Steiner, Hugo Friedhofer and Adolf Deutsch and, second, that it represented a
reworking of material Steiner had scored for earlier crime dramas.12 A more defi-
nite Irish association came through Steiner’s arrangements of the jig-time song,
‘Garryowen’ as a cavalry marching theme for They Died with Their Boots On
(Walsh 1941).13
Previous analyses of Steiner’s Oscar award-winning Informer score include a
dedicated chapter in Kalinak’s monograph on music and classical Hollywood film
(1992), and an examination of the score by Neumeyer (1995) that considers melo-
drama as compositional device in early sound film. More broadly, Sheeran (2002,
73) argues that Steiner’s score for the 1935 Ford adaptation ‘returns that film to
melodrama, even in the strictly etymological sense of the word as a “drama-with-
music”’. Kalinak (1992, 113–134) details Steiner’s exemplary use and develop-
ment of themes and leitmotifs throughout the film while noting, as does Neumeyer
(1995), that the often excessive scoring and mickey-mousing techniques used
would be disparagingly viewed by audiences of later decades. What is considered
for this chapter is the extent to which Steiner responded to the perceived Irishness
of Ford’s adaptation with screenwriter Dudley Nichols. This is informed by an
examination of materials at the Max Steiner Collection14 held at the library of
Brigham Young University, Utah, that also hosts the Max Steiner Digital Thematic
Catalog.15
Steiner began his career at the centre of light classical music in Vienna and
elsewhere in Europe—including in London (1907–1911)—where he was primarily
engaged with operetta and musical revues (Cooke 2008, 87). At the outbreak of
22 Irish themes on screen and in sound
WWI, he moved to Broadway where he worked in various roles as arranger, com-
poser, orchestrator and conductor, and in 1929 relocated to Los Angeles when his
involvement in Hollywood scoring began (ibid.). Among the substantial catalogue
of Steiner’s published and unpublished concert works from the early 1900s, just
one has an Irish musical theme, namely a pencil sketch, for an unfinished piece
titled ‘Killarney’.16 Its cover page includes the note ‘Melody to be written’, sug-
gesting that it was conceived as piano or orchestral accompaniment for a piece
featuring solo instrument or voice. While the sketch contains no obvious reference
to known Irish songs or dance tunes or indeed to William Balfe’s ‘Killarney’, it
does include several passages suggesting a reel (quaver movement at octaves in a
presto 2/4 section) and a slow dance section in D minor that in rhythm and orna-
ment resembles ‘The King of the Fairies’ hornpipe. This solitary example gives
limited insight into the young composer’s intention to write in what he considered
an Irish style.
Undoubtedly, Steiner would have engaged with stock Irish themes and materials
during his extensive involvement in Broadway musicals that in turn can be associ-
ated with earlier vaudeville shows—this is evidenced in his selections for My Wild
Irish Rose. Thus, although there is no evidence to suggest that he actively
researched Irish musical sources for The Informer, Steiner was influenced by prior
experiences of Irish-American stage music. Moreover, he was an associate of Vic-
tor Herbert in Vienna, later apprenticing as road-company conductor for Herbert’s
operettas in the US (Gould 2008, 480). This is significant given Herbert’s consider-
able knowledge of Irish songs and dance tunes, and his orchestral reworking of
several of these (including ‘Garryowen’) for his Irish Rhapsody (1893). Finally,
Irish sources for Steiner’s Informer score would clearly have benefitted from his
communications with John Ford who made frequent visits to his relatives in Gal-
way and to elsewhere in Ireland.
The Irish materials Steiner used for The Informer were well established among
American audiences of the time and included ‘The Minstrel Boy’ and ‘Believe Me
If All Those Endearing Young Charms’ from Moore’s Melodies, ‘The Rose of
Tralee’ and the rebel ballad ‘The Wearing of the Green’. He also employed ‘The
Irish Washerwoman’ to underscore a drunken brawl at a fish and chip shop, pre-
senting an early example of the musical-cinematic trope of inebriated and fighting
Irish: the jig accelerates in tandem with the out-of-control and grotesque sequence,
rising through the minor-third related keys of A, C and E flat. Overall, Steiner’s
tune selections are similar to those for Song O’ My Heart and Kathleen Mavourneen
discussed above, with an adherence to clichés evidenced through his later rework-
ing of ‘The Irish Washerwoman’ for both Gone with the Wind and My Wild Irish
Rose.
Aside from arrangements of pre-existing tunes, the most identifiably Irish aspects
of Steiner’s soundtrack are contained in original melodic and rhythmic elements.
These are prominent in the main theme that doubles as that of the informer, Gypo
Nolan (Victor McLaglen). In addition to its E modal minor melody and harmony
(echoing the opening sequence of Bath and Stafford’s Informer score), Gypo’s
theme is characterized by a syncopated Scotch snap figure. Famously, and
 The first half-century 23
unusually by Hollywood production standards of the time, Steiner was asked by
Ford to prepare his score ahead of shooting, with McLaglen learning to walk
around a dark and foggy Dublin set according to the theme’s relentless rhythmic
pattern.
Other modal elements include a plaintive theme in D minor that is associated
with a blind man Gypo encounters twice, and a short pentatonic figure signifying
the republican cause. The latter follows an iteration of ‘Mary’s theme’, a diatonic
melody that also represents the love interest between the deceased Frankie’s sister
and IRA leader Dan Gallagher (its major tonality and legato character correspond-
ing with Bath and Stafford’s second theme for the 1929 version). A fragment of
the theme in F major accompanies a dialogue in which Mary implores Dan not to
become involved in further violence by avenging her brother’s betrayer. At the end
of this four-bar phrase, a suspended chord over C underscores Dan’s reply, ‘I’m
not thinking of myself’’. When he then explains, ‘It’s Ireland’, Steiner introduces
a pentatonic motif on clarinet over arpeggiated harp chords, marked dolcissimo
(Example 1.1). The phrase is identical to the opening of Balfe’s ‘Killarney’, an
intriguing reference given Steiner’s earlier compositional sketch, noted previously.
This use of a simple pentatonic figure and Plagal cadence underlines the depiction
of Irish republicans in Ford’s adaptation as heroic and honourable, reflecting the
screenplay’s shift from the post-independence internecine background of
O’Flaherty’s Informer to a more reductive binary of the IRA versus imperial
Britain.
Throughout his Informer score, Steiner successfully integrates pseudo-Irish
material and pre-existing songs within a dramatic sound world characterized by
discord, undulating chromatic lines, ominous pedal points with descending bass
lines, and a recurring tritone-based leitmotif depicting fate and betrayal. Early into
the narrative, Steiner employs the ethereal timbres of harp and celeste to transition
to a street busking scene with a young man singing ‘The Rose of Tralee’. The
singer is Derry-born Michael O’Duffy (1918–2003) who featured in several of
Ford’s Irish-themed films (several databases incorrectly credit Abbey actor Denis
O’Dea). Performed in the key of E flat, O’Duffy effortlessly reaches the song’s top
A flat. Later on, he sings ‘The Minstrel Boy’ in the high tenor key of B flat, as Gypo
remorsefully makes his way to the wake for Frankie McPhillips, the very man he

Example 1.1 Steiner, The Informer, ‘It’s Ireland’.17

Source: © L. Tom Perry Special Collections, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University,
Provo, Utah
24 Irish themes on screen and in sound
betrayed. Just as a group of nuns pass the McPhillips household on the same street,
the tenor’s vocal line is overlaid with a dreamlike, off-stage choral ensemble com-
prising four soprano and four alto parts,18 its eeriness reinforced through chromatic
elements and the studio singers’ vibrato style. This creates a disturbing effect that
in spite of its artificiality evokes Irish keening.19 Inside the McPhillips home, the
solo and choral tracks gradually fade to the sound of mourners repeatedly chanting
the prayer ‘Ár nAthair’ [‘Our Father’], reinforcing Ford’s simulation of an Irish
wake.
While Gypo’s larger-than-life persona is dramatically, visually and musically
represented in terms of emotional volatility and with exaggerated proportions—
resonating both with O’Flaherty’s text and with monster tropes of German expres-
sionist cinema (Sheeran 2002, 26)—the IRA leaders of Ford’s adaptation are
presented as sober, rational, masculine and heroic. Throughout Steiner’s score,
‘The Wearing of the Green’ is adapted to connote republican values and character.
First sung diegetically by Frankie and Gypo before the act of betrayal, the song’s
stirring lyrics, march-time metre, simple rhythms and comfortable tessitura com-
bine to afford meanings of solidarity, sincerity and action (Example 1.2.1); this
contrasts with the more ornamental and technically demanding songs performed
elsewhere in the diegesis.
Steiner’s first motivic treatment of ‘The Wearing of the Green’ signifies the dan-
ger faced by IRA leader Frankie when pursued by the combined forces of the Royal
Irish Constabulary and the Black and Tans—an auxiliary police force notoriously
associated with acts of violence against civilians during the War of Independence.
Although melodically in the key of C, its arrangement for the darker sonorities of
two stopped horns over trombones and tubas is in A minor (Example 1.2.2). This
shifts uncomfortably to an inverted B flat seventh chord as Frankie sees his name
on a ‘WANTED’ poster and observes military figures in the distance.

Example 1.2.1 Traditional melody to ‘The Wearing of the Green’.

Example 1.2.2 Steiner, The Informer, Frankie McPhillips on the run.20

Source: © L. Tom Perry Special Collections, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University,
Provo, Utah
 The first half-century 25

Example 1.2.3 Steiner, The Informer, Frankie and Gypo meet (‘Dunboy Home’).21
Source: © L. Tom Perry Special Collections, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University,
Provo, Utah

When Frankie meets Gypo, the tune’s opening motif is transformed from a
bright major pentachord to one based on a diminished fifth, suggesting a grave
foreboding for the rebel hero (Example 1.2.3). An ominous progression of con-
secutive triads scored for three muted trumpets over a descending bass line high-
lights the danger Frankie faces, with the dissolution of tonal certainty by the end
of the cue.
Later, during a brief cut to Dan Gallagher at the IRA secret HQ, the same motif
is heard with unequivocal major tonality. It is heard once again in this original form
during the wake at the McPhillips home, when Dan reluctantly asks the bereaved
Mary some questions, stating ‘It’s for the organization’. Finally, ‘The Wearing of
the Green’ is scored in a heroic arrangement for the IRA Kangaroo court investigat-
ing Frankie’s betrayal. Here, Steiner transforms the song metre into a slow and
stately 6/8 scored for strings, French horns, woodwind and harp, and with a cello
countermelody (Example 1.2.4). This is cued as the camera pans across the young
military volunteers who stand with fixed expressions communicating discipline,
sincerity and dedication to ‘the organization’. This construction of patriotic mas-
culinity contrasts sharply with Steiner’s scoring for the arrival of a drunken Gypo,
his pathetic tumbling down the entrance steps to the court mickey-moused by a
descending chromatic pattern with percussive sforzandi.
The above analysis of selected music from The Informer suggests that Steiner
was very attuned to the atmosphere, tonality and ideology of Ford’s Irish-themed
film. His approach to My Wild Irish Rose was considerably different, as he was
more involved as arranger of source music than as original composer. Moreover,
the film’s subject was Irish-American rather than Irish, simultaneously proposing
a rose-tinted biopic of Chauncey Olcott and of late 19th-century minstrelsy
26 Irish themes on screen and in sound

Example 1.2.4 Steiner, The Informer, IRA volunteers’ scene.22

Source: © L. Tom Perry Special Collections, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University,
Provo, Utah

and vaudeville. Steiner’s collaboration with arranger and conductor Ray Heindorf
earned them a joint Oscar nomination in 1948 for best musical picture.
The film’s narrative builds around staged acts of the not-too-distant past, and as
such, the inclusion of minstrelsy and stock Irish comic characters can be regarded
as historically accurate if not always authentically presented. Problematically,
many diegetic acts celebrate racist stereotypes, particularly of African-Americans
and to a lesser extent, Irish-Americans. However, notwithstanding its lack of criti-
cal perspective on minstrelsy’s overtly racist representations, My Wild Irish Rose
successfully brings together a corpus of historical Irish-American popular song,
and further proposes an insider narrative of Irish ethnicity in the US. The depiction
of Olcott’s early career as part of the Haverly’s Minstrel Troupe provides a snap-
shot of Irish involvement in minstrelsy from its origins in the 1830s; as Moloney
(2006, 382–383) observes, this not only meant participation by Irish immigrants,
but also the programming of Irish jigs, reels and songs in ‘multicultural’ minstrel
shows.
The film’s ‘Irish’ music comprises parlour songs performed quasi-diegetically
by Olcott (Dennis Morgan), diegetic representation of musical numbers in Irish-
themed vaudeville shows—many written or co-written by Olcott—and original
non-diegetic cues. Steiner builds an operetta-style overture for opening titles that
opens with a waltz-time arrangement of ‘My Wild Irish Rose’ led by strings. A
trumpet call leads to ‘Dear Old Donegal’ in contrasting jig time, while a further
transition to the opening of ‘When Irish Eyes are Smiling’ (also in waltz time)
concludes the sequence. Olcott’s first diegetic performance is ‘Mother Machree’,
which he sings to his mother while leaving home to pursue a career as a singer
(echoing a similar mother–son relationship in The Jazz Singer). That scene transi-
tions to another in a pawnshop where Olcott exchanges his deceased father’s watch
to fund his travels. For this, Steiner provides a plaintive coda followed by an
 The first half-century 27
instrumental variation of ‘Mother Machree’. It segues to a scene in rural upstate
New York where the tenor happily sings and self-accompanies on a banjo he has
just procured (Steiner uses similar transitional cues for other compressed montages
of Olcott’s career). Allusions to ‘Mother Machree’ are underscored at other tender
moments in the narrative, while Olcott reprises the full song to his mother after his
first successful headline act for a Broadway show.
Predictably, ‘My Wild Irish Rose’ features considerably in Steiner’s underscore,
notably in scenes involving or connoting the film’s love interest. The song was
composed by Olcott, as was ‘Sweet Inniscara’, with several other sentimental
numbers co-written by him also featuring, most famously, ‘When Irish Eyes are
Smiling’ and ‘Mother Machree’. Additional songs by M.K. Jerome and Ted
Koehler introduce schmaltzy re-imaginings of already spurious Irish references.
While Steiner developed phrases from Olcott’s songs to underscore reflective,
romantic and otherwise intimate scenes, he reverted to stock Irish material for
action sequences. A fight scene involving Olcott and friends against a gang sent to
‘rough him up’ is accompanied by familiar Hollywood tropes. It opens with ‘The
Irish Washerwoman’ scored for violins and flutes, followed by a brassy, military
rendition of ‘The Minstrel Boy’. In classic Steiner style, synchronization works
two ways here: action is choreographed to musical phrases and tempi, while music
occasionally mickey-mouses movements. The sequence ends with a jig set com-
prising ‘The Irish Washerwoman’ and ‘Garryowen’.
If Steiner’s non-diegetic score typifies early Hollywood imaginings of Irishness,
this is further amplified through the ethnic clichés of the film’s various staged acts
arranged by Ray Heindorf. One such sequence takes place towards the end, as
Olcott leads his first Broadway show. Framed mainly within the diegetic-theatrical
proscenium, the on-stage signage and other imagery (including a live goat) identify
the scenario as the annual Puck Fair in Killorglin, Co. Kerry. Hopper (Ben Blue),
the film’s main comic character, appears as an Irish countryman with brown and
green costume, oversized hat and chin whiskers (code: leprechaun), and later in
the scene imbibes whiskey from a vessel. The spectacle includes costumed Irish
dancing with music mimed by on-stage actors (the arranged dance tunes, including
the stalwart ‘Rakes of Mallow’, are in reality performed by the pit orchestra).
The whole scene presents a fantastical feast for the eyes and ears, and in con-
temporary contexts might be enjoyed ironically for its Technicolor and Broadway
excesses. Overall, the film embraces two interrelated sound worlds: one, a ‘realis-
tic’ view celebrating Irish-America’s contribution to American musical culture; the
other, a series of stage-Irish representations exploited by Irish-American impresa-
rios (see Kalinak 2007, 130–131). The distinction between the two is regularly
blurred in screenplay and soundtrack, such as Steiner’s motivic development of
jig and reel sources to underscore the fighting Irish, or Olcott’s diegetic perfor-
mances of ‘Mother Machree’ to the family matriarch.
A year after the release of My Wild Irish Rose, Steiner’s music for The Informer
accompanied the first radio adaptation of O’Flaherty’s novel, broadcast from New
York as part of the Ford Theater Radio Program on NBC. Using Steiner’s score
broke with that series’ practice of including original music in its dramatic
28 Irish themes on screen and in sound
presentations. However, as producer-director George Zachary explained in a letter
to the composer, ‘in the case of the magnificent history-making score you
wrote . . . it would be sacrilege for us to attempt to write new music’.23 Steiner
attended the live broadcast on 28 March 1948, and subsequently received letters
from several musicians with whom he originally recorded the score at RKO
Studios.24

British and Irish film: the mid-to-late 1930s

Early sound film production in Britain included a range of Irish-themed titles,
many of which were influenced by cultural, economic and political relations
between the two islands in the aftermath of independence and partition in the early
1920s, the neutrality of the Irish Free State during WWII, continuing patterns of
emigration from Ireland to Britain, and perspectives from the recently established
jurisdiction of Northern Ireland.
British ‘ballad films’ on Irish subjects during the 1930s were often based on
earlier stage melodramas, and/or were created as vehicles for showcasing Irish
culture to British audiences, with particular appeal to Irish immigrant communities
(Barton 2004, 60). The proliferation of such titles was facilitated by a quota system
under the Cinematograph Films Act of 1927, promoting film production in Britain
and Northern Ireland (ibid. 76–77). Among their number were Lily of Killarney
(Elvey 1934), Father O’Flynn (Noy 1935), Kathleen Mavourneen (Lee 1937),
Mountains O’Mourne (Hughes 1938) and My Irish Molly (Argyle 1938).
Explored here as an example of the genre, the 1937 adaptation of Kathleen
Mavourneen situates Boucicault’s melodrama in rural Ireland. It follows the return
of Liverpool-based immigrants, a young widow, Kathleen (the same Sally O’Neil
cast for the 1930 version) and her children, later followed by her supporter and
long-time admirer, ‘the singing stevedore’ Michael (Tom Burke). Production cred-
its identify Dublin-born Guy Jones as conductor and music director, a role that
included arranging pre-existing material as well as scoring several incidental
cues.25 The film’s opening titles are accompanied by Jones’s orchestral version of
‘Kathleen Mavoureen’, followed by an up-tempo set of reels. Other parts of the
non-diegetic score similarly follow two broad ideas: pseudo-Irish or traditional
melodies arranged for strings to connote Kathleen’s awakening love for Jack
(Denis O’Dwyer), and a fuller orchestra performing dance tunes (mainly jigs) for
horse racing/betting and chase scenes.
The first sequence involving diegetic performances takes place at an American
wake (a farewell party for those emigrating to the US) among Liverpool Irish at a
local café, providing several vignettes of music making among contemporary dia-
sporic communities. Its stage announcer (Terry Conlin) begins by singing the
comic jig-time ballad, ‘The Day that O’Rafferty’s Daughter Got Wed’, after which
champion Irish dancer Rory O’Connor performs a hornpipe as traditional musi-
cians play fiddle, piano and uilleann pipes. Next, Michael sings ‘Kathleen
Mavourneen’ over an orchestral string accompaniment (a pre-recorded track
mimed by the singer and members of the London-based Tara Ceilidh Band behind
Another random document with
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Mr Nuttall’s notice is as follows:—“The Dusky Grous breeds in the
shady forests of the Columbia, where we heard and saw them
throughout the summer. The male at various times of the day makes
a curious uncouth tooting, almost like the sound made by blowing
into the bung-hole of a barrel, boo wh’h, wh’h, wh’h, wh’h, the last
note descending into a kind of echo. We frequently tried to steal on
the performer, but without success, as, in fact, the sound is so
strangely managed that you may imagine it to come from the left or
right indifferently. They breed on the ground, as usual, and the brood
keep together nearly all winter. The Ruffed Grous also breeds here
commonly, and I one day found the nest concealed near a fallen log,
but it was at once forsaken after this intrusion, though I did not touch
the eggs.”
From the examination of specimens in my possession, I am
persuaded that this species, like Tetrao Cupido, has the means of
inflating the sacs of bare skin on the sides of the neck, by means of
which, in the breeding season, are produced the curious sounds
above described.

Tetrao obscurus, Dusky Grous, Ch. Bonaparte, Amer. Ornith. vol. iii. pl.
18.—Id. Synopsis of Birds of United States, p. 127.—Richards. and Swains.
Fauna Bor.-Amer. vol. ii. p. 344.
Dusky Grous, Nuttall, Manual, vol. i. p. 666.

Adult Male. Plate CCCLXI. Fig. 1.

Bill short, robust, slightly arched, rather obtuse, the base covered by
feathers. Upper mandible with the dorsal line convex and declinate,
the ridge convex, the sides convex, the edges sharp and
overlapping, the tip thin-edged and rounded; lower mandible with the
angle long and wide, the dorsal line ascending and convex, the ridge
broad, the sides convex, the edges inflected, the tip rounded.
Nostrils in the fore part of the large and feathered nasal depression,
roundish.
Head small, ovate; neck of ordinary length; body large and full. Feet
stout, of moderate length; tarsus short, feathered; toes stout; the first
very small, the lateral about equal, and much shorter than the third;
the anterior toes connected by basal scaly membranes, partially
covered with feathers; all with broad and short scutella, margined,
but scarcely pectinate, the lateral scales not being prominent. Claws
rather large, arched, compressed, rather obtuse.
Plumage full, soft, rather blended, the feathers broad and rounded. A
bare papillate space around the eye. Feathers on the upper part of
the head narrow and elongated. Wings rather short, convex, much
rounded; the quills very strong; the third longest, the fourth next, the
third and sixth about equal, as are the first and seventh. Tail large, of
ordinary length, rounded, of twenty feathers, which are broader
toward the end, and abruptly rounded.
Bill brownish-black, lighter at the base. Iris dark hazel. Toes bluish-
grey, claws wood-brown. Papillar space around the eye vermilion.
Upper parts blackish-brown, the wings lighter. The elongated
feathers on the head greyish-brown; the hind neck minutely
undulated with bluish-grey; the scapulars, inner secondaries, and
smaller wing-coverts also minutely undulated with grey and
brownish-red, and most of the latter with a small greyish tip; the
rump and upper tail-coverts obscurely undulated with grey. Alula,
primary coverts and quills, clove-brown, the secondaries bordered
and tipped with yellowish-grey; the primaries mottled with grey on
their outer webs. The tail is black. The sides of the head, fore part
and sides of the neck, and fore part of the breast greyish-black; the
lore and throat are barred with white; the greyish-black of the breast
passes into blackish-grey, and finally into dull bluish-grey; the
feathers of the abdomen tipped with greyish-white, as are the lower
rump and tail-coverts, which have moreover one or two narrow bars
of the same; the flanks undulated with black and marked with an
elongated white spot along the central part and on the tip; axillary
feathers white, as are the inner wing-coverts; the tarsal feathers
brownish-grey. The concealed part of the plumage is light grey,
unless on the feathers around the bare space on each side of the
neck, which is of an orange colour, and which the bird inflates.
Length to end of tail 22 inches, to end of wings 15 1/2, to end of
claws 18 1/2; extent of wings 30; wing from flexure 9 1/2; tail 7 1/2; bill
along the ridge 1, along the edge of lower mandible 1 2 1/2/12; tarsus
1 9/12; hind toe 6/12, its claw 6/12; second toe 1 2/12 its claw 7/12; third
toe 1 10/12, its claw 8 1/2/12; fourth toe 1 5/12, its claw 6 1/2/12.

Female. Plate CCCLXI. Fig. 2.

The female is considerably smaller than the male. The bare papillar
space over the eye is of much less extent, but, as well as the bill and
feet, is coloured as in the male. The upper parts are dark greyish-
brown, barred on the neck with grey, on the other parts barred and
minutely undulated with yellowish-brown; the wings as in the male,
but lighter and more mottled; the tail greyish-brown, becoming black
toward the end, the middle feathers undulated like the back, and
having four grey bands with a terminal white one. The sides of the
head and the throat are greyish-white, undulatingly barred with
brown; the general colour of the fore neck is greyish-brown, with pale
sienna bands; on the breast the colour is brownish-grey, and the
colours and markings of the rest of the under parts are as in the
male, but paler.
Length to end of tail 19 1/4 inches; wing from flexure 9; tail 6 1/4; bill
along the ridge 10/12.
In a specimen in my possession, killed by Dr Townsend on the
“Columbia River, Sept. 26. 1834,” the tail is considerably rounded,
the lateral feathers being 7 twelfths shorter than the longest
remaining, the middle feathers being lost. The tail is deep black, with
a terminal band of ash-grey, half an inch in breadth. It is therefore
probable, that when the tail is unworn, it is distinctly rounded, and
tipped with grey.
 YELLOW-BILLED MAGPIE.

Corvus Nuttalli.
PLATE CCCLXII. Adult.

I have conferred on this beautiful bird the name of a most zealous,

learned, and enterprising naturalist, my friend Thomas Nuttall,
Esq., to whom the scientific world is deeply indebted for the many
additions to our zoological and botanical knowledge which have
resulted from his labours. It is to him alone that we owe all that is
known respecting the present species, which has not hitherto been
portrayed. In a note inserted by him in my journal, he says:
“As we proceed to the south in Upper California, around the village
of Sta. Barbara, we find the Common Magpie substituted by this
remarkable species, which is much more shy and cautious, as well
as more strictly insectivorous. It utters, however, nearly if not quite
the same chatter. In the month of April they were everywhere mated,
and had nearly completed their nests in the evergreen oaks of the
vicinity (Quercus agrifolia). The only one I saw was situated on a
rather high tree, towards the summit, and much concealed among
the thick and dark branches. Their call was pait, pait; and on
approaching each other, a low congratulatory chatter was heard.
After being fired at once, it seemed nearly impossible again to
approach them within gun-shot. When alighted in the thick oaks, they
remained for a considerable time silent, and occasionally even
wholly hid themselves; but after a while the call of recognition was
again renewed, and if the pair then met, they would often fly off a
mile or more, without stopping, in quest of insects. We often saw
them on the ground, but never near the offal of the oxen, so
attractive to the Crows and Ravens around.”

Corvus Nuttalli.

Adult. Plate CCCLXII. Fig. 1.

Bill almost as long as the head, straight, robust, compressed; upper
mandible with the dorsal line convex and declinate, the sides sloping
and slightly convex, the edges sharp, with a slight notch close to the
tip, which is rather sharp; lower mandible straight, the angle rather
long and wide, the dorsal outline very slightly convex and ascending,
the sides sloping outwards and slightly convex, the edges sharp and
inclinate, the tip narrow. Nostrils basal, lateral, roundish, covered by
bristly feathers, which are directed forwards.
Head large, ovate; eyes of moderate size; neck rather short; body
compact. Legs of moderate length, strong; tarsus with seven large
scutella in front, and two long plates behind, meeting so as to form a
sharp edge. Toes stout, with large scutella, and separated almost to
the base; first very strong; lateral toes nearly equal, third
considerably longer. Claws strong, arched, compressed, sharp, the
third with the inner edge somewhat dilated.
Plumage full, soft, blended; stiff bristly feathers, with disunited
filaments over the nostrils, some of them extending nearly half the
length of the bill; feathers on the throat with the shaft downy and
prolonged. Wings of moderate length, much rounded; the first quill
very short, extremely narrow, and falciform; the second two inches
and four and a half twelfths longer, and a little longer than the ninth;
the third an inch and one twelfth longer than the second, and three
twelfths shorter than the fourth, which is the longest. The tail is very
long, much graduated, the lateral feathers being four inches and
seven twelfths shorter than the middle.
Bill pure yellow, as is a bare space under and behind the eye. Iris
hazel. Feet black. The plumage of the head, neck, fore part of the
breast and back, brownish-black, the feathers on the latter part being
very long, those on the upper part of the head strongly glossed with
green; the shafts of the throat-feathers greyish, and those of the
feathers on the middle of the neck white. The feathers on the middle
of the back are light grey, some of them whitish, and those behind
tipped with black; rump and tail-coverts brownish-black. The
scapulars are white; the smaller wing-coverts splendent with bronzed
green; primaries black, glossed with shining green, their inner webs
white, excepting at the end, and for some way along the margin;
secondaries bright blue, changing to green, their inner webs
greenish-black. Tail splendent with bright green, changing to
greenish-yellow, purplish-red, bluish-purple, and dark green at the
end; the inner webs chiefly greenish-black, but with various tints. The
breast and sides are pure white; the legs, abdominal region, lower
tail coverts, and lower wing-coverts, black.
Length to end of tail 18 inches, to end of wings 11 1/2; wing from
flexure 7 3/4; tail 9 10/12; bill along the ridge 1 4/12; tarsus 1 11/12; first
toe 7/12, its claw 7/12; middle toe 1 2/12, its claw 6/12.

In form, proportion, and size, this Magpie is precisely similar to the

common species. Its bill has the sides less convex; the bare space
under the eye is of much greater extent, and the feathers of the tail
are much narrower. The colours are similar, and distributed in the
same manner; but the bill of the present species is yellow, instead of
black, and the black of the back and fore neck is tinged with brown.
The two species are wonderfully closely allied; but on comparing my
specimen with several others in the Museum of the Zoological
Society of London, I found that they all precisely agreed with it.
I have represented in the plate a twig of a species of Platanus
discovered by the excellent naturalist after whom I have named the
bird perched upon it.
 STELLER’S JAY.

Corvus Stelleri, Gmel.

PLATE CCCLXII. Adult.

Of this Jay, discovered by Steller, whose name it bears, Dr

Richardson states that it “is not uncommon in the summer time on
the Pacific coast of America, from the mouth of the Columbia to the
56th parallel. It also frequents the Rocky Mountains, where Mr
Drummond procured a specimen. In its manner it greatly resembles
the Garrulus cristatus.” Mr Nuttall’s account of it is as follows:—
“We first observed this bird in our Western route in the Blue
Mountains of the Columbia, east of Wallah Wallah. Here they were
scarce and shy, but we met them in sufficient abundance in the
majestic pine forests of the Columbia, where, in autumn, their loud
and trumpeting clangour was heard at all hours of the day, calling out
djay, djay, and sometimes chattering and uttering a variety of other
notes scarcely recognisable as distinct from the calls of our common
Blue Jay. They are, however, far more bold, irritable, and familiar.
Watchful as dogs, a stranger no sooner shews himself in their vicinity
then they neglect all other employment to come round, follow, peep
at and scold him, sometimes with such pertinacity and irritability as
to provoke the sportsman intent on other game to level his gun
against them in mere retaliation. At other times, stimulated by mere
curiosity, they will be observed to follow you in perfect silence, until
something arouses their ready ire, when the djay, djay, pay, pay, is
poured upon you without intermission, till you are beyond their view.
So intent are they on vociferating, that it is not uncommon to hear
them busily scolding even while engaged with a large acorn in the
mouth. Of their geographical limits we are as yet uncertain. They
were first found by Steller at Nootka; but they do not extend into
upper California, and scarcely to the west as far as the most western
of the true Rocky Mountain Chains. They feed on insects, acorns,
and the seeds of the gigantic pines which form a belt along the
Pacific and the rivers of the Oregon Territory. In the month of May, I
found a nest of this species in a small sapling of Douglas’s Fir, on
the borders of a dark and dense forest, and again some time after a
second nest with young, in an elevated branch of the same pine, on
the border of a rocky cliff. On approaching the nest, which contained
four eggs, of a pale green colour, with small olive-brown specks,
varied with others of rather a violet hue, both the male and female
flew at me with the utmost anger and agitation, deafening me almost
with their cries and entreaties. But though I took only two of their
eggs, I found next day that they had forsaken the nest, being too
fearful and jealous of the intrusion to remain any longer in the same
place. The nest as usual was bulky, made of interlaced twigs, and
roots, with a stout layer of mud, and lined with black root-fibres. I
saw the nest about ten days previous to the time of taking two of the
four eggs. On that occasion the female (probably) only followed me
in silence.”

Corvus Stelleri, Gmel. Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 370.—Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol.
i. p. 158.—Ch. Bonaparte, Synopsis of Birds of United States, p. 438.
Steller’s Jay, Garrulus Stelleri, Ch. Bonaparte, Amer. Ornith. vol. ii. p.
44.
Garrulus Stelleri, Steller’s Jay, Fauna Bor.-Amer. vol. ii. p. 294.
Steller’s Jay, Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 229.
Adult Male. Plate CCCLXII. Fig. 2.
Bill shorter than the head, strong, straight, a little compressed; upper
mandible with the dorsal line declinate and convex toward the end,
the sides sloping and becoming more convex toward the tip, which is
declinate, thin edged and obtuse, the edges sharp and overlapping,
with a slight notch; lower mandible straight, the angle short and
broad, the dorsal outline ascending and slightly convex, the sides
convex, the edges sharp and directed outwards, the tip narrow.
Nostrils basal, roundish, covered by reversed bristly feathers.
Head large, ovate, eyes of moderate size; neck rather short; body
compact. Legs of moderate length, strong; tarsus much compressed,
with seven large anterior scutella, and two long plates behind,
meeting so as to form a sharp edge. Toes stout, with large scutella,
the outer adherent as far as its second joint to the middle toe; first
very strong; lateral toes nearly equal, third much longer. Claws
strong, arched, compressed, sharp.
Plumage full, soft, blended; stiff bristly feathers with disunited barbs
over the nostrils, some of them extending a third of the length of the
bill; at the base of the upper mandible several longish slender
bristles. The feathers on the top of the head and occiput linear-
oblong, slightly recurved, and forming an erectile crest an inch and a
half in length. Wings of moderate length, convex, and much rounded;
the first quill very short, the second an inch and a quarter longer, the
third nine-twelfths longer than the second, and three-twelfths shorter
than the fourth, which is one-twelfth shorter than the fifth, the latter
being the longest, although scarcely exceeding the sixth. Tail long,
rounded, of twelve rather broad, rounded, and acuminate feathers, of
which the shafts are undulated.
Bill and feet black. Iris hazel. Head and neck, with the fore part and
middle of the back brownish-black, of a lighter tint on the back, and
on the throat streaked with dull grey; the feathers on the forehead
tipped with bright blue; the hind part of the back, the rump, and the
upper tail-coverts, light blue; as are the lower tail-coverts, the sides
and lower parts of the rump, the sides of the body, and the whole of
the breast; the middle of the abdomen paler, the tibial feathers, and
the lower wing-coverts dusky, tinged with blue. Wings blue, the
secondary coverts and quills rich indigo and ultra-marine, narrowly
barred with black, the outer coverts of the primaries pale; the inner
webs of the primaries and outer secondaries dusky; tail blue with
numerous narrow, inconspicuous dusky bars; the lower surface of
the wings and tail dusky.

Length to end of tail 13 inches; bill along the ridge 1 1 1/2/12, along the
edge of lower mandible 1 4 1/2/12; wing from flexure 5 11/12; tail 6;
1/2
tarsus 1 8/12; hind toe 7 /12, its claw 7/12; middle toe 11/12, its claw
5/ .
12

The Female is similar to the male, and scarcely inferior in colouring,

but somewhat smaller.
Length to end of tail 12 inches; bill along the ridge 1 1/2; wing from
flexure 5 1/2; tail 5 1/2; tarsus 1 8/12; middle toe 11/12 its claw 5/12.
Dr Townsend informs me that it is called Ass-ass by the Chinooks,
who regard it with a superstitious feeling, believing that should a
person hear it enunciating certain notes, which resemble the
syllables jaa-jaa, he will shortly die, whereas its other notes, kuc,
kuc, kuc, kuc, rapidly repeated, portend good. He further states that
it is gregarious, like the Blue Jay, and corroborates some of the
particulars above given.
Two eggs presented to me by Mr Nuttall measure an inch and an
eighth in length, and seven-eighths in breadth.
 ULTRAMARINE JAY.

Corvus Ultramarinus.
PLATE CCCLXII. Adult.

Although the Ultramarine Jay has been described by Mr Swainson,

in his Synopsis of the Birds of Mexico, under the name of Garrulus
sordidus, I retain the specific name “ultramarinus,” previously given
by the Prince of Musignano. The only observations respecting its
habits that I am aware of having been made, are the following, for
which I am indebted to my friend Thomas Nuttall.
“Early in October, on arriving in the forests of the Columbia, near
Fort Vancouver, an establishment of the Hudson’s Bay Company, we
saw in the same situations with the Steller’s Jay, the present
species. Its habits are much like those of the Common Jay. It usually
flies out to the tops of the lofty pines, jerks its tail, and perches
playfully on some extreme branch, where it utters at times, as if
excited by petulant anger, a strong whoit, woit, woit, woit, after which
expression it emits a sort of recognition-call at short intervals, twee,
and sometimes a shorter ’twee ’twee. When much pursued, it sits
still in the concealing shade of the lofty branches on which it seeks
refuge. It feeds on insects, acorns broken up, and probably pine
seeds. They appear to associate in roving families throughout the fall
and winter, like the other species, seldom if ever associating with the
more Common Steller’s Jay, though now and then perhaps in the
same tree. It is a graceful, active, and rather shy species, flying out
straight from tree to tree, remarkable by its long tail and rather short
wings; and its note is much less harsh and loud than that of Steller’s
Jay. They breed in the dark pine woods probably where we so
frequently saw them alight, and on the 15th of June they were
feeding their fully fledged young, two of which I pursued for some
time, but they skulked so effectually as to escape me after a long
and doubtful chase. The young had a great predominance of grey on
the back. The same species also extends into Upper California.”
Adult Male. Plate CCCLXII. Fig. 3.
Bill shorter than the head, strong, straight, compressed toward the
end; upper mandible with the dorsal line declinate and convex
toward the end, the sides sloping and becoming convex toward the
tip, which is declinate, thin-edged and obtuse, the edges sharp and
overlapping, with a slight notch; lower mandible straight, the angle
rather short and broad, the dorsal outline ascending and slightly
convex, the sides convex, the edges sharp and directed outwards,
the tip narrow. Nostrils basal, roundish covered by the reversed
bristly feathers.
Head large, ovate; eyes of moderate size; neck rather short; body
compact. Legs of moderate length, strong; tarsus much compressed,
with seven large anterior scutella, and two long plates behind,
meeting so as to form a sharp edge. Toes stout, with large scutella,
the outer adherent as far as its second joint to the middle toe; first
very strong; inner toe shorter than outer, third much longer. Claws
strong, arched, compressed, acute.
Plumage full, soft, blended. Stiff feathers with disunited barbs over
the nostrils, the longest scarcely extending to a third of the length of
the bill; at the base of the upper mandible several longish slender
bristles. Wings of moderate length, convex, and much rounded; the
first quill very short, an inch and two-twelfths shorter than the
second, which is eight-twelfths shorter than the third, the fourth
three-twelfths longer than the third, and a twelfth and a half shorter
than the fifth, which is the longest, but scarcely exceeds the sixth.
Tail long, much rounded, of twelve rather narrow, rounded and
acuminate feathers, of which the lateral is an inch and a quarter
shorter than the longest.
Bill and feet brownish-black. Iris hazel. Upper part of the head, sides
and hind part of the neck, wings, upper tail-coverts, and tail, light
blue; back light greyish-brown, the feathers of the rump whitish and
tinged with blue at the end; the inner webs of the quills dusky; the tail
transversely undulated, and having the appearance of being faintly
barred with a darker tint. A white band over the eye formed by the
tips of the feathers there; the cheeks dusky; the fore neck greyish-
white faintly streaked with dusky; and bounded below by a narrow
semilunar band of light blue continuous with that of the neck. The
lower parts are pale purplish-grey, passing into white on the
abdomen; lower tail-coverts tinged with blue.
1/2
Length to end of tail 12 inches; bill along the ridge 1 1 /12, along the
edge of lower mandible 1 4/12; wing from flexure 5 8/12; tail 6 2/12;
1/
tarsus 1 8/12; hind toe 7 /12, its claw 7/12; middle toe 1 1/12, its claw
2

6 1/2/ .
12

The Female is considerably smaller, but resembles the male in

colour.
Length to end of tail 11 1/2 inches; wing from flexure 5 3/12; tail 6 2/12;
1/
tarsus 1 7/12; middle toe 1, its claw 6 /12.
2

The resemblance which this species bears to the Florida Jay is so

close that one might readily confound the two. That species,
however, is distinguishable by its smaller size and its more rounded
tail; by its having a band of whitish across the forehead and
extended over the eye, where it is not in dots as in the Ultramarine
Jay.
 CLARKE’S NUTCRACKER.

Nucifraga columbiana.
PLATE CCCLXII. Adult.

No sooner had I examined perfect specimens of this somewhat

singularly coloured bird, than I felt assured, more especially from the
form of its bill, that it is with us a representative of the Nutcracker of
Europe; and I was much surprised, on comparing it with the figure
given of it by Alexander Wilson, to find the latter very defective,
the bill being nearly half an inch shorter than in four specimens
which I have inspected. All that is known of its habits is contained in
the following notes from Mr Nuttall and Dr Townsend.
“We first observed this species in a small pine grove, on the borders
of Bear River, in the table-land of the Rocky Mountains, where they
were probably breeding, in the month of July. We again saw a
considerable flock of the young birds early in August, in a lofty ravine
near the summit of one of the three belts or isolated mountains,
about thirty or forty miles west of the Shoshonee River. They
appeared somewhat shy, and scattered through a grove of aspens,
flying with a slight chatter, scarcely a caw, from the tops of the
bushes or trees, on to the ground, probably in quest of insect food.
We never saw this species either on the lower plains or forests of the
Columbia, or in any part of Upper California. It appears never to
descend below the mountain plains.” T. N.
“Clarke’s Crow, Corvus columbianus. First found on Bear River, and
afterwards on the Blue Mountains, plentiful. Its flight is very unlike
that of the Common Crow, being performed by jerks, like that of the
Woodpecker. When sitting, it is almost constantly screaming; its
voice is very harsh and grating, and consists of one rather prolonged
note. It breeds here in very high pine trees. The White Pelican also
seen here in July, no doubt breeds; also the Canvass-backed Duck,
the Shoveller, and Dusky Duck; found young of all of them. The
Corvus columbianus is never seen within five hundred miles of the
mouth of the Columbia. It appears generally to prefer a mountainous
country and pine trees; and feeds chiefly on insects and their larvæ.”
J. K. T.

Clarke’s Crow, Corvus columbianus, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. iii. p. 29. pl.
20, fig. 2.
Corvus columbianus, Ch. Bonaparte, Synopsis of Birds of United States, p.
57.
Columbian Crow, Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 218.

Adult Male. Plate CCCLXII. Fig. 4.

Bill as long as the head, stout, somewhat conical, compressed, at
the tip rather depressed. Upper mandible with its dorsal line slightly
arcuato-declinate, the ridge convex, the sides rounded, the edges
sharp and overlapping, without notæ, the tip flattened and obtuse;
lower mandible with the angle short and rounded, the dorsal line
straight, the sides convex, the edges sharp and a little inflexed, the
tip flattened, and rather obtuse. Nostrils basal, lateral, roundish,
covered by bristly feathers, which are directed forwards.
Head large, broadly ovate; eyes of moderate size; neck rather short;
body compact. Legs of moderate length, stout; tarsus compressed,
with seven large anterior scutella and two plates behind, meeting so
as to form a sharp edge. Toes stout, with large scutella; the first toe
very large, the inner a little shorter than the outer, the hind much
longer; the third and fourth united as far as the second joint of the
latter. Claws large, arched, much compressed, acute.
Plumage full, very soft and blended; the stiff bristly feathers over the
nostrils extend about one-fifth of the length of the bill; and there are
no distinct bristles at the base of the upper mandible; the feathers on
the head are very short. The wings are long, and much rounded; the
first quill two inches shorter than the second, which is ten-twelfths
shorter than the third, the latter exceeded two-twelfths by the fourth,
which is the longest; the outer primaries being narrow, give the wing,
when closed, the appearance of being pointed. Tail of moderate
length, rounded, of twelve rather broad feathers, of which the lateral
is half an inch shorter than the middle.
Bill and feet brownish-black. Iris hazel. The general colour above
and below is light brownish-grey, the forehead, throat, fore part of
cheeks, and a space around the eye white, tinged with yellow. Wings
black, glossed with blue; seven of the secondaries largely tipped with
white, upper tail-coverts greyish-black; tail pure white, excepting the
two middle feathers and the greater part of the inner webs of the
next pair, which are black glossed with blue; lower wing-coverts
dusky, some tipped with white; lower tail-coverts pure white.
Length to end of tail 12 inches; bill along the ridge 1 8/12, along the
edge of lower mandible 1 10/12; wing from flexure 7 11/12; tail 5 1/4;
1/2
tarsus 1 4/12; hind toe 7 /12; its claw 8/12; middle toe 11/12, its claw
6/ .
12

Adult Female. Plate CCCLXII. Fig. 5.

The Female is similar to the male.
 BOHEMIAN CHATTERER.

Bombycilla garrula, Vieill.

PLATE CCCLXIII. Male and Female.

The first intimations of the occurrence of this beautiful bird in North

America, were made by Mr Drummond and Dr Richardson, by the
former of whom it was found in 1826, near the sources of the
Athabasca, or Elk River, in the spring, and by the latter, in the same
season, at Great Bear Lake, in latitude 50°. Dr Richardson states,
in the Fauna Boreali-Americana, that “specimens procured at the
former place, and transmitted to England, by the servants of the
Hudson’s Bay Company, were communicated, by Mr Leadbeater to
the Prince of Musignano, who had introduced the species into his
great work on the Birds of the United States.” “In its autumn
migration southwards,” he continues, “this bird must cross the
territory of the United States, if it does not actually winter within it;
but I have not heard of its having been hitherto seen in America to
the southward of the fifty-fifth parallel of latitude. The mountainous
nature of the country skirting the Northern Pacific Ocean being
congenial to the habits of this species, it is probably more generally
diffused in New Caledonia and the Russian American Territories,
than to the eastward of the Rocky Mountain chain. It appears in
flocks at Great Bear Lake about the 24th of May, when the spring
thaw has exposed the berries of the alpine arbutus, marsh
vaccinium, &c., that have been frozen and covered during winter. It