When I go to a new film, I spend nearly as much time listening as I do watching. A compelling score can rescue an average movie, or transform an already great movie into an icon–Bernard Herrmann in
Psycho, Ennio Morricone in
The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, John Williams in
Jaws and
Star Wars, to name a few. With much of the music in recent films (at least the one's I've seen) now maddeningly formulaic, soundtracks have, to my ears, drifted into mere background accompaniment. Thankfully, the
Society for New Music and the
Syracuse International Film Festival have teamed up to remind us that music is an active part of any movie, as much a character as anyone on screen.
On Saturday night at the Everson Museum of Art, musicians from the Society presented composer Martin Matalon's original music for two films by Luis Bunuel: Las Hurdes (Land Without Bread) and Un Chien Andalou (An Andalusian Dog). As the scores were performed, the films were projected on stage, harkening back to the early days of cinema when live musicians provided the soundtrack to silent pictures.
Both films are surrealist, stretching–sometimes exceeding–the bounds of what is believable. So it was only fitting that the music did not explicitly coordinate with the action, instead creating an atmosphere that clarifies and augments the images on screen. In Las Hurdes, a documentary narrated by Malcolm Ingram about life in a remote region of Spain, the music, written for solo viola and electronics, helps us understand the difficult existence locals face every day. Surging melodic sweeps punctuated by violent attacks and electronic buildups complement the graphic shots of dead animals, sick villagers, and, most disturbingly, a dead child. Throughout, violist John Graham gave a committed, intense performance that embraced the score's darkness and extreme emotions.
The connection between sound and image proved more elusive in Un Chien Andalou, a film seemingly about nothing. Unlike Las Hurdes, it has no clear subject or plot, only a succession of unrelated, incomprehensible scenes. Had Matalon tried to write music that followed each shot, he would have created a manic, random score. Instead, he seemed to riff on specific moods and emotions: A heavy, ominous atmosphere emerged when a man began to grope a woman, but lasted well after the scene had changed. Conductor Heather Buchman led the octet of musicians in a crisp, driving performance.
The evening also included a screening of Holding Fast, a film by Mary Harron and John C. Walsh about life in Tibet. It featured music by Randall Woolf, but unfortunately it was prerecorded. The two live performances, however, were very provocative, sparking discussions–both positive and negative–amongst the audience. And even if some people didn't like the music, they were surely reminded of the importance of a film score. Maybe the next time people go to the Carousel for a movie, they will give its music a little extra thought.
