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An Interview with Franz Waxman

Lawrence Morton

Music from the Films: A CBC Broadcast

Publication: Film Quarterly, Vol. 5, No. 2 (Winter 1950), pp. 132-137

Publisher:University of California Press Journals

Copyright © 1950, by The Regents of the University of California. All rights reserved.

This is one of a series of fifteen programs featuring interviews with prominent film composers, interviews written by Lawrence Morton and recorded in Hollywood for rebroadcast by the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. The series is referred to by Gerald Pratley in his article Furthering Motion Picture Appreciation by Radio, which appears elsewhere in this issue. This script, broadcast in April, 1950, has been selected by the editors as representative of the series. - Editors.


ANNOUNCER: This is Music from the Films - a program prepared for all who are interested in film music and the composers who create it - arranged by Gerald Pratley and presented by Max Ferguson.


THEME REC: People in Love. (1) Play for 30 seconds and fade under announcer.


ANNOUNCER: Good evening. Tonight, Lawrence Morton, film music critic and writer, discusses the composition of film music with Franz Waxman. This is the fourth of Mr. Morton's series of thirteen interviews with Hollywood composers. Franz Waxman is one of the most prolific composers in Hollywood today. Not only has he scored over sixty motion pictures since his arrival in the cinema capital, but he has also achieved fame and recognition for his achievements in other forms of composition, and as a conductor. His suite from the score of Alfred Hitchcock's Rebecca has been presented by symphony orchestras throughout the country. Waxman was born in Germany in 1906. (2) He studied piano as a youth in Dresden and later went to Berlin to study composition, harmony, and counterpoint. His work in Germany received early recognition with the result that he was asked to score many important films for the well-known UFA Motion Picture Company. The year 1933 found him Paris, where he immediately went to work scoring the Charles Boyer version of Liliom. When producer Erich Pommer, who had known Waxman's work both at UFA and in Paris, went to Hollywood in 1934, he took Waxman to Twentieth Century-Fox (3) with him. Waxman remained at Twentieth for only a few months, leaving that studio for more favorable assignment as head of music for Universal Pictures. In 1935 he signed a seven-year contract with Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, where he wrote the scores for such well-remembered productions as Captains Courageous, Fury, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and Three Comrades. In 1942 he accepted a contract with Warner Brothers which he recently terminated in order to free-lance. While at Warners, he scored Humoresque, Mr. Skeffington, Old Acquaintance, and Possessed, among others. He has written the music for three of Alfred Hitchcock's films: Rebecca, Suspicion, and The Paradine Case. His score for the last-named film will be played later on the program. His most recent music is that which he wrote for Paramount's Sunset Boulevard, made by William Wilder and Charles Brackett, a picture which brings back to the screen those two great artists of silent movies, Gloria Swanson and Erich von Stroheim. With the coming of summer, Franz Waxman's name can often be found as conductor in the famous Hollywood Bowl. He is also the music director and conductor of the Los Angeles Music Festival, an annual series of symphonic concerts which takes place each May. Mr. Waxman mentions this now in the following interview which he recorded in Hollywood with Lawrence Morton.


RECORD: Franz Waxman interview with Lawrence Morton


Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. A few days ago, in preparation for this broadcast, I visited Mr. Waxman in his home high up in the Hollywood hills. It's a very handsome house, and it commands a magnificent view of the San Fernando Valley. The view is framed by a large bay window in Mr. Waxman's study, and I could have been quite happy to contemplate the scene for a long time. But this was what might be called a professional visit, not a sight-seeing tour. And besides, being a musician, I was truly most interested in the musical paraphernalia of a composer's workroom - the books and scores and phonograph records which seemed almost to crowd the furniture out of the room. It was apparent, Mr. Waxman, that your interests are by no means confined to film music.

Indeed not, Mr. Morton. Composing for films is, of course, the main part of my work. This is how I make my living. But a composer has to keep up with the times just as much as a doctor or a businessman. And I try as much as possible to follow the activities of the important composers and writers of our time. And I'm also interested in the discoveries of the musicologists, particularly the new editions of old composers like Haydn and Vivaldi and Bach.


I presume that this is important to your work as a conductor, too.

Of course. I've been giving more and more time to conducting in the last few years. I've just finished my fourth season as musical director of the Los Angeles Music Festival, a series that takes place every spring. In past seasons I've conducted such important works as the Prokofiev Fifth Symphony, Honegger's Joan of Arc at the Stake, Strauss's Metamorphosis, and Stravinsky's Story of a Soldier. This year we presented the Mahler Ninth Symphony and Schubert's E-flat Mass. I'm leaving soon for Europe to conduct again in Paris--I gave a concert there a year ago. And then I'll conduct in Italy this summer.


Is there much difference between conducting for concert and conducting for films?

There isn't much difference from a musical point of view. But there are special problems in films: timing, balance for microphones, and so on.


But many of these problems are solved already in the composition of a film score, aren't they?

To a certain extent, yes. When I compose for the films, I try to imagine just what the sound will be in the theatre - not only the sound itself, but its relation to the dialogue and the action on the screen. That is why I often think of the tone color of music before I actually know what the notes are going to be. When I first see a picture in the projection room, certain scenes seem to call for a specific tone color--three trombones, for instance, or a flute or an English horn. In Objective: Burma I underlined General Stillwell's angry words ("I say we took a hell of a beating") with a solo trombone. And perhaps you remember the high string music in the main title of God Is My Co-Pilot, with which I tried to convey the religious feeling that was the underlying motif.


But tone color still leaves the problem of the overall character of the music.

Sometimes this is quite obvious. Just reading a script might give all the necessary clues. In a film like Objective: Burma, you can tell immediately that the music will have to be military, epic; some orientalism might be required by the Burmese locale; there will have to be music for the cruel enemy, and for a lot of violent action. You might say that, on the whole, the music is extrovert. But in a psychological drama like Possessed, a Joan Crawford picture that I scored a few years ago, the problem is more subtle. There are no battles, fires, chases, and so on. There are very few external events to be illustrated. There are mostly states of mind, conditions of feeling. You might say that in Objective: Burma the composer has only to watch the characters, while in Possessed the composer has to get inside the characters.


That's an interesting differentiation, Mr. Waxman. Can you give an example of what you do when you write music for "inside a character"?

In Possessed there was a direct cue given by the picture itself. Let me describe the situation in the film: Joan Crawford plays the part of a young woman emotionally unbalanced, a real psychiatric case. Her condition has, of course, a complicated history, but for our purposes here it is perhaps sufficient to say that it is based on an unreciprocated love for an engineer, played by Van Heflin. A number of times during the picture, Van Heflin plays the piano - plays a passage from Schumann's Carnaval. Frequently, in the underscoring, I used this piece as an expression of Miss Crawford's attachment to Heflin. Now at the point in the film where she realizes that he really doesn't love her, which is the point at which her mind and emotions begin to crack up, Heflin plays the Schumann piece again. Heflin is apparently playing the piece correctly, what the audience hears this time is a distorted version, omitting all the sharps and flats, which suggests what Miss Crawford is hearing. That is, the distortion of the music corresponds to the distortion of normal emotions. What formerly had been a beautiful piano piece now sounds ugly to Miss Crawford because the man who is playing it does not return her love. This illustrates what I mean by getting inside a character.


Isn't it almost a cliche in film music that mental disturbance should be illustrated by dissonances and strange sounds?

Yes, it's a common procedure. I don't know who started it, but there is plenty of precedent in concert music. Smetana, in his Quartet From My Life, used a high harmonic to illustrate the ringing in his ears that was one of the symptoms of his deafness. Religious mystics, like Joan of Arc and Bernadette, often claimed to hear voices and heavenly choirs. So there is some basis in reality for doing this sort of thing in music. I think composers have to take advantage of all these suggestive powers of music. It's one way of reaching audiences very directly.


When you speak of audiences, Mr. Waxman - and before, when you mentioned trying to hear in advance what your music would sound like in the theatre - you are really thinking of the function of music in films rather than purely musical qualities, aren't you?

Yes, I don't believe that music as function and music as art are necessarily opposed to each other. But it is true that film music operates in a set of circumstances quite different from the circumstances in which other music is heard. Film music is heard only once - not many times, as concert music is. The audience comes to the theater unprepared - it is not like going to a concert to hear familiar music of Bach, Beethoven, Brahms. And besides, nobody goes to a movie theater to hear music.


If film music is heard in a special set of circumstances, just what qualities ought it to have?

It should have simplicity and directness. It must make its point immediately and strongly. The emotional impact must come all at once. It's not like concert music which is full of secrets that are learned from long acquaintance and many hearings.


What are the musical equivalents of "simplicity" and "directness"?

For me, music that is simple and direct is music that has strong melodic lines, simple accompaniments; and also a number of musical ideas expressed by solo instruments, even without accompaniments.


When you have a simple style, strong melodies, and solo instruments, you still don't have a score. You have only the materials out of which a score is made.

That is another problem - the problem of what to do with your materials. I regard a film score as essentially a set of variations. In concert music, variations are usually written around a single theme. But film music, where there are many themes, the variations turn out to be variations on a group of themes. Another difference is that in film music the variations are not motivated by purely musical considerations, as they are in concert music. The motivation comes from the screen action.


I've noticed in your own scores, Mr. Waxman, that you follow screen action very often by attaching musical themes to characters or ideas of the drama, and then varying the themes as the dramatic situations change. That is, you employ what is commonly known as leitmotif technique.

Yes, I find this very practical in writing film music. It is an aid in composition, and an aid to listening. Motifs are characteristically brief, with sharp profiles. They are easily recognizable. They permit repetition in varying forms and textures, and help musical continuity.


On the other hand, Mr. Waxman, the use of leitmotifs often results in rather complicated counterpoint-as it does in Wagner, for instance. Do you think this contributes to simplicity and directness?

There are many kinds of counterpoint, and each has varying degrees of complexity. I think this can be evaluated only by the final effect it makes. I have used the fugato, for instance, very frequently. Now I don't expect an audience to stop looking at the picture and say, "Ah, Waxman has written a fugato." But I think an audience will notice that somehow the music is growing in tension and excitement--because the reiteration of a single short motif, in a contrapuntal style, is a fairly obvious way of driving toward a climax. The technique of a fugato is strictly my own business. The dramatic effect is the audience's business. I don't think an audience will miss the dramatic intention if the composer has written a good fugato.


That seems to me to be a fair division of responsibility, Mr. Waxman. Perhaps we might say that the ideal situation will be reached when good composers write good music for intelligent audiences.

Don't forget one other factor, Mr. Morton - we composers feel that the situation, to be ideal, requires also good critics.


That is another matter altogether, Mr. Waxman. And before you make this an opportunity for reversing our positions, with you asking the questions, I think I should quickly say goodnight to our CBC audience, and then thank you for having come to the studio tonight.

Thank you, Mr. Morton. It's been a great pleasure.


ANNOUNCER: Franz Waxman's score from The Paradine Case has been arranged and recorded as a symphonic poem for piano and orchestra. It's described as a "recomposition" of the thematic material from the score presented in rhapsodic form for piano and orchestra. The main theme, which runs throughout the piece, is a rather haunting nocturne which pictures the sphinx-like beauty and strange attractiveness of the film's main character, Mrs. Paradine (played by Valli). This theme is heard in many variations and in different rhythmical patterns. Toward the end of the suite the introduction of the "Keane Theme" as a horn solo is heard. This plaintively portrays the emotion of Gay Keane (played by Ann Todd) when she realizes that her almost idyllic marriage is slowly being destroyed because her husband, Tony Keane (played by Gregory Peck), has become fascinated by the beauteous Mrs. Paradine. Near the end of this symphonic poem comes a short piano cadenza. This is joined by the woodwinds, which drive the cadenza to a final climax in a recapitulation of the theme. Franz Waxman's music from The Paradine Case then concludes with a short and brilliant coda.


RECORDS: The Paradine Case.


ANNOUNCER: Writing in Film Music Notes of January-February, 1950, Lawrence Morton said of Waxman's music: "In general, it has the grandiloquent expressiveness, the splendor and luxuriousness of texture that are characteristic of late German romantic music. If one had to ally him with any established 'school' of composition, it would perhaps be that of Richard Strauss. To this basic style he has added some of the elements of a more contemporary music-sharp dissonances, motor rhythms, angularity of phrase. He is fully aware of the new trends in music, for he is a thoroughly alert and trained musician; but they do not happen to correspond with his own feelings about the emotional content of music, nor with his convictions about structural principles. Nevertheless, he has such technique and facility that one feels he could easily absorb these later 'systems' if he wished to. Waxman's music may be summed up as being that of grand gesture and expansive emotion. His themes are strong, positive, clearly drawn, and calculated to communicate their ideas in their first statement. Considering these principles together with the variety and extent of Waxman's activities, they show him to be a musician of intense intellectual curiosity and boundless energy."

Good night.


Notes


  1. Recorded extract from the score for Woman Hater (Lambert Williamson).
  2. Original surname ‘Wachsmann’ born Königshütte, December 24, 1906. Franz Waxman died in Los Angeles February 24, 1967.
  3. Waxman was invited to work on Music in the Air at Fox Film Corporation in Hollywood. He sailed to New York City from Le Havre on the SS Ile De France May 16 1934. After arriving in California he was obliged to cross over the Mexican border and back into the U.S. in order to qualify to apply for U.S. citizenship.
by Quentin Billard 30 May 2024
INTRADA RECORDS Time: 29/40 - Tracks: 15 _____________________________________________________________________________ Polar mineur à petit budget datant de 1959 et réalisé par Irving Lerner, « City of Fear » met en scène Vince Edwards dans le rôle de Vince Ryker, un détenu qui s’est évadé de prison avec un complice en emportant avec lui un conteneur cylindrique, croyant contenir de l’héroïne. Mais ce que Vince ignore, c’est que le conteneur contient en réalité du cobalt-60, un matériau radioactif extrêmement dangereux, capable de raser une ville entière. Ryker se réfugie alors dans une chambre d’hôtel à Los Angeles et retrouve à l’occasion sa fiancée, tandis que le détenu est traqué par la police, qui va tout faire pour retrouver Ryker et intercepter le produit radioactif avant qu’il ne soit trop tard. Le scénario du film reste donc très convenu et rappelle certains polars de l’époque (on pense par exemple à « Panic in the Streets » d’Elia Kazan en 1950, sur un scénario assez similaire), mais l’arrivée d’une intrigue en rapport avec la menace de la radioactivité est assez nouvelle pour l’époque et inspirera d’autres polars par la suite (cf. « The Satan Bug » de John Sturges en 1965). Le film repose sur un montage sobre et un rythme assez lent, chose curieuse pour une histoire de course contre la montre et de traque policière. A vrai dire, le manque de rythme et l’allure modérée des péripéties empêchent le film de décoller vraiment : Vince Edwards se voit confier ici un rôle solide, avec un personnage principal dont la santé ne cessera de se dégrader tout au long du film, subissant la radioactivité mortelle de son conteneur qu’il croit contenir de l’héroïne. Autour de lui, quelques personnages secondaires sans grand relief et toute une armada de policiers sérieux et stressés, bien déterminés à retrouver l’évadé et à récupérer le cobalt-60. Malgré l’interprétation convaincante de Vince Edwards (connu pour son rôle dans « Murder by Contract ») et quelques décors urbains réussis – le tout servi par une atmosphère de paranoïa typique du cinéma américain en pleine guerre froide - « City of Fear » déçoit par son manque de moyen et d’ambition, et échoue finalement à susciter le moindre suspense ou la moindre tension : la faute à une mise en scène réaliste, ultra sobre mais sans grande conviction, impersonnelle et peu convaincante, un comble pour un polar de ce genre qui tente de suivre la mode des films noirs américains de l’époque, mais sans réelle passion. Voilà donc une série-B poussiéreuse qui semble être très rapidement tombée dans l’oubli, si l’on excepte une récente réédition dans un coffret DVD consacré aux films noirs des années 50 produits par Columbia Pictures. Le jeune Jerry Goldsmith signa avec « City of Fear » sa deuxième partition musicale pour un long-métrage hollywoodien en 1959, après le western « Black Patch » en 1957. Le jeune musicien, alors âgé de 30 ans, avait à son actif toute une série de partitions écrites pour la télévision, et plus particulièrement pour la CBS, avec laquelle il travailla pendant plusieurs années. Si « City of Fear » fait indiscutablement partie des oeuvres de jeunesse oubliées du maestro, cela n’en demeure pas moins une étape importante dans la jeune carrière du compositeur à la fin des années 50 : le film d’Irving Lerner lui permit de s’attaquer pour la première fois au genre du thriller/polar au cinéma, genre dans lequel il deviendra une référence incontournable pour les décennies à venir. Pour Jerry Goldsmith, le challenge était double sur « City of Fear » : il fallait à la fois évoquer le suspense haletant du film sous la forme d’un compte à rebours, tout en évoquant la menace constante du cobalt-60, véritable anti-héros du film qui devient quasiment une sorte de personnage à part entière – tout en étant associé à Vince Edwards tout au long du récit. Pour Goldsmith, un premier choix s’imposa : celui de l’orchestration. Habitué à travailler pour la CBS avec des formations réduites, le maestro fit appel à un orchestre sans violons ni altos, mais avec tout un pupitre de percussions assez éclectique : xylophone, piano, marimba, harpe, cloches, vibraphone, timbales, caisse claire, glockenspiel, bongos, etc. Le pupitre des cuivres reste aussi très présent et assez imposant, tout comme celui des bois. Les cordes se résument finalement aux registres les plus graves, à travers l’utilisation quasi exclusive des violoncelles et des contrebasses. Dès les premières notes de la musique (« Get Away/Main Title »), Goldsmith établit sans équivoque une sombre atmosphère de poursuite et de danger, à travers une musique agitée, tendue et mouvementée. Alors que l’on aperçoit Ryker et son complice en train de s’échapper à toute vitesse en voiture, Goldsmith introduit une figure rythmique ascendante des cuivres, sur fond de rythmes complexes évoquant tout aussi bien Stravinsky que Bartok – deux influences majeures chez le maestro américain. On notera ici l’utilisation caractéristique du xylophone et des bongos, deux instruments qui seront très présents tout au long du score de « City of Fear », tandis que le piano renforce la tension par ses ponctuations de notes graves sur fond d’harmonies menaçantes des bois et des cuivres : une mélodie se dessine alors lentement au piccolo et au glockenspiel, et qui deviendra très rapidement le thème principal du score, thème empreint d’un certain mystère, tout en annonçant la menace à venir. C’est à partir de « Road Block » que Goldsmith introduit les sonorités associées dans le film à Ryker : on retrouve ici le jeu particulier des percussions (notes rapides de xylophone, ponctuation de piano/timbales) tandis qu’une trompette soliste fait ici son apparition, instrument rattaché dans le film à Ryker. La trompette revient dans « Motel », dans lequel les bongos créent ici un sentiment d’urgence sur fond de ponctuations de trombones et de timbales. Le morceau reflète parfaitement l’ambiance de paranoïa et de tension psychologique du film, tandis que les harmonies sombres du début sont reprises dans « The Facts », pour évoquer la menace du cobalt-60. Ce morceau permet alors à Jerry Goldsmith de développer les sonorités associées à la substance toxique dans le film (un peu comme il le fera quelques années plus tard dans le film « The Satan Bug » en 1965), par le biais de ponctuations de trompettes en sourdine, de percussion métallique et d’un raclement de guiro, évoquant judicieusement le contenant métallique du cobalt-60, que transporte Ryker tout au long du film (croyant à tort qu’il contient de la drogue). « Montage #1 » est quand à lui un premier morceau-clé de la partition de « City of Fear », car le morceau introduit les sonorités associées aux policiers qui traquent le fugitif tout au long du film. Goldsmith met ici l’accent sur un ostinato quasi guerrier de timbales agressives sur fond de cuivres en sourdine, de bois aigus et de caisse claire quasi martial : le morceau possède d’ailleurs un côté militaire assez impressionnant, évoquant les forces policières et l’urgence de la situation : stopper le fugitif à tout prix. Le réalisateur offre même une séquence de montage illustrant les préparatifs de la police pour le début de la course poursuite dans toute la ville, ce qui permet au maestro de s’exprimer pleinement en musique avec « Montage #1 ». Plus particulier, « Tennis Shoes » introduit du jazz traditionnel pour le côté « polar » du film (à noter que le pianiste du score n’est autre que le jeune John Williams !). Le morceau est associé dans le film au personnage de Pete Hallon (Sherwood Price), le gangster complice de Ryker que ce dernier finira par assassiner à la suite de plusieurs maladresses. Le motif jazzy d’Hallon revient ensuite dans « The Shoes » et « Montage #2 », qui reprend le même sentiment d’urgence que la première séquence de montage policier, avec le retour ici du motif descendant rapide de 7 notes qui introduisait le film au tout début de « Get Away/Main Title ». La mélodie principale de piccolo sur fond d’harmonies sombres de bois reviennent enfin dans « You Can’t Stay », rappelant encore une fois la menace du cobalt-60, avec une opposition étonnante ici entre le registre très aigu de la mélodie et l’extrême grave des harmonies, un élément qui renforce davantage la tension dans la musique du film. Le morceau développe ensuite le thème principal pour les dernières secondes du morceau, reprenant une bonne partie du « Main Title ». La tension monte ensuite d’un cran dans le sombre et agité « Taxicab », reprenant les ponctuations métalliques et agressives associées au cobalt-60 (avec son effet particulier du raclement de guiro cubain), tout comme le sombre « Waiting » ou l’oppressant « Search » et son écriture torturée de cordes évoquant la dégradation physique et mentale de Ryker, contaminé par le cobalt-60. « Search » permet au compositeur de mélanger les sonorités métalliques de la substance toxique, la trompette « polar » de Ryker et les harmonies sombres et torturées du « Main Title », aboutissant aux rythmes de bongos/xylophone syncopés complexes de « Track Down » et au climax brutal de « End of the Road » avec sa série de notes staccatos complexes de trompettes et contrebasses. La tension orchestrale de « End of the Road » aboutit finalement à la coda agressive de « Finale », dans lequel Goldsmith résume ses principales idées sonores/thématiques/instrumentales de sa partition en moins de 2 minutes pour la conclusion du film – on retrouve ainsi le motif descendant du « Main Title », le thème principal, le motif métallique et le raclement de guiro du cobalt-60 – un final somme toute assez sombre et élégiaque, typique de Goldsmith. Vous l’aurez certainement compris, « City of Fear » possède déjà les principaux atouts du style Jerry Goldsmith, bien plus reconnaissable ici que dans son premier essai de 1957, « Black Patch ». La musique de « City of Fear » reste d'ailleurs le meilleur élément du long-métrage un peu pauvre d'Irving Lerner : aux images sèches et peu inspirantes du film, Goldsmith répond par une musique sombre, complexe, virile, nerveuse et oppressante. Le musicien met en avant tout au long du film d’Irving Lerner une instrumentation personnelle, mélangeant les influences du XXe siècle (Stravinsky, Bartok, etc.) avec une inventivité et une modernité déconcertante - on est déjà en plein dans le style suspense du Goldsmith des années 60/70. Goldsmith fit partie à cette époque d’une nouvelle génération de musiciens qui apportèrent un point de vue différent et rafraîchissant à la musique de film hollywoodienne (Bernard Herrmann ayant déjà ouvert la voie à cette nouvelle conception) : là où un Steiner ou un Newman aurait proposé une musique purement jazzy ou même inspirée du Romantisme allemand, Goldsmith ira davantage vers la musique extra européenne tout en bousculant l’orchestre hollywoodien traditionnel et en s’affranchissant des figures rythmiques classiques, mélodiques et harmoniques du Golden Age hollywoodien. Sans être un chef-d’oeuvre dans son genre, « City of Fear » reste malgré tout un premier score majeur dans les musiques de jeunesse de Jerry Goldsmith : cette partition, pas si anecdotique qu’elle en a l’air au premier abord, servira de pont vers de futures partitions telles que « The Prize » et surtout « The Satan Bug ». « City of Fear » permit ainsi à Goldsmith de concrétiser ses idées qu’il développa tout au long de ses années à la CBS, et les amplifia sur le film d’Iriving Lerner à l’échelle cinématographique, annonçant déjà certaines de ses futures grandes musiques d’action/suspense pour les décennies à venir – les recettes du style Goldsmith sont déjà là : rythmes syncopés complexes, orchestrations inventives, développements thématiques riches, travail passionné sur la relation image/musique, etc. Voilà donc une musique rare et un peu oubliée du maestro californien, à redécouvrir rapidement grâce à l’excellente édition CD publiée par Intrada, qui contient l’intégralité des 29 minutes écrites par Goldsmith pour « City of Fear », le tout servi par un son tout à fait honorable pour un enregistrement de 1959 ! 
by Quentin Billard 24 May 2024
Essential scores - Jerry Goldsmith
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