Film Music Notes: Winter 1956 Vol.XVI / No.2 pp. 23-24
Copyright © 1956, by the National Film Music Council. All rights reserved.
Victor Young with Jascha Heifetz and Bing Crosby at a Decca recording session in 1946
When fellow-musicians in more sedate branches of the music field ask why on earth I chose to become a film composer, I am stumped for a ready answer. Why, indeed, would any trained musician let himself in for a career that calls for the exactitude of an Einstein, the diplomacy of a Churchill, — and the patience of a martyr? Yet, after doing some 350 film scores, I can think of no other musical medium that offers as much challenge, excitement, — and demand for creativity in putting music to work. Every new film is unique in its dramatic values, and, scene for scene, asks for a fresh musical interpretation of the human comedy. The film composer must be equipped with an unflagging interest in the universe of man and a gargantuan knowledge of musical forms.
Film composition techniques have come a long way since the advent of the sound-track. In an early effort called
Frankie and Johnny, I composed a song called
Give Me a Heart to Sing To, for the late Helen Morgan. The other stars, Chester Morris and Lilyan Tashman, stood by waiting, (a young musician named Sigmund Spaeth sat at the piano), but the talented chanteuse just could not remember the simple lyrics, — and it was necessary to hold them up on a blackboard to get on with the scene. As is so often the case, the song itself died with the picture, but I'm going to dust it off and bring it back on records one of these days.
Film composers and alert music-lovers have for years chafed at the fact that hundreds of first-rate pieces of musical composition, apart from "pop" songs, have been buried in Hollywood vaults. Brooding over this some years ago, when I had completed the score of For Whom The Bell Tolls, I threw caution to the winds and simply gave the score to a music publisher and record company. Although this was contractually illegal, the producers were mollified when the marker for such wares became manifest in heavy sales, — which helped to popularize the film itself. Although the studios are certainly more liberal today, it is still necessary for film composers to act as an organization to see to it that their music is kept from early burial. After all, film music is a rich and often exemplary library of contemporary American composition, and deserves a first rank in the concert hall.
After so many years in film composition I have evolved a work schedule or system that may seem unorthodox by Hollywood standards. Rather than read a script (which may be changed several times during shooting), or watch the daily "rushes" of a film in production (much of which may end up on the cutting-room floor), I prefer to wait until the film is finished and final, complete with spoken dialogue and sound effects. After a first viewing of the whole film, I will leave the screening-room for my own home — far from the Hollywood bustle — and as likely as not sit down to hear some recorded Brahms or Prokofieff, which has the effect of musical "brainwashing" and serves as an inspirational stimulus. Perhaps the next day the theme I will use pops into my mind. Then back to the screening-room for several more viewings, and copious notemaking as my theme develops in terms of the demands peculiar to each scene.
In this stage, a multiplicity of factors must be considered. If the sound effects are dominant in the scene (bells, trains, people in action), the music must be subtle enough to enhance, but not interfere. Large images on the screen will often call for louder music. Registers must be watched carefully, as an actor's voice and music in the same register would tend to muddle together, so that for proper mixing, the opposite register to the voice should be used in the music. As soon as I have completed a full plan for my score, replete with exact information for instrumentalization, I turn it over to a gifted associate for orchestral arrangement. Unlike other colleagues, who may often use a different arranger for each new score, I have preferred to stick with the same one for over twenty-one years, because he is thoroughly familiar with the orchestral effects that go to make up my own style.
With the completed orchestral score in hand, the next step is the sound studio, where I conduct the orchestra, with one eye on a screen on which the film is being unfurled. Now the music must blend accurately to the action of foot by foot of film, timed and measured with the aid of a "click track" which marks off intervals of time much like a metronome. Sometimes the transition of mood in a film takes place in a mere second, — and the music must, of course, follow suit. Because this rigid synchronization is particularly true of cartoon scoring, the expression "Mickey-Mousing" has come to describe it, as well as its imitation in the accenting of comic or even dramatic effects.
When the painstaking job of grafting music to the sound-track has been accomplished, the composer offers up an earnest prayer that no director, producer or cutter will decide to slice out any part of a scene, because while this may be of benefit to the film's action, it can often mangle the musical continuity of the score.
The fascinating and exacting process described above is the champagne of the film composer's life, but not by a long shot his only preoccupation. Several years ago I was brought into David Selznick's office by a director who had just commissioned me to score the latter's latest opus. "This man can compose music?" cried the dismayed producer. "He looks more like a prizefighter to me!" As it happens, he wasn't wrong in his description. I have often been mistaken for a retired bantamweight, and have given up trying to look like a musician since my long-haired youth at the Warsaw Imperial Conservatory.
But the film composer should be capable of fast foot-work and riding with the punch when he gets into the ring with his bosses, the directors and producers. Often highly gifted in the business of putting a film together, these good people are frequently endowed with the vaguest of musical backgrounds, and in an industry noted for its "yes-men," the composer must learn, subtly, to be a "no-man." Not knowing this, early in the game, I was asked by one of the mightiest to play out a score I had written, on his piano. He listened and then asked, "do you really believe that this is the best you can do for my film?" I thought it was, and told him so. "Go home and compose an alternate score," he commanded. After a two weeks of yeoman work on a new theme, new concept, I returned and again played it for him. "Do you like this score?" he asked. I replied honestly that I did indeed. "Well then, you couldn't have really liked the first one!" he boomed. Another well-meaning film-maker said, at the end of a screening, "for this picture I want you to give me a score in the style of Hindemith." Knowing that he had probably heard his first Hindemith record recently, I nodded in solemn agreement and went home to compose a score which he marvelled at, — only it was in the "style" of Victor Young! A source of some disagreement is the producer's demand for music in a scene in which the composer feels it has no place, — or, contrarily, for no music where the composer feels it would be very effective. Often I have simply used my own judgement, — with which the producer as a rule enthusiastically concurs when he sees and hears the results.
By and large, Hollywood producers will come to intelligent terms with a composer's judgement, after considerable discussion. But it is always most productive to be given a completely free hand in one's work. I was delighted when the King Brothers recently turned over their fine film, The Brave One, to me, and simply said "It's your baby now." Set in Mexico,
The Brave One gave me time and leeway to work in the Latin folk-idiom, which I'm particularly partial to. For the actual recording I was able to use the excellent 110-piece Munich Symphony Orchestra. The result is a film composition I find deeply satisfying, and one that I hope will enhance the pleasure of audiences everywhere.
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