The Miracle of Our Lady of Fatima
Film Music Notes: September-October 1952
Publication: Film Music Vol.XII / No.I / pp. 4-5
Publisher: New York: National Film Music Council
This is one of Steiner's best scores; in it he demonstrates that when given the opportunity, he has a large fund of musical knowledge upon which to draw, and can project various levels of dramatic intensity with a versatility comparable to opera composers of the past. Absent are the overdrawn sequences of lush sentimentality which have come to be associated with some film music - cloying music which tries to outdo the film rather than supplement it. Instead, Steiner keeps his music on a subdued level throughout much of the film, and, with a sure sense of dramatic movement, rises swiftly to a brief climax at the crucial point of a particular sequence. This is background music in its truest sense; coloring, highlighting, and intensifying what is on the screen, and not duplicating it.
It is the small flurries of excitement which are more interesting to the reviewer, for these are more difficult to handle. Steiner has a way of getting behind the action on the screen with a well chosen burst of sound which calls no attention to itself, falls as quickly as it rises, yet effects an intensity where none otherwise would exist. The film itself is powerless to produce much excitement in a scene where children play with a ram, yet the music makes it a small event. Thus, if the larger outlines of drama are accomplished by writer and director, the smaller undulations are almost entirely the work of the composer.
Even in larger climaxes, much is left to the composer. These are mostly crowd scenes, and are not handled by the director with the realistic detail seen in some European films. The crowd is there, but only as a background; the only sound effect is a low murmur. It is left to the music to create any real excitement, and Steiner carries the day every time. It is interesting to note that only in these larger climaxes does he use the familiar Straussian idiom. When one listens to the music, it seems scarcely appropriate, yet when one forgets the music and looks at the screen, there is no doubt of its effectiveness. Whether it would have been even more effective had he, in keeping with the rest of the score, employed a diatonic style, is another question, which someday I should like to see answered.
For Steiner's use of diatonic material is excellent and refreshing. There are fine passages of modal harmony, some with melodies of Gregorian nature; elsewhere there are themes of basically diatonic nature which slide rapidly through various keys, or diatonic melodies harmonized with triads not conventionally considered in the key. I happen to be partial to this kind of consonant yet modern writing, and believe it is partly responsible for the great economy and clarity of the score. It gives, for instance, a certain dignity to the scenes of the angel's appearance, where almost any other idiom would have produced something maudlin.
Steiner has long been an exponent of the leitmotif idea; he gives it here a subtle twist. One is not aware of particular passages assigned to characters; one finds them instead assigned to particular recurring scenes - the girl in her bed, the children in the field, or the people in the town. We get the impression then of interlocking dramatic threads which are dropped and then resumed, and the varying emotional levels of music quicken or slow the pace. After taking time for dialogue, for instance, the drama again continues to unfold with the quickening movement of rolling harp chords as the girl lies asleep in her bed.
There is one notable exception in the handling of the crowd scenes. When the people come to demand the children's release from prison, the music ceases altogether. We hear only the rustle of the people, waiting in anxious, but belligerent, suspense. For this is not an ordinary crowd scene, but one of religious devotion. The mood is restless but static. And when the children are released and rejoin their families and friends, there is no burst of orchestral music. Instead, the people break into an ancient and austere hymn of praise as they march back to town. And there is no orchestral accompaniment.
This is not only dramatically correct, but of some significance. Steiner has presented throughout the film various bits of fine religious music which in this country has been stubbornly considered to be over the heads of the people. There are two Gregorian hymns, a Bach chorale, an anthem by Arcadeltian Chant, and a smaller fragment of an Ave Maria by Josquin des Pres.* Such music is not esoteric, but has been shunned by producers who fear the unfamiliar. Yet it has long since been discovered that, in the right time and place, the most dissonant kind of modern music is easily assimilated. There is no reason why ancient church music is not equally palatable. Now that Steiner has taken the initial step, can we hope that more of this music will appear in future films? Incidentally, in giving us this music in its original setting - a capella - Steiner reveals not only his musical integrity but his perspicacity; it is the most effective setting.
There are two particular places where I disagreed with Steiner's handling. Early in the picture, the first appearance of the angel is heralded by three claps of sudden thunder, coming unexpectedly out of a clear sky. Each is accompanied by a sustained forte chord in the low register, and with this, the music literally steals the scene's thunder. The effect is ambiguity; is the crash we hear really thunder, or part of the music? And has the music dramatic significance, or is it merely adding to the noise? I have long felt that important sound effects should be left unaccompanied. Here, the first thunderclap alone is of quite enough significance to carry the scene. Any other sound simply dulls the effect. If the chord had been introduced at the second clap, we would have had two dramatic strokes of cumulative significance. As it is we have but one, containing conflicting elements, and merely repeating itself.
Later, when the police inspectors first appear, their silent march through the square is followed by music of definitely fearful character. A more subtle effect might have been produced by music of quiet foreboding. To be sure, subtlety is not one of the picture's strong points, and the music is certainly not out of keeping; still, a grey rather than black orchestra might have helped alleviate the melodramatic naïveté of the character portrayal.
Finally, I wish that Gounod's “Ave Maria” had not been used as an important theme. It is expertly developed, and certainly associated in the minds of millions with religious feeling, which guarantees its effectiveness. Artistically, however, it is spurious religious music, certainly not on a level with the authentic sacred music in the film.
But these are minor points in a score which not only contains many passages of excellent music, but is in its entirety succinct and well integrated.
*
Editor’s note:
THE Miracle of Our Lady of Fatima (1952) also contains sacred music by Luigi Cherubini (Veni, Jesu, Amor Mi), Johann Peter Ritter (Holy God, We Praise Thy Name) and Franz Schubert (Salve Regina), for example. Specific cue details may be found by consulting the Max Steiner Digital Thematic Catalog here https://maxsteinerinstitute.org/
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