When the Music Feels Wrong:

A screen composer’s reflection of the collaborative search for the “right” sound.

Keywords

COLLABORATION — CREATIVE PROCESS

EMOTION — INTUITION

STORY — SCORE

Introduction

Music serves several functions in film. Through diegetic and non-diegetic use, film music can indicate geography, period, culture, genre, narrative information, enhance story and manipulate emotional responses in the audience (Gorbman, 1988; Herget, 2021). Depending on the application of music, score can give the audience insight into a character’s internal world or contradict visual material. Thus, providing extra depth to narrative by inviting the audience to question what is being presented (Douek, 2013). Music variously influences a viewer’s moral judgement of a movie scene, a character’s likeability, or increases the viewer’s ability to connect with an unfamiliar character. The effectiveness of a movie relies heavily on its musicality, the delivery of which can be direct, overt, subtle or indirect (Brown et al., 2020; Steffens, 2020). Whichever way score is employed, it is a means of increasing the accuracy of a viewer’s empathetic interpretation of story and the certainty with which the audience perceives their understanding of “the character’s thoughts” (Hoeckner et al., 2011). As the mere presence of music in film increases a viewer’s empathy for a character when compared to no music, screen music can be considered a modality which affords great responsibility to both the practitioner and collaborators involved in determining its application (Brown et al., 2020).

This exegesis, which uses both ethnographic and qualitative research methods, is a practice-led exploration into the ways a screen composer can refine their personal connection to story in order to score a film effectively. Reflecting on my latest Australian Film Television and Radio School (AFTRS) Capstone short film, The Method (2023), I examine what it means to identify the “right” musical interpretation (the cue that is signed-off) for a specific project based on the director’s vision, and the practical ways I approached this project through collaborative and independent practice. I then extrapolate my theories and discuss them with a cross-section of industry practitioners.

A screen composer requires a depth of understanding of the impact music has on storytelling, and its powerful capacity to influence the audience’s perception and interpretation of story. We attempt to translate the director’s intention for any given scene into an auditory experience that manipulates, drives or invites the audience to connect emotionally. With a myriad of tools, and a possibility of directions, how does a screen composer know what to write? In my experience, I have found a blend of intuitive practice informed by a personal emotional connection to story, screen literacy and musicianship an effective guide. Throughout the iterative process of film scoring my first AFTRS Capstone short film Rehabilitating (2023) directed by Inez Playford and produced by Freya Brunning, it became rapidly apparent that there were several possible ways to interpret story into score. Within team discussions, each interpretation was acknowledged as valid, however, the score required substantial rewrites to reach the cue that was signed-off. Though we were under extreme time constraints, a factor that may contribute to a director signing-off on a cue prematurely, all cues achieved what was agreed to be the “right” interpretation and all rejected cues were perceived to have felt “wrong.” The cues that felt “right” had a quality of “sitting inside the film” even in their most rudimentary arrangements. The eventual success of my interpretation relied upon refining my perspective of the characters’ inner worlds in collaboration with the director’s vision and effective communication of this vision. Once I understood whose perspective the music needed to reflect, I could access my intuitive ability to translate emotion into score and respond to the film. I came to theorise the following statements:

(1) A “right” interpretation exists and this is the cue that is signed-off.

(2) The “right” interpretation was always in service of the story and arose out of my natural ability to interpret emotion into score. 

(3) The specific emotion I interpreted was guided by the director’s vision to which I am only privy through collaboration.

My difficulties arriving at the correct emotional interpretation on Rehabilitating (2023) led me to the research question:

In what ways can a screen composer refine their personal connection to story to align with a director’s vision?

Shortly thereafter, I had ample opportunity to investigate whilst composing for my second AFTRS Capstone short film The Method (2023). Directed by Oren Lavie and produced by Farabee Kabir and Bassem Koshiry, The Method (2023) is a dark psychological drama. It focuses on the tension between self-help and self-destruction and the vast intergenerational consequences of the Holocaust. This score required a vast range of sound worlds including orchestral cues, a bespoke 1960s song and folk duet, infomercial music and choir re-arrangement of Max Janowski’s culturally significant 2001 piece “Avinu Malkeinu”. It was, however, the opening cue that posed the most challenging. The brief was highly specific and I found it difficult to comprehend Lavie’s nuanced intention for its function. It took seven iterations to arrive at the “right” interpretation. With hindsight, I was able to understand why the first six fell short of the brief from my developed understanding of character, however, not from the perspective of film theory.

Lavie had very specific intentions for each scene. He valued the modality of music and was extremely cognisant of the impact our choices would have on the viewer. He communicated his intentions and reasoning succinctly, and shared many relevant resonances. Yet it was still incredibly difficult to interpret the nuance of this character. As an emerging film composer with barely eighteen months of experience, I did not yet understand how to analyse the function of my sketches or what specificities I could consider as a proxy audience on my most challenging project thus far. I will discuss the ways in which collaboration and independent synthesis facilitated the “right” interpretation as well as a retrospective reflection of the rejected sketches from the perspective of score function, with reference to Lavie’s experience.

This paper is laid out into the following chapters:

Chapter 1: Sources & Methodology outlines the functions of score, impact of film music on the viewer, and expressive properties of music itself. It then discusses how the audience makes meaning from film music, how composers may conform and subvert conventions to impose meaning, and the role of intuition in the decision-making process. I then details the methodology and analysis.

In Chapter 2: The Method of Collaboration, I reflect on my experience writing for The Method (2023) with reference to auto-ethnographic materials and compare my perspective of collaboration with Lavie.

In Chapter 3: Interviews & Findings, I discuss the experience of interrogating story in collaboration and independently to reach the “right” interpretation with two composer-director case studies, as well as two industry professionals. I then synthesise these themes against my personal experience and list suggestions and learnings in the Conclusion chapter. 

This paper is my attempt to guide my future self, hone my expectation of the iterative process, better understand how to use collaboration to create a cohesive, emotionally impactful score, and provide some tangible answers to any composer who has also wondered how we do what we do.

  • Australian Film Television and Radio School (AFTRS)

    Master of Arts Screen (MAS)

  • Please make your way from top to bottom.

    Link to Reference List, Appendices and my bonus Practical Composing Tips at the end.

  • The work contained in this exegesis is my own original work, or the original work of my group, except where original sources have been appropriately cited using the AFTRS Citation and Referencing Guidelines. This exegesis has not previously been submitted for assessment elsewhere.

  • Please note short film The Method (2023) contains heavy themes of suicide, mental health, and the holocaust. These themes are discussed briefly in the Introduction and Chapter 2: The Method of Collaboration.

Chapter 1: Sources & Methodology

This section will outline ways film music function is categorised. It will also review the experience of film music in the cinematic medium and how it differs from music alone; citing various theories that explain why music elicits emotion. Finally, it will explore how the audience understands meaning through music syntax (the structure of music). Which equally influences the composure to respond when composing, theoretically suggesting this is subconscious and better explained as the role of intuition. 

SOURCE REVIEW

Firstly, what is the function of music in film? At its most basic utility, score conveys “emotion to the audience” (Green, 2010, p. 82) and can be “expressive or informative” (Sbravatti, 2016, p. 20) as opposed to simply diegetic and nondiegetic. Through structures such as leitmotif, thematic transformations and defining of character, film music can “transfer subliminal messages” (Green, 2010, p. 83) and “identify and suspend reality” (Green, 2010, p. 84). Aaron Copland, composer of The North Star (1944) and The Heiress (1950) described score as having the following functions: 

  1. It creates a more convincing atmosphere of time and place.

  2. It underlines psychological refinement - the unspoken thoughts of a character or the unseen implications of a situation.

  3. It serves as a kind of neutral background filler.

  4. It builds a sense of continuity.

  5. It underpins the theatrical buildup of a scene and rounds it off with a sense of finality. (Fink, 1990, p. 24)

Film theorists Robert Stam, Robert Burgoyne, Sandy Flitterman-Lewis define music in relation to narrative as redundant music, music which “reinforces the emotional tone; contrapuntal music, which runs counter to the dominant emotion; empathetic music, which conveys the emotions of the characters; a-empathetic music, which seems indifferent to the drama; and didactic contrapuntal music, which uses music to distance the audience ‘in order to elicit a precise, usually ironic, idea in the spectator’s mind’” (Green, 2010, p. 82). However, professor of film studies Valerio Sbravatti suggests a simpler model of analysis (figure 1). He states, with reference to eminent film theorist Claudia Gorbman, that music can “indicat[e] point of view, [supply] formal demarcations, and [establish] setting and characters” (Gorbman, 1988, p.73). By interacting with narrative in these ways, music offers an emotional function, provides an auditory vision of narrative events and can offer overtones of a preferred interpretation (Sbravatti, 2016).

(Sbravatti, 2016, p. 33)

Note: From “Story-Music / Discourse-Music: Analyzing the Relationship between Placement and Function of Music in Films,” by V. Sbravatti, 2016, Music and the Moving Image 9, no. 3 (2016): 19–37, https://doi.org/10.5406/musimoviimag.9.3.0019.

On a macro-level, score positions the viewer to accept the reality that is being presented. Jessica Green and Gorbman explain that music has an ability to make meaning by connecting seemingly divergent images (Green, 2010, p. 85). They also purport that music provides cues of intimation and emotional connectedness “through the use of culturally familiar musical language and through a matching, an identity of sound and image which masks contradictions and posits a wholeness with which to identify unproblematically as subject” (Gorbman, 1988, p.108). Thus increasing the influence over, and suggestibility of the audience’s interpretation and meaning making (Gorbman, 1988). Similarly, Anahid Kassabian described the same phenomenon as a “cross[ing] over the boundaries between unconscious and conscious processes; it contradicts or shifts what seem like heavy-handed meanings in the visuals” (Green, 2010, p. 86).

Score, therefore, functions to create identification with onscreen narrative, rendering the viewer more ready to accept the presenting accounts. It demarcates sections, subliminally connotes emotions, identifies or suspends reality and is a powerful conspicuous tool of influence. Despite its powerful presence, score is relegated “to the viewer’s sensory background” (Gorbman, 1980, p. 182) where moving picture, dialogue, sound effects, and written language are primarily perceived. The cinematic medium positions score subtly, with the viewer less susceptible to  “rigorous judgement and most susceptible to affective manipulation” (Gorbman, 1980, p. 182).

The experience of music as part of the cinematic medium differs further from attending a concert or listening to a record as the viewer recognises it is firstly,  a fundamental dialect of film and therefore an “essential part of communication and argument in film” (Green, 2010, p. 82). Secondly it exists because the story requires it (Sim, 2013). According to Michael Fink, Professor of Cinematic Arts, the viewer also “willingly accepts any style of music, as long as it is right for the movie” (1990, p. 53). However, in a 2017 paper, Dr. Sylvie Magerstädt suggests a more complex phenomenon whereby familiar musical elements are utilised to help the audience engage more readily with any “fresh perspectives and variables” offered through the cinematic experience (Magerstädt, 2017, pg. 115).

Why is the audience positioned to engage with score so readily? Jenefer Robinson and Robert Hatten assert in their essay Emotions in Music, that “listeners may be invited not only to recognise the emotions expressed in such music but also to experience these emotions themselves, either actually or in imagination, by empathising with the musical persona as he or she travels on a psychological journey through music” (Robinson & Hatten, 2012, p. 71). Two other papers identified the importance of empathy and its effect on film enjoyment. When audience members were able to recognise their feelings while viewing on screen distress they reported a higher level of empathy which resulted in greater enjoyment of the film experience (Egermann & McAdams, 2013; Vuoskoski et al., 2012). This suggests that viewers experience pleasure in emoting with film, even if the emotions are perceived as distressing. 

If music does indeed invite empathy through emotional identification, how does it elicit these emotions? It is difficult to define exactly what the brain is corresponding to, however, music independent of film, has a demonstrated physiological effect on pulse and respiration, regardless of genre or form (Meyer, 2008). Gorbman surmises esoterically, that music, a “nonreferential language,” “enjoys a direct line to the ‘soul’" (1998, pg. 60). The author also notes that the circulation of energy, tension and penultimate resolution of that tension is pleasurable. Tappolet adds that understanding the music is another source of pleasure for the listener (Gorbman, 1988; Robinson & Tappolet, 1996). As such, music can be regarded as both a “medium for the expression of emotion” and a “source or cause of emotional states in listeners” (Keane, 1982, pg. 112).

That being said, there is some debate whether music can at all “represent” or “present” emotions. Igor Stravinksy purported that it is the listener’s preoccupation with the nature of what is being evoked that gives music the illusion of expression (Budd, 1989). Austrian music critic Eduard Hanslick argued that music can only mimic the “dynamic properties of our feelings, not the feelings themselves” (Hanslick, 1891, p. 24). That it might mimic emotional states by its very momentum, for example level of intensity, speed, strength and weakness. While this may concord to feeling, it is not feeling itself. Yet Finish author Elina Packalén reports emotional contour (Johnson, 1997), or the ability to mimic emotional state through musical momentum is an unreliable means of measuring emotion in music (2008). Steven Davies further detracts from music’s ability to represent emotion and dissuades any communicative ability as compared to language. He asserts it is closer to a “representational painting in that it depicts” (pg. 276) through use of codified elements that can only recommend or suggest feelings or ideas (Robinson & Tappolet, 1996).

With no definitive understanding of how music elicits emotion in the brain nor music’s proficiency to infer or embody emotion, there remains a strong subjective element to how music emotes and connects the audience to story. As a highly empathetic consumer of music and film, my relationship with music is intrinsically emotional. As a composer, I am keenly aware of the emotions I am attempting to translate into music. I use my personal responses when viewing sketches synced to picture to assess if I am meeting the brief. The quantification of what is being assessed remains elusive to the goal. The goal being whether the music feels “right” for the scene. Composer Henry Mancini describes this as “a certain chill I get when I really ‘get’ a scene” (Karlin & Wright, 2013, pg. 129). This intuitive knowing is regarded as a “process of thinking” wherein the “input to this process is mostly provided by knowledge stored in long-term memory that has been primarily acquired via associative learning” and “processed automatically and without conscious awareness” (Plessner et al., 2011, p. 4). An experiential and dynamic mode, intuition is rapid, powerful, and difficult to verbalise, yet can be regarded as a highly accurate means of decision making when the associative learning is relevant to the task at hand (Plessner et al., 2011; Willgoss, 2018). Using my lifetime of experience as a consumer of film and music and of my expertise in music production, am I subconsciously perpetuating genre conventions and syntax coded in my own music, informed by my intuition?

Listeners learn to interpret the meaning music creates through exposure to musical conventions (Green, 2010). This informs expectations as Fred Karlin and Rayburn Wright summarise;

“The score must do what the audience expects it to do at all the right places: to lift them up, excite them, make them curious, and move them” (Karlin & Wright, 2013, pg. 129).

Horror composer Christopher Young impresses that the composer must “do something” with the score and that the score must “make its point immediately” by embracing conventions that “will win a certain part of your audience over” (Karlin & Wright, 2013, pg. 129). While this is deemed a professional responsibility of the composer, how this is conducted is highly individual (Karlin & Wright, 2013). The role of the film composer is to communicate something, and the language with which it communicates is through musical conventions. 

As previously mentioned, a brief is approached subjectively, intuitively and with a sufficiency of conventions. The director’s creative vision, genre conventions of the film itself and considerations of the intended audience inform which musical conventions a composer should first consider. On a scene by scene basis; intentions discusses in the spotting session, diegetic, non-diegetic, narrative and character needs inform the next. Composer Travis J Weller notes most astutely that;

“Being able to convey emotion through music is highly personal, intimate, and instinctive. A composer must place themselves into a human situation that requires them to tap into those emotions and trust their intuition. Composers hear what has yet not been heard, reach into the subconscious (emotions) from the conscious (feelings) mind, and mould an emotion into sonic existence… The composer must find ways to open that channel so that a basic idea becomes complex, and an inner emotion moves outwards to a felt and shared experience. As a composer, emotions (subconscious) are informed by life experiences, and feelings (conscious) become tangible expressions.” (Weller, 2021, p. 1) 

A composer works with palate, instrumentation, tonalities, harmonic language, metre, register, texture, timbre and expression to create these tangible expressions. Musicologist Ulla Pohjannoro’s exploratory case-study of a composer’s process, described “compositional thinking as continuous and appropriate fluctuations of intuitive and reflective ideation, monitored by metacognitive function” (2014, p. 1). She notes the composer’s “germinal ideas” were salient through “elaborat[ion], transcri[ption], and embodi[ment of] multimodal ideas, step-by-step, into musical passages of the evolving score” (Pohjannoro, 2014). This in turn resolves into compositional thinking, which then manifests into tangible representation such as in the form of a manuscript, followed by “intuitive aspirations entered the conscious mind and subsequently opened themselves up for reflective processes” (Pohjannoro, 2014, p. 1).

The intuitive decisions are informed by the composer’s intent to support the story. This has been expressed by many accomplished composers in the industry, though their processes differ considerably. Jerry Goldsmith, shared the following about his process; 

“What I try to do is get inside people. I want to get below the surface, Try and anticipate what the person is feeling emotionally. What’s motivating the person as we see him is most important.” (Karlin & Wright, 2013, p. 137)

Thomas Newman also focuses on subtext, stating; “I’m not there to tell an audience what’s happening so much as underline and deepen an experience, often by subtext as opposed to parallel comment” (Karlin & Wright, 2013, p. 129). Bernard Herrmann stressed that the “key to good film music was the ability of the composer to seek out and intensify the inner emotions of the characters, not just to illustrate and accompany the drama but to get inside it” (Sinyard, 2013, p. 1).  However, Howard Shore warns that “you really cannot convincingly put much more emotional substance into a character than is there” (Karlin & Wright, 2013, p. 137). Long-term collaborator of Joel and Ethan Coen, Carter Burwell, accredits the music as speaking for characters who do not have the vocabulary to “describe their feelings” (Ehrlich, 2015, p. 1). Instead of highlighting the subtext, Alexandre Desplat tries to “bring something to the film that it doesn’t have — an extra vibration, an extra sensitivity. Something that’s there but that one cannot yet see or feel… I want to find that gem which is hidden in the film and bring it to the light” (Hazelton, 2022, p. 4). This brings to mind the concept of listening to the film. Alan Silvestri relates this notion to his embodiment of emotion; 

“What I’ve come to realise after all these years is … you have to perform as a film composer … You have to perform every actor's role you have to perform every special effects tracking shot. You internalise it, you see it and it affects you in some way and then something comes out. For me, it's music that comes out. It's conversational … the movie says something, it always goes first, and then I say something back and that's really my experience of it.” Alan Silvestri (Silvestri, 2021, 0:05)

These anecdotes speak collectively of the vast approaches composers use to interrogate narrative. Consistent across this discourse is the importance of identifying emotionally with the character, and being guided by both intuition, craft and the film itself. Of note, the screen composer’s emotional state is often described as a tool of trade and a major contributor to the effectiveness of a composition. 

As mentioned, I personally gauge my composing effectiveness by my emotional response to the sketches synced to picture. Vladimir Koneˇcni infers that this is not of great significance. He states composers may be moved by their own work at the time of writing, however he does not consider this to impact compositional decisions as the sketches undergo revision which dilute the emotion they were informed by (Koneˇcni, 2011, p. 152). This is in opposition to Pohjannoro’s findings and my own experience evidenced by countless examples of signed-off cues that maintained the emotional integrity of the original sketches. Koneˇcni’s assertion, however, is valid and reflects the meta-cognition required to oversee the fluctuation between intuition and reflective practice (Pohjannoro, 2014). Koneˇcni described “the creative process as an emotivist enterprise, one ought to contrast the aesthetic position that great music, like all great art, exists at a necessary distance from its creator and that therefore a calm, analytical mastery is crucial” (2011, p. 153).

The curation of film music is relied upon for a great number of outcomes. A screen composer must be keenly in service of narrative whilst serving a multitude of functions. These include selecting the appropriate conventions whilst incorporating a balance of familiarity and novelty within a bespoke narrative and sound world in order to convey meaning to an audience bearing expectations. Cognitivist Annabel J. Cohen further affixes the restraints of budget, time, and the director’s vision to the process and delineates a composer’s exploitative metacognition of audiovisual stimuli in the cinematic medium as the primary navigation tool (Cohen, 2013; Sim, 2013).

METHODOLOGY

This exegesis is practice-led research, it centres on my personal experience of “creative practice, creative methods and creative output.” This has informed the research design and the output of the research (Sheridan, 2023).

The dominant methods used to gather data for this paper are auto-ethnographic and qualitative. Reflections on rejected sketches, journal entries from the composing period, and a debrief with the director will inform the topics of discourse I discuss with interviewees. These interviewees consist of peers and industry professionals. 

This paper takes a constructionist approach to the information discussed as it recognises that the “individuals’ views are directly influenced by their experiences, and it is these individual experiences and views that shape their perspective of reality” (Corner et al., 2019).

 

THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK

As the process of scoring my Capstone projects was highly iterative, I was in a state of active reflection whilst rewriting cues. This practice exercised reflection-in-action, the first stage of the Reflective Practitioner Cycle popularised by Donald Schön (Wilson, 2008). The interviews conducted provided an opportunity for all practitioners, including myself, to reflect-on-action employing the second stage of the framework. As the purpose of this exegesis is to improve my craft, I have synthesised the practice-led research using the final stage reflection-for-action, as developed by Cowan, (Daley, n.d.).

 

AUTO-ETHNOGRAPHIC MATERIALS

Throughout the research section I will reference auto-ethnographic materials such as journals, feedback notes, and rejected sketches and discuss the reasons they did not meet the director’s brief and how we successfully refined our interpretation in collaboration. I will also share qualitative research obtained across a total of five interviews with industry professionals and composer-director case studies, and expand on the points raised in these case studies in the relevant sections of the Chapter Two. These interviews have been conducted with 2022 AFTRS graduates Hamish Francis (composer) and Isabella Andronos (director) who worked on AFTRS Capstone project Under the Water (2022), and current MAS second year students Madeleine Mallis (composer) and Dylan Nyerges (director) about their collaboration on another AFTRS capstone Bőr (2023) [meaning “skin” in Hungarian]. I will also be reflecting on my collaboration during The Method (2023) with AFTRS MAS second year director Oren Lavie.

Lastly, I draw on expertise from two established professionals: Australian composer Christopher Gordon, an EMMY nominated film composer of such titles as Ladies in Black (2018), Master & Commander (2003), Adore (2013), and Daybreakers (2009) among many others (Christopher Gordon - Awards, n.d.; Gordon, n.d.); and AFTRS Discipline Lead Music, Cameron Patrick, an esteemed conductor, orchestrator, violist and composer specialising in animation whose film credits include Zootopia (2016), Pixar’s Up (2009) and The Sylvester & Tweety Mysteries (1998-2002) for Warner Bros (Discipline Lead, Music, n.d.). 

SCOPE

As The Method (2023) was vast in scope, I will provide an overview before focusing on the opening cue wherein the music was initially perceived as the “wrong” interpretation and took multiple rewrites and pivots to achieve the “right” one. Although I worked very closely with the sound designers on both of my capstones and wrote music to interact with their discipline, further investigation into this collaboration is outside the scope of this paper. This paper will focus on the collaboration between composer and director as that has been most instrumental in improving my ability to support narrative as a practitioner. The themes discussed in this exegesis can be explored within any cross-disciplinary collaboration.

Chapter 2: The Method of Collaboration

In this section I chronologically examine the collaborative practices between Lavie and I across ten days, as we navigated the iterative process of finding the “right” interpretation for the first thirty seconds of The Method’s (2023) opening cue, “1m1.” I also discuss my personal reflections of refining my understanding of the protagonist Deborah in discourse with Lavie and through independent practice with reference to pre-production materials, sketches, resonances and journal entries. Please refer to rejected sketch Versions One to Seven, appendices as indicated. The final mixed version can be referenced via Appendix 13: 1m1 Final Cue. I then discuss insights shared between Lavie and I during our debriefing interview.

THE BRIEF

If you would like to imagine the film music based on the following keywords prior to listening to my interpretations, please refer to Appendix 5: 1m1 Spotting Reference [No Music]. My pre-production emotional tone keywords:

DARK UNDERBELLY – UNHINGED EUPHORIA

EXHAUSTION – VULNERABILITY

DETACHMENT – CONTRADICTION

PULSATING – FRENETIC ENERGY

RISING PANIC – UNDERCURRENT

DENIAL

Told via a non-linear narrative, ageing self-help guru Deborah Katz navigates the fallout from the death by suicide of her only son and the consequent death by suicide of her husband. Deborah is forced to reach out to her former mentor Oscar Talen, but he is unable to assist. As the present overwhelms her, she begins to lose herself to time and her trauma. With nothing left to live for, she decides to follow their path. 

In our initial discussions, Lavie and I decided the score should feel like “treading water for fear of touching the ground.” An undercurrent of tension, almost never commenting on the reality of a situation. I had immediately resonated with the darkness and intensity of the story however when Lavie shared his resonances, they were far less overt than I imagined. I mapped my musical approach (optional reference to Appendix 1: Score Map). This technique was shown to me by Cameron Patrick as a means of drafting score function versus narrative. I then visualised the function of every cue until I felt like I understood the protagonist and the emotional tone. Please refer to Appendix 2: Resonance Reel for Lavie and my selection of resonances. 

Prior to the first sketch of “1m1,” Lavie provided a breakdown of The Method’s (2023) opening cue (Appendix 3: 1m1 Spotting Notes). Having already established such a strong emotional connection, I was confident I would be able to interpret the opening scene effectively, however, this was not the case.

VERSION 1 — 1950s ORCHESTRAL

Friday, 8th September 2023

With reference to the violin swells from 0:58 in The Swimmer (1968) “Opening Title” composed by Marvin Hamlisch, I sketched a lush, swelling dramatic opening cue. Lavie asked if we could pursue an more intimate direction that “leaves room for a more ambiguous interpretation, with a stronger dark-nostalgic edge” (O. Lavie, personal communication, September 8, 2023). He also identified my approach as strongly reminiscent of 1940s and 1950s Hollywood, citing the Mildred Pierce (1945) title sequence, composed by Max Steiner, as opposed to 1970s as outlined in the brief. 

After listening to the Mildred Pierce (1945) title sequence, I realised my first error was neglecting to clarify which part of the The Swimmer (1968) “Opening Title” Lavie was most interested in as it was actually the darker, intimate, opening notes. Secondly, I had not adequately familiarised my ear with the production conventions of 1960s and 1970s orchestral themes. 

We defined the next interpretation as lush yet constrained, a quality of “not letting the emotion to spill out” which renders the theme “perplexing” and “heartbreaking” (O. Lavie, personal communication, September 8, 2023). Lavie shared a personal story with me to invite me into the kind of pain Deborah was feeling. We settled on the emotional tone of “restrained.”

VERSION 2 — CASSANDRA CROSSING (1976) SOUNDALIKE

Saturday, 9th September 2023

I attempted a soundalike of Lavie’s preferred resonance, Jerry Goldsmith’s Cassandra Crossing (1976) “Opening Title.” It was a very interesting exercise to engage an analytical engagement with the resonance rather than emotive. I noticed my ability to interpret production genre improved and I was astounded by Goldsmith’s phrasing. I was, however, doubting my own ability as reflected in this journal excerpt: 

Feeling disheartened this morning. Know I was writing from my mind. I'm not "inside it" yet.

I was questioning my ability this morning. Not to write. But to connect and translate.

It's only Version 2 though. The rewrites will come easier and quicker as I hone in. I'll keep digging, I always do.

But for this, I am being directed. I can only understand this through Oren. And he's pulling the specificity, the narrowness, the dark out of me.

And I am scared of the dark this might require. Like I won't be able to keep my momentum if I sink to it.

I feel my own grief.

I decide to use it. To try again at the very least.

This movie is for crying. I need to be crying when I'm writing.

This movie is sorrow and unease.

It exists under the skin and I need to let it get under mine.

The violins need to be crying.

I need to let my heart break.

(N. Geste, personal communication, September 10, 2023)


After speaking with Lavie in the evening and discussing Version Two, we decided to pivot again. Lavie felt the drama of Version Two was still too climatic and refined the emotional tone further as needing to be “withheld,” and “having the new dark tone swallow it as she opens the door (and maybe have the darker vibe appear toward the end of the shower, taking her to a new memory)” (O. Lavie, personal communication, September 10, 2023).

I reflected that “soundalikes are a great exercise but they are not a substitute for my emotional intelligence. I will rewrite [1m1], it's sitting ‘on top’ of the film because I wasn't ‘in’ it” (N. Geste, personal communication, September 10, 2023). The quality of “in it” had been a marker of the “right” interpretation in the past. I understood that if I could not feel the specific emotion Lavie was envisioning, I could not reproduce it so I asked him what he was listening to when he was writing The Method (2023) because I could not understand the specific quality of “deep sadness” he kept describing.

VERSION 3 — EMOTIVE STRINGS

Sunday, 10th September 2023

When I heard the mixtape Lavie made me, it felt like a gift (refer to Appendix 4: Mixtape from Oren). Thirty-two minutes of curated soundscape. I immediately understood that the “deep sadness” Lavie had been trying to communicate was what I would describe as an all-encompassing grief that demanded stillness. The mixtape detonated whatever personal sorrow I’d been afraid of and I spent the entire day crying in bed. Sitting with it, just like it asked. 

We continued to communicate openly, supportively and with respect. Lavie constantly confirmed his trust in me and warmly embraced me in the iterative process, while I grew more expended. Truthfully, I was unsure what I could bring to the project when Lavie had already selected such pertinent resonances.

I attempted to reimagine the washy emotive strings from 0:37 in the Mixtape into Version Three. Lavie astutely advised that I’d “carrie[d] a single emotion from start to finish” whereas we were “aiming for 2-3 emotional layers, it would be great to start with a softer, more ambiguous energy, alluding to ‘emotions’, and then introduce elements of fear and despair (this layer) as we approach the end of the shower. By the time we get to the door, that second layer should be in full force, possibly even introducing a third layer towards the end to close it out, but not too abruptly” (O. Lavie, personal communication, September 10, 2023). He sent me a cut of three previous cues in staggered entry; Version Two then Version Three. I was dispirited that I’d missed the mark again:

Need a win on the cues but it's not coming yet.

I'm fucking exhausted and I'm pretty over this now.

Today I am not enjoying it at all and I am giving up for the night.

(N. Geste, personal communication, September 11, 2023)

Later that evening, having been mulling over the way Lavie had described the layers of score as rising up and fading away, yet always present under the surface, and inspired by the way he’d cut my cues together, a concept arose in the back of my mind: “It's not one voice, nor one layer. (!)” (N. Geste, personal communication, September 11, 2023).

VERSION 4 — CASSANDRA & LAYERS OF GHEE

Monday, 11th September 2023

I decided to experiment with this concept of cues upon cues to represent the exploration of Deborah’s deep emotional suppression and decided to believe that I could add value to this film through a nuanced curation of story.

My conceptual breakthrough was that I’m usually writing for clarity of voice but that

1. There is no “voice” / no commentary

2. I am representing layers, therefore there needs to be layers in the music I.e. completely different cues layered on each other

(N. Geste, personal communication, September 11, 2023)


And then I had a second flash of inspiration whilst making ghee (clarified butter used in Indian cooking). The butter simmers for a half hour however on this day it was threatening to boil over, more than normal:

I was concerned it might spill over. Then I was like wait. That’s literally the film.

So I recorded 6 mins of it, pitched it down and distorted it.

It’s a long patient process of boiling out the impurities until you get clarity

(It get beautifully clear and translucent)

And I thought that was very ironic.

(N. Geste, personal communication, September 11, 2023)


Lavie was very enthusiastic about the ghee sample, however, his concerns remained that the first thirty seconds of Version Three escalated too quickly. Cassandra Crossing (1976) “Opening Title” lingered in “uncertainty and ambiguity,” creating an atmosphere of “hesitance and seduction.”

VERSION 5 — RESTRAINED HARPSICHORD & ACCIDENTAL PLAGIARISM

Friday, 15th September 2023

I hoped that if I honed in on the “space,” sparser instrumentation would create the ambiguity and tension. Lavie was decided on the unique nostalgia of the harpsichord so I attempted. to bring some sorrow out of it. I felt the lines were melodic yet restrained and that I might have just had a breakthrough. Twenty minutes later I realised I had plagiarised the opening cello line from Janowski’s “Avinu Malkeinu.”

10pm-12am: Rewrote nostalgia 1m1 V05 - am happy

12:20am-12:35am: Realise V05 is plagiarism, cello intro to Avinu Malkeinu

(N. Geste, personal communication, September 11, 2023)

I was concerned Lavie might love it and we’d have a copyright issue but he felt it was too confident and mysterious. I implored Lavie to reconsider the harpsichord as we were desperately lacking emotional expression in the melody. He was readily open to other options. I asked for specific resonances from the mixtape to prime my ears. Lavie sent “This is Hardcore (End of the Line Remix),” the strings that initially inspired Version Three.

VERSION 6 — PENSIVE STRINGS

Saturday, 16th September 2023

The intellectual concept of multilayered cues was too dense an approach. I experimented translating “restrained,” “sensual,” and “sorrow” into the string section. It was closer but still not “right”. 

That evening Lavie spoke to me about Deborah. He said the actor almost had to “not act”. The character is so deep in denial that she almost says nothing. This opening cue is a moment before her life unravels. Deborah is unaware but not exactly blissful, this moment is the closest she comes to letting someone in. The closest to being truthful. Lavie held his hands up near his face as if clouds were resting on his palms and said, “the music needs to sit up here, we never touch the ground.”

And in that moment, I understood.

VERSION 7 — DEBORAH’S THEME

Sunday, 17th September 2023

I sat and watched the opening scene. I considered the tragedy of Deborah’s journey, I tried to embody it. I sat still and “listened” to the space in the visuals. Then I began to hum what I felt and Deborah’s Theme came into existence.

(N. Geste & O. Lavie, personal communication, September 17, 2023)

If you would like to listen to the final iteration of “1m1,” score only, please refer to Appendix 13: 1m1 Final Cue.

DEBRIEF

Lavie and I discussed our experience of collaborating on The Method (2023) almost two months after “1m1” was signed-off. I have summarised the most pertinent points of our debrief as follows:

COLLABORATION, INDEPENDENT PRACTICE & THE “RIGHT” INTERPRETATION

First and foremost, Lavie and I wholeheartedly agree we arrived at the “right” interpretation for “1m1.” There were three pivotal moments that refined my connection to story within collaborative practice:

  1. When I asked Lavie what he was listening to when writing the film, he curated a mixtape for me. I could not write what I could not hear and words were failing us.

  2. When I asked Lavie to let go of the harpsichord and Cassandra Crossing (1976) resonance. He shared that he had a preexisting connection to this resonance that was perhaps contributing to a bias. The opportunity to ideate a theme informed by my personal connection and contextual understanding of the film, as opposed to attempting to interpret how the resonance was functioning in Lavie’s mind, was integral to my arrival at Version Seven.

  3. Lavie’s description of Deborah “not saying anything,” explaining that the actor was also “barely acting,” and further defining the ungrounded spatial location of the film “sitting up here” elucidated the specific qualities in my music needed to “speak” for her.

Two final moments of note that directly contributed to my arrival at Version Seven occurred in my independent practice. The first was when I allowed myself drop into the depth of grief the story required of me, and secondly, when I stopped approaching the film cognitively and decided to listen, and then respond to it.

INTUITION

In terms of intuition, when I was thinking analytically or from a place of anxiety, I was unable to tap into my instincts which manifested as a feeling of disconnect between music and picture. Lavie and I both recognised the role of intuition in our individual practise, in the way we related to the artefact, and also in the decision to collaborate with each other on this specific project.

During our discussion I was surprised to learn Lavie was very hesitant to send me the mixtape as it contained such definitive resonances, however, it was exactly the specificity that I required. Whilst I was questioning my ability during the iterative process, Lavie expressed being comfortable as he 1) knew we were “in the ballpark,” 2) had complete trust in my ability, and 3) sees the creative process akin to “rendering.” The image emerges, slowly revealing itself. “Scrapping ideas” is part of the process.

SCORE FUNCTION

To define “1m1” by one of of Copeland’s functions, I believe the musical approach in Version Seven “underlines psychological refinement” (Fink, 1990, p. 24) as it is allowing the audience a glimpse of Deborah’s inner-world in a rare moment that she is somewhat vulnerable. At first reflection I assumed the opening theme was expressive, as opposed to informative, however, the distant, melancholic melody contradicts her soft demeanour in the shower (Sbravatti, 2016). I queried if “1m1” is in fact, informing the viewer that this film may subvert their expectations by demonstrating how they will identify with Deborah; at a distance.

Having written Version Seven, it is apparent how ill-fitting the previous iterations were to superimpose overt emotion on such a reserved character. Had I been able to identify the way the rejected sketches were functioning and the possible alternatives from the perspective of film theory at the time of composing, perhaps I would have quicker understood what Lavie was, and wasn’t hearing.

(N. Geste & O. Lavie, personal communication, November 10, 2023)

Chapter 3: Interviews & Findings

In this section I expand on the themes established in my auto-ethnographic research and collaborative reflection with Lavie. I speak to two director-composer case studies who also required significant rewrites to arrive at the “right” interpretation on their AFTRS Capstone projects. The interviewees are Hamish Francis (composer) and Isabella Andronos (director) of short film Under the Water (2022), and Madeleine Mallis (composer) and Dylan Nyerges (director) of AFTRS capstone short film Bőr (2023) [“skin”]. I then contextualise broader composition specific advice surrounding narrative and collaboration from interviews with Christopher Gordon and Cameron Patrick. I will provide one in-text reference per interview upon its first mention and refer to the relevant practitioner by their surname thereafter.

INTERVIEWS

CASE STUDIES, COLLABORATION & THE “RIGHT” INTERPRETATION

Collaborating on mapping a nuanced emotional arc of their protagonist scene-by-scene was the turning point for Francis and Andronos who were previously struggling to arrive at the “right” interpretation for the final cue in their film Under the Water (2022) (I. Andronos, H. Francis & N. Geste, personal communication, November 17, 2023). Hamish noted that he “did not understand the [protagonist’s headspace] until they sat down together” to map it out on a whiteboard. From that point onwards Francis realised his initial approach did not accurately represent the lead’s emotional journey and Andronos understood her first directive, a “small hint of optimism,” was not an accurate description of the complex emotions Francis needed to represent.

For Mallis and Nyerges, it was a conflict of genre and how the conventions of horror were erasing the protagonist from her own story (N. Geste, D. Nyerges & M. Mallis, personal communication, November 22, 2023). Mallis purported that she needed to learn who the character was before she gave them music, though, it was not until a producer highlighted a lack of emotional representation of the central character that Mallis realised the character had been overlooked. Other barriers to her creative approach were expectations of her own innovation which interfered with her ability to explore Nyerges’ vision unencumbered. It was Nyerges’ initial musical inspiration, an Armenian folk tone, established prior even to the script, that “found its way back” and aided the successful reimagining of the final scene. Mallis and Nyerges further deliberated the emotional role of music in the final scene as their decision would significantly influence the direction of meaning considering the visual contradicted the voiceover. They reached a successful outcome through collaboration and discourse around story and genre. 

Both pairs, in collaboration, took time to respond to the film. They worked together to refine the way they communicated to each other about emotional nuance and heavily interrogated the character’s motives in the scene they were scoring. I notice that the first approach was that of a broad brush stroke. Each composer, myself included, approached the cue from a singular emotional lens which, compared to the eventuating cues, was simplistic in hindsight. Once we understood the scene and its implications on the character we were speaking for, we were able to score authentically to the narrative beat-by-beat, achieving the quality of music sitting “inside” the film. 

My discussions with Francis, Andronos, Mallis and Nyerges provided some invaluable insight into collaborative iteration. They also comprised some broader practical considerations which I believe would support a composer in their process and provide some adjacent ways of approaching issues connecting to story. I have summarised below:

STORY CONSIDERATIONS OUTSIDE OF CHARACTER REPRESENTATION

  • When collaborating with directors, Patrick recommends being sensitive to the possibility that director’s may have been incubating their story for years (N. Geste & C. Patrick, personal communication, November 09, 2023). Further being aware that this longterm familiarity may impact a director’s ability to externalise and simplify narrative information to a music practitioner, especially for a medium such as short film.

  • Patrick espouses the role of a composer is to balance the storytelling needs with the director’s vision and personal integrity of craft. Gordon took this a step further when he orchestrated Mao’s Last Dancer (2009) (N. Geste & C. Gordon, personal communication, October 11, 2023). Keenly aware of both where the film was intended to screen and the aesthetic expectation of those audiences, Gordon started with a simple, culturally sensitive theme played by Chinese instruments, before incorporating piano motifs appealing to Australian viewers. In the final scene, Gordon introduced rousing strings leaving international audiences with the impression of a Hollywood ending.  

  • Patrick suggests a composer consider what percentage of storytelling space music is required to fill in both independent and collaborative practice. Had I queried “1m1” from this perspective, I believe I may have realised that one hundred percent was not the goal for the opening scene. Had I queried this in Lavie’s company I would have been expedited to the conclusion. 

  • When met with negative feedback on a sketch, Patrick recommends ascertaining if the issue a collaborator is hearing may actually be due to register, timbre or mix and not with the content itself. This line of questioning can alleviate unnecessary deviations from a score that is functioning well. The ability to hear potential in rudimentary sketches is not something all collaborators are well-versed in. 

  • If struggling with direction, Patrick encourages a composer to just start somewhere; “write something and see if it sticks.” Francis builds on this by stating “you can’t edit a blank page” and if the sketch does not feel “right,” the discourse on its ill-suited narrative function will only serve to refine a composer’s  connection to story. When an interpretation is not working, Gordon suggests a composer look for the transitions as this is so often a catalyst for narrative consequence and tension. As a narrative orientation exercise, Francis recommends referring to original spotting notes containing first instincts and emotional tone resonances as a “keystone” for every composing session. 

INDEPENDENT PRACTICE & PREPARATION

  • Francis encourages composers to “trust that people want your compositional voice.” He suggests composers lean into their personal perspective to provide a tension which enhances dialogue that elicits an authentic understanding of character. Patrick, who impressed this upon Francis, remarked similarly in our interview. In order to respond authentically, a composer must find how they resonate with a character. Patrick also advised a composer should always be able to offer alternatives and logically explain any musical decision even if it appears to be intuitive. 

  • Francis prefers to establish the emotional tone and sonic palate in pre-production and establish himself with a framework prior to meeting the director. This is consistent with Gordon’s process and places significant value on his solo spotting sessions. The outcome of this practice is the utility of the initial emotional response to inform the development of early material prior to the first spotting session. 

  • Gordon advises the emerging composer to learn how to “not be precious about your work,” whilst still believing in it. When struggling to iterate, know there is so often another angle.

FINDINGS 

As evidenced by the varied issues and solutions discussed in the interviews, every project and collaborator is unique. No one method can be extrapolated, and the decision to abandon Lavie’s initial resonance in favour of the composer’s interpretation had the opposite effect for Mallis and Nyerges. However, there are definitive themes and resources a composer can access to assist in cultivating their personal connection to story. 

TRIADIC RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN COMPOSER, DIRECTOR & ARTEFACT

My first theory is that there is a triadic relationship between the composer-director, director-artefact, artefact composer. Collaboration, emotion, translation, and intuitive dialogue exist between each relationship. The composer is interpreting the director’s vision however the artefact, the film itself, is also “speaking” to the collaborators.

COLLABORATION

Secondly, there appears to be two modes of practice: collaboration and independent work. A composer must synthesise and interpret the director’s notes, brief, the creative vision, and/or connection to story in an autonomous space. Yet screen composers cannot rely exclusively on collaboration nor on independent practice. The collaborative space can be an invaluable container of support, inspiration, encouragement, growth, validation, and insight. As a bi-lateral space of discovery, it can provide an opportunity to develop and bounce ideas, hone connection to story and be enlightened by a cross-disciplinary perspective. The discipline perspective and personal artistic biases of the collaborator can complement and enhance the film. Lavie’s specificity laden The Method (2023) with depth and cohesion. During Rehabilitating (2023), director Playford’s choice of credits song was stylistically left of field, however, it emboldened the conclusion with a feeling of beginning anew. This was not something I was expecting, nor a direction I had intuited. From what I have observed on my own projects and within the interviews; collaboration, when navigated with respect, communication, support, trust, and openness, only serves to enhance the art, and elevates the skill of all practitioners involved. 

COMMUNICATION

In terms of communicating within collaboration, words alone are inadequate unless accompanied by an experiential sharing of resonances. Listening Lavie’s mixtape allowed me to feel the intended emotion for the audience and therefore translate story to score effectively through my embodied experience of the emotion.

Creating a series of questions can help a composer mitigate misdirected connection to story. Suggested questions as suggested by interviewees and myself are:

“What were you listening to when you were writing this?”

“What do you want the audience to feel in this moment?

“If you could describe this film in five words using emotional language, what would they be?”

“How do you like to receive and provide feedback?”

“What’s the emotional intent behind this action? What is the character’s headspace?”

“In this character, what can you resonate with authentically from your lived experience?”

“What do you want the audience to walk away with?”


A composer can benefit from questioning if they are centring the “right” character and by leaning on their your collaborators to verbally process connection to story. Within these discussions, interrogate the character, their relationships and motives with the people around them. Then choose instruments that work with the way you want to write. Use resonances to develop language around emotional tone and palate with the director, do this as early in the process as possible. Choose resonances that elicit the same emotional response intended for the audience, analyse the function of this cue in its original work and translate how that would fit in your own project.

INDEPENDENT PRACTICE 

When working independently, a screen composer can use practical tools such as score mapping, familiarising yourself with script, visualising the score. To tap into emotion, it is important to access this experientially by placing yourself in a character's position while exploring your own emotional response. Your personal experience of life is an invaluable resource, lean into your unique perspective so much that it becomes divisive. Assume your collaborators chose to work with you for a reason.

To remain musically fit, Gordon recommends a daily routine that involves some type of musical practice. A structured routine combined with his meticulous organisation create an environment that cultivates curiosity, play and intuition.

EXPECTATION

At AFTRS, we did not always have the luxury of choosing a project that we were connected to and excited about. I noticed the more unfamiliar I was with the musical language that fit the emotional tone, the more effort, research and conceptualising it took to develop my skills. A focus on rejected sketches can provide valuable information, no less so than feedback on the “right” interpretation. All feedback is valuable in interrogating the vision for the film, and can at times feel like a personal comment on your skillset. Incorporate and schedule solitude periods into private practice to meditate and reflect on feedback. This will give you time to digest and incubate alternate perspectives and disappointing feedback before responding to required changes.

Expect and welcome iterations, rewrites, trial, and error, especially as an emerging composer. Try and enjoy the exploration and allow the art to speak to you.

Conclusion

The majority of sources referenced in this paper that debate music’s ability to express or elicit emotion have based their premise on works that are released. Works that were perhaps enjoyed in a cinema, with excellent sound and immersive visuals. The environment in which one consumes film and film music has an influence on the experience, and the experience of cinema is far richer in company (Baranowski & Hecht, 2014). It is much more difficult for a composer to act when in isolation, as an effective audience proxy to assess the validity of their vulnerable nascent ideas. If a screen composer can assess a sketch’s function, or lack-there-of, from 1) the perspective of film theory employing a robust understanding of the functional options for film music, 2) embodied knowledge as a consumer of film, and 3) emotional experience of music balanced with metacognition; they will then have access to all the factors that influence the cinematic experience, and be best placed to support the director and narrative with their craft.

So, the simple answer to the question;

In what ways can a screen composer refine their personal connection to story to align with a director’s vision?

Through conversations and ongoing discourse around the character’s intentions, motivations, and inner world. Time spent interrogating story and time spent absorbing resonances that reflect what the story makes you feel. Find a way to connect your personal lived experience so you can balance what is authentic to you with the functional needs of the score and then employ trial and error. There is always another perspective.

As a screen composer my contribution to film is one of the most influential elements. When a fine cut is received by the composer, it is an artefact that represents countless conversations with the cinematographer, production designer, actors, and editor. It represents care, thought, friendship, and possibility. I see myself as the custodian of the audience’s experience. I am the fresh eyes and meaning maker. If scenes are lacking energy or do not make sense to me, I question it, and create cohesion across the story through music. The composer is in a privileged position to be able to interpret and make meaning out of the efforts of high level collaboration preceding them. As such, we have a professional and artistic responsibility as custodians of the precursory practitioners’ work, the audience’s experience, and as audience members ourselves, to connect to story and serve the art.

Videos courtesy of The Method (2023) cinematographer Alex Shingles (2023).