Solarmax is
an Australian documentary that, the
film’s website tells us, is ‘a 40-minute
giant-screen documentary that tells
the story of humankind's struggle to
understand the sun.’ I haven’t seen
the film and so have to judge the music
divorced of the image, a somewhat problematic
position as film music is not composed
to be heard in isolation.
Music has been an important
component of cinema since its early
days. Even ‘silent cinema’ is a misnomer
as live music (and occasionally recorded
music on early gramophone technology)
accompanied the images. This had two
main functions: it helped drown the
racket of the projector and helped audiences
understand the images as it helped focus
audience attention on the screen and
signified the scene’s emotional tone.
Whilst film is obviously
primarily a visual medium, it is wrong
to assume that the soundtrack merely
reinforces what we see. Sound’s role
is much more important as it not only
adds an aural dimension to what we see
it also, through the mix, emphasises
what is important and, through the music,
helps to cue audience response. It’s
interesting that audiences, who would
otherwise never do so, are happy to
listen to ‘classical style’ music in
films. Indeed, horror films are often
accompanied by music that has a minority
following even within ‘classical’ music.
The atonal dissonances that assist in
raising tension have their roots in
Schoenberg’s 12-tone system; he tutored
Hollywood composers during the 1940s.
Whilst listening to
Westlake’s music, the best known film
that he has scored is Babe (Australia,
1995), the following composers were
conjured from the music: John Adams,
Copland, Handel, Ligeti, Arvo Pärt,
Reich and Vaughan Williams. This is
unsurprising as film music is often
pastiche; it has to quickly evoke a
mood or emotion and so draws on conventional
aural meaning. The Ligeti reference
reminds me of 2001: A Space Odyssey
(1968), but other than that hardly draws
upon what we might expect from a science
fiction film, the genre nearest to the
subject of this documentary. Hearing
those composers is pleasurable, rather
less so is the syrupy theme that’s reminiscent
of John Williams’ more melodramatic,
as against action, film scores.
The music is most interesting
when it draws upon ‘ethnic’ sounds and
uses a variety of instruments such as
the Zamponas (Andean panpipes), the
Koto and Shakuhachi. The bone flute
is, presumably, the instrument that
evokes the aborigines, appropriately
given the Australian provenance of this
documentary. These ‘ethnic’ sounds (that
is non-western) are – as far as I can
tell from the track-listing – used to
evoke the primeval (track three is called
‘First Light’). This draws on the convention
that western culture has lost touch
with its roots and only ‘primitive cultures’
can be used to evoke a pre-civilised
time.
The disc offers incidental
music, short pieces that often seem
to peter out just as they appear to
be going somewhere. Even if I had seen
the film I can’t imagine I’d want to
own this disc. This is not a criticism
of Westlake, his music is not designed
to be listened to in isolation. However
there are some exciting percussion-driven
moments to remember; otherwise an aural
memento of the documentary.
Nick Lacey
Sydney Chamber Choir/Nicholas Routley (soloists
and musicians) 