Olivier Messiaen is
the next composer to be feted, in a
major retrospective at London’s South
Bank from February to December 2008.
This film, complied from archive material
dating back 50 years, and more recent
interviews with people who knew him
well, comes at an opportune time. Despite
his importance in the European music
scene, Messiaen is under-appreciated
in the UK.
He was a man so full
of paradoxes that no film can cover
all aspects of his work in full, but
this film is a good, reliable introduction.
It’s a good medium through which to
approach the composer, who was so fond
of images and allusion. Film works the
same way, for it, too, uses oblique
images to express what cannot be explained
in words.
The film starts with
a panoramic sweep over the canyons of
Utah, which so inspired the composer.
We see the ancient rock formations,
and the high peaks. The camera moves,
showing the interplay between light
and shade, cold and warm colours, jagged
shapes and the vast, smooth expanse
of the sky. The music playing is "From
the Canyons to the Stars". For
Messiaen, open wildernesses like these
were cathedrals, cathedrals of nature
which released the deep, spiritual response
that found expression in his music.
"Man hasn’t been
on this earth that long, "says
Messiaen, "Before us there were
prehistoric monsters, but in between
there were birds". "Birds
invented the chromatic and diatonic
scales, quarter tones, sixth tones,
they even invented group improvisation."
We see the composer in his "native
habitat" in the words, listening
to birdsong. We hear what he hears,
and then get to see how he’s notated
it on music paper – without bar lines,
and in distinctive squiggles. Messiaen
was a formidably well trained ornithologist,
who studied birds like musicians study
instruments. Moreover, he was alive
to the extreme individuality of each
bird, and heard each one even within
the cacophony of a dawn chorus. This
intent listening forms the basis of
so much that is characteristic in his
music. Detail matters. Densities are
built up from small, precise particles.
Yet Messiaen isn’t merely transposing
bird song, but recreating its spirit
in terms of orchestral music. "A
landscape painter doesn’t photograph
a landscape", he explains, "he
renders the effect of a landscape".
We can hear this in footage where Boulez
and Aimard, two of the composer’s closest
associates, play several pieces.
Each note is lucidly
clear, yet vivid. Later there’s a shot
taken from a bird’s eye view, way up
above the piano. Aimard’s fingers move
across the keyboard, with the jerky
but natural movements of a bird. It’s
almost certainly not conscious, as Aimard
is playing intuitively, not literally.
Later we see a young Nagano conduct
a rehearsal in the composer’s presence.
Much has been made of how Messiaen influenced
others like Boulez, Cage, Stockhausen,
Xenakis, Benjamin, and Murail, but less
of his more oblique influence on performance
practice. These films clearly demonstrate
how much modern conducting has evolved
out of Messiaen’s ideas. His reasons
for detailed, lucid precision become
clear. This is not soulless, cerebral
music-making at all. On the contrary,
it’s intensely organic, and clarity
of detail, in music as in nature, is
fundamental.
Ultimately, Messiaen’s
fascination with birds and nature is
just a facet of his much further-reaching
fascination with spiritual depth. He
was interested in Japan, not just because
of its exotic sound-worlds, but because
the Japanese had "an innate sense
of the sacred". Like the Japanese,
Messiaen believed in communion with
nature. He was an extremely devoted
Catholic, for whom all things represented
God’s work. If the film doesn’t go into
much detail about his use of gamelan,
ondes martenot and "alien"
sounds, it’s compensated by some very
good footage of the composer humbly
entering the organ loft, and climbing
the narrow stairs to play, alone, for
the glory of God and what he so firmly
believed in. We hear organ notes held
in almost improbably long resonance,
while the camera pans from the keys
upwards to the gigantic pipes and then
skyward, through the light shining in
from the stained glass window. The sound
seems to exist beyond human and mechanical
agency.
The film tries bravely
to assess Messiaen’s ideas on colour
and sound.. "Here’s what I see,
literally" he says of a score,
"Blue-violet rock strewn over with
little grey cubes. Cobalt blue, Prussian
blue, with purple-crimson reflections,
black, white and silver stars … but
these are colours of music. If you tried
to reproduce them on canvas they might
be horrible, because they’re not that
kind of colours, they’re musician’s
colours not painter’s colours".
Since all people perceive colour differently,
this is still one of the trickier aspects
of Messiaen’s ideas to come to terms
with. Because there’s so much archive
material available, it’s used in the
film, but I’m not sure how it would
be possible to explain the concepts
except by suggesting that they reaffirm
the composer’s essentially intuitive,
impressionistic approach.
This film is valuable
for its archive footage of live performance.
They’ve been edited by someone who understands
the critical points in the music and
what the performers are doing. The interviews
are also very useful, and the landscape
photography is dramatic. In a short
film like this, you can’t really expect
too much detail without losing the bigger
picture, and there are constraints based
on what’s available in the archive.
But that’s fair enough, as there’s so
much to listen to and learn that this
serves as a taster to spur you on. For
me, it’s wonderful just to see the footage
of Messiaen and Loriod in the woods,
tracking down birds, and listening.
Later, Messiaen is at home on the terrace
giving an interview, while the birds
in his garden join in, interrupting
most appositely.
Anne Ozorio
A film by Olivier Mille (director) 
IDEAL AUDIENCE DVD9DS44 [67:00]
