Can the Pieces See the Puzzle?
Whenever I watch a film, I pay special attention to the score. For me, a good score is easily more important than the story, cinematography, directing, and acting combined.
Why? After all, there is no “most important” part of a film through which the entire work can be fairly analyzed. But boy, do I love analyzing everything I watch through the score. For me, the score shapes the story. It shapes the emotional impact of the strongest plot elements, colors the cinematography more than the cameras do and humanizes the actors more than their acting - giving the viewer a better perspective on the unfolding events than Tarantino could.
The reason this is the case for me is simple: As a composer myself, I am quite biased.
The other day I was watching the film Clinical on Netflix, with the intention of writing an article about the novelty of a film about mental illness choosing to take the perspective of the psychiatrist rather than the patient. I have not written that article yet, because I was distracted by the soundtrack of the film. I was not enjoying the soundtrack of Clinical, and it was making me judge the entire film negatively within the first minute of the opening credits. I put a pause on my intended venture to embark on this detour (I have not, in fact, finished watching Clinical). It made me wonder— Do writers look at films through a narrowed perspective as well? Directors? Heck, do costume designers understand and appreciate a film primarily through its costume design?
Film is a holistic art form – an amalgamation of many arts. Is it impossible for an artist to fully appreciate a film in its entirety? Are we all inevitably distracted by our narrow focus upon the piece of the puzzle that we are versed in?
It is an interesting conundrum. After all, those who become most invested in film are typically those who are technically skilled in one of the art forms that film is composed of. Often, they are people who aspire to get involved in production themselves or have been involved in the past—for example, I have scored several short films and scenes with the goal of becoming a better composer. Are the people responsible for a particular piece of the puzzle doomed to never see the bigger picture themselves, being confined to their own little square?
This was mildly depressing to consider. After all, I’d like to think I’m capable of appreciating films as a holistic art form, keeping it apart from my love of composing. But for me, a bad score can destroy an otherwise brilliant film, while a good score can make me overvalue a weaker work.
Maybe the solution is to try and become as many pieces of the puzzle as possible through brute force. However, this is not something just anyone can accomplish, and not something I imagine many people would want to attempt, either. Artists are distinguished by their devotion to their own little slice of creation—a composer would be uninclined to abandon their musical passion for, say, camerawork, and vice versa. Due to the nature of film, there is no solution to this problem. Film is not pure, in the sense that no art form will reach its greatest heights in a movie – after all, Beethoven’s 9th is not a film score and wouldn’t function as one unless the entire film were designed around it. Similarly, a film is not designed around any given art; It’s one big cooperative compromise between all the arts, which inevitably means that the potential of each individual art must be diluted.
Ultimately, the solution to my little problem is to accept this fact and try to enjoy films for what they are, not seeking my much-desired musical fulfillment from a random Netflix movie. Maybe I’ll always have a somewhat narrow perspective on film due to my creator’s bias, but if I keep the identity of film as an artistic compromise in mind, I hope I can learn to approach new films with a more open mind.
Speaking of which, I should finish watching Clinical. I may not like the music, but I did like the story concept. Maybe I’ll write that article about the cool perspective it seemed to take – or maybe I’ll just write a long rant about how much I disliked the soundtrack . . .