The film TÁR

The best sermons are ones that leave you with something to chew on, something to apply to your life or someone else’s life, to ponder, to wrestle with.  Something more than just a trifle to forget as soon as it ends.  The same applies to film.  And while I may not rush out to watch Todd Field’s TÁR a second time, I can’t stop thinking about it.  And really, what more could you ask of a work of art?

Cate Blanchett inhabits roles like few others, and her portrayal of conductor, composer and author Lydia Tár is no exception, a mesmerizing tour de force, as she employs not only her prodigious acting talents, but also skills she acquired for the role: conducting, piano playing, and speaking German.  Honestly, it’s ridiculous.  As Vogue writer Taylor Antrim concluded in his review of the film, “Just give her the Oscar.”  I couldn’t agree more. 

The film dives deeply into the world of music, and it helps to have some knowledge of the language of music when watching Tár.  My non-musical wife may have enjoyed the journey, but not as much as I did, and I probably didn’t enjoy it as much as my classical musician friends will, all of whom I immediately texted when I finished watching the movie.  It’s not often that the world of classical music is portrayed on film so thoughtfully and thoroughly, and I think they’ll get to experience Tár on an even deeper level than I did.

But at its core, the world of classical performing is like any other business: there is politics, jockeying for position, mind games, personality conflicts, concerns about marketing and money, and wrestling with loyalty, legacy, family, power and control – and it’s these universal qualities that allow the film to be appreciated no matter what expertise you may or may not bring to the table.  That is, as long as you can handle a running time of 158 minute.

But time in film can stretch and contract just like tempo in music can ritard or accelerate (much like Tár describes in the opening scene of the film when she’s interviewed at a public gathering). What’s amazing is how much time Field spends on the slow build of Tár’s journey, as we learn about her musical expertise, her celebrity, her home life with wife Sharon and adopted daughter Petra, her struggles to tune out extraneous sounds that hamper with the more important tasks at hand… and how little time is spent on the earth-shattering changes that occur within the last half an hour of the film.

This is where Field’s expertise really shines, as he tells us just enough to draw our own conclusions, but not so much that he hits us over the head with an unambivalent outcome (the way, say, Everything Everywhere All at Once did last spring, somewhat marring an otherwise excellent movie).  Other deftly-written scenes lack ambiguity but are amazingly efficient at telling us what we need to know with very little.  I won’t spoil anything, but there are two brief scenes – one in a PR firm’s office, and one in Lydia’s childhood home – that both last no more than 30 seconds and illuminate so much about her life without getting bogged down in the details.  Honestly, Field could have made another film – Tár 2, if you will – expanding the last twenty minutes into a 2-hour feature film.  There certainly would have been enough intrigue to coax me back into the theater (and this film must be seen in a theater if you have the opportunity).  Instead, he speeds up the last half an hour of the film, just as composer might for a symphony’s climax. 

As it is, the film leaves me with questions, something I appreciate in a good movie. Why does Tár throw out a book she receives as a gift, a book adorned by an artistic pattern similar to one on a metronome in her home and to one her daughter makes with clay?  I don’t know.  I suspect there’s something I missed.  Is the scream Tár heard in a park really happening or is it in her head?  What exactly is she guilty of, and were the consequences of her actions just or unjust?

I don’t know.  But I can’t wait to ask my friends about it after they see the movie.

Just like a good sermon.

Scoring the film "Preheated"

My daughter Sarah’s animated short “Preheated,” which she collaborated on with classmate Luke Snedecor, currently has over 1.7 million hits on YouTube, which means that my film score has now been heard over 1,699,000 times more frequently than all of my other original compositions combined.  That’s the power of getting behind the right project!

Composing my first score was a challenge, and it’s the existence of digital recording that made it even remotely possible.  How the old-timers Franz Waxman, Bernard Hermann and the like were able to compose and record amazing scores for live orchestras, all within tight budgets and timelines, is mind-boggling.  I simply don’t understand how they did it.  The advent of soft synths and sequencers has opened up the world of scoring to countless composers who may not even know how to play an instrument, but that doesn’t mean it’s an easy process, at least not for a newbie; the six minutes of music for “Preheated” took me about three months to compose and record.

Part of the challenge was getting up to speed on four new pieces of software: the new version of Cakewalk (now free!) by BandLab, Native Instrument’s Komplete 11, Passion Flute by Orange Tree Samples, and ProjectSam’s Swing More.  Sarah, Luke and I had all agreed that the score should incorporate jazzy and big-band elements, so the latter two pieces of software really came in handy, though I learned quickly that even really good software has its limitations.  I sometimes wanted more punch from the trumpets and I had to find workarounds to get the sounds I wanted, but Swing More provided me with a great pallet to choose from, and I was particularly happy with the Dixieland music for the film’s end credits.  Passion Flute was perfect for this project – very easy to use and it responded just the way I needed.

Another challenge was timing.  Sarah and Luke needed every minute of available time to complete the movie, so the final rendering of the film wouldn’t be available until just a few days prior to its debut on May 9th.  I clearly needed to start composing well in advance of this deadline, and this fact led to a lot of editing, as I’d complete a section of music only to find that timing had shifted or had been extended or condensed.  New music had to be created or deleted quickly when three or four seconds were added to or subtracted from the film late in the game. 

The one bit of software that didn’t cut it were the lead string instruments.  Soft synths manage to provide fairly realistic wind instruments sounds, but the expressiveness of viola and violin are really difficult to emulate on a computer, so my friend Uli Widmaier brought over his instruments, spent an hour recording his parts, and we inserted the real thing for a much better product.

Overall, scoring for film was a hell of a lot of fun, and I’m generally pleased with the final result.  I’m even more pleased with the way the film turned out and the wonderful response its garnered.  It’ll be neat to see where the careers of Luke and Sarah lead and whether this short film will one day be looked back on as the beginning of something special.

 Shortly after “Preheated” was made available online, I received an email from a high school music student asking me to describe the process of scoring “Preheated” for her class project.  In case you’re interested, some of my response follows:

I saw the original storyboards for “Preheated” as far back as last fall, and this led me to first compose the film’s climax, the moving theme in 3/4 when the father and boy work together to light the candle.  I incorporated the same theme for the end credits, but switched to a Dixieland band and changed the timing to 4/4 and modulated the key to give it a fun, bouncy lift.

From there I tackled the beginning motif, which then helped guide the rest of the score.  Luke and Sarah decided that the clarinet should more or less represent the boy, and the violin and viola more or less represent the father.  For the first 30 seconds or so, I established an easy-going introductory tune that includes a 7-note motif that’s used throughout the score:  G G# E D E D C#, first with violin in the opening segment, and then with clarinet as the boy comes into full view.

When the downtrodden father enters the frame, the viola begins with an entirely different theme: a weepy, melodramatic tune to represent melancholy, but the 7-note clarinet motif comes into play when the boy tries to get his father's attention, and once again at the end of the section, this time with piano.  None of the other melodies in the section appear again because this is the only section of the film that has a melancholy feel.

When the boy has an idea to make a big birthday celebration, the music picks up into a sort of flute/big-band Latin piece, but because the boy is constantly met with obstacles, the music has to break rhythm regularly.  These were the most difficult sections for me.  For instance, the curiosity at 0:32 conveyed with pizzicato strings, the curiosity at 1:35 expressed with bass and flute primarily, or the confusion conveyed at 2:30 with piano and bass.  These little transitional pieces of music were challenging.  The main sections were much easier.

The "spooky music" section at 1:57 was originally overdone, and I threw in the 7-note theme again – this time with flute – just to keep the audience grounded.  This isn't a horror film after all, and we wanted to keep things anchored in playfulness.

As the boy realizes his predicament, the tempo increases and the instrumentation gets slightly more complicated to increase the tension as he opens the refrigerator and scrounges for something to cool off his hands, once again using a variation of the 7-note them from before, and culminating in a diminished 7th chord run as he struggles to figure out where to put the melted butter.  The piano does a sort of "ah ha!" moment as he discovers that the recipe calls for melted butter, and then again as he sees the melted butter in the bowl.

The boy seems back on track!  I returned to the fun Latin big-band motif, but the boy immediately hits another barrier, ending the music abruptly, and I used an aggressive flute sound to depict frustration (and to add a dose of comedy).  Once again the boy needs to think for a moment, so I composed a quick flute and piano section, playing a sort of flat 2 diminished 7 interval that resolves to the one chord, a phrase that will be used again when the father walks in to see the mess.

Instead of going back to the same Latin big-band theme, I kept the same feel but changed the melody, altered the time signature to 6/4 and made the acoustic guitar the lead instrument.  I can't say why I decided on this except it kept things from getting too repetitive, and the 6/4 rhythm gave it a sort of unsettled feel, like the boy was going to really have to focus to overcome his obstacles.  Even when he hits barriers within this section, I kept the rhythm going to keep the music from having too much of a start/stop start/stop pattern.

As the boy proceeds, things become more hectic and loud, with a few modulations until the boy achieves his goal of making the cake, and then halts abruptly as the father comes back in the room.  The sheepish looking boy is supported by the same 7-note motif with clarinet.  The father's anger is conveyed with the same flat 2 diminished 7 motif discussed a few paragraphs ago.

So there you are!I hope I get another change to score for film one day, and with any luck, it will once again be for my daughter’s creation.Thanks Sarah and Luke for the opportunity

Taking the Plunge

It turns out that good things can happen as soon as you commit to them happening.

After dilly dallying for the past several months, on Sunday I began to work in earnest on my next album, a forthcoming effort to be entitled The Palisades. For me I always have to overcome a bit of reluctance to start one of these things, as I know that saying yes to recording an album means saying no to a host of other things that interest me, and I know it’ll take the better part of the next nine months or so to complete the project.

There’s also the fact that of the eleven proposed tracks for the album, only four have been written in their entirety.  Most require another verse or two or a bridge or a better chorus, so the songs I’ve committed to recording might ultimately fall by the wayside in a few months. But for now I’ve chosen eleven out of approximately twenty-five (largely uncompleted) compositions that will provide an overarching theme: mainly that of relationships, something I’ve largely avoided in most of my past efforts.

What’s cool is that once you truly delve into completing something, good things happen.  On Day One of my pursuit, I noodled around on the keyboard downstairs on a track called “Why Can’t You Be More Like They Are” – a song I started well over a decade ago – and determined that it needed an interesting intro.  After about a half an hour I came up with a solid chord progression that will serve quite nicely, and lo and behold, after playing it several times I decided it would also do well as a bridge to the song.  Sure enough, about ten minutes later I had a brand new bridge for a song that heretofore had none.  I’ll have to let it percolate for a few weeks before I determine if the new material makes the cut, but if asked today I’d put money on it staying.

Which only goes to show that @@once you set your mind to DO something, you do in fact begin to DO it.@@

There’s a pile of paper on my ping-pong table that includes countless ideas for a novel I’d like to begin writing, but lately the prospect of actually sifting through the material and beginning to write has been such daunting one that I’ve pursued almost anything else I can think of: vacuuming, dusting, walking the dog, cleaning out the litter box – you name it.  All are preferable to delving into the creative work that needs to be done.

Which explains why I’m recording a new CD.  It’s basically a way to avoid writing the book!  But hey, at least I’ll end up with something more fulfilling than a temporarily clean house.  Once the CD is complete, I will – I WILL – tackle the novel.  And I’ve no doubt that once I commit to doing so, it’ll all fall into place in a more effortless way than I might now imagine.

After I complete the book, I might even commit to painting the family room. Even writing a book seems preferable to that.