What is the point of music in television and movies?

Winter is here, and the epic nature of Game of Thrones’ final season is only enhanced by Ramin Djawadi’s soundtrack. HBO has poured lots of money into making sure that the show sounds fantastic, and it really shows. The music contributes to an increasing discussion about the role of soundtracks and scores – what can they add to a film or TV show?

  The major question is what is the point of music in these productions. In most cases, it’s designed to add to the action or atmosphere onscreen, reinforcing the emotion of what you’re watching without getting in the way. If a scene is action-oriented, a fast and pounding score can help increase your feeling of excitement, regulating the tempo of the scenes. Similarly, music accentuates happiness, triumph and sadness. I think a wonderful example is the end scene of Schindler’s List, in which many of the Jews saved by Schindler and the actors playing them place stones on his grave. It would be a powerful moment in itself, but the beautiful violin raises the emotional level even more.

  Music can also be associated with characters – think the half-step theme in Jaws, which represents the shark. In a clever bit of scoring, the music isn’t present in a scene which features a jump scare that resembles the shark but doesn’t actually feature it. In capable hands, it also defines the production. The mechanical, relentless nature of the Saw scores; the big brass heroism of the James Bond and Incredibles films; the Southern emotional inflexions of True Blood; the eerie subversion of The Twilight Zone. Mood and a sense of time and place can be hard things to suggest to an audience, and music is an excellent tool for doing it.

Music is designed to add to the action or atmosphere onscreen, reinforcing hthe emotion of what you’re watching without getting in the way

  I’m reminded of an interview with composer Simon Boswell, discussing an Italian film called Santa Sangre. In one scene, the mother has her arms cut off by her knife-throwing husband, and it’s incredibly gory and bloody. When scoring the film, he asked the director if he wanted it to be nasty and horrible, and the director reacted in shock. “No. This is heaven for her!” he said because she becomes like the saint she worships at that point of the film. Although for the audience, the scene is horrific, the music comes from the perspective of the character. It conveys her thought process and emotions.

  Studios and producers are well aware of the power of music. The most obvious examples are themes – if you’re flicking through the channels and you hear the opening music to The Simpsons or Game of Thrones, it says everything about the show. Composer Nathan Barr said that a good piece of theme music is what “you hear in the other room when you’re up getting popcorn, and it makes you want to rush back into the room to sit down in front of the TV”, and I really like that. A simple piece of music, no longer than a minute, has become shorthand for a TV experience.

  It works similarly in films – who doesn’t know the theme to Star Wars, Back to the Future or Mission: Impossible (itself originally a TV show)? This is something that has particularly befallen the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Although critics love the films, and the Avengers theme is now iconic, the MCU has frequently been criticised for a lack of memorable music or strong character themes. Part of the reason Marvel brought back Alan Silvestri (composer on Captain America and the first Avengers) for Infinity War and Endgame was the need to establish some continuity between scores and films – making the music feel like part of the universe.

It can raise a good production to great, tug at your heartstrings or get your pulse racing

  Of course, music isn’t always an asset to a show, and using it in the wrong way can be detrimental. A good example is a comedy. Think of any cheap, hallmark comedy production. The score is generally light, offbeat and trying to be fun, and the directors tend to play it after every joke to stress the humour. Well, as everyone knows, there’s nothing less funny than being told something is funny. The score here actively lessens the humour in most cases, the exact opposite of what it ought to achieve. (The interesting thing is that it works in cartoons – most comedy scores have a Tom & Jerry vibe to them, which struggles in live-action).

  Interestingly, most composers say they aren’t doing their job right if you notice the music. The music is normally meant to be a complement to production, rather than its own entity. And yet, it would be hard to understate the value that music can bring. It can raise a good production to great. It can tug at your heartstrings or get your pulse racing. It can tell you more about the characters than the show itself can. Yes, it’s a hard thing to get right, and it’s entirely to the credit of producers that they’re investing in getting it right.