Mervyn Cooke's edited volume is not a ‘reader’ that proposes to bring together seminal articles for further academic deliberations. Nevertheless, published after the major works produced by Clifford McCarty (Reference McCarty1989), Philip Brophy's (1999) thought-provoking volumes, as well as his own book (Reference Cooke2008), this collection of writings is still enjoyable. In it, Cooke has collated some very informative interviews, notes and articles essayed by eminent composers. Busting several myths regarding the uses of instruments, techniques of scoring and instrumental figures in the business, this compilation illustrates the ways in which film music originated in Hollywood as well as the decisive transition from the silent to the sound era.
For example, Max Winkler's article, first published in 1951, is a revelation and a ‘confession’ of sorts. Winkler narrates the marvellous story of how he invented film music. Furthermore, he elaborates on the manner in which they produced music as demands grew in ‘staggering dimensions’. Winkler writes:
In desperation we turned to crime. … The immortal chorales of J.S. Bach became ‘Adagio Lamentoso for sad scenes’. … Wagner's and Mendelssohn's wedding marches were used for marriages, fights between husbands and wives, and divorce scenes: we just had them played out of tune, a treatment known in the profession as ‘souring up the aisle’. … Today I look in shame and awe at the printed copies of these mutilated masterpieces … (p. 11)
In light of such expressions, one may study the contexts and the travels of musical forms, along with the worldwide popularity of Hollywood film music structures, which effectively influenced cinemas of other nations.Footnote 1 In point of fact, such crucial pieces enable us to locate the broader trajectories of film music.Footnote 2
In a similar vein, the section ‘Critics and Commentators’ brings together critical articles, which comment on the significance of music in cinema. Within this framework, George Antheil's article ‘I Am Not a Businessman’, first published in 1945, shows Salvador Dali's interventions within Hollywood, while it analyses the conditions of music making. Through the recounting of the conversations between the great master and C.B. de Mille, the viewing of Le Chien Andalou (1929) by the studio bosses and so on, Antheil draws our attention to the problems of canonisation of Hollywood structures as well as its inner conflicts. He writes:
For one thing they [music departments] have the lowest-budgets-important here. … It is really too bad. After all, Hollywood music is very nearly a public communication, like radio. … I am very worried about this state of affairs in American music, … With the exception of Waxman, Hollander and possibly Rozsa, and my old squawking friend Benny [Bernard] Herrmann, not a single composer of new vitality has appeared in Hollywood in years … (pp. 270–71)
The range of writings included in this volume display, on the one hand, the day-to-day functioning of the studios and, on the other, the role of music in cinema. This opens up parallel tracks of social history, showing us the routes through which European musicians joined the Hollywood industry. The narratives of such transnational flows throw light on the complexities of the political histories of the period.
Similarly, Bernard Hermann's ‘A Lecture on Film Music’, originally published in 1973, offers us perceptive views regarding film music. For instance, Hermann describes the ways in which music ‘changes time values’. Narrating the manner in which he composed music, and his relationship with stalwarts like Orson Welles and Alfred Hitchcock, Hermann writes in detail about landmark films like Citizen Kane (1941) and Psycho (1960). He exclaims, ‘I wrote the main title music for Psycho before Saul Bass even did the animation. They animated the music. … Many people have inquired how I achieved the sound effects behind the murder scene. Violins did it!’ (pp. 219–20). In addition, Hermann writes about certain misconceptions, and that he simply used ‘string orchestra, the same kind of orchestra with which one plays Mozart’ (Hermann 2010, p. 219) and not woodwind, as described by the reviewers (or researchers). Indeed, such notes remind one of a personal conversation (in 2011) with the maverick cinematographer Raoul Coutard (who shot to fame with J.L. Godard's Breathless 1960),Footnote 3 during which Coutard categorically mentioned that he never deployed ‘hand-held’ camera movements for the film, although critics have repeatedly argued about its path breaking hand-held technique. While Coutard mentions how it was only an accident (used cleverly by Godard later), such an invaluable dialogue with the personnel behind the scenes in effect initiates new approaches to history writing. Moreover, it highlights the problems of auteur studies, and encourages us to examine cinema as a culturally coded and contextually rooted public experience.
Among the array of articles it is imperative to consider a crucial piece by Theodor Adorno and composer Hanns Eisler (first published in Reference Adorno and Eisler1947). Writing about leitmotif, stock music, clichés, etc., Adorno and Eisler's insightful comments persuade us to re-visit the signs and meanings of Hollywood film music.
Clearly, The Hollywood Film Music Reader does not offer a new framework through which one may explore the history, theory and practices of music business. Nonetheless, the book brings together valuable archival material for a larger readership. It underscores the import of such material, and presents an engaging picture to the cine-fans as well as to the researchers who are working on the economy of film music.
