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Gratuitous Sax & Senseless
Violins
His
career bridged Welles and Scorsese, taking in Hitchcock, Truffaut,
and DePalma along the way. Lir
Mac Cárthaigh explores the life and work of Bernard
Herrmann, one of the greatest film composers of all time.
[Extract]
Collaboration often produces
the greatest works of art. Sometimes the interaction between
creative minds results in a work which neither would have
been capable of alone. Unfortunately it is often easier to
ascribe great works of collaboration to a single author; we
bury Fletcher beneath Shakespeare, Macquet beneath Dumas,
Lish beneath Carver. Today, when we listen to a minister's
speech or see the latest collection from a fashion designer
we don't think of the shuttered backroom where a faceless
team do the work, we think only of the person who gives their
official seal to it. While film is perhaps the most collaborative
artform, the glory tends to accrue on the director. A mighty
name like Welles, Hitchcock or Scorsese brands a film, defines
it the work of an auteur, the men and women who labour in
what David Thomson thoughtfully brands 'the 'subsidiary' arts'
tend to be forgotten; the writers, composers, designers and
all of the other artists whose contributions can make or marr
the finished work. One of the above-mentioned directors, Alfred
Hitchcock, thoroughly disliked sharing credit, yet on one
occasion he stated that his direction accounted for only two-thirds
of a film's impact, that for the final third he relied on
the music of Bernard Herrmann.
Herrmann's
career in movies began during Hollywood's 'golden age' and
continued into the rise of the Vietnam generation of filmmakers.
His first film score was written for Welles's Citizen Kane,
his last for Scorsese's Taxi Driver. Herrmann was a
child prodigy, he won a composition prize at 13, and founded
and conducted a chamber orchestra at 20. According to his
daughter Dorothy, writing music came easily to Herrmann; he
would start early in the day, and would often have his work
finished by nine in the morning. When still in his twenties
Herrmann was hired as staff conductor for CBS Radio, where
he also presented Exploring Music, a programme devoted to
airing unheard and underappreciated work. At CBS Hermann made
the acquaintance of the airwaves' best-known boy-wonder, Orson
Welles. In his conversations with Peter Bogdanovich (later
published as This Is Orson Welles) the director remembered
a 1935 radio production of Hamlet which demonstrated
the composer's uneven temperament. Herrmann quarrelled with
director Irving Reis seconds before the play was due to go
on air, he broke his conductor's baton and threw his script
away. Welles managed to get Herrmann to go on with the show,
but had no time to re-order his notes. The result was the
music was one cue out through the entire performance: "We
had fanfares when it was supposed to be quiet, approaching
menace when it was supposed to be a gay party, and all live;
it was riotous." Welles, who liked to work with others
of his generation, felt an affinity with the young composer,
and Herrmann shortly became "an intimate member of the
family."
Herrmann was contracted
to write the music for Welles's first motion picture, but
the project kept changing; Heart of Darkness became
Smiler with a Knife, which finally gave way to Citizen
Kane. The delay to production gave Herrmann time to compose
his first symphony, featuring the heavy horns, prominent percussion
and plucked strings which would become familiar features of
his work. Herrmann's concert pieces already included the impressive
cantata 'Moby Dick,' whose sinister Salvation Armyish hymn
presents a dark evocation of Melville's novel. According to
Welles, he and Herrmann worked 'almost note for note' on the
Kane score, as they had done for many years on radio.
The film provided a real showcase for the talents of the young
composer, as it allowed him to write in many different styles,
from the Souza-esque 'March of Time' newsreel parody in the
'News on the March' sequence to the burlesque song 'Oh, Mr.
Kane,' which Welles claims was based on a march he heard in
Mexico. The highpoint of Herrmann's score is the aria he wrote
for Sallambô, the opera starring Kane's second
wife Susan Alexander. Welles told Herrmann in a telegram 'here
is a chance for you to do something witty and amusing,' Herrmann
did so, writing the area in too high a key to show that the
singer is out of her depth. The non-linear structure of Kane
allowed Herrmann to flit between themes of levity and gravity;
he evokes the sour dustiness of the empty Xanadu mansion with
dark, doomy woodwinds, while Kane's ebullient youth at the
Examiner newspaper is recalled with giddy strings and xylophone.
Herrmann was nominated for an Oscar for his work on Kane,
but lost - to himself - for his score for The Devil and
Daniel Webster (Aka All That Money Can Buy). The
Daniel Webster score saw Herrmann return to the briny depths
of his 'Moby Dick' cantata, using a hornpipe-flavoured melody
which contrasts bright and carefree passages with moments
of doom.
Herrmann
continued to work with Welles on the director's ill-starred
second feature The Magnificent Ambersons. Ambersons
was to be even more astonishing than Citizen Kane,
but was mutilated by executives at RKO. Part of the film's
splendour was the lavish score, based around Emil Waldteufel's
waltz 'Toujours ou jamais.' Thirty-one minutes of Herrmann's
music was removed by the studio after they re-shot the ending;
new music by RKO composer Roy Webb was substituted. When Herrmann
viewed the studio's cut of the film he insisted that his name
be removed from the credits.
The mid-1940s have been referred to as Herrmann's 'romantic
period.' Scores from this time include landmark music for
Jane Eyre, Hangover Square and The Ghost
and Mrs. Muir. The plot of Hangover Square involves
a composer who suffers from bouts of murderous amnesia, and
afforded Herrmann the opportunity to write the chilling, manic
and intense piano concerto Macabre, performed by the deranged
man in a burning auditorium. Herrmann's all-time favourite
score was for Joseph Mankiewicz's The Ghost and Mrs. Muir;
he told his brother Louis that the music for the film expressed
his feelings better than anything he'd done before. In the
film a widow falls in love with the ghost of a sea captain;
Herrmann's biographer Stephen C. Smith believes that the composer
felt an affinity with the strong but lonely Mrs. Muir. Doomy
woodwinds ascend, becoming strings; bright passages of piano
and glockenspiel conclude in maritime bells and a harp. The
dark/bright contrast used so often by Herrmann occurs as the
low woodwinds and gong push their way into slow harp-led strings.
An urgent, startling passage of strings foreshadow Herrmann's
work on Psycho, but are modulated here by horns, finally
giving way to a thematic four-note figure played on a flute.
Around this time Herrmann was working on his only opera, Wuthering
Heights, with a libretto by his wife Lucille, based on
Emily Bronté's novel. The opera shares some of Mrs.
Muir's melody and, according to his daughter Dorothy, Herrmann
loved to play it, considering it his masterpiece. The composer
refused to make any changes to the opera, and consequently
Wuthering Heights was not performed until some years
after his death.
Perhaps
Herrmann's greatest claim to fame results from his collaboration
with Alfred Hitchcock. Herrmann worked with Hitchcock over an
eleven-year period, scoring some of the English director's most
famous films, among them The Trouble with Harry, The
Man Who Know Too Much and Marnie. Three of these,
Vertigo, North By Northwest and Psycho
featured credit sequences which married visuals by designer
and animator Saul Bass with Herrmann's music. These opening
sequences are much more than a simple list of credits, instead
they provide what film critic Leonard Maltin describes as an
"overture"; a self-contained prelude to the film which
gives the audience an idea of what to expect. The spiral device
of Bass's Vertigo credits is complimented by the central
six-note figure that Herrmann has devised for the film. The
composer passes the spiralling figure back and forth between
the strings and a harp, producing a disconcerting sensation
augmented by terrifying horn notes which cut across it when
the titles appear on the screen. As well as displaying his talent
for writing unsettling stings, Vertigo also allowed Herrmann
to exercise his romantic side; his daughter Dorothy believes
that her father felt an affinity with the film's theme of romantic
obsession. Scottie, the smitten hero, doesn't speak to his inamorata
Madeleine for the first half hour of the film, his feelings
for her are expressed only through the music. Allowing the composer
to establish the most important relationship of the film, rather
than stating it directly through dialogue or voice-over, shows
the trust which Hitchcock had in Herrmann at this time.
The
Bernard Herrmann Society provides an indispensible online
resource where much of the material here referred to can
be found archived in its entirity.
The
full text of this article is printed in Film Ireland
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