How Not to Be a Film Music Critic

by Jay Quantrill
Jay Quantrill
Post Views: 12
  • Many of today’s crop of critics have a flawed approach
  • Considering soundtracks in isolation is missing the point
  • Often focused on unfair attacks and pushing own preferences
  • Leading musicologist signals targets to hit and pitfalls to avoid
  • Explains how external factors must be taken into consideration
  • Arts for art’s sake: laudable but servicing the film takes priority
  • Taking inspiration from the teachings of George Bernard Shaw
George Bernard Shaw, 1943, by Yousuf Karsh

An inspiration: musical critic George Bernard Shaw (source)

Having been a close observer and quasi-participant in the world of film music for some time now; having studied the field in the preparation of a plan for a Film Music Festival* (during which I engaged in conservation most of the living film composers of the day, and befriended many in the process as time and circumstances would allow); having attended innumerable recording sessions, spotting run-throughs, dubbing sessions, and mixdowns; having discussed the pros and cons of all aspects of the business with music editors, orchestrators, copyists, contractors, musicians, engineers, directors, producers, musical department heads, music librarians and commentators, critics, aficionados, et al.; having followed the creation of many scores from first thought to completed soundtrack, I find myself repeatedly infuriated with so much of what passes as film music criticism in this country today. (I cannot speak of other countries where I know from some, albeit limited, experience that the general public as well as the critics have a far greater appreciation for the art form than is the case in the USA).

* for Ambassador International Cultural Foundation, dated April, 1977.

I was therefore desirous of somehow setting the matter before interested readers (i.e., the perusers of this publication) but each time I sat down to put paper in typewriter, I was so overwhelmed by the incessant revulsion which resulted from contemplating the examples, that I found my remarks tending towards the libelous. Also, I wished to approach the subject from as objective a point of view as possible so as to make a clear, concise and dispassionate case for valid criticism, and not a defense of the art form itself. Still I was overcome by the sheer gall and idiocy of so much that has been printed, and then at last when perusing a favorite bookstore I came upon writings of some considerable age, by a critic of unimpeachable credentials, that gave courage and direction to my purpose.

The work is How to Become a Musical Critic, the previously uncollected writings of none other than the venerable George Bernard Shaw*, who was at one and another time gainfully employed as music critic for many publications. The book’s title alone suggested an approach. The article which GBS wrote under that title more than covered the theoretical aspects of my subject. I found myself quickly leafing through the book in an attempt to absorb instantaneously the text en toto. But for my purpose I should like to quote a few pertinent segments of the article and add what commentary seems appropriate to the present situation.

* whom Eric Blom in Grove’s called, “one of the most brilliant critics… of music, who ever worked in London, or indeed, anywhere.”

The first major point that Shaw makes is that the sort of criticism he is considering is journalistic, that is, the workaday sort of reportorial criticism that brings an art form to life in its daily progress. Of this there is precious little in the field of film music. Many film critics make generalized unintelligent remarks in passing about a score if it stands out for any good or bad reason but in point of fact, to my knowledge there is only one writer who consistently writes on the continuing output of film composers as they proceed through their careers. That one is Page Cook, a young New Yorker who writes monthly for Films in Review, the periodical organ of the National Board of Review of Motion Pictures which purports to be a non-profit organization of public-spirited citizens founded in 1909 to represent the interests of the motion picture public. All others write as record reviewers, occasional commentators, academicians, or historical researchers. So that leaves us with Mr. Page Cook, to whom we shall return in due time.

Film Music Reviews by Dave Hurwitz

Mr. Shaw, after his introductory remarks regarding the journalistic aspects of criticism, sets out his “three main qualifications for a musical critic, besides the general qualification of good sense and knowledge of the world. He (the critic) must have a cultivated taste for music; he must be a skilled writer; and he must be a practiced critic.” In other words, a writer is not a critic unless he has good sense, knowledge of the world, a cultivated taste for music, skill as a writer, and a practiced ability to criticize.

Shaw then tells us why so many who attempt music criticism are “so utterly impossible. It is because they cannot criticize. They set to work like schoolmasters to prove that this is ‘right’ and that ‘wrong’… they jealously defend their pet compositions and composers against rival claims like ladies at a musical at-home; they show no sense of the difference between a professor teaching his class how to resolve the chord of a dominant seventh and a critic standing in the presence of the whole world and its art, and submitting his analysis of the work of an artist whose authority is at least equal to his own.” From these remarks Shaw makes the point that to criticize music is to comprehend, dissect, elucidate, and evaluate the component parts of the object d’art with objectivity (as near as can be attained) and with respect for the artist and the world in which both exist.

I will now quote from a “critical evaluation” by the aforementioned Mr. Cook of a particular composer’s place in the film music world, with regard to his latest efforts (FIR, October 1977, p. 495) “Musician cum composer Lalo Schifrin is a pop art evangelist – bloodless, but with an ever-ready facility to merchandize what is ‘in’ at the moment; what he lacks is talent. He will obviously score any and everything that comes his way (vide the garbage of Day of the Animals): his score for the year’s dumbest film, Rollercoaster (1977), is a mawkish collage. Schifrin simply has neither the ear for film music nor the concern for dramatic technique that characterizes the prime function of film scoring (his gaucheries abuse whatever elements they touch upon, from modern rock to avant-garde neo-tonality). In Rollercoaster Schifrin’s efforts turn into inchoate gibberish, effects ricocheting without any discernible contact with the plot, characters or sense of impending doom. The main theme is appropriately a carousel waltz but Schifrin’s melody is feebly constructed and laden with a clumsiness that grates (nodding to Maurice Jarre).” There is more, a lot more. But this is enough for the moment.

The point to be considered here is not whether the writer is correct, but whether this sort of writing constitutes useful criticism. Of course, the verbiage shows little respect for the composer (causing one to wonder why Mr. Cook gave the man so much space), but let us first consider this sample in the light of Shaw’s three qualifications for a music critic. From the evidence, it would appear certain that the author of the quotation has skill as a writer. He uses words with a modicum of intelligence; he is adept at placing periods, parentheses and colons, et al. It does not take much effort to realize however, that this piece is considerably overwritten. It seems that when the writer wishes to communicate disapproval he cannot merely say he disapproves, but must embellish his contention with a plethora of vitriolic phraseology. He evidently prefers a bludgeon to a rapier, and he writes with the finesse of a club-toting caveman.

The author of our sample quote also manages to display some knowledge of film music, and while this is a limited sampling of his opinionating, it is quite clear that his knowledge of music is never taxed in demonstrating what it is he so avidly dislikes about the composer’s work. As for his being a practiced critic (according to the Shavian requirement) I can attest to the dozen or so years of consistent writing in the same manner on this subject in this same periodical. But a closer examination of the quotation reveals some shocking details! At one point Mr. Cook states Schifrin has no “concern for dramatic technique,” though two sentences later he states that the main theme “is appropriately a carousel waltz.” Surely this demonstrates at least a minimal interest and success in applying music to a filmic situation?

Further on in the article, Mr. Cook states, “This theme (the carousel theme, if I read the thing correctly), illustrating the strange fascination of an amusement park, is Schifrin’s only idea that doesn’t reek of ineptitude: ominous and catchy, it is a waltz well orchestrated with good bass string tension under the steam-blown whistles of the calliope – slightly off-color, with a touch of Herrmann in the violins’ incalzando.” But how is it possible? We were told in no uncertain terms at the outset of this discussion of Lalo Schifrin, that “what he lacks is talent.” How could that be true and the “ominous and catchy” waltz theme be “well orchestrated with good bass string tension,” etc., etc., and so forth. This description also sounds dramatically quite effective, though we have been assured that Schifrin’s “gaucheries abuse whatever elements they touch upon.”

The snide parenthetical aside regarding Maurice Jarre is a consistent aspect of Cook’s style of criticism, which amounts to taking pot shots at those of whom he disapproves whenever the opportunity presents itself, or can be created. The reference to Herrmann is still another stylistic, this one being the use of an approved composer’s name to suggest that the disapproved one created nothing original but, by inference, has borrowed the techniques of another. Further still, Cook states, “The themes for the penny arcade and other park amusements are a series of dimwitted tunes sounding like backer’s audition rejects for an off-Broadway musical.” This is criticism by innuendo, and is what passes for wit in an otherwise pretentiously overwritten piece of vituperative opinionation. And honest folks, Lalo never hurt Mr. Cook!

Not satisfied with hammering the score into the ground, Mr. Cook goes one step more. “The album from Rollercoaster is an affront to film music collectors, reproducing not only the sound effects of the rollercoaster but all the sundry sounds heard at an amusement park, interjected whenever the music quality sags (quite often).” This is clearly a case of presuming the intentions of the album designers, when in fact, Cook does not. know what their intentions were. For all he knows, the music was purposely simplified whenever the sound effects were to come in because the composer knew that the sound effects were to come in and planned for it. In point of fact, this I know to be the case; I was present during the recording session and heard the discussions between the director and the composer regarding the matching of music and sound effects, a particularly important consideration in Rollercoaster, because it was being produced in Universal Studios’ Sensurround technique.

Sensurround vids

In this short piece on Lalo Schifrin from which only about half has been quoted, Mr. Cook has demonstrated inconsistency of attitude, excessive use of condemnatory phraseology, apparent disrespect for the author and his work, presumption of reasons unknown to Cook; he has resorted to innuendo, brash and unfounded conclusions, generalizations that go unsupported, as well as personal vilification and slander. And, ladies and gentlemen, this is the only consistent source of journalistic criticism of film. music in this country today!!!

Is this representative of the motion picture public, as one has the right to expect from the magazine of the National Board of Review? Does this demonstrate any manner of the “good sense and knowledge of the world” which GBS considers the sine qua non of the film critic? As Shaw describes those who are “so utterly impossible,” Mr. Cook sets “to work… to prove that this is right and that is wrong” and shows “no sense of the difference between a professor teaching his class how to resolve a chord of the dominant seventh and a critic standing in the presence of the whole world and its art, and submitting his analysis of the work of an artist whose authority is at least equal to his own.”

To be sure, Mr. Cook has his favorites – both composers and styles of composition. For example, take the following (FIR, March 1977, p. 175): “Miklós Rózsa has consistently exalted and ennobled the cinema with his eloquence, power and understanding. His technique and flair for the cinematic vision, enhanced and fortified by his enriching classical lyricism have provided Alain Resnais’ Providence with a reflective serenity.” And this after two introductory paragraphs that hail Rózsa as “the greatest modern composer.” After another paragraph of congratulatory material, he writes: “Rózsa, not wishing to stress the bizarre quality of the major portion of the film, has set the proceedings flowing with warmth and brilliance of musical invention that perfectly mirrors the ecstasies of the plot, casting a transfiguring glow over it. He is a non-neurotic musical master of film music and is never commonplace. This score brings the lyricism of his early style to its highest expression: a style that achieves abundance without excess, the melodic lines proliferating with fertility.”

There follows a detailed attempt to capture in words what Rózsa did in music, beginning with the following two sentences. “The 8-note motif which serves as a basis for the passionate but dignified main theme is heard in a lucid, exigent prelude under the titles. Introduced by a throbbing rhythm underlay the theme enters in a darkly, mellifluous orchestration in which the gradual insinuation of the film’s unflinching theorem appears as a concordant cello harmony.” It seems that even when wishing to praise, Mr. Cook insists on excessive verbiage and overstatement, drowning even the approved works in a gushing foam of preciousness. The result is to rob even the admirable analytical ability displayed when Mr. Cook’s own private muse inspires him of any sense of validity or usefulness. His pretentious ramblings become an embarrassment for the composer praised as well as for himself. Again, it must be borne in mind that this represents the only consistent voice in film music criticism today! And a sad situation it is.

All the other writers, as I mentioned previously, review soundtrack albums or write occasional commentaries, but they do not review music for film as it plays in film, be it on record or not. One of the most consistently interesting of the record reviewers is Mr. Royal S. Brown who covers the soundtrack album scene (with occasional remarks about the music’s effectiveness with the visuals) for High Fidelity magazine, also a monthly out of New York. Mr. Brown does apply an implicit set of standards to his evaluations and communicates his thoughts in unflowered, generally forthright terms. But he also peppers his remarks with references like the “Hermannesque” or “Stravinskyan”, or “Leroy Anderson-ish” quality of a film score, which seems to insinuate a lack of originality, but more importantly fails to communicate the true nature of his thought.

One critic, James D. Maffett, for a Canadian magazine, Stereo Guide, in reviewing a piece by Korngold made continual references to “in the fashion of Beethoven’s Ninth,” or “similar to a fragment in Prokofiev’s Sixth Symphony,” or “reminiscent of Strauss,” when in fact these allusions are extraneous and smack of show-offmanship. Another of these reviewers, Donald M. Spoto of Audio magazine, uses the Cookian bludgeon of vitriolic phraseology like “a canonization of mediocrity,” “an adulation that borders on necrophilia,” and “this sort of nonsense demands solid excoriation.” As a group, these reviewers also fail to realize many of the important factors that go into the music they criticize. At this time let me establish a certain point by means of another Shavian quote.

“I was enormously helped as a critic by my economical studies and my political practice, which gave me an invaluable comprehension of the commercial conditions to which art is subject. It is an important part of a critic’s business to agitate for musical reforms; and unless he knows what the reforms will cost, and whether they are worth that cost, and who will have to pay the bill, and a dozen other cognate matters not usually included. in treatises on harmony, he will not make any effective impression on the people with whom the initiative rests – indeed he will not know who they are. Even his artistic verdicts will often be aimed at the wrong person. A manager or an artist cannot be judged fairly by any critic who does not understand the economic bearings of profits and salaries. It is one thing to set up an ideal of perfection and complain as long as it is not reached; but to blame individuals for not reaching it when it is economically unattainable or to blame the wrong person – for instance, to blame the artist when the fault is the manager’s, or the manager when the fault is the public’s – is to destroy half your influence as a critic. All the counterpoint or literary brilliancy in the world will not save a critic from blunders of this kind, unless he understands the economics of art.”

These writers, including Mr. Cook. too often seem to neglect the proper place of the economics of artistic endeavors in their ultimately elitest criticisms of sound track albums. It must be made clear here that albums are not always, in fact, are usually not representative of the film score as a composition which is an integral part of a synergistic whole. Of course, it is also true that a film is not always the true demonstration of a composer’s abilities. Too often, what a composer creates is butchered, misused, or completely disregarded or discarded in the dubbing room. Seldom, in fact, does a film score reach the audience as it was intended by the composer. Thus research is required by the critic to ascertain what were the original intentions of the composer, how and why and by whom they were altered (if such is the case) and how true to the spirit of the composer’s intentions is the released film. There are even cases like Sam Peckinpah’s The Getaway (1972) which was screened by the press with a superb score by Jerry Fielding, and reviewed with much praise for his contribution only for it to be subsequently, prior to general release, discarded and replaced with a quickly devised substitute [by Quincy Jones]. In appraising the genius or stupidity of a composer, these factors are of grave importance. And generalizations or summary comments about a composer’s place in the annals of film music must take all these factors into account. All of them!

Trailer, TV spot

“A great thriller. Peckinpah’s control of the escalating frenzy is masterly.” – Chris Peachment, Time Out Film Guide
Master thief Doc McCoy knows his wife has slept with the local political boss in order to spring him from jail. What he can’t know is the series of double-crosses that will sour the deal once he’s on the outside – and executing the ultimate robbery. Join Steve McQueen and Ali MacGraw in a supreme action thriller based on Jim Thompson’s 1958 novel. Sam Peckinpah directed, filming across Texas and in sequence – from the Huntsville State Prison opening to the explosive El Paso border climax. Once The Getaway starts, there’s no escaping its breathless intensity. – Warner BD/DVD

Warner Bros.’ identical region 0 Blu-rays from 2007 include the trailer (4:11), an audio commentary, reel 1 commentary (10:36), Fielding’s score (37:20), a synced scene (9:18) and score documentary (29:55). Meanwhile, their DVDs ‘only’ have the trailer and commentaries.

The latest German Blu-rays add numerous extras but drop the reel 1 commentary and Fielding’s score.

One such summarizing commentary bears discussion. It was written by one of the most active of the newer writers in film music criticism, another young New Yorker named Robert Fiedel, who contributes album reviews regularly to the Canadian monthly film magazine, Take One, and writes frequently but not regularly for American Film, the journal of the American Film Institute. Mr. Fiedel’s style is usually more straightforward than that which appears in Films in Review, yet this very seeming straightforwardness has its pitfalls for the unwary reader. I quote: “The multifaceted musical personality of composer Jerry Goldsmith has been, for some time, one of the great enigmas and frustrations on the film music scene. Goldsmith’s well-known eclecticism, encompassing such disparate styles as, for example, the Michel Legrand-ish pop idiom in Papillon (1973), full-bodied romanticism as in The Blue Max (1966) and Webern–Varèsian modernity in his landmark Planet of the Apes (1968) score is, paradoxically, at once an asset and a detriment to his career.”

Declaring Goldsmith’s musical personality “one of the great enigmas and frustrations on the film music scene,” constitutes the sort of presumptuous begging the question characteristic of critics who tend to declaim their impressions as new modes of thought or even dogma rather than demonstrate their ideas. and think them through for presentation. As the first premise of a long, complicated and involuted syllogistic statement of Goldsmith’s standing at this point in his career, it is shaky ground – tantamount to quicksand.

As for the determination that the music from Papillon, The Blue Max and Planet of the Apes are each representative of disparate styles, I admit passing amazement. By “Michel Legrand-ish pop-idiom” I hope I am correct in deducing that Mr. Fiedel is referring to the predominant use throughout the score of a theme which is reminiscent of Montmartre, as well as the exceptionally lyrical quality of the compositions and lush orchestrations which lend a highly romantic tone to the film. Firstly, let it be known that this was exactly what the director Franklin Schaffner requested. He wanted a tune which would recall the French roots of the story to which Papillon was determined to return.

The lush lyricism is however, relieved by such dramatic though thematically organic sequences as the escape from camp and the chase through the jungle which are not pop, nor characteristic of Legrand. Yet the very lushness of Papillon is quite similar to the “full-bodied romanticism” of The Blue Max. In point of fact, the truly pop sounds of The Detective (1968) or Shamus (1973) (jazzy scores) or one of the Flint films (Our Man Flint 1966, In Like Flint 1967) would have lent more credence to the declaration pop idiom and “disparate styles.” Of course The Detective and Shamus are not available on disc [at the time of writing] and the Flint albums are quite rare so you would have to know more than the readily available recordings of Goldsmith’s works to make such a statement. And a critic should – must – know the whole body of work of a composer before appraising ex cathedra. We should here continue the quotation to learn why Mr. Fiedel sees Mr. Goldsmith’s eclecticism as “an asset and a detriment to his career.”

“Goldsmith’s flexibility has understandably made him one of the most sought-after and successful of current film composers, while, at the same time, his sacrifice of a uniquely personal mode of self-expression naggingly suggests an attitude of insincerity toward his chosen art, impeding serious evaluation of his work.” Here Mr. Fiedel reasons, if I understand him correctly, that the paradox of Mr. Goldsmith’s career is that his flexibility brought him success, but that to be so flexible the composer has had to sacrifice a “uniquely personal mode of self-expression” and that by so doing, Mr. Goldsmith (while becoming ‘successful’) has had to be insincere in his efforts. Then Mr. Fiedel adds that all this being true, a serious evaluation of the composer’s work is impeded. But Mr. Cook’s writing is, one must assume, a serious evaluation of Mr. Goldsmith’s work. At least, I feel certain that Mr. Fiedel would want to be taken seriously. To do so, one must then wonder: Does flexibility mean the sacrifice of a ‘uniquely personal mode of self-expression?” Does all this naggingly suggest insincerity?

Implicit in the conclusions that flexibility means sacrificing the uniqueness of one’s artistic mode of self-expression and that this sacrifice betrays insincerity is the accusation that Goldsmith is little more than a hack composer who turns out insincerely but facilely devised works with a flexibility that brings only success (a term Mr. Fiedel never defines but by his usage thereof implies commercial but not artistic success). Of course, Mr. Fiedel later states that Goldsmith is no hack, but we’ll get to that assertion in a moment. For now we can begin to see that the frustration Mr. Fiedel speaks of is his own in coming to terms with what it is he really. thinks about Mr. Goldsmith’s work. Let us go further with Mr. Fiedel’s own words and perhaps find his answers to why flexibility requires sacrifice and why sacrifice means insincerity and why insincerity impedes evaluation.

“Perhaps Goldsmith’s philosophy is that the musical requirements of a film come before self-expression. Composers such as Erich Korngold, Miklós Rózsa, and Bernard Herrmann have also held this principle in high regard, and yet never found it necessary to stray so far afield from their respective idioms, thus strengthening the integrity and validity of their medium.” Putting it all together then, Mr. Fiedel is saying that a serious evaluation of the works of Korngold, Rózsa and Herrmann is not impeded because they stayed close to their respective idioms and were obviously, therefore, sincere about what they were doing. And that this has lent integrity and validity to their medium. We shall return to this in due time.

  • Intrada CD/MP3 Shamus (2021) 25:28

“Be certain, though, that Goldsmith is no hack composer; he’s amazingly proficient at his various musical guises. But I would like to see him develop a cogent musical identity with which to seriously contribute to the legitimacy of film music.” A-ha!! Now we can see what it is Mr. Fiedel is saying. He wants a ‘cogent musical identity’ for Mr. Goldsmith, then. Mr. Fiedel’s desire to study him “seriously” will not be impeded. I submit that it is not that Goldsmith is insincere or that he has sacrificed his uniquely personal mode of self-expression, but that Goldsmith’s style is not as easy to identify as these other gentlemen, fine composers all. I submit that it is a superficial or at least casual listening to some of the works of Goldsmith that comes away without an understanding of his stylistics.

And I further submit that this betrays not an insincerity but in fact a devotion to his work that allows him to compose in seemingly disparate styles while in fact bending the stylistics of many genres to meet what is his own uniquely personal mode of self-expression. As for the other arguments in Fiedel’s statement, they fall by the wayside all too quickly when seriously considered. Some are, however, worth further discussion. Why would Goldsmith’s development of a cogent musical identity (one that would satisfy Mr. Fiedel’s definition, which he never gave us) contribute to the legitimacy of film music? Does it require a composer such as Goldsmith might be according to Fiedel’s wishes for its legitimacy?

What, in fact, does Fiedel mean by legitimacy? How does the closeness that Korngold, Herrmann, and Rózsa maintained to their respective idioms contribute to the integrity and validity of their medium (film music)? Because they are readily identifiable? Is that what film music requires, readily identifiable composers? But aren’t so many hacks readily identifiable? And do they contribute to the art’s legitimacy? No, in fact, the legitimacy of the art is dependent on the proficiency of its practitioners, their ability to come to grips with the multifarious dramatic problems that come before them, and their inspiration in solving those problems. It also depends on the understanding of the directors and producers who hire the composers and the cooperation between all. It depends on the economics of the situation, time limits, differences of taste. But it does not depend on Jerry Goldsmith developing a musical identity cogent enough to satisfy Mr. Fiedel.

We live in a world in which music is all around us. We live in a world dedicated to individualism and to each following his own potential. In such a world, we hear so much music from so many different people with so many differing ideas, that the narrow limits which traditionally defined acceptable musical expression no longer determine the validity of any composer’s work, Stravinsky, Rosenman, Stockhausen, or Williams. Just as we, as members of our society, must be conversant in tax laws, governmental procedures, the operations of millions of technological devices; must be familiar in basic psychology, pharmacology, and many other scientific bodies of knowledge in differing cultures whose idiosyncratic mores must be seen as valid for them.

Just as we must deal with what is called future shock, the rapid changes that make tomorrow’s new ideas of considerable impact today, so music critics (especially film music critics) must face the fact that a composer’s uniquely personal mode of self-expression need not fall into any one genre, category or stylistic. The fundamentals of musical creativity are more basic than that. Goldsmith’s stylistics are identifiable to any keen ear that listens openly for them, be they part of a twelve-tone cue, an experiment with a ring modulator or a lushly orchestrated, romantic lyrical theme and variation.

The one quoted paragraph by Mr. Fiedel encompasses most of the problems in the consideration of film music criticism. It implies the necessity of limited idioms; adherence to preconceived concepts of composition; ignorance of important factors that affect the composition, recording, and final appearance of a film score; assumptions based on that ignorance; conclusions drawn from incomplete information; and a general lack of thorough consideration. Were that the only paragraph ill-conceived it just might be excusable, but later in the same article Mr. Fiedel berates Goldsmith for the “stylistic contradictions” in the composer’s score for Logan’s Run without knowing what was cut by producers, or what was requested by directors – which questions were vital and considerable.

He blatantly states what he would have liked from Mr. Goldsmith: “I would have preferred the use of orchestral coloring and harmonic structuring within a homogenous style as a more artful solution” than what he calls the “stylistic contradictions” ranging in the one score “from romantic pastoral passages, Coplandesque fanfares and primitive Stravinskian rhythms, to atonality, avant-garde percussion effects and totally electronic music. There’s even a brief reference to the famous Strauss-2001 fanfare in the main title sequence.”* Is it that Mr. Fiedel cannot appreciate the combination of these different elements into the task of storytelling? How can a tale about escapees from a post-holocaust, mechanical, domed city exploring the real world outside be improved by a ‘more homogenous style?” There are two disparate worlds – inside the dome and outside. The film makes this point quite important. Should the music work to obliterate the contrast?

* Note the penchant for describing a musical idea or technique by using the name of another composer; it has been discussed above.

Later still in the article, Mr. Fiedel discusses the score for The Omen (1976) with such comments as “Rather than emphasizing the horrific shocks which The Omen apparently offers in abundant quantities, Goldsmith concerned himself with establishing an atmosphere of omnipresent satanic evil… This constitutes an intelligent attempt to musically get within the drama… Judging from the film’s phenomenal box-office gross, Goldsmith’s approach was a successful one.” Only then does he admit that he refused to see the film, because The Omen’s ad campaign warned him ‘You’ve been warned!” and “Having good reason to take 20th Century-Fox’s publicity department at their word, and strongly objecting to the transformation of my local theater into the Circus Maximus, I wisely decided to boycott The Omen.” This from a young New Yorker who feels justified in reviewing the film music on the basis of the album alone, contending the only difference is “that the listener who has seen the film and retains images will derive far greater satisfaction from the experience than the listener who hasn’t.” His comments, however, were related not to the score as a pure musical work but as they (he presumed) functioned vis à vis the film.

I submit that it is this sort of ‘criticism’ and that of the reviewers of Audio and Films in Review, most particularly, that helps give film music a bad name, since so many of its devoted critics are so irresponsible. This contributes to tolerant neglect amongst most of the musically minded in our society. What perceptions have inspired such writing should be disciplined and made worthy of the art form they deign to criticize. In all fairness to Mr. Fiedel, I must state that the quoted article while not alone among his oeuvre, is however indicative of a good bit of his writing, though his most recent reviews (those in the November, 1977 Take One are balanced and interesting.

Writers in publications such as the Soundtrack Collectors’ Newsletter, Pro Musica Sana and Main Title are devoted supporters of the cause to a man; their publications are for the believers. And while too many of the commentaries in aficionado periodicals really amount to what Shaw calls, “the sort of musical writing which parades silly little musical parsing exercises to impress the laity exactly as the performances of the learned pig impress the rustics at the fair,” I am addressing myself to those who write for larger volume periodicals with a wider and more diversified distribution, which thereby reach the potential converts.

I hope that with the most able assistance of the late George Bernard Shaw, I have succeeded in an acceptable approximation of objectivity, with some semblance of clarity. I admit I have failed miserably at being dispassionate! I don’t think, however, that even Shaw would have faulted me for my enthusiastic lapse in the want of dispassion.

This essay first appeared in Elmer Bernstein’s Film Music Notebook (1974–1978) and is republished by kind permission of the author. FSM thread.

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Jay Quantrill is a performing arts programmer, screenwriter and musicologist who was a founder member of The Film Music Society, and has contributed reviews and essays to many publications and recordings.

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