Listening to Stanley Kubrick (15 page)

Rapée categorized film sequences into three groups: those depicting actions, those showing psychological situations, and those whose main purpose is to provide atmosphere. For the last category, Rapée included music for accompaniment that he calls “Neutral.” The pieces under this heading include Schubert’s
Moments Musicaux
,
Albumblatt
by Grieg, and
The Lotus
by Theodora Dutton.
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For action sequences like “Fire-Fighting,” Rapée included the “Card Trio” from Bizet’s
Carmen
. For “Festivals,” an organist can choose the March and Procession of Bacchus from Léo Delibes’s ballet
Sylvia.
For the atmospheric heading “Grotesque,” the organist may play Grieg’s
Tanz aus Jölster
.
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Similar collections were published toward the end of the silent era. In truth, by the time these collections categorized the music, the sound era had just about begun. More and more, directors called upon composers to write new music for their films, and the use of preexistent music began to wane, although it never disappeared altogether.

Over the course of film’s first hundred years, the dominant tradition became the single composer and the newly composed score, but other traditions emerged as well, like that of the pop score heard in films like
The Blackboard Jungle
,
Easy Rider
, and
American Graffiti
. We have also seen the emergence of scores drawing upon world music, electronic music, and the avant garde. It was Kubrick himself and
2001: A Space Odyssey
(and a few years later
A Clockwork Orange
) that thrust the preexistent classical score back into the public consciousness.

Preexistent Music in Kubrick’s Films

The choices of preexistent music in film, whether handpicked by a director or in a pinch by a silent film pianist, bring additional meaning into the film experience. A director might draw upon these meanings in a narrative or referential function to enhance the experience of his or her film. Kubrick was far more interested in the sounds of works and how the sounds matched with his visual images rather than what they “meant.” In an interview with the author, Kubrick’s brother-in-law and sometimes executive producer, Jan Harlan, explained that Kubrick was often unaware of the extra-musical meanings of his chosen works. With the very first musical cue in
2001
,
Also Sprach Zarathustra
, it might be easy to connect the dots and assume that Kubrick chose the piece because of its extra-musical meaning, but there just isn’t evidence to support this. Harlan explains that Kubrick, in searching for an appropriate cue, asked simply for “something big that comes to an end.”
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We cannot deny, however, that whether or not Kubrick was aware of these programs, ideas, or narratives, they have still become part of the films’ fabric. They may be hidden to some and obvious to others, but as we discuss the musical works Kubrick used in the films of the second half of his career, I will tell the stories and anecdotes of these works, whether Kubrick knew them or not, because regardless of Kubrick’s knowledge, they exist and they affect the way the film is read, accepted, and experienced.

Kubrick’s preference for classical music over original compositions for his films is an important part of his work. When asked about his penchant for using preexistent music in his scores he said, “Unless you want a pop score, I don’t see any reason not to avail yourself of the great orchestral music of the past and present.”
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After
Paths of Glory
(1957), scored by Gerald Fried, and
Spartacus
(1960), scored by Alex North, Kubrick began to experiment with scores that used pop songs or borrowed music along with some newly written elements. With
2001
, Kubrick pushed those experiments even further, and as he worked, it seemed, at least to Jan Harlan, that there were three important aspects of Kubrick’s method for choosing music in the second half of his career:
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1. Kubrick had to like [the cue] as a piece of music
   
2. Kubrick didn’t like fading out or cutting
   
3. If he loved it enough, it didn’t have to be that right [it could be historically inaccurate, like some of the music in
   Barry Lyndon
   , for example]
   

Directors often put together a rough cut of a film with an ersatz score. This temporary track, or temp track, helps the director and the editor find the rhythm of the film and helps enhance the emotional impact for early viewers of the cut. Because the score for the film is not usually written when the composer is presenting a rough cut, directors sometimes choose classical music or excerpts from the scores of other films as part of the temp track. (A notable exception to this practice was Kubrick’s own
Spartacus
, which filmed for such a long time that Alex North was able to record a temp track of his original music. See chapter 2.) As a result, directors sometimes find that upon repeated viewing, the temp track has integrated itself into the narrative, becoming an organic part of the film. If they will not or cannot use the music on the temp track, directors will often ask composers to try to match a preexistent piece in style and mood.
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Film music critic John Bender calls Kubrick’s method of assembling a score “‘permanent’ temp-tracking.”
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Kubrick became famous for using classical music albums from his own collection on his temporary tracks. Kubrick used music in the editing room, often editing sequences to specific pieces and even specific recordings: in that way, the piece of music would stay on the finished soundtrack if at all possible. He often edited the music as little as possible, opting to cut or add images rather than compromise the composer’s musical idea.
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Stanley Kubrick’s great love of classical music, both canonical and avant garde, encouraged him to experiment with different kinds of music to accompany the images in his films.
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Reactions to the use of classical music in Kubrick’s films were mixed. Film composers, in particular, dislike the practice of using preexistent music in film, for obvious reasons. Composer Jerry Goldsmith argued against the usefulness of this music because its familiarity and incongruity made it distracting. “It is a mistake to force music into a film, and for me
2001
was ruined by Kubrick’s choice of music. His selections had no relationship, and the pieces could not comment on the film because they were not part of it. . . . A score is a fabric which must be tailored to the film.”
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Kubrick did not (or could not) often explain his choices, but about
The Blue Danube
, for example, Kubrick noted: “It’s hard to find anything better than ‘The Blue Danube’ . . . for depicting grace and beauty in turning. It also gets as far away as you can get from the cliché of space music.”
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It may be argued that the source of the music, whether it is the canon of Western art music or the mind of a young film composer, is unimportant. The only thing that should concern any viewer is how well the music serves the film. Some have argued that the scores made of preexistent pieces have served their purposes admirably,
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a sentiment that rings true especially in the films that use music specifically chosen by the director in prominent structural and narrative functions. Perhaps the best example of this is Kubrick’s own
A Clockwork Orange
, which will be discussed in detail in the following chapter.

Alex North and the Lost Score
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While shooting
2001
, Kubrick pitched the idea of using all preexistent music on the soundtrack. The idea was flatly rejected by MGM who felt that a project of the magnitude of
2001: A Space Odyssey
—a Cinerama film, an event film—deserved no less than a large orchestral score tailored to it. At the behest of the studio, Kubrick asked Alex North, with whom he had worked on
Spartacus
, to compose the score for the film.
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North was particularly excited to work on the film because Kubrick described the film as having just twenty-five minutes of dialogue, and North had just finished scoring the dialogue-heavy drama
Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?
In December of 1967, North traveled to London to meet with Stanley Kubrick to discuss the project. North’s account of this entire process was published in Jerome Agel’s
The Making of Kubrick’s
2001
.
In the meeting they discussed aspects of the score, and North remembers: “[Kubrick] was direct and honest with me concerning his desire to retain some of the ‘temporary’ music tracks which he had been using for the past years. I realized he liked these tracks, but I couldn’t accept the idea of composing part of the score interpolated with other composers.”
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Despite Kubrick’s attachment to these pieces, North felt that he would be able to contribute newly written pieces that would match the moods and structures of Kubrick’s temporary track, but with updated harmonies and a greater sense of continuity. It has been suggested, however, that Kubrick’s “temporary” tracks were never meant to be temporary. Conductor and orchestrator Henry Brant has related an anecdote about the subject in which Kubrick indicated that he commissioned the score as a stopgap measure. Alex North’s wife, Anna Höllger-North, remembers the situation similarly.
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Regardless of Kubrick’s intentions, the director set up North, who had been living in New York’s Chelsea Hotel (incidentally also where Clarke was living), in an apartment on the Chelsea Embankment. It was there that he would write the score over a period of weeks. The intensity of the work and the stress of the deadline had a detrimental physical effect on North, who suffered debilitating muscle spasms and consequently was not able to conduct the score. Brant, a composer in his own right, led the very large orchestra. North sat in the control room during these sessions, while Kubrick came by to check on the process now and then. Far from being discouraging, Kubrick made useful suggestions to the composer. North took great pains to match, as closely as possible, Kubrick’s choices. One cue in particular, “Bones,” which was written to replace Richard Strauss’s introduction to the tone poem
Also Sprach Zarathustra
, is quite obviously—even on a first hearing—modeled on the earlier piece. North correctly suspected that even with all the similarities, Kubrick would not part with the Strauss piece.

All told, North composed about forty minutes of music, which was recorded over a period of two weeks. At that point, North was hoping to see the film so that he could spot the music and get an overall sense of what still needed to be done. Kubrick did not send him the film and essentially left him in a holding pattern for eleven days. (Although North mentions that Kubrick was still making suggestions for possible changes during this time.) These days were incredibly stressful for North, who was both frustrated at the lack of communication and anxious to finish the score. In his private notes, he kept track of his correspondence, or lack thereof, with Kubrick. One note says: “explained to his asst. my momentary duress. Willing to go ahead and still working
under Doctor’s care
” (emphasis original). Finally, Kubrick responded with a written note, dated 26 January 1968. It reads:

I tried to phone you several times last night but your phone was busy over a period of several hours. As I’ve told you several times during the past week, I’m still editing and I won’t be able to determine what, if any, further music requirements exist until then. I hope to be able to do that in a few days. Regards, Stanley.
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With the release of the film still a couple of months away, North still had no idea which portions of his music would be kept and which would be left unused. In early February, North finally heard from Kubrick about the score, and the message left him more puzzled than ever; Kubrick stated that no more music was necessary and that he was going to use “breathing effects for the remainder of the film.”
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When
2001
was previewed in New York on 1 April 1968, it was the first time Alex North saw the film, and he was very disappointed to find that Kubrick had not used one measure of his music on the film.

For more than two decades, North’s score remained largely unheard, except for a few themes that bear a resemblance to parts of later scores like that of the 1981 fantasy film
Dragonslayer
(for which North was nominated for an Original Score Oscar) and 1968’s
The Shoes of the Fisherman
. In the latter film, the heroic theme for Kiril, the man who unexpectedly becomes pope, features a particular rhythmic and harmonic gesture that very closely resembles a gesture heard in the cue that was meant to replace Richard Strauss’s music in
2001
. Two bright sonorous chords appear, the first both shorter in length and higher than the second. This short-long gesture, played by trumpets and horns in particular, has a sense of majesty about it. It fits equally well in the context of humankind’s evolution and in the elevation of a simple, humble man to the highest office of the Roman Catholic Church. This motif becomes one of the most important themes in
Shoes of the Fisherman
. Other cues resemble simple folk music or chorale-like hymns. The main title bears resemblance to a Ukrainian folk song, “Oy ne khody Hrytsyu,” which became a popular tune in the U.S. with the title, “Yes My Darling Daughter.” Versions exist by Dinah Shore, the Andrews Sisters, and Eydie Gormé.

North mentioned once or twice expanding the raw material from the score into a symphony, his third. Incidentally, North thought that he might dedicate such a piece to the Apollo 13 astronauts, who survived a lunar mission riddled with life-threatening challenges. That project never materialized. One of the cues from North’s score, called “Fanfare from
2001
”—the cue meant to replace Strauss—was included on
Hollywood’s Greatest Hits, Vol. 2
, a compilation of film music performed by Erich Kunzel and the Cincinnati Pops Orchestra (1993).