In 1913 the Italian Futurist Luigi Russolo famously wrote in his Art of Noise manifesto:

“Ancient life was all silence. In the nineteenth century, with the invention of the machine, Noise was born. Today, Noise triumphs and reigns supreme over the sensibilities of men.”

*The Red Desert* [1964] dir. Michelangelo Antonioni

The history of film sound is set to the industrial symphonic soundscape. To witness human activity is to encounter the incessant noise of war, mechanised extraction and global commerce. Thrown into the machine age modern man is violently forced into a radical ontological reorientation.

More than anywhere else this is located in the emerging urbanised cauldrons of the metropolis, where the intensification of stimulation is at its most demanding. Here the acceleration and compression of commercial, social and political activity bear down on the individual, threatening “the independence and individuality of his existence against the sovereign powers of society” (G. Simmel, The Metropolis and Mental Life, 1903). Jacque Tati succeeds in examining the amusing confusion and alienation of this modern landscape with trademark wit and humour in his 1967 feature film Playtime.

If 20th century film is a story set admist the cacophony of the modern city, how might the soundtrack of the industrial symphony change, if at all, in a digitally connected, disembodied age? Combustion engines replaced horse-drawn carts, and in doing so radically altered the urban soundscape. Will muted electric cars and server farms housing cloud services located in far flung places similarly transform the sights and sounds of the 21st century city?

Film Selection:

Broken Spectre [2022] dir. Richard Mosse
Good Luck [2017] dir. Ben Russell
Leviathan [2013] dir. Verena Paravel, Lucien Castaing-Taylor
Eraserheard [1977] dir. David Lynch
Playtime [1967] dir. Jacques Tati
The Red Desert [1964] dir. Michelangelo Antonioni
Snow [1963] dir. Geoffrey Jones
The Junction [1961] dir. Kazimierz Karabasz
Enthusiasm: Symphony of the Donbass [1930] dir. Dziga Vertov

Film sound serves the illusion of embodied presence. In particular, synchronous sound that feels tightly bound to onscreen movement creates the impression of a natural and familiar multi sensorial experience of the world. And yet, there is nothing intrinsically natural about synchronous sound that has been post-produced or dubbed in the studio.

Conventionally the marriage of film sound and film image is an artificial arrangement; each is recorded separately, employing a different technical process. It is the operation of the spectator’s brain that processes the optical and acoustic information it receives into a single cinema event of moving image and sound. It therefore might be more accurate to attribute any sense of audiovisual naturalism or realism to the conventions of film language.

Post-produced sound effects and foley serve to heighten or exaggerate the presence of the things we see onscreen. This amplified presence assists in directing the spectator’s auditory attention to particular dramatic events at particular moments in time. As with other aspects of the designed soundtrack, sometimes this is performed beneath the spectator’s conscious awreness. In conventional narrative filmmaking this in turn assists in shaping how the spectator engages with the film’s storytelling.

This sense of expressing presence with sound may reflect a filmmaker’s own particular style and intention. Different approaches might also reflect the conventions of particular genres and their respective stylistic tropes. Alternatively they might differ according to the practical and technical challenges of post-synchronisation sound - historically and within different regional film industries (film cultures that are more accustomed to voice-dubbing practices for example than others).

The process of re-recording and post-synchronising sound effects is often as much a reflection of a director’s desire for finer control in post-production as it is in having to contend with the technical challenges of direct sound recorded on location. During the film shoot many filmmakers like Andrei Tarkovsky and Jacques Tati tended to prioritise the camera. In the article Jacques Tati: Composing in Sound and Image, Jonathan Rosenbaum writes:

“The fact that he always shot his films without sound and composed his soundtracks separately made it easier for him to use images and sounds interactively, employing sound in part as a way of guiding how we look at his images, by stimulating and directing our imaginations. This means that any discussion of Tati’s mise-en-scene has to cope with the reality that he effectively directed each of his films twice—once when he shot them and then once again when he composed and recorded their soundtracks. Adding sound often served as a way of “retouching” his images by directing our eyes, sometimes by complicating or even undermining the visual evidence.”

Rosenhaum here highlights how post-production sound can further “reframe” the image, generating new ideas that might not have been in the original script or visual storyboard.

*Tetsuo: Iron Man* [1989] dir. Shinya Tsukamoto • *Tetsuo: Body Hammer* [1992] dir. Shinya Tsukamoto

Some genres like Body Horror, a sub genre of horror, or martial arts movies, lend themselves well to an exaggerated, grotesque treatment of sound to help enrich the tactile, corporeal dimension of the onscreen action. Similar to and no doubt inspired by the work of David Cronenberg, the late-80s and early-90s Japanese cyberpunk films of Shinya Tsukamoto and Shozin Fukui depict characters experiencing episodes of psychosis or deep metamorphosis; their bodies audibly transforming into fleshy new creatures or hybrid man-machines whose metallic surfaces rattle and creak.

Free of any direct sound, animation films provide the widest range of interpretative possibilties with sound and presence. One of the most striking examples are the films of Czech animator Jan Švankmajer. Both in his stop-frame animation shorts and live action feature films, Švankmajer and his sound designer Ivo Špalj sculpt a sountrack style of hyper-presence and granular detail, devoid of any musical score.

These soundtracks are of a grotesque, even cartoonish proximity that feel strangely intimate and discomforting in all their naked, tactile rawness - a soundscape of creaking surfaces and fleshy, organic tissue. Evoking what the filmmaker has called these “neglected or hidden tactile feelings”, Švankmajer’s approach to sound mirrors his artistic and philisophical interest in the tactile dimension of perceptual experience. He writes:

“Touch played a significant role even in my older films (for instance the emphasis on the detailed structure of close-up film objects) but since the 1980s […] I worked deliberately on evoking these neglected or hidden tactile feelings and tried to enrich the emotional arsenal of filmic expression. I became increasingly conscious that to revive the general impoverishment of sensibilities in our civilization the sense of touch can play an important part, as so far it has not been discredited in artistic endeavours.” (Touching and Imagining, p.3).

In discussing sound for animation it is easy to overlook the pinoneering work of sound editor Treg Brown (1889-1984) who, despite the impact of his work, sadly very little has been written about. He was responsible for creating and editing many of the Warner Brothers’ iconic cartoon sound effects used in hundreds of animation films from the 1930s onwards. Brown must be considered one of the most original and innovative individuals working with sound in film history. His sonic arsonary of wild crashes, bangs, twangs and whallops is quite literally the sound of cartoon in motion, the soundtrack of material life for millions of 20th century television viewers.

Film Selection:

Cold Meridian [2020] dir. Peter Strickland
Bait [2019] dir. Mark Jenkin
964 Pinocchio [1991] dir. Shozin Fukui
Tetsuo: Iron Man [1989] dir. Shinya Tsukamoto
Alice [1988] dir. Jan Švankmajer
Street of Crocodiles [1986] dir. The Quay Brothers
Last Hurrah for Chivalry [1979] dir. John Woo
Once Upon Time in the West [1969] dir. Sergio Leone
Playtime [1967] dir. Jacques Tati
Now Hear This [1962] dir. Chunk Jones