"Hit the lights, we'll trade fours"

During a time in cinema history when film music was going through a stylistic shift, jazz was commonly used in place of the Romantic orchestrations popular in films of the 30s, 40s and 50s. Director Woody Allen, a well-known jazz enthusiast, uses some of the most prominent jazz musicians and songwriters in his films from 1969 to present day. The 1979 film Manhattan works as an homage not only to the city it’s named after but also to the well-known New York composer, George Gershwin. No less than ten of Gershwin’s most popular jazz pieces are placed throughout Allen’s film and serve to represent sentimentality and a feeling of nostalgia towards Gershwin’s music and Gershwin’s Manhattan.

Manhattan tells the intertangled love story of four people: Isaac (Allen), a 42-year-old divorced father, Tracy (Mariel Hemingway), Isaac’s 17-year-old girlfriend, Yale, (Michael Murphy) Isaac’s married best friend, and Mary (Diane Keaton), Yale’s mistress. All characters share similar issues of insecurity, loneliness, dishonesty, infidelity and self-importance, and all, save for maybe Tracy, are completely unaware of these flaws.

Gershwin’s music is used as an extension of Isaac’s character but represent a rather unrealistic perception of his life, that is Isaac’s perception of his own life. “Sweet and Low Down” is Isaac’s main musical theme while two different versions of “He Loves and She Loves” are used for Tracy and Isaac’s relationship. During the initial, and somewhat awkward, intimate scene between Isaac and Tracy, “Our Love is Here to Stay” is heard as Isaac explains why Tracy can not spend the night. Isaac and Mary’s relationship is represented by more mature and suggestive pieces of music. The early morning walk that ends at the Queensboro Bridge is accompanied by “Someone to Watch Over Me” while a date to the museum includes a rare orchestral version of “Do, Do, Do.” Both pieces imply a desire for real love and romance that neither character is able to successfully attain.

All of Gershwin’s music is used non-diagetically, outside the narrative, while certain pieces of diagetic music are used to show Isaac at his most uncomfortable moments. The New York Philharmonic plays Mozart’s Symphony No. 40 in G Minor during a double date between Isaac and Mary, and Yale and his wife Emily. Mozart’s music goes through a rapid progression of minor key modulations while Isaac fidgets uncomfortably in his seat, perfectly aware of how awkward his situation is.

In the initial dialogue Isaac works on the first line for his current book: “Chapter One: He adored New York City. To him it was a metaphor for the decay of contemporary culture.” In Manhattan, the music serves as a metaphor for everything in Isaac’s life. His insecurities, his love for Tracy, his feelings for Mary, his relationship with Yale, his animosity towards his ex-wife, his love for his son and his nostalgic affection for Manhattan. He dreams of the days of Gershwin, contemplating how simple life must have been when the music was “S’wonderful.”

Being misunderstood in a man's world

"It's bad enough being born a girl, but being born ugly and clever..."

The words Sybylla Melvyn uses to describe herself in Gillian Anderson's 1979 film My Brilliant Career sums up the difficulties Sybylla faces trying to find her place in late 19th century Australia. Sybylla is plain, but brilliant. She loves art, literature, music and elegance, and is determined to have a CAREER. The word itself induces shocking gasps from her grandmother, aunt and mother, and while they search for a suitable husband, Sybylla pays no mind to their exploits and refuses to lose sight of her goals.

Sybylla seems to fit in to this man's world. She can drink with them, drive carriages, stand her ground in an argument and sing songs about drunken maidens, but she is hardly accepted because she does not fit the archetype for young women of the period. She is surprised to learn her behavior is unacceptable and wonders why she is not allowed to be herself. She is advised by the grandmother of her would-be husband that independence is selfish and is told by her own grandmother that marriage will finally give her respectability.

By employing a sort of shared perspective, Anderson makes this film accessible to modern day audiences. The camera is used to tell the story from Sybylla's perspective by never showing a scene where Sybylla is not present and using numerous point of view shots. In addition, Sybylla's dialogue assimilates more modern perspectives of a woman's life. Like Sybylla, many women from the 1970s through today would wonder why a woman has to pretend to be someone else to attract a husband, why she needs someone to look after her, why she can not have an independent life or focus on a career.

When I first viewed My Brilliant Career a few years ago I wished I had seen the film as a very young girl. To me she is one of the greatest young heroines in cinema, a young woman who focuses on herself during a time when women were brought up to focus on finding a husband and serving them until the day they die. Sybylla's future is unexplained at the end of the film but there is satisfaction in knowing she never gives in to the pressures her family puts on her. She chooses the possibility of a career over a marriage to a rich and handsome young man. As an independent woman she is already successful for being able to do what she dreams of. But as a woman of the era it is difficult to tell how much success she will be able to obtain, or how much happiness she will be allowed to enjoy.

How the West Was Sung

Film music is one of the most neglected components of film analysis. Several books and essays by scholars of film music point out the tendency in film theory and history to largely ignore the music in critical study. In her recent book, How the West Was Sung, Rhode Island College professor Kathryn Kalinak singularly identifies this fault within auteur theory. In her analysis she makes a strong case for film music by applying auteur theory, continental philosophy, semiotics, and music theory to the music in the westerns of auteur, John Ford. Kalinak’s current focus is song and how traditional American and folk music operate in Ford’s westerns. Ford’s control and implementation of music and song characterizes the personal style and vision of his work and, according to Kalinak, “operate narratively, thematically, structurally and ideologically”, thus providing a superior understanding of characters, historical setting and narrative implications.

The Searchers, commonly referred to as Ford’s magnum opus, is by far the most significant chapter for Kalinak as she states her surprise at how little attention has been given to the music in the historical analysis of the film. “The music has much to reveal, enriching an understanding of both the film and the culture in which it was produced," and Kalinak states that characters and the driving force behind their decisions are revealed in the music. The Searchers has long been analyzed as a film about prejudice and hatred, and the music helps further the conversation regarding Ford’s true implications in his portrayal of different race and ethnic backgrounds. It is no longer just a commentary on race; the music moves the discussion further by identifying the way in which music represents all characters of different backgrounds and their relationships to one another.

Kathryn Kalinak has proven her skills when critically analyzing film music in the essays, “Disturbing the Guests with this Racket: Music and Twin Peaks,” and “Flashdance: The Dead End Kid.” The amount of research completed in How the West Was Sung is evident while her writing style is always clear and conscientious. She has a way with words illustrated in appealing background stories and anecdotes that convey the depth of her knowledge, and I thoroughly enjoy her sense of humor: “Are all prostitutes in Ford’s westerns named after cities?” In the end, Kalinak efficiently ascertains that auteur theorists have committed a major faux pas in omitting music from their theory and analysis. Kalinak’s book offers a shrewd hypothesis, well organized and thoroughly examined, that brings a wealth of discovery into the formative study of film music.