Listening to Stanley Kubrick

by Gengaro, Christine Lee

  Clarke and Kubrick spent four years on their collaboration. They began in 1964 and undertook the daunting task of writing a story about future space exploration from the vantage point of the dawn of the space race. They had to be careful to write what could not be disproven over the ensuing years of space travel.9 It was a complicated process; Clarke didn’t just write a novel that Kubrick adapted to the screen:

  Toward the end, both novel and screenplay were being written simultaneously, with feedback in both directions. Some parts of the novel had their final revisions after we had seen the rushes based on the screenplay based on earlier versions of the novel . . . and so on.10

  The film premiered in April of 1968 and the novel—which sold more than a million copies—appeared in July of the same year. In 1966, long after MGM expected a finished film, Kubrick was asked to put together some scenes for MGM (ostensibly to show them where their money was going). Clarke reports that this screening, which he attended, featured Felix Mendelssohn’s Midsummer Night’s Dream and Vaughn Williams’s Antarctica Suite, the former for scenes of weightlessness and the latter for the Stargate effects and scenes on the moon.11 Although he used neither of these pieces in the film, Kubrick used the latter work on set to create an appropriate mood for actor Kier Dullea in the filming of the Stargate sequence.12 In the end, Kubrick ended up with only preexistent art music on the soundtrack, and it was something of a coup for director and for the studio. An extremely popular and financially successful soundtrack, it far exceeded anyone’s expectations.

  Classical Music in Film

  In using preexistent art music in his film Kubrick was bucking the established practice of having a single composer write the score for his film. But, perhaps unintentionally, Kubrick’s musical choices drew on an even older tradition from the early days of film, when newly written film scores were not the norm. In fact, in the silent film era, musical accompaniment was often at the discretion of individual film pianists, who were called upon to choose appropriate music for scenes and to play that music live, often without the opportunity of viewing the film ahead of time. Sometimes the “score” consisted of a list of suggested preexistent pieces to play during specified scenes in the film. These lists, called cue sheets, provided recorded timings of scenes and the intended emotional tenor of the images.

  In 1924, Ernö Rapée, a conductor and virtuoso pianist, published a collection of classical and popular tunes (transcribed for keyboard) categorized into general emotions or physical actions. The collection was called Motion Picture Moods for Pianists and Organists: A Rapid-Reference Collection of Selected Pieces. The subtitle refers to the table of contents printed in the margin of every page listing the fifty-two moods and situations in the book. The organist could then easily switch from one mood to another.

  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.13 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.14 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.”15

  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.”16 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:17

  Kubrick had to like [the cue] as a piece of music

  Kubrick didn’t like fading out or cutting

  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.18 Film music critic John Bender calls Kubrick’s method of assembling a score “‘permanent’ temp-tracking.”19

  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.20 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.21

  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.”22 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.”23 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,24 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 Score25

  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.26 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.”27 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.28

  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.29

  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.”30 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).

  In the early 1990s, film music legend Jerry Goldsmith set about recording the score from the manuscript copies.31 The resulting score differs a bit from North’s actual recordings (which were published in 2007 and are discussed below). There is also the erroneous inclusion of a cue that North wrote for a 1967 television series called Africa (called “Main Theme” on the track listing). The manuscript f
or that cue was mixed in with the music for 2001 and was thought to be part of the original score.

  Even with its inaccuracies, the release of the score on the Varése-Sarabande label featuring the National Philharmonic Orchestra must have felt like a great vindication for North’s estate. Unfortunately, North died in 1991 and did not live to see the completed recording, which could not have been made without the efforts of Jerry Goldsmith, who felt that Kubrick had made the wrong decision in discarding North’s score. Reviews of the score were mixed. Some could not get Kubrick’s iconic musical choices out of their consciousness, while others addressed how well North had captured the moods in Kubrick’s film.

  In 2007, Intrada Records, an American label specializing in soundtracks, released a recording of North’s personal copies of the recording sessions he did for the film. This is considered to be the definitive version of the score and differs from the Goldsmith version in a few important respects. First, the cue called “Main Title” on the Goldsmith recording is called “Bones” on the Intrada recording, the name given by North and Brant. “Bones” (with the additional title of “and M.T.” ostensibly for Main Title) is an important cue because it is the one meant to replace Strauss’s Zarathustra excerpt. The Intrada release also includes additional takes for three cues in which one can hear slightly different emphases in Brant’s interpretation. There is an alternate version of the cue called “Foraging” on the disc, which, because the manuscript for it was not included with the rest of the score, is missing from the Goldsmith recording. Also, the cue from the Africa series is gone (“Main Theme” on the Goldsmith recording). One of the most useful aspects of the Intrada recording is the detailed commentary in the CD booklet by film music scholar Jon Burlingame. In addition to historical information about the recording, Burlingame and producer Nick Redman devised timings that allow one to sync up the recording to scenes in the film. Previous to this, a synching guide appeared in the New York Review of Science Fiction in 2000, but North’s tapes hadn’t yet been released.32 The Intrada recording is also unique because it has the blessing of both Kubrick’s estate and North’s.