When it comes to a particular genre of narrative storytelling, science fiction remains my favorite genre, but I will be honest- over the past several years, documentaries have just started to hit differently for me. I think it’s due to my starting to cover film festivals in 2019; while yes, seeing some narrative films before the general public has been exciting, there have typically been 2-3 documentaries from festivals like Sundance and Atlanta that I’ve been bowled over, and almost invariably end up on my favorites for the year. On Saturday night, I was playing catch up on films I hadn’t seen yet this year, and it ended up being a documentary double feature that I ended up loving.
In 2007, I created a playlist entitled “Creative Spirit.” It’s basically a collection of film music cues and instrumental songs that have given me a sense of musical inspiration and peace over the years. Originally confined to a CD, it’s now a playlist on YouTube Music, and while many of the artists and tracks have changed, some have been on there since the beginning. I bring this up because it this playlist reveals a lot about me as an artist, and an individual, in a way that is hard to really express in words. Even with 20 years of reviews and podcasts on Sonic Cinema, I still feel as though there’s things that are difficult to share in words. This is more than just a hub for my thoughts on film; this is an outlet to share who I am with people. Sometimes, it’s easier to do that through words on a computer screen than in person interaction.
The first film of my double feature on Saturday, Benjamin Ree’s “The Remarkable Life of Ibelin” (now on Netflix), is the story of a young man who- for reasons he rarely shared with anyone he met online- found it easier to communicate through the computer than in person. Mats Steen was born with a degenerative muscular disease that left him in a wheelchair his entire life. He went to school through high school, but when he moves out of the house after that, it’s only to his own apartment in his parent’s home. He was unable to really have a normal life, and he found his solace in gaming. Originally it was console and handheld gaming devices, but later his attention was drawn to World of Warcraft, and its vast, virtual world. He logged thousands of hours of gaming up until he passed away at 25 in 2014. At the time, his parents mourned his death, not just because of the loss of him, but because he didn’t really have an opportunity to live a normal life. When they posted on his blog that he passed away, however, they learned so much more about him. Friends Mats had met online, largely through WoW, reached out to his family with condolences, and an opportunity to share their memories of Mats. Part of that involves letting them know of a constant dialogue stream of their interactions through the game, which the film uses animation as a way to bring to life as we hear from some of those friends Mats met.
In my first few years at Regal, I didn’t really share much with my parents about my life. I would occasionally have friends over for movie nights, but it was more just a communal experience, and nothing I expressed as being more important than that. When I was hospitalized in 2007, and people from work began to visit, my parents suddenly realized there was more to my life- and my job- than I was showing them on the outside. My own personal experiences are part of what drew me to “The Remarkable Life of Ibelin”. While I have never had physical challenges the same way Mats did, I also had a moment where my parents suddenly realized, “Brian’s building more of a life than we thought,” and while my working at Regal would still be a source of tension at times for financial reasons, it was obvious I had more of a life than I was letting on. That was never worried about again.
Ree made one of my favorite documentaries of 2020 in “The Painter and the Thief”, the story of an unlikely bond between a painter, and the man who stole two of her paintings from a gallery. In both films, Ree’s focus is on the unexpected bond, and how empathy can help heal people. In the earlier film, there’s a give and take between the subjects that is tense, but ultimately fulfilling to both people, and inspiring. Mats’s interactions with his online community are sometimes tense, as well, as emotional struggles begin to come forth in the game, but ultimately, the picture we get of Mats through WoW is of someone with a big heart whose community means a lot to him, and his introverted real world makes it difficult to interact with people, at times. The animated sequences bring a lot of energy and fun to the film, as we see Mats come out of his shell, and the ebbs and flows of his online life. This is a movie very much made for me at this time of my life, something that allows me to reflect on my own experiences, and ponder how I’m approaching life now.
In my “Creative Spirit” playlist, while its evolutions often have had to do with particular scores or pieces of music that have hit me in a moment, a lot of the long-time selections on the playlist are because sometimes, a favorite composer just nailed a feeling. My favorite film composer, Hans Zimmer, is represented several times, and two of his contributions have been on this playlist since jump street. My next favorite film composer is John Williams, but oddly enough, I don’t really put his music on there as much. It’s not because I do not adore the maestro’s iconic music, I do, but with few exceptions, I don’t find myself really having his music on repeat the way I do Zimmer’s or Ennio Morricone’s or James Horner’s. I think that’s because Williams, in his use of leitmotif, is often so synonymous with the stories he’s scoring that his work doesn’t really fit with how I approach the playlist. “Creative Spirit” is more about vibes and emotions, not highlighting favorite themes and moments from film scores, and often, Williams isn’t really a vibe composer.
My second documentary on Saturday night was Laurent Bouzereau’s “Music by John Williams”. Just released on Disney+, the film looks back on the career of Williams, not only through his own words, but the words of collaborators, colleagues and fans of his over the years. At 105 minutes, Bouzereau’s film feels too short to really get into a career spanning six decades of film and TV, but one of my favorite things about it is how it gives us insight into the process of film scoring. No, we don’t get a blow-by-blow of Williams watching the film, trying out ideas, and then syncing during the recording sessions, but we hear about how he auditions his sketches for filmmakers, especially his long-time collaborator, Steven Spielberg (who helped produce the film), and it’s some of the most insightful parts of the film. We also see actual sheets of score, and the madness of the interaction between the scientists and spaceship at the end of “Close Encounters of the Third Kind” is extraordinary to see on the page. This is basically a film music geek’s dream documentary.
The musical composition process is a very internal one. Unless the composer gives us a definitive blow-by-blow of his thought process, it’s impossible to really make that into compelling cinema. When movies like this or the recent “Ennio” are able to provide insight into a master’s process, it feels like wrestling art out of genius, much like Saliari as he is getting the notes out of Mozart for his “Requiem” at the end of “Amadeus”. A film like “Music by John Williams” doesn’t exist to show us a genius in action, but to allow us to appreciate how they approach their work, and what it means to people. There’s no insights into the man that we didn’t already know; Bouzereau’s film exists to allow us to appreciate his life, his work, and to remind us of the importance of music that makes us feel something. Even if we could never write something as emotional as the Force theme, as heroic as Indiana Jones’s March, or as terrifying as four simple notes that represent a shark, having people who can on this level, and being alive during their heyday, is something to inspire us all.
Thanks for listening,
Brian Skutle
www.sonic-cinema.com
