The Psychology of Film Music

[Uni 306]

Since some folks have objected that the MB's gone a little too JRRT recently, and asked that it turn its prominent prow in a slightly more JW/Filmusic direction, I thought I'd bring something more on-topic to the table and see if we can't get some interesting conversation going.

Let me set the stage by tossing out one more time a sentiment brought to light in another thread, and my reaction to it:

Instead of giving the film a heart, he gave it his.

Wow. That may be one of the most concise—and accurate—statements I've read about what makes Williams so great at what he does. Beautifully said.

- Uni

And it was beautifully said. It sums up a great deal of what we love about the guy, right? He gives his heart to everything he does.

But here's the thing: we've autopsied the emotional elements of these scores a thousand times before on this forum. Everyone knows and agrees that Williams is just about the best there is for making your heart soar and dance and beat faster and bringing a tear to your eye. There's just no question left in the matter. (And if there is, feel free to bring it up . . . somewhere else.)

Now I want to approach his stuff from another angle: the purely psychological effect his music has on the scenes he writes for and the audience watching it. I know the mind can't necessarily separate itself from associative emotions, and I'm not trying to start a "Film Score Appreciation for Vulcans" thread. But I do want to remove things from the region around the heart and head for the brain for a while instead. The point I want to make—and intend to prove, and hope others agree and will help me with it—is that certain compositions don't simply manipulate our feelings. They also affect how our minds perceive the activity and subtext within a scene, often on a level we're not even consciously aware of. Music can often communicate as direct a message to an audience as dialogue, action, or any other form of exposition can.

And now you'll be wanting examples, of course. When I was first chewing on this notion a couple of days ago, my first impulse was to open up my entire Williams collection and find at least a dozen or two precedents that would make my point. I may yet do that, but I also want to give others a chance to explore the subject too. So I'll start with a pair of specimens, randomly selected (meaning they're what came to mind first) to demonstrate what I'm talking about. I'm sure others can come up with even better instances. I probably can too—and no doubt will, since I don't intend to kick the ball into play here and then watch the rest of the game from the sidelines. Hopefully these two will help lay some groundwork so everyone has at least some idea of I'm talking about.

A final note for clarity: the purpose here is to analyze things more from the perspective of people who haven't listened to these scores apart from the film. We all have the advantage of having memorized vasts amounts of this stuff, and as a result we tend to focus consciously on the music as it's playing during a movie. The idea here is to reflect on the subconscious effect it would have on someone who wasn't necessarily paying any attention to the music—as is the case with the vast majority of movie audiences.

"Father and Son" from Jaws. This one's always ranked in my book as one of the most idiosyncratic pieces ever spotted for a scene. Most composers would've taken the "cutesy" angle as a break from the more menacing orchestrations. Not Williams. He takes an endearing interchange and pairs it with an absolutely terrifying piece of music, one of the scariest in the film. "Ben Gardner's Boat" is mysterious and ominous, the shark music is primal fear realized, but there's something even darker lying under the surface of this one. And it all lies in that oppressive, welling, single-note bass line, followed by piano on the low end. Take that out, and it's a fairly light (if a bit "tired"—as in mentally exhausted) bit of play. Leave it as is, and it's the sort of thing you might expect to go along with images of a condemned man writing his final letter of reassurance to his family as he awaits the executioner's arrival. It isn't cute at all. It's discomfiting.

That bass line sets the stage for what's really going on, and not just on an emotional scale. It makes this Brody's scene from start to finish. After watching another boy die—especially if it's due in no small part to his own negligence in not taking a stronger stand—no father could sit with his own son and not feel the weight of that sort of crushing imminence. He could fake the niceties, but in his own head he'd be thinking about how fragile his little boy was, what an easy thing it would be to lose him, what he should or shouldn't do to prevent that loss. . . .

Watching the scene, the melody registers on a conscious level: people tend to hear the higher notes and link it with the charming images. But the brain, mostly as an unconscious realization, takes in and processes that paradoxically heavy bass line—and, over the course of a scene that lacks a single word of dialogue, you know exactly what Brody is thinking, just as clearly as if he were explaining it to his wife.

"The Mine Car Chase" from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. It would be easy to diagnose the reasoning behind the orchestration of this piece as "fast action = fast music." But why the fast music? We see what's happening on the screen. It's not like we don't get that things are happening at high speed. There are even breaks in the chaos, during which a brief, industrious motif emerges on the horns; but when the music really gets going, holy cow, is it moving at full tilt.

It's not easy to hear—the music throughout most of the mine car chase is drowned out by sound effects—but I think it still registers, that frantic sound of woodwinds being played so fast you wonder if the conductor didn't injure himself during the recording sessions. It sounds like they're barely in control. Almost as if they're within an inch of losing control, in fact. And I would argue that the subconscious hears in that an inevitable sense of underlying panic. They see the mine car tilting off the tracks, they perceive an orchestra tilting precariously off the staff lines, and they can't help but feel their butts begin tilting over the edge of their seats.

Make sense? I suppose you could begin to draw an argument that there's always an underlying emotional reaction at work, even in these two examples (especially the first). And maybe there is. But that's not what I'm interested in talking about here. I believe there's also a purely psychological effect taking place in these scenes. And I think Williams has that in mind while crafting the music for them, and for other similar situations. If all he wanted was a merely emotional effect, he could've played out a mournful tune for the scene with Brody and his son, something a lot less atonal and disturbing, one that might even have brought tears. And he could've done almost anything else with the mine car chase—something more along the lines of the action centerpieces from Raiders ("Airplane Fight," or "Desert Chase") involving more heroic moods and motifs, or loud, booming brass, or chanting chorus, or anything.

But he didn't. He chose not to. He went for the harder goal, and I think he achieved it perfectly. I also happen to think he's done it on numerous other occasions as well.

So now I leave it to you to think of a few. You don't have to explain each example in this much detail, but give some reasoning behind your thoughts.

- Uni

[gkgyver 1,638]

Being a bit more general, I wondered merely two hours ago why film music is such a male dominated area, fans and composers alike. After all, film music has a lot to do with empathy and finer sensibilities, which are generally more credited to women.

And just to clarify: how can something be off topic on a board called GENERAL DISCUSSION?

[Uni 306]

Being a bit more general, I wondered merely two hours ago why film music is such a male dominated area, fans and composers alike. After all, film music has a lot to do with empathy and finer sensibilities, which are generally more credited to women.

But that's my point: we always go for the empathic angle, because it's the most obvious reaction and doesn't require thinking about how it's achieved (though it can be fun to do so anyway). But the process often starts as a right-brain function—the pure mathematics involved in the timing and tempo—and eventually translates to left-brain, empathy-oriented results. Since we're only privy to the final, produced work, we're able to perceive more of the emotional power and less of the mechanics involved in the process.

I wonder, getting back to your question, if that isn't one reason why it's a male-dominated industry: because it requires structure before sentiment. Scores that start and end with the latter tend to lack cohesion with their movie and just play straight for mood.

And just to clarify: how can something be off topic on a board called GENERAL DISCUSSION?

Relax. I was throwing them a bone. You'll remember that I myself am and advocate of keeping things broad and varied around here.

- Uni

[JoeinAR 1,759]

think about the great horror scores out there. They don't general fill the heart with warmth and comfort. There is no joy. There is no reason to soar.

Think Psycho or Carrie.

I'm not talking about just the music accompanying the murder scene, or Carrie's use of her powers.

Think more like the music while Marion Crane is on her journey while the policeman, suspicious of her, follows,

Or the music as Chris and Billie plan to pour the pigs blood.

Or you could consider John's Planting the Charges.

You talk about mood, well that track sets the mood, the dread. The total dispair that the characters must feel as the Tower burns uncontrollably and the dynamite charges are about to explode.

It's all the wonder of film music that it's capable of expressing and exploring the full range of human emotion.

Joe, in awe of the idea that film music was even conceived.

[Uni 306]

think about the great horror scores out there. They don't general fill the heart with warmth and comfort. There is no joy. There is no reason to soar.

Think Psycho or Carrie.

I'm not talking about just the music accompanying the murder scene, or Carrie's use of her powers.

Think more like the music while Marion Crane is on her journey while the policeman, suspicious of her, follows,

Or the music as Chris and Billie plan to pour the pigs blood.

I'm not familiar with those two scores. So what about those moments works on a subliminal, non-emotional level?

Or you could consider John's Planting the Charges.

You talk about mood, well that track sets the mood, the dread. The total dispair that the characters must feel as the Tower burns uncontrollably and the dynamite charges are about to explode.

It's all the wonder of film music that it's capable of expressing and exploring the full range of human emotion.

Joe, in awe of the idea that film music was even conceived.

It is indeed all that wonder and more. The full range of human emotion.

Except that's exactly what I specified this exercise wasn't about. Again, identifying the emotions is easy. Working out what's happening in the audience's mind as a result of the music is a little harder. That's what we're after here. The psychology, not the feelings.

I think this piece still works as an example of what we're talking about. Just not for the reasons you're citing. I don't want to steal your reference, so I'll give you another shot at it. How does "Planting the Charges" affect the viewer's mind as they're watching the scene?

- Uni

[JoeinAR 1,759]

When I think of the psychology of music, I do not take that to mean devoid of emotion, as a human being it's nearly impossible to not be affected emotionally by film and music, it simply may not be the warm emotions we like to think about. to me music that does create an emotion response has failed entirely. So I guess I cannot debate with you on the level you're wanting.

In those scenes I mention I point out the dread, the fear. Those are what an audience may well be thinking AND FEELING..

An audience watching Planting the Charges and not feeling empathy towards the victims on screen are not a audience worthy of discussion.

Base emotions are there regardless. I feel subliminal may effect emotion more directly without thinking

[Uni 306]

When I think of the psychology of music, I do not take that to mean devoid of emotion, as a human being it's nearly impossible to not be affected emotionally by film and music. . . .

I'm not saying it's rendered entirely devoid of emotion, fercryinoutloud. And I'm certainly not advocating that we all stop allowing ourselves to feel any emotion while listening to the music of JW. I'm just asking people to dig a little deeper and think about the psychological underpinnings in our brains, arising from the music alone, that lead to those emotions.

. . . it simply may not be the warm emotions we like to think about. to me music that does create an emotion response has failed entirely.

Negative emotions are still emotions.

And some music—even filmusic—isn't designed to elicit emotion alone. That doesn't mean it's failed entirely.

In those scenes I mention I point out the dread, the fear. Those are what an audience may well be thinking AND FEELING..

An audience watching Planting the Charges and not feeling empathy towards the victims on screen are not a audience worthy of discussion.

Base emotions are there regardless. I feel subliminal may effect emotion more directly without thinking

Well . . . I don't know that people who don't feel what you do when you watch a film are somehow rendered "unworthy" by that distinction. However, no one's arguing against your emotional reactions in these scenes. We all have them. I'm just looking for the other part I think is there as well. (Ultimately, it's just one more way to analyze and celebrate the man's genius, that's all.)

Since you declined to elaborate on this example, I'll give it a shot: I think this scene, perhaps more than any other in the film, is where the four notes of the main theme work most effectively on a psychological level. The piece as a whole is a long, slow build, with quiet iterations of the building four note theme (from low to high, at least) running throughout. It fills a largely wordless passage of the movie as people tie themselves to various structures . . . to keep from being swept out of the top floor of a skyscraper by a torrent of water that'll wash down on them when firefighters blow up the building. On purpose. They have to unleash chaos in order to overcome it. The destruction and danger is an inherent part of the solution that will ultimately save them . . . if it works.

All of these variables are in play as the music goes from low to high (lending it an element of quiet hope), and gets louder, and louder, and louder, much like silence gets louder as you wait for the sound of an expected explosion. The music builds the tension—not just as an emotion, but as the indefinite timepiece that marks something getting closer, and closer, and closer, and can we get on with the end of the world already. . . ? The waiting was as bad for these folks as the maelstrom that followed—and the music speaks that very clearly.

So I guess I cannot debate with you on the level you're wanting.

It's not a debate I was looking for. But if you can't, you can't. No worries.

- Uni

[JoeinAR 1,759]

yes the music builds tension, but I do see your point. The music acts not just on your emotions but as a clock, a countdown, it's almost mechanical,

or in Superman, Growing Up, when Clark races the train, the music makes you think of a train, or The Superman theme itself in that it speaks Superman to you in your head, you hear it. Not just emotionally but lyrically.

Uni, you should watch Psycho, and pay close attention to the movie's score. I've change my mind on it over the years, I still don't think it's a great listen as a stand alone but what it does in the film...wow.

Same could be said for Carrie, which is as tragic a film as there is.

[KK 3,202]

Uni, you should watch Psycho, and pay close attention to the movie's score. I've change my mind on it over the years, I still don't think it's a great listen as a stand alone but what it does in the film...wow.

Agreed. In fact, I think Bernard Herrmann is one of the great masters at playing his music on a more instinctual and psychological level.

Not sure if this is what you're looking for Uni, but one example that instantly comes to mind is Vertigo. Everything from the opening titles to the love theme all add to the hypnotic tone of the film, leaving you as a viewer, rather mesmerized. It's like you're in a trance. It really makes a lot of the brilliant atmosphere and tone of that film.

[Uni 306]

yes the music builds tension, but I do see your point. The music acts not just on your emotions but as a clock, a countdown, it's almost mechanical. . . .

Now you're getting it! Think about it for a second: we, as the audience, have the advantage (as in every friggin' movie that ever featured a bomb) of seeing the clock counting down in big, red numbers. But the people in the ballroom couldn't see that. All they knew was that there was going to be a loud boom at some point in the indeterminate future. And, not being firemen or demolition experts, they didn't know how loud it would sound, or what the full effect would be, or any of that. Consider what it would be like to have to wait for something like that. I think Williams did consider it—and wrote a superb piece of accompaniment as a result.

. . . or in Superman, Growing Up, when Clark races the train, the music makes you think of a train. . . .

See? You're coming up with more great examples. After you mentioned it, a couple of points came to my mind about this scene:

- First, I think it may be one that defeats your argument that all filmusic must have emotional value. I don't get much of an emotional reaction to this piece personally—other than the comfort of familiarity, which is only natural. But there's no conflict in this scene. No loss (unlike the scene that immediately follows it). No great moral question. There's nothing at stake here. It's just Kal-El doin' what he does, to establish that he exhibited powers prior to understanding who he was. The music supports this, but it doesn't require an emotional investment to accomplish what it's there to do.

- Still, it does serve a specific purpose, and I'd say it uses the same kind of psychological tools. First, as you said, there's "the music that makes you think of a train." Consider that element by itself for a second. On a fundamental level, it's only a half-step more evolved than the two-note theme for Jaws, and rather resembles it in a distant-cousin sort of way. This is just a big, mindless, mechanical beast, and Williams represents it as such. Then, after a flaring fanfare of the first three notes from the Main Theme—serving merely as a psychological identifier, but going no further, because he isn't doing anything heroic at the moment—the strings and winds pick up what I guess you could call the "running motif." Like the "Mine Car Chase," it's rapid music for a rapid moment, but it's more than that as well. Listen closely: it isn't just speed at work here. There's a slight urgency to it, a bit of straining in the orchestrations. It's not enough to be running alongside a train; he's supposed to be faster than a speeding locomotive, and music communicates his drive to step up the pace just a bit. But he's in control the entire time, so it isn't nearly as chaotic as the music that accompanies Indy's escape from the mines in TOD. It may be similarly paced, but it's qualitatively different.

Not just emotionally but lyrically.

That may be a good way of putting it. Music can inspire emotion, of course, but some people put words to their music to convey a specific message. I think John does much the same thing without words (most of the time—occasionally, of course, he allows lyrics to do the job).

Uni, you should watch Psycho, and pay close attention to the movie's score. I've change my mind on it over the years, I still don't think it's a great listen as a stand alone but what it does in the film...wow.

I haven't seen the film in years and years, but I did recently acquire the score. I think you're right—it doesn't offer the same stand-alone pleasure someone like Williams usually does, but that wasn't its purpose anyway. Herrmann used his orchestra to project specific tensions into the minds of the audience . . . and I don't think anyone can argue he did it poorly.

- Uni

[#SnowyVernalSpringsEternal 10,251]

Being a bit more general, I wondered merely two hours ago why film music is such a male dominated area, fans and composers alike. After all, film music has a lot to do with empathy and finer sensibilities, which are generally more credited to women.

Well when it comes to composers, its because the movie business is a male dominated industry. And probably more importantly, so is the music industry. Women are well represented as players or music, but not as composers or conductors.

How many female composers were there in the Romantic era, or the Baroque period?

Women simply dont have the history and tradition in music composition, yet.

As for female film music fans. There are many. Though probably much less then male. And the ones that are there dont feel the need to express themselves via internet the way the male fans seem to.

Contributing on a forum filled with rather geeky, interesting, but at times overbearing fans is probably something of a put off to many.

With the (possible) exeption of Alice, Renovia is the only female member why has consistently, though out the years geeked out with the boys...

Female score fans are certain under represented on line. ( though we have had some fine and worthy examples)

[Uni 306]

Uni, you should watch Psycho, and pay close attention to the movie's score. I've change my mind on it over the years, I still don't think it's a great listen as a stand alone but what it does in the film...wow.

Agreed. In fact, I think Bernard Herrmann is one of the great masters at playing his music on a more instinctual and psychological level.

Not sure if this is what you're looking for Uni, but one example that instantly comes to mind is Vertigo. Everything from the opening titles to the love theme all add to the hypnotic tone of the film, leaving you as a viewer, rather mesmerized. It's like you're in a trance. It really makes a lot of the brilliant atmosphere and tone of that film.

It's not a single-piece reference, but I can see the concept applying to a whole score. It's all about the choices a composer makes—pacing, rhythm, tone, the specific notes and scales, which instruments to use, how to apply leitmotif, what to include and what to leave out . . . everything. If something as simple as a metronome or a ticking clock by itself can have a psychological impact, surely something as complex as an orchestra can do it on a much higher level.

I am now officially on the lookout for the Vertigo score. . . .

- Uni

[KK 3,202]

Well if it helps, the main titles sort of speaks for itself:

I feel the sequence with its brilliant music already sets you up psychologically for the film, with its dizzying appregio figures and classic ominous Herrmann bass.

[wanner251 17]

Ah yes... Vertigo... music to get dizzy by.

Incidentally... it would seem that composers' intent is what really matters. Say, a composer decides to play upon the emotions of the audience, telling them what to feel. Or, say the composer decides to emphasize what the film's characters' emotions are. Could you tell the difference?

The same would be true with incidental music. Whether the composer was trying to portray something to you, or whether he was trying to portray what he thought was your best idea of X, could you tell the difference?

Does it matter?

Sure there are lots of little compositional tricks that can be used, things like certain scales to represent ethnicity, and the like, but how effective are they if they become too cliché? Or if someone deems them to be racist? Suddenly the psychology changes. Or, in the same breath, how does one apply this idea to something otherworldly, such as the famous Cantina Band from Star Wars? Making it unidentifiable, since it doesn't exist on this planet.... Jedi Rocks? Sorry, Motown originated on earth.

There are good decisions, and there are bad decisions, the psychology of which depends on how it resonates with you, regardless of whether it is emotional or not.

Food for thought?

[Uni 306]

There are good decisions, and there are bad decisions, the psychology of which depends on how it resonates with you, regardless of whether it is emotional or not.

I don't think there's any denying this. And I think it can resonate mentally or emotional, or both at once.

And I have to believe that one of the reasons Williams is so highly regarded is because he makes good decisions, on both levels, the vast majority of the time. His stuff just naturally resonates with people. They get what he's trying to tell them. And it fits so many different kinds of stories, so very much of the time.

I'll throw in another fitting example here, one that was on my mind a couple of days ago as I was listening to a recent acquisition: Jerry Goldsmith's score for King Solomon's Mines. Now, I know in saying this I'm setting myself up for a flogging with the Goldsmith fans, but . . . well, there's a reason you want to tap John and not Jerry for a movie like this. It's a serviceable theme, I suppose, but it's no Raiders. If that's the case, however—what's the difference between the two? Why does one resonate, and the other doesn't (at least not as well)?

Both are upbeat, "heroic," and allude to adventure in exotic locales. But the musical path KSM follows too basic, and too obvious. The main line follows a common 4-step process: 1) the theme line; 2) the "answer" to the theme line; 3) the theme line again, with a slight variation that sets up . . . 4) the resolution. And at that point it's done. It's been expressed. You can repeat it, move on to another theme, whatever. It doesn't do much on a psychological level other than slapping an "ADVENTUROUS HERO" sticker on the main character's forehead.

Raiders (the main theme, I mean, as rendered in all the Indy films) follows a different path. First, there's the setup: instead of a great big buildup to a grandiose theme, we get a steady, repetitive, cadence of low horns and strings. Nothing daring or epic, just a pacesetter to get things rolling. The theme itself resists the temptation to launch into the higher range as a way of lauding how galactically awesome the character and his adventures are going to be. It's just a solo trumpet in the middle range. It proceeds (without major explosions) through the main theme, but finishes curiously unresolved, which allows it to move fluidly into the bridge, which is also expressed—hopefully and positively, but still not epically—in the middle range. The bridge, too, is built in such a way as to finish unresolved and lead us back to the main theme (though it's flexible enough to add a resolution during it final expressions). The effect of stringing all these unresolved elements together is that it gives the impression of ongoing adventure, a road that keeps stretching to the horizon. The steady pace suggests a horse's canter, like you're going somewhere, moving onward to new exploits. Its middle-range setting makes it workaday music—this is a character who engages in epic escapades, but he does it in the context of his occupation. This is just his job. The emphasis on brass, bass strings, and percussion give it the natural and palpable tenor of a desert locale, which features prominently in the first film.

In other words, nearly everything about the music communicates a sense of who the character of Indiana Jones is, the sort of things he does, and the kinds of places he does them. If you take away all the feelings it inspires simply because you know it so well by now, you find that there isn't much in the way of emotional depth here. It's mostly functional music, but it fulfills its function perfectly . . . because it resonates so well with the audience. That's why so many symphonies elect to play it so often—and why they never give much attention to King Solomon's Mines.

- Uni

[chuck 154]

Well, basically, Goldsmith saw it for what it was: KSM sucked crap. Therefore music should be derived from the bottomless pit.

[Brónach 490]

I enjoy KSM but I have other preferences where adventurous Goldsmith is concerned.

My favourite statements of the KSM theme are the ones where it isn't going full blast, like at 1:09 here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZQCUPNdv4dY

Leaving aside how much the orchestration and the rythm underneath sound like classic Goldsmith, these two entrances of the theme reflect the "ongoing adventure" Uni is talking about. Instead of a more abstract, A-B-C statement, the vacilations and attitude of the music sound like there's something happening (the change in key (?) with respect the theme we previously heard might be part of it). I imagine composers for film have ended up putting a lot of thought on doing stuff like this and it gives great film music that down to Earth qualities that makes many of us come back to it again and again.

(This leads me to a point I've made before although it isn't the point of the thread: there might be no such thing as an appropiate, preconceived musical structure for music. To the accustomed ears, what sounds to a non film music listener as a lack of structure, of form, an aleatory direction in music, IS musical structure and form and IS part of what drives the musical "message" home.)

[chuck 154]

Try differentiating KSM with The Mummy. Same premise, same adventure score.

[Brónach 490]

No, The Mummy has a more brutal and dark sound, almost as if it was trying to overwhelm the listener. Even the main "hero" theme from The Mummy has a more rigid "royal march" quality to it than the theme from KSM.

[#SnowyVernalSpringsEternal 10,251]

Yes

[Brónach 490]

I absolutely adore that score. It was among the first Goldsmith music I listened to and I was absolutely awestruck at the massive sound of it.

[Naïve Old Fart 6,637]

Something to take into consideration when assessing "Farther And Son" is that the scene is shot, and scored from Ellen Brody's point of view. Although she wasn't there for the "half-assed autopsy", and the face-slapping incident, she was, no-doubt, told of it by her husband. This, plus all that she knows about the shark, must play on her mind. Ellen, and the music, conveys the concern that the audience has for her husband, and her son. Sugary stuff would have been insultingly inappropriate for that scene. Williams pitches it perfectly, and the basses, playing a little "off" re-enforces her - and our - concern.

[Uni 306]

Oh, jeez, dude . . . y'caught me snoozin' on this one. I pulled it from memory, and remembered it wrong. Of course, you're absolutely right. It doesn't change the "psychology" of the scene, or any of my speculation about what went into it—but it does change the POV. This wasn't about what Brody was thinking; it was about how his wife interpreted his thoughts as he had the copycat interchange with his son.

Nice catch!

- Uni

[JoeinAR 1,759]

the scene isn't from Ellen's point of view in reality. she is just an interested witness.

[Uni 306]

But the only one, in a sense, who's paying attention to what's really going on in the scene. Brody's just zoning, until his son distracts him. She sees it all—the weight on Brody, the importance of the engagement and interplay, the connection at the end.

Ultimately, I suppose it doesn't really matter. The original point still stands: the bass line speaks to the wordless stress, the gravity of guilt, the big black cloud hanging over the house, in contrast to the action of the scene.

- Uni