Oxford Music/Media Series - Böcker

Sound film captivated Sergey Prokofiev during the final two decades of his life: he considered composing for nearly two dozen pictures, eventually undertaking eight of them, all Soviet productions. Hollywood luminaries such as Gloria Swanson tempted him with commissions, and arguably more people heard his film music than his efforts in all other genres combined. Films for which Prokofiev composed, in particular those of Sergey Eisenstein, are now classics of world cinema. Drawing on newly available sources, Composing for the Red Screen examines - for the first time - the full extent of this prodigious cinematic career. Author Kevin Bartig examines how Prokofiev's film music derived from a self-imposed challenge: to compose "serious" music for a broad audience. The picture that emerges is of a composer seeking an individual film-music voice, shunning Hollywood models and objecting to his Soviet colleagues' ideologically expedient film songs. Looking at Prokofiev's film music as a whole - with well-known blockbusters like Alexander Nevsky considered alongside more obscure or aborted projects - reveals that there were multiple solutions to the challenge, each with varying degrees of success. Prokofiev carefully balanced his own populist agenda, the perceived aesthetic demands of the films themselves, and, later on, Soviet bureaucratic demands for accessibility.

In Acoustic Profiles, author Randolph Jordan proposes a new model for image-sound analysis that incorporates the vocabulary and methods of environmental studies, specifically exploring the potential of a model based on acoustic ecology. Jordan uses close readings of films to connect the diverse fields of architecture, environmental studies, art history, the history of modernity, and media studies through the tenets of acoustic ecology. In relating ways of thinking about sound from acoustic ecology to film studies and vice versa, Acoustic Profiles takes an interdisciplinary approach to inspire readers to experience cinematic art as a motivator of greater environmental purposes and to understand the role of the media in achieving those purposes.The book's method is referred to as acoustic profiling, a theoretical tool for hearing how filmmakers articulate spatial dimensions in their works. To that end, the book demonstrates how the creative use of media technologies in different fields can be understood relationally through the ecological issues that connect them, revivifying acoustic ecology for media studies while broadening the latter's ecological scope. The book provides a tool kit for readers to hear films with new ears, to think critically about this new listening practice, and to extend that engagement beyond the walls of the screening room by opening works of audiovisual media up to the consideration of soundscape research.

In Acoustic Profiles, author Randolph Jordan proposes a new model for image-sound analysis that incorporates the vocabulary and methods of environmental studies, specifically exploring the potential of a model based on acoustic ecology. Jordan uses close readings of films to connect the diverse fields of architecture, environmental studies, art history, the history of modernity, and media studies through the tenets of acoustic ecology. In relating ways of thinking about sound from acoustic ecology to film studies and vice versa, Acoustic Profiles takes an interdisciplinary approach to inspire readers to experience cinematic art as a motivator of greater environmental purposes and to understand the role of the media in achieving those purposes.The book's method is referred to as acoustic profiling, a theoretical tool for hearing how filmmakers articulate spatial dimensions in their works. To that end, the book demonstrates how the creative use of media technologies in different fields can be understood relationally through the ecological issues that connect them, revivifying acoustic ecology for media studies while broadening the latter's ecological scope. The book provides a tool kit for readers to hear films with new ears, to think critically about this new listening practice, and to extend that engagement beyond the walls of the screening room by opening works of audiovisual media up to the consideration of soundscape research.

Hollywood film music is often mocked as a disreputably "applied" branch of the art of composition that lacks both the seriousness and the quality of the classical or late-romantic concert and operatic music from which it derives. Its composers in the 1930s and '40s were themselves often scornful of it and aspired to produce more 'serious' works that would enhance their artistic reputation. In fact the criticism of film music as slavishly descriptive or manipulatively over-emotional has a history that is older than film - it had even been directed at the relatively popular operatic and concert music written by some of the émigré Hollywood composers themselves before they had left Europe. There, as subsequently in America, such criticism was promoted by the developing project of Modernism, whose often high-minded opposition to mass culture used polarizing language that drew, intentionally or not, upon that of gender difference. Regressive, late-romantic music, the old argument ran, was -- as women were believed to be -- emotional, irrational, and lacking in logic.This book seeks to level the critical playing field between film music and "serious music," reflecting upon gender-related ideas about music and modernism as much as about film. Peter Franklin broaches the possibility of a history of twentieth-century music that would include, rather than marginalize, film music -- and, indeed, the scores of a number of the major Hollywood movies discussed here, like The Bride of Frankenstein, King Kong, Rebecca, Gone With The Wind, Citizen Kane and Psycho. In doing so, he brings more detailed music-historical knowledge to bear upon cinema music, often discussed as a unique and special product of film, and also offers conclusions about the problematic aspects of musical modernism and some arguably liberating aspects of "late-romanticism."

Classical music is everywhere in video games. Works by composers like Bach and Mozart fill the soundtracks of games ranging from arcade classics, to indie titles, to major franchises like BioShock, Civilization, and Fallout. Children can learn about classical works and their histories from interactive iPad games. World-renowned classical orchestras frequently perform concerts of game music to sold-out audiences. But what do such combinations of art and entertainment reveal about the cultural value we place on these media? Can classical music ever be video game music, and can game music ever be classical? Delving into the shifting and often contradictory cultural definitions that emerge when classical music meets video games, Replay Value offers a new perspective on the possibilities and challenges of trying to distinguish between art and pop culture in contemporary society.

Classical music is everywhere in video games. Works by composers like Bach and Mozart fill the soundtracks of games ranging from arcade classics, to indie titles, to major franchises like BioShock, Civilization, and Fallout. Children can learn about classical works and their histories from interactive iPad games. World-renowned classical orchestras frequently perform concerts of game music to sold-out audiences. But what do such combinations of art and entertainment reveal about the cultural value we place on these media? Can classical music ever be video game music, and can game music ever be classical? Delving into the shifting and often contradictory cultural definitions that emerge when classical music meets video games, Replay Value offers a new perspective on the possibilities and challenges of trying to distinguish between art and pop culture in contemporary society.

Michael Haneke's films subject us to extreme experiences of disturbance, desperation, grief, and violence. They are unsoftened by music, punctuated by accosting noises, shaped by painful silences, and charged with aggressive dialogue. The sound tracks are even more traumatic to hear than his stories are to see, but they also offer us the transformative possibilities of reawakened sonic awareness. Haneke's use of sound redefines cinema in ways that can help us re-hear everything-including our own voices, and everything around us-better.Though Haneke's films make exceptional demands on us, he is among the most celebrated of living auteurs: he is two-time receipt of the Palme D'Or at Cannes Film Festival (for The White Ribbon (2009) and Amour (2012)), and Academy Award winner of Best Foreign Language Film (for Amour), along with numerous other awards. The radical confrontationality of his cinema makes him an internationally controversial, as well as revered, subject. Hearing Haneke is the first book-length study of the sound tracks that define this living legacy.This book explores the haunting, subversive, and political significance of all aural elements through Haneke's major feature films (dialogue, sound effects, silences, and music), all of which are meticulously conducted by him. Many critics read Haneke as coolly dispassionate about showing scenes of humanity under threat, but Hearing Haneke argues that all facets of his sound tracks stress humane understanding and the importance of compassion. This book provides exceptionally detailed analyses of all Haneke's most celebrated films: including The Seventh Continent, Funny Games, Code Unknown, The Piano Teacher, Caché, The White Ribbon, and Amour. The writing brings together film theory, musicology, history, and cultural studies in ways that resonate broadly. Hearing Haneke will matter to anyone who cares about the power of art to inspire progressive change.

Michael Haneke's films subject us to extreme experiences of disturbance, desperation, grief, and violence. They are unsoftened by music, punctuated by accosting noises, shaped by painful silences, and charged with aggressive dialogue. The sound tracks are even more traumatic to hear than his stories are to see, but they also offer us the transformative possibilities of reawakened sonic awareness. Haneke's use of sound redefines cinema in ways that can help us re-hear everything-including our own voices, and everything around us-better.Though Haneke's films make exceptional demands on us, he is among the most celebrated of living auteurs: he is two-time receipt of the Palme D'Or at Cannes Film Festival (for The White Ribbon (2009) and Amour (2012)), and Academy Award winner of Best Foreign Language Film (for Amour), along with numerous other awards. The radical confrontationality of his cinema makes him an internationally controversial, as well as revered, subject. Hearing Haneke is the first book-length study of the sound tracks that define this living legacy.This book explores the haunting, subversive, and political significance of all aural elements through Haneke's major feature films (dialogue, sound effects, silences, and music), all of which are meticulously conducted by him. Many critics read Haneke as coolly dispassionate about showing scenes of humanity under threat, but Hearing Haneke argues that all facets of his sound tracks stress humane understanding and the importance of compassion. This book provides exceptionally detailed analyses of all Haneke's most celebrated films: including The Seventh Continent, Funny Games, Code Unknown, The Piano Teacher, Caché, The White Ribbon, and Amour. The writing brings together film theory, musicology, history, and cultural studies in ways that resonate broadly. Hearing Haneke will matter to anyone who cares about the power of art to inspire progressive change.

Film music often tells us how to feel, but it also guides us how to hear. Hollywood Harmony explores the inner workings of film music, bringing together tools from music theory, musicology, and music psychology. Harmony, and especially chromaticism, is emblematic of what we commonly recognize as film music sound and it is often used to evoke wonder, that most cinematic of feelings. To help parse this familiar but complex musical style, Hollywood Harmony offers a first-of-its kind introduction to neo-Riemannian theory, a recently developed and versatile method of understanding music as a dynamic and transformational process, rather than a series of inert notes on a page. This application of neo-Riemannian theory to film music is perfect way in for curious newcomers, while also constituting significant scholarly contribution to the larger discipline of music theory. Author Frank Lehman draws from his extensive knowledge of cinematic history with case-studies that range from classics of Golden Age Hollywood to massive contemporary franchises to obscure cult-films. Special emphasis is placed on scores for major blockbusters such as Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, and Inception. With over a hundred meticulously transcribed music examples and more than two hundred individual movies discussed, Hollywood Harmony will fascinate any fan of film and music.

Film music often tells us how to feel, but it also guides us how to hear. Hollywood Harmony explores the inner workings of film music, bringing together tools from music theory, musicology, and music psychology. Harmony, and especially chromaticism, is emblematic of what we commonly recognize as film music sound and it is often used to evoke wonder, that most cinematic of feelings. To help parse this familiar but complex musical style, Hollywood Harmony offers a first-of-its kind introduction to neo-Riemannian theory, a recently developed and versatile method of understanding music as a dynamic and transformational process, rather than a series of inert notes on a page. This application of neo-Riemannian theory to film music is perfect way in for curious newcomers, while also constituting significant scholarly contribution to the larger discipline of music theory. Author Frank Lehman draws from his extensive knowledge of cinematic history with case-studies that range from classics of Golden Age Hollywood to massive contemporary franchises to obscure cult-films. Special emphasis is placed on scores for major blockbusters such as Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, and Inception. With over a hundred meticulously transcribed music examples and more than two hundred individual movies discussed, Hollywood Harmony will fascinate any fan of film and music.

Through the Looking Glass examines John Cage's interactions and collaborations with avant-garde and experimental filmmakers, and in turn seeks out the implications of the audiovisual experience for the overall aesthetic surrounding Cage's career. As the commercially dominant media form in the twentieth century, cinema transformed the way listeners were introduced to and consumed music. Cage's quest to redefine music, intentionality, and expression reflect the similar transformation of music within the larger audiovisual experience of sound film. This volume examines key moments in Cage's career where cinema either informed or transformed his position on the nature of sound, music, expression, and the ontology of the musical artwork. The examples point to moments of rupture within Cage's own consideration of the musical artwork, pointing to newfound collision points that have a significant and heretofore unacknowledged role in Cage's notions of the audiovisual experience and the medium-specific ontology of a work of art.

Through the Looking Glass examines John Cage's interactions and collaborations with avant-garde and experimental filmmakers, and in turn seeks out the implications of the audiovisual experience for the overall aesthetic surrounding Cage's career. As the commercially dominant media form in the twentieth century, cinema transformed the way listeners were introduced to and consumed music. Cage's quest to redefine music, intentionality, and expression reflect the similar transformation of music within the larger audiovisual experience of sound film. This volume examines key moments in Cage's career where cinema either informed or transformed his position on the nature of sound, music, expression, and the ontology of the musical artwork. The examples point to moments of rupture within Cage's own consideration of the musical artwork, pointing to newfound collision points that have a significant and heretofore unacknowledged role in Cage's notions of the audiovisual experience and the medium-specific ontology of a work of art.

The transition from silent to synchronized sound film was one of the most dramatic transformations in cinema's history, as it radically changed the technology, practices, and aesthetics of filmmaking within a few short years. In France, debates about sound cinema were fierce and widespread. In French Musical Culture and the Coming of Sound Cinema, author Hannah Lewis argues that the debates about sound film resonated deeply within French musical culture of the early 1930s, and conversely, that discourses surrounding a range of French musical styles and genres shaped audiovisual cinematic experiments during the transition to sound. Lewis' book focuses on many of the most prominent directors and screenwriters of the period, from Luis Buñuel to Jean Vigo, as well as experiments found in lesser-known films. Additionally, Lewis examines how early sound film portrayed the diverse soundscape of early 1930s France, as filmmakers drew from the music hall, popular chanson, modernist composition, opera and operetta, and explored the importance of musical machines to depict and to shape French audiovisual culture. In this light, the author discusses the contributions of well-known composers for film alongside more popular music hall styles, all of which had a voice within the heterogeneous soundtrack of French sound cinema. By delving into this fascinating developmental period of French cinematic history, Lewis encourages readers to challenge commonly-held assumptions about how genres, media, and artistic forms relate to one another, and how these relationships are renegotiated during moments of technological change.

The transition from silent to synchronized sound film was one of the most dramatic transformations in cinema's history, as it radically changed the technology, practices, and aesthetics of filmmaking within a few short years. In France, debates about sound cinema were fierce and widespread. In French Musical Culture and the Coming of Sound Cinema, author Hannah Lewis argues that the debates about sound film resonated deeply within French musical culture of the early 1930s, and conversely, that discourses surrounding a range of French musical styles and genres shaped audiovisual cinematic experiments during the transition to sound. Lewis' book focuses on many of the most prominent directors and screenwriters of the period, from Luis Buñuel to Jean Vigo, as well as experiments found in lesser-known films. Additionally, Lewis examines how early sound film portrayed the diverse soundscape of early 1930s France, as filmmakers drew from the music hall, popular chanson, modernist composition, opera and operetta, and explored the importance of musical machines to depict and to shape French audiovisual culture. In this light, the author discusses the contributions of well-known composers for film alongside more popular music hall styles, all of which had a voice within the heterogeneous soundtrack of French sound cinema. By delving into this fascinating developmental period of French cinematic history, Lewis encourages readers to challenge commonly-held assumptions about how genres, media, and artistic forms relate to one another, and how these relationships are renegotiated during moments of technological change.

During Mexico's silent (1896-1930) and early sound (1931-52) periods, cinema saw the development of five significant genres: the prostitute melodrama (including the cabaretera subgenre), the indigenista film (on indigenous themes or topics), the cine de añoranza porfiriana (films of Porfirian nostalgia), the Revolution film, and the comedia ranchera (ranch comedy). In this book, author Jacqueline Avila looks at examples from all genres, exploring the ways that the popular, regional, and orchestral music in these films contributed to the creation of tropes and archetypes now central to Mexican cultural nationalism. Integrating primary source material--including newspaper articles, advertisements, films--with film music studies, sound studies, and Mexican film and cultural history, Avila examines how these tropes and archetypes mirrored changing perceptions of mexicanidad manufactured by the State and popular and transnational culture. As she shows, several social and political agencies were heavily invested in creating a unified national identity in an attempt to merge the previously fragmented populace as a result of the Revolution. The commercial medium of film became an important tool to acquaint a diverse urban audience with the nuances of Mexican national identity, and music played an essential and persuasive role in the process. In this heterogeneous environment, cinema and its music continuously reshaped the contested, fluctuating space of Mexican identity, functioning both as a sign and symptom of social and political change.

During Mexico's silent (1896-1930) and early sound (1931-52) periods, cinema saw the development of five significant genres: the prostitute melodrama (including the cabaretera subgenre), the indigenista film (on indigenous themes or topics), the cine de añoranza porfiriana (films of Porfirian nostalgia), the Revolution film, and the comedia ranchera (ranch comedy). In this book, author Jacqueline Avila looks at examples from all genres, exploring the ways that the popular, regional, and orchestral music in these films contributed to the creation of tropes and archetypes now central to Mexican cultural nationalism. Integrating primary source material--including newspaper articles, advertisements, films--with film music studies, sound studies, and Mexican film and cultural history, Avila examines how these tropes and archetypes mirrored changing perceptions of mexicanidad manufactured by the State and popular and transnational culture. As she shows, several social and political agencies were heavily invested in creating a unified national identity in an attempt to merge the previously fragmented populace as a result of the Revolution. The commercial medium of film became an important tool to acquaint a diverse urban audience with the nuances of Mexican national identity, and music played an essential and persuasive role in the process. In this heterogeneous environment, cinema and its music continuously reshaped the contested, fluctuating space of Mexican identity, functioning both as a sign and symptom of social and political change.

The practice of blurring the line between score and sound design has transformed contemporary film soundscape by challenging not only the long-established hierarchical relationships between dialogue, music, and sound effects, but also the modes of perception shaped by classical soundtrack practices. The methods of this new trend rely on the language of contemporary popular and art music, producing soundtracks in which it is difficult to tell the difference between score and ambient sound, where pieces of electroacoustic music are merged with diegetic sound, sound effects are absorbed into the score or treated as music, and diegetic sound is treated as musique concrète. In Sound Design is the New Score, Kulezic-Wilson explores theoretical, aesthetic, and sensuous dimensions of this new trend, providing a multifaceted portrait of a practice which recognizes the interconnectedness of all soundtrack elements and emphasizes their inherent musicality. The aesthetic concerns of this practice are illuminated through the concept of the aesthetics of reticence which rejects classical narrative and scoring conventions and uses integrated soundtrack strategies to create the space for mystery in art and for individuality in the cinematic experience. The book's emphasis on sensuous and musical aspects of this practice, informed by the feminist discourse on the erotics of art, challenges popular notions about sensory cinema, demonstrating that the sensuousness of film form and its soundscapes is more sophisticated than simply being the result of excessive sensory stimulation facilitated by the use of digital technology or the "intensified" aesthetics it inspires. The discussion is supported by a wide range of case studies from American Independent, Asian, Australian, and European cinemas, including films by Shane Carruth, Claire Denis, Hou Hsiao-Hsien, Harmony Korine, David Michôd, Gus Van Sant, and Peter Strickland.

The practice of blurring the line between score and sound design has transformed contemporary film soundscape by challenging not only the long-established hierarchical relationships between dialogue, music, and sound effects, but also the modes of perception shaped by classical soundtrack practices. The methods of this new trend rely on the language of contemporary popular and art music, producing soundtracks in which it is difficult to tell the difference between score and ambient sound, where pieces of electroacoustic music are merged with diegetic sound, sound effects are absorbed into the score or treated as music, and diegetic sound is treated as musique concrète. In Sound Design is the New Score, Kulezic-Wilson explores theoretical, aesthetic, and sensuous dimensions of this new trend, providing a multifaceted portrait of a practice which recognizes the interconnectedness of all soundtrack elements and emphasizes their inherent musicality. The aesthetic concerns of this practice are illuminated through the concept of the aesthetics of reticence which rejects classical narrative and scoring conventions and uses integrated soundtrack strategies to create the space for mystery in art and for individuality in the cinematic experience. The book's emphasis on sensuous and musical aspects of this practice, informed by the feminist discourse on the erotics of art, challenges popular notions about sensory cinema, demonstrating that the sensuousness of film form and its soundscapes is more sophisticated than simply being the result of excessive sensory stimulation facilitated by the use of digital technology or the "intensified" aesthetics it inspires. The discussion is supported by a wide range of case studies from American Independent, Asian, Australian, and European cinemas, including films by Shane Carruth, Claire Denis, Hou Hsiao-Hsien, Harmony Korine, David Michôd, Gus Van Sant, and Peter Strickland.

The music we hear is always inhabited by voices of previous performances. Because listening is now so often accompanied by moving images, this process is more complex than ever. Music videos, television and film music, interactive video games, and social media are now part of the contemporary listening experience. In An Eye for Music, John Richardson navigates key areas of current thought - from music theory to film theory to cultural theory - to explore what it means that the experience of music is now cinematic, spatial, and visual as much as it is auditory. Richardson maps out the terrain of recent audiovisual production over a wide array of styles and practices, and sketches out a set of common structures that inform how we experience sound and vision. Whether examining Philip Glass or The Gorillaz, Richard Linklater's Waking Life or Michel Gondry's Be Kind Rewind, Richardson's arguments are both fascinating and provocative.

The music we hear is always inhabited by voices of previous performances. Because listening is now so often accompanied by moving images, this process is more complex than ever. Music videos, television and film music, interactive video games, and social media are now part of the contemporary listening experience. In An Eye for Music, John Richardson navigates key areas of current thought - from music theory to film theory to cultural theory - to explore what it means that the experience of music is now cinematic, spatial, and visual as much as it is auditory. Richardson maps out the terrain of recent audiovisual production over a wide array of styles and practices, and sketches out a set of common structures that inform how we experience sound and vision. Whether examining Philip Glass or The Gorillaz, Richard Linklater's Waking Life or Michel Gondry's Be Kind Rewind, Richardson's arguments are both fascinating and provocative.

Special Sound traces the fascinating creation and legacy of the BBC's electronic music studio, the Radiophonic Workshop, in the context of other studios in Europe and America. The BBC built a studio to provide its own avant-garde dramatic productions with experimental sounds "neither music nor sound effect." Quickly, however, a popular kind of electronic music emerged in the form of quirky jingles, signature tunes such as Doctor Who, and incidental music for hundreds of programs. These influential sounds and styles, heard by millions of listeners over decades of operation on television and radio, have served as a primary inspiration for the use of electronic instruments in popular music.Using in-depth research in the studio's archives and papers, this book tells the history of the many engineers, composers, directors, and producers behind the studio to trace the shifting perception towards electronic music in Britain. Combining historical discussion of the people and instruments in the workshop with analysis of specific works, Louis Niebur creates a new model for understanding how the Radiophonic Workshop fits into the larger history of electronic music.

Special Sound traces the fascinating creation and legacy of the BBC's electronic music studio, the Radiophonic Workshop, in the context of other studios in Europe and America. The BBC built a studio to provide its own avant-garde dramatic productions with experimental sounds "neither music nor sound effect." Quickly, however, a popular kind of electronic music emerged in the form of quirky jingles, signature tunes such as Doctor Who, and incidental music for hundreds of programs. These influential sounds and styles, heard by millions of listeners over decades of operation on television and radio, have served as a primary inspiration for the use of electronic instruments in popular music.Using in-depth research in the studio's archives and papers, this book tells the history of the many engineers, composers, directors, and producers behind the studio to trace the shifting perception towards electronic music in Britain. Combining historical discussion of the people and instruments in the workshop with analysis of specific works, Louis Niebur creates a new model for understanding how the Radiophonic Workshop fits into the larger history of electronic music.

Hollywood film music is often mocked as a disreputably 'applied' branch of the art of composition that lacks both the seriousness and the quality of the classical or late-romantic concert and operatic music from which it derives. Its composers in the 1930s and '40s were themselves often scornful of it and aspired to produce more 'serious' works that would enhance their artistic reputation. In fact the criticism of film music as slavishly descriptive or manipulatively over-emotional has a history that is older than film - it had even been directed at the relatively popular operatic and concert music written by some of the émigré Hollywood composers themselves before they had left Europe. There, as subsequently in America, such criticism was promoted by the developing project of Modernism, whose often high-minded opposition to mass culture used polarizing language that drew, intentionally or not, upon that of gender difference. Regressive, late-romantic music, the old argument ran, was - as women were believed to be - emotional, irrational, and lacking in logic.This book seeks to level the critical playing field between film music and 'serious music', reflecting upon gender-related ideas about music and modernism as much as about film. Peter Franklin broaches the possibility of a history of twentieth-century music that would include, rather than marginalize, film music - and, indeed, the scores of a number of the major Hollywood movies discussed here, like The Bride of Frankenstein, King Kong, Rebecca, Gone With The Wind, Citizen Kane and Psycho. In doing so, he brings more detailed music-historical knowledge to bear upon cinema music, often discussed as a unique and special product of film, and also offers conclusions about the problematic aspects of musical modernism and some arguably liberating aspects of 'late-romanticism'.

In the late 1920s, Dmitry Shostakovich emerged as one of the first Soviet film composers. With his first score for the silent film the New Babylon (1929) and the many sound scores that followed, he was positioned to observe and participate in the changing politics of the film industry and negotiate the role of the film composer. In The Early Film Music of Dmitry Shostakovich, Joan Titus examines the scores of six of Shostakovich's films, from 1928 through 1936. Instead of investigating Shostakovich as a composer, a rebel, a communist, or a dissident, as innumerable studies do, Titus approaches him as a concept in itself-as an idea-and asks why and how listeners understand him as they do. Through Shostakovich's scores, Titus engages with the construct of Soviet intelligibility, the filmmaking and scoring processes, and the cultural politics of scoring Soviet film music, asking why and how listeners understand the composer the way they do. The discussions of the scores are enriched by the composer's own writing on film music, along with archival materials and recently discovered musical manuscripts that illuminate the collaborative processes of the film teams, studios, and composer. The Early Film Music of Dmitry Shostakovich commingles film studies, musicology, and Russian studies with original scholarship, and is sure to be of interest to a wide audience including musicologists, film scholars, historians of Russia and the Soviet Union, and Slavicists.

Throughout the 1970s and 1980s, Hollywood studios and record companies churned out films, albums, music videos and promotional materials that sought to recapture, revise, and re-imagine the 1950s. Breaking from the dominant wisdom that casts the trend as wholly defined by Ronald Reagan's politics or the rise of postmodernism, Back to the Fifties reveals how Fifties nostalgia from 1973 to 1988 was utilized by a range of audiences for diverse and often competing agendas. Films from American Graffiti to Hairspray and popular music from Sha Na Na to Michael Jackson shaped-and was shaped by-the complex social, political and cultural conditions of the Reagan Era. By closely examining the ways that "the Fifties" were remade and recalled, Back to the Fifties explores how cultural memory is shaped for a generation of teenagers trained by popular culture to rewind, record, recycle and replay.

Throughout the 1970s and 1980s, Hollywood studios and record companies churned out films, albums, music videos and promotional materials that sought to recapture, revise, and re-imagine the 1950s. Breaking from the dominant wisdom that casts the trend as wholly defined by Ronald Reagan's politics or the rise of postmodernism, Back to the Fifties reveals how Fifties nostalgia from 1973 to 1988 was utilized by a range of audiences for diverse and often competing agendas. Films from American Graffiti to Hairspray and popular music from Sha Na Na to Michael Jackson shaped-and was shaped by-the complex social, political and cultural conditions of the Reagan Era. By closely examining the ways that "the Fifties" were remade and recalled, Back to the Fifties explores how cultural memory is shaped for a generation of teenagers trained by popular culture to rewind, record, recycle and replay.

Sounding American: Hollywood, Opera, and Jazz tells the story of the interaction between musical form, film technology, and ideas about race, ethnicity, and the nation during the American cinema's conversion to sound. Contrary to most accepted narratives about the conversion, which tend to explain the competition between the Hollywood studios' film sound technologies in qualitative and economic terms, this book argues that the battle between disc and film sound was waged primarily in an aesthetic realm. Opera and jazz in particular, though long neglected in studies of the film score, were extremely important in defining the scope of the American soundtrack, not only during the conversion, but also once sound had been standardized. Examining studio advertisements, screenplays, scores, and the films themselves, the book concentrates on the interactions between musical form and film technology, arguing that each of the major studios appropriated opera and jazz in a unique way in order to construct its own version of an ideal American voice. The book's central question asks what the synthesis of opera and jazz during the conversion reveals about the stylistic and ideological norms of classical Hollywood cinema and the racial, ethnic, gendered, and socially stratified spaces of American musical production. Unlike much of the scholarship on film music, which gravitates toward feature film scores, Sounding American concentrates on the musical shorts of the late 1920s, showing how their representations of the stage, conservatory, ballroom, and nightclub reflected what opera and jazz meant for particular groups of Americans and demonstrating how the cinema helped to shape the racial, ethnic, and national identities attached to this music. Traditional histories of Hollywood film music have tended to concentrate on the unity of the score, a model that assumes a passive spectator. Sounding American claims that the classical Hollywood film is essentially an illustrated jazz-opera with a musical structure that encourages an active form of listening and viewing in order to make sense of what is ultimately a fragmentary text.

Sounding American: Hollywood, Opera, and Jazz tells the story of the interaction between musical form, film technology, and ideas about race, ethnicity, and the nation during the American cinema's conversion to sound. Contrary to most accepted narratives about the conversion, which tend to explain the competition between the Hollywood studios' film sound technologies in qualitative and economic terms, this book argues that the battle between disc and film sound was waged primarily in an aesthetic realm. Opera and jazz in particular, though long neglected in studies of the film score, were extremely important in defining the scope of the American soundtrack, not only during the conversion, but also once sound had been standardized. Examining studio advertisements, screenplays, scores, and the films themselves, the book concentrates on the interactions between musical form and film technology, arguing that each of the major studios appropriated opera and jazz in a unique way in order to construct its own version of an ideal American voice. The book's central question asks what the synthesis of opera and jazz during the conversion reveals about the stylistic and ideological norms of classical Hollywood cinema and the racial, ethnic, gendered, and socially stratified spaces of American musical production. Unlike much of the scholarship on film music, which gravitates toward feature film scores, Sounding American concentrates on the musical shorts of the late 1920s, showing how their representations of the stage, conservatory, ballroom, and nightclub reflected what opera and jazz meant for particular groups of Americans and demonstrating how the cinema helped to shape the racial, ethnic, and national identities attached to this music. Traditional histories of Hollywood film music have tended to concentrate on the unity of the score, a model that assumes a passive spectator. Sounding American claims that the classical Hollywood film is essentially an illustrated jazz-opera with a musical structure that encourages an active form of listening and viewing in order to make sense of what is ultimately a fragmentary text.

A theory of the soundtrack is concerned with what belongs to the soundtrack, how a soundtrack is effectively organized, how its status in a multimedia object affects the nature of the object, the tools available for its analysis, and the interpretive regime that the theory mandates for determining the meaning, sense, and structure that sound and music bring to film and other audiovisual media. Beyond that, a theory may also delineate the range of possible uses of sound and music, classify the types of relations that films have used for image and sound, identify the central problems, and reflect on and describe effective uses of sound in film. This book summarizes and critiques major theories of the soundtrack from roughly 1929 until today. Rather than providing an exhaustive historical survey, it sketches out the range of theoretical approaches that have been applied to the soundtrack since the commercial introduction of the sound film. The basic theoretical framework of each approach is presented, taking into account the explicit and implicit claims about the soundtrack and its relation to other theories. The organization is both chronological and topical, the former in that the chapters move steadily from early film theory through models of the classical system to more recent critical theories; the latter in that the chapters highlight central issues for each generation: the problem of film itself, then of image and sound, of adequate analytical-descriptive models, and finally of critical-interpretative models.