Sound and wildlife films
In his recent book The Eternal Darkness: A Personal History of Deep-Sea Exploration, Robert D. Ballard writes that “we must remember that most of our own planet has still never been seen by human eyes.” (2000:3) Similarly, the human ear has not heard the sounds of most of our planet. If the planet is thought of in three-dimensional volumes, the landmass becomes only 1% of the total. And if we add to that the upper sunlit layer of the oceans, that is only 2-3% of the total space available to life. That leaves 97% of the earth’s biosphere beneath the water’s surface. Or in Ballard’s words, “It is a world that humans rarely glimpse, a realm of eternal darkness.” (2000:4) A large amount of the globe is still waiting to be discovered and filmed.
Wildlife films, according to Bouse, depict the natural world that is fit for the medium of television, which has less to do with “science or real outdoor experience than with media economics, established production practices, [and] viewers’ expectations” (2000:1). Rather, it depicts “nature close-up, speeded-up, and set to music, with reality’s most exciting moments highlighted, and its ‘boring’ bits cut out. (2000:3) These films have more to do with the codes and conventions of the manipulation, intensification, dramatization, and fiction of images of nature rather than being accurate reports of natural phenomenon. (same:8) The argument that Bouse is making is that the assumptions regarding wildlife films as being accurate or real representations of the natural world is not the suitable point of reference for analysis, as such ideas are based on false notions about the history of such films. Since the invention of cinema, wildlife films have been conveying stories in a way that can be characterized within the conventions of cinema, but also of simulation. This distinction between these opposites is a theoretical construct, derived from Baudrillard, which depicts the perceptual scale of wildlife films and how they can be categorized. An image, according to Baudrillard, does four things: one, it reflects a basic reality. Two, it masks and perverts a basic reality. Three, it masks the absence of a basic reality. And four, it bears no relation to any reality whatsoever (and is thus pure simulacrum). (pg.13) Wildlife films can be put on this perceptual scale, which really is an epistemological ground for any theoretical discussion and also for the categorization of such films among general audiences. Bouse consequently argues that wildlife films “remain suspended somewhere between representation and simulation of nature – between truth and fiction, science and storytelling.” (pg. 16)
Wildlife films are not documentaries in the Griersonian understanding of the term, which alerts to problems, proposes solutions, and calls for action. Rather they are “narrative entertainments that usually steer clear of real social and environmental issues.” (2000:xiv) Bouse argues that wildlife films have some fundamental differences from most documentaries conceptually, technically, procedurally, formally, and also thematically. A few examples of the differences include camera placement (wildlife films are often shot through concealment) and camera-to-subject distance (wild animals are often unapproachable and must be shot from a great distance ). Wildlife filmmakers regularly use long telephoto lenses to get close-ups. Artificial lighting at night is also often used. And lastly, sync-sound is seldom recorded because of the great distance between the camera and the subject. Most wildlife films are therefore shot silently. (2000:24) But wildlife films share much with the documentary and fiction genres of films, like shot/reverse-shot editing, close ups, use of music, and sound effects. Narrative conventions of linear storytelling are also used, which include the need to seem logical and the use of an engaging story line because, according to Bouse, that is what the television industry demands of the producers of such films (same:16-17) and is also “one of humanity’s most enduring, if not inescapable tendencies.” (same:19) The question of the appropriateness of narrative structure for the treatment of nature or subjects in nature is never raised in the industry, according to Bouse, for a variety of reasons, such as “deadlines, budget, contracts, sales and daily occupational demands.” (2000:17) This deterministic and essentialist view of the production of wildlife films and the role of narrative in such films is in accordance with the characterization of both film and TV productions for decades. I disagree with it and think that it is too over generalized and not sensitive enough to this democratic medium in the making, therefore disregarding the many creative components of film production (see for instance Silverstone 19xx and Dornfeld 1996 as promising examples of such false generalizations).
The role of sound and music in wildlife films is crucial in many aspects, although it has not been addressed elaborately in most recent books on such films. Bouse, for instance, treats the soundtrack as a “servant” to the narrative structure. He points out that, for technical reasons, wildlife films are usually shot without sync-sound. Similarly, a “technological” argument could be made about the ability of humans to “hear” sounds in the sea. Proceedings of the International Workshop on the Application of Passive Acoustics to Fisheries, for instance, points out the biological limitations of human sound perception. Herndon and McLeod state that “The…human ear can hear sounds between approximately 20 and 20,000 cycles.…Sounds softer or louder than certain levels are …hard to discern. Ten to 100 decibels is a reasonable range for human hearing; below 10 decibels the sounds may be inaudible; while above 100, they may register as pain rather than sound.” (1979:4) There are also “limits on duration. When a sound is too short, it will not be heard; when too long, it will not be heard as music.” (Listening to the Fish:5) However, we should not view these as technological limitations but rather as cultural constraints or conventions that lack the urgency of such treatment of sound. Lastra has argued that technology and technological development is culture in the sense that devices are “constitutively situated in a network of assumptions, habits, practices, and modes of representation that extend well beyond instrument-centered definitions of technology.” (2000:62)
Bouse argues that sync-sound and diegetic speech are significant in defining observational documentary style, giving it its directness and evidence status, which is in contrast with the conventions of wildlife films which do not record sync-sound and use voice-over narration. (2000:27) Sync-sound therefore pushes the realist conception of the image to its ultimate and, at the same time, gives it more informative value and legitimacy of accuracy.(2000:187) In his discussion of the uses of music in documentaries, Ruoff takes on this subject among the observational filmmakers location sound, including music which was considered more “authentic” than sound added to the track. (Ruoff 1992)
Although Bouse does not talk about it in detail, he argues that the sound conventions in wildlife films have affected the editing style of such films tremendously. (2000:28) One of the cinematic conventions of wildlife films is to use telephoto lenses for close-ups. It is believed that it creates intimate engagement of the viewer with the subject of the films. As a result, sync-sound cannot be recorded and is created in sound studios in post-production. Bouse then states, drawing upon a lesson discovered by the Hollywood filmmakers in the early days of sound technology, that sound does not need to correspond exactly to changes in the visual field:
Yet when cutting freely between close-ups and long-shots within a single sequence, sound is often kept continuous and uniform, further concealing the fact that the narrative event is a composite constructed from a number of different actual events shot at different times and places. Like color-balancing, sound works to control the potential for disunity, helping to unify into a conceptual whole shots that may in fact be unrelated to each other, suggesting a spatial and temporal unity that may never have actually existed.(2000:32)
For comparison, let us now consider conventions of sound and music in two genres of film for at least two reasons. One is that it offers us analytical tools to use in a reception study on the intersection of images and music. And secondly, it shows us that understudied film genres, like documentaries and animation, have much to offer in terms of rethinking the conventions of scholarship that have dealt with sound/music conventions.
Ruoff talks about comparisons “between various examples of sound practices and narration in the documentary tradition” but is mainly concerned with synchronous sound in observational documentaries from the 1960s and 1970s. (1992:217) Differences in conventions of sound that are between documentaries and classical Hollywood feature films is Ruoff’s starting point, and he cites Rick Altman and Noel Carroll who have characterized the Hollywood genre in a particular way. Both Altman and Carroll argue that Hollywood features rely on multi-rack postproduction techniques in order to convey clarity and intelligibility for the sake of furthering the narrative action. (1992:217) Documentaries (since the early 1960s), on the other hand, use location-recorded sounds which are based on the fragmented action of everyday life. (1992:217) Documentaries do not show the same sophistication in production value as the Hollywood genre when it comes to sound. As an example, documentaries that are recorded on location often lack clarity as ambient sounds compete with dialogue or other sounds that are being recorded, something that is considered unacceptable in Hollywood productions. The history of the motion picture industry actually demonstrates that it started to use studies in 1908 in order to “avoid the kinds of uncertainties encountered in actuality and location filmmaking.” (1992:221) As Ruoff argues the clarity of sound in film depends on how much control “the filmmaker has over the profilmic events.” Voice-over narration, for instance, does give the filmmaker maximum control over the quality of sound. (1992:222) On the other hand, it has a different meaning in documentary productions[1] than in Hollywood productions – and I would like to add wildlife films to this list. While documentary filmmakers who work within the observational style criticize voice-over as being unacceptable on the grounds of realism, voice over in Hollywood features is often used as a marker for documentary realism. (ibid.) Curtis, on the other hand, is concerned with three subjects: the economic and technological influences on the sound of Warner Bros. Cartoons, and the usefulness of terminology in sound studies of film. Curtis attacks the generalization of film studies by stating that “film scholarship is notoriously ‘feature-centric’ in that much of its energies go to discussions of feature-length motion pictures.” (1992:191) Consequently, the descriptive categories that are being used in analysis of films are often useless when alternative genres, like animation, are being observed. The case in point is that, of the few sound analyses that have been done, the theoretical models constructed are not applicable in the example of Hollywood studio animation, but Curtis discusses them in particular. The examples that he discusses propose that they should encourage rethinking about how sound works in films (feature films in particular) and also that the categories that are being used in order to classify sound should be reconsidered. Curtis discusses three models that are not applicable when it comes to animation and sound, and in effect urge reconceptualization of the description of film sound. These models are: “the image/sound hierarchy, the separation of the sound track into dialogue/music/effects, and the “diegetic/non-diegetic” distinction” (1992:192) The image/sound hierarchy sets upon the popular belief that sound in film is usually motivated by the image and therefore supplemental. (pg. 194) Production of two distinctive cartoon series, Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies, on the other hand, shows that it does not apply. Looney Tunes cartoons often began or were inspired by musical beat, and the actual sound tracks were often prerecorded before the animation was committed to celluloid. (1992:195) The separation of the sound track into dialogue/music/effects does not apply to many cartoons, as, for example, music is used as a sound effect. It becomes, therefore, “harder and harder to decide what is ‘dialogue,’ what is ‘music,’ and what are ‘effects.’” (1992:196) This shows that the boundaries between sound elements are not that clear. (1992:199) The third model which cartoons suggest should be reconceptualized is diegetic/nondiegetic distinction of sound. Diegetic “refers to that which is accessible to the characters of a film.” (1992:201) The distinction of a sound track as diegetic/nondiegetic is therefore based on the idea that characters in films are operating in a unified space. That is, however, often not the case in cartoons as can be seen in many cartoons where the image and the sound track sway more towards musical rhythm. (1992:201)
Curtis suggests that, instead of using the terminology previously discussed, we should use the terms isomorphic and iconic when analyzing sound in cartoons. Isomorphic uses of sound apply to films when the image and the sound have the same “shape” or, to put it another way, when “the tempo of the music and the image match.” Both the image and the sound are based on rhythm. This terminology recognizes the specific features of the sound and also emphasizes the inseparability and equality of the sound/image relationship. (ibid). Iconic sound refers to the analogical relationship between the sound effect and its visual representation. The components of sound and image in a cartoon are considered matching. As an example, a dogsled travels through a valley and the sound track has a pitch whistle sound which goes high and low and matches the peaks and valleys of the mountains. (pg. 202) This terminology seems to be applicable to many wildlife films (e.g., the Blue Planet series produced by BBC, although the majority of their images are shot underwater without any sound.)
[1] The same criticism can be made about this claim as Curtis does about Hollywood features. Documentaries are not all alike as their styles varies considerably.
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Þessi skrif er einn kafli í ritgerð sem ég skrifaði fyrir tveimur árum um menninguna í hljóðrás kvikmynda. Ég einblíndi á svokallaðar náttúrulífsmyndir vegna þess að mér finnst alltof lítið skrifað um þær og þar af leiðandi skiljum við þær ekki eins vel og við ættum að gera. Með því að velja hljóðrásina sérstaklega var ég að auka við þekkingu mína á margvíslegum hliðum kvikmyndarinnar, en kvikmyndin er auðvitað ekki bara ´myndin´ heldur einnig ´hljóðin´.
Wildlife films, according to Bouse, depict the natural world that is fit for the medium of television, which has less to do with “science or real outdoor experience than with media economics, established production practices, [and] viewers’ expectations” (2000:1). Rather, it depicts “nature close-up, speeded-up, and set to music, with reality’s most exciting moments highlighted, and its ‘boring’ bits cut out. (2000:3) These films have more to do with the codes and conventions of the manipulation, intensification, dramatization, and fiction of images of nature rather than being accurate reports of natural phenomenon. (same:8) The argument that Bouse is making is that the assumptions regarding wildlife films as being accurate or real representations of the natural world is not the suitable point of reference for analysis, as such ideas are based on false notions about the history of such films. Since the invention of cinema, wildlife films have been conveying stories in a way that can be characterized within the conventions of cinema, but also of simulation. This distinction between these opposites is a theoretical construct, derived from Baudrillard, which depicts the perceptual scale of wildlife films and how they can be categorized. An image, according to Baudrillard, does four things: one, it reflects a basic reality. Two, it masks and perverts a basic reality. Three, it masks the absence of a basic reality. And four, it bears no relation to any reality whatsoever (and is thus pure simulacrum). (pg.13) Wildlife films can be put on this perceptual scale, which really is an epistemological ground for any theoretical discussion and also for the categorization of such films among general audiences. Bouse consequently argues that wildlife films “remain suspended somewhere between representation and simulation of nature – between truth and fiction, science and storytelling.” (pg. 16)
Wildlife films are not documentaries in the Griersonian understanding of the term, which alerts to problems, proposes solutions, and calls for action. Rather they are “narrative entertainments that usually steer clear of real social and environmental issues.” (2000:xiv) Bouse argues that wildlife films have some fundamental differences from most documentaries conceptually, technically, procedurally, formally, and also thematically. A few examples of the differences include camera placement (wildlife films are often shot through concealment) and camera-to-subject distance (wild animals are often unapproachable and must be shot from a great distance ). Wildlife filmmakers regularly use long telephoto lenses to get close-ups. Artificial lighting at night is also often used. And lastly, sync-sound is seldom recorded because of the great distance between the camera and the subject. Most wildlife films are therefore shot silently. (2000:24) But wildlife films share much with the documentary and fiction genres of films, like shot/reverse-shot editing, close ups, use of music, and sound effects. Narrative conventions of linear storytelling are also used, which include the need to seem logical and the use of an engaging story line because, according to Bouse, that is what the television industry demands of the producers of such films (same:16-17) and is also “one of humanity’s most enduring, if not inescapable tendencies.” (same:19) The question of the appropriateness of narrative structure for the treatment of nature or subjects in nature is never raised in the industry, according to Bouse, for a variety of reasons, such as “deadlines, budget, contracts, sales and daily occupational demands.” (2000:17) This deterministic and essentialist view of the production of wildlife films and the role of narrative in such films is in accordance with the characterization of both film and TV productions for decades. I disagree with it and think that it is too over generalized and not sensitive enough to this democratic medium in the making, therefore disregarding the many creative components of film production (see for instance Silverstone 19xx and Dornfeld 1996 as promising examples of such false generalizations).
The role of sound and music in wildlife films is crucial in many aspects, although it has not been addressed elaborately in most recent books on such films. Bouse, for instance, treats the soundtrack as a “servant” to the narrative structure. He points out that, for technical reasons, wildlife films are usually shot without sync-sound. Similarly, a “technological” argument could be made about the ability of humans to “hear” sounds in the sea. Proceedings of the International Workshop on the Application of Passive Acoustics to Fisheries, for instance, points out the biological limitations of human sound perception. Herndon and McLeod state that “The…human ear can hear sounds between approximately 20 and 20,000 cycles.…Sounds softer or louder than certain levels are …hard to discern. Ten to 100 decibels is a reasonable range for human hearing; below 10 decibels the sounds may be inaudible; while above 100, they may register as pain rather than sound.” (1979:4) There are also “limits on duration. When a sound is too short, it will not be heard; when too long, it will not be heard as music.” (Listening to the Fish:5) However, we should not view these as technological limitations but rather as cultural constraints or conventions that lack the urgency of such treatment of sound. Lastra has argued that technology and technological development is culture in the sense that devices are “constitutively situated in a network of assumptions, habits, practices, and modes of representation that extend well beyond instrument-centered definitions of technology.” (2000:62)
Bouse argues that sync-sound and diegetic speech are significant in defining observational documentary style, giving it its directness and evidence status, which is in contrast with the conventions of wildlife films which do not record sync-sound and use voice-over narration. (2000:27) Sync-sound therefore pushes the realist conception of the image to its ultimate and, at the same time, gives it more informative value and legitimacy of accuracy.(2000:187) In his discussion of the uses of music in documentaries, Ruoff takes on this subject among the observational filmmakers location sound, including music which was considered more “authentic” than sound added to the track. (Ruoff 1992)
Although Bouse does not talk about it in detail, he argues that the sound conventions in wildlife films have affected the editing style of such films tremendously. (2000:28) One of the cinematic conventions of wildlife films is to use telephoto lenses for close-ups. It is believed that it creates intimate engagement of the viewer with the subject of the films. As a result, sync-sound cannot be recorded and is created in sound studios in post-production. Bouse then states, drawing upon a lesson discovered by the Hollywood filmmakers in the early days of sound technology, that sound does not need to correspond exactly to changes in the visual field:
Yet when cutting freely between close-ups and long-shots within a single sequence, sound is often kept continuous and uniform, further concealing the fact that the narrative event is a composite constructed from a number of different actual events shot at different times and places. Like color-balancing, sound works to control the potential for disunity, helping to unify into a conceptual whole shots that may in fact be unrelated to each other, suggesting a spatial and temporal unity that may never have actually existed.(2000:32)
For comparison, let us now consider conventions of sound and music in two genres of film for at least two reasons. One is that it offers us analytical tools to use in a reception study on the intersection of images and music. And secondly, it shows us that understudied film genres, like documentaries and animation, have much to offer in terms of rethinking the conventions of scholarship that have dealt with sound/music conventions.
Ruoff talks about comparisons “between various examples of sound practices and narration in the documentary tradition” but is mainly concerned with synchronous sound in observational documentaries from the 1960s and 1970s. (1992:217) Differences in conventions of sound that are between documentaries and classical Hollywood feature films is Ruoff’s starting point, and he cites Rick Altman and Noel Carroll who have characterized the Hollywood genre in a particular way. Both Altman and Carroll argue that Hollywood features rely on multi-rack postproduction techniques in order to convey clarity and intelligibility for the sake of furthering the narrative action. (1992:217) Documentaries (since the early 1960s), on the other hand, use location-recorded sounds which are based on the fragmented action of everyday life. (1992:217) Documentaries do not show the same sophistication in production value as the Hollywood genre when it comes to sound. As an example, documentaries that are recorded on location often lack clarity as ambient sounds compete with dialogue or other sounds that are being recorded, something that is considered unacceptable in Hollywood productions. The history of the motion picture industry actually demonstrates that it started to use studies in 1908 in order to “avoid the kinds of uncertainties encountered in actuality and location filmmaking.” (1992:221) As Ruoff argues the clarity of sound in film depends on how much control “the filmmaker has over the profilmic events.” Voice-over narration, for instance, does give the filmmaker maximum control over the quality of sound. (1992:222) On the other hand, it has a different meaning in documentary productions[1] than in Hollywood productions – and I would like to add wildlife films to this list. While documentary filmmakers who work within the observational style criticize voice-over as being unacceptable on the grounds of realism, voice over in Hollywood features is often used as a marker for documentary realism. (ibid.) Curtis, on the other hand, is concerned with three subjects: the economic and technological influences on the sound of Warner Bros. Cartoons, and the usefulness of terminology in sound studies of film. Curtis attacks the generalization of film studies by stating that “film scholarship is notoriously ‘feature-centric’ in that much of its energies go to discussions of feature-length motion pictures.” (1992:191) Consequently, the descriptive categories that are being used in analysis of films are often useless when alternative genres, like animation, are being observed. The case in point is that, of the few sound analyses that have been done, the theoretical models constructed are not applicable in the example of Hollywood studio animation, but Curtis discusses them in particular. The examples that he discusses propose that they should encourage rethinking about how sound works in films (feature films in particular) and also that the categories that are being used in order to classify sound should be reconsidered. Curtis discusses three models that are not applicable when it comes to animation and sound, and in effect urge reconceptualization of the description of film sound. These models are: “the image/sound hierarchy, the separation of the sound track into dialogue/music/effects, and the “diegetic/non-diegetic” distinction” (1992:192) The image/sound hierarchy sets upon the popular belief that sound in film is usually motivated by the image and therefore supplemental. (pg. 194) Production of two distinctive cartoon series, Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies, on the other hand, shows that it does not apply. Looney Tunes cartoons often began or were inspired by musical beat, and the actual sound tracks were often prerecorded before the animation was committed to celluloid. (1992:195) The separation of the sound track into dialogue/music/effects does not apply to many cartoons, as, for example, music is used as a sound effect. It becomes, therefore, “harder and harder to decide what is ‘dialogue,’ what is ‘music,’ and what are ‘effects.’” (1992:196) This shows that the boundaries between sound elements are not that clear. (1992:199) The third model which cartoons suggest should be reconceptualized is diegetic/nondiegetic distinction of sound. Diegetic “refers to that which is accessible to the characters of a film.” (1992:201) The distinction of a sound track as diegetic/nondiegetic is therefore based on the idea that characters in films are operating in a unified space. That is, however, often not the case in cartoons as can be seen in many cartoons where the image and the sound track sway more towards musical rhythm. (1992:201)
Curtis suggests that, instead of using the terminology previously discussed, we should use the terms isomorphic and iconic when analyzing sound in cartoons. Isomorphic uses of sound apply to films when the image and the sound have the same “shape” or, to put it another way, when “the tempo of the music and the image match.” Both the image and the sound are based on rhythm. This terminology recognizes the specific features of the sound and also emphasizes the inseparability and equality of the sound/image relationship. (ibid). Iconic sound refers to the analogical relationship between the sound effect and its visual representation. The components of sound and image in a cartoon are considered matching. As an example, a dogsled travels through a valley and the sound track has a pitch whistle sound which goes high and low and matches the peaks and valleys of the mountains. (pg. 202) This terminology seems to be applicable to many wildlife films (e.g., the Blue Planet series produced by BBC, although the majority of their images are shot underwater without any sound.)
[1] The same criticism can be made about this claim as Curtis does about Hollywood features. Documentaries are not all alike as their styles varies considerably.
------------
Þessi skrif er einn kafli í ritgerð sem ég skrifaði fyrir tveimur árum um menninguna í hljóðrás kvikmynda. Ég einblíndi á svokallaðar náttúrulífsmyndir vegna þess að mér finnst alltof lítið skrifað um þær og þar af leiðandi skiljum við þær ekki eins vel og við ættum að gera. Með því að velja hljóðrásina sérstaklega var ég að auka við þekkingu mína á margvíslegum hliðum kvikmyndarinnar, en kvikmyndin er auðvitað ekki bara ´myndin´ heldur einnig ´hljóðin´.
posted by Sigurjon at 8:00 PM
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