On Friday I will submit 4 analyses of 1st movements from well-known symphonies. Nothing wrong with that, except that we've had 10 classes with varying degrees of revelancy to the set coursework, and no individual tutor time whatsoever. In short, this submission is the first and only time I will get tutor feedback from Analysis this entire year, since the module is semester 1 only. That bugs me. It seems to me that I am paying £1150 a year for the services of my tutors which are constantly being denied me.
To add insult to injury, the Head of School asked me the other day what my plans are for the following year, implying he wanted me to stay on and study for a Masters. I think I wouldn't be able to accept his offer on this basis, not because I don't want to study music anymore, because I do - if anything, I want to enlighten myself even more about this subject that remains completely fascinating to me - but because I fear a lack of extrinsical interest in my welfare (and by extension my work) will jeopardise any chance of progress I have of making on the course. In addition, I have been in some sort of education since the age of 3, which makes ... 17 consecutive years. It's high time for a break before I burnout. Perhaps my chances of success in a Masters course will be significantly increased if I take some time out to relax rather than slog on thinking I can take it all on, when I most likely can't.
As it stands at the moment, I have completed my 4,000 word Herrmann essay, (written 4,400 words, the 10% upper limit, but I'm not satisfied with a few paragraphs in it after proof-reading so I may have to edit it, which will be laborious, but such is life) done 800/1000 words for my dissertation (tutorial with the Head of School tomorrow at 9am, gulp) and lastly, done 3 out of 4 analyses for Symphonic Analysis.
The Debussy was a very difficult nut to crack - it was the 1st movement of La Mer. It was half as short as the 1st mvmt. of Beethoven's Eroica symphony (8:37 to 18:56) but at least twice as hard, so it all pans out. I'm sure I've royally fucked it up somewhere along the line as well. (Claiming that the exposition coexisted with the development probably wasn't a smart move, but Impressionists rarely adhered to conventional classical practices, so I may get away with it...) Now all I have left to do is the 1st mvmt. from Tchaikovsky's 5th symphony, about 14 mins. I'm about 6 mins into it but I need to construct a motif sheet for it, along with a separate motif sheet for 1st mvmt. of Mahler's 1st symphony. Then I'm all done. I have about 34 hours left, plus I'm out in about an hour to go to the barber's.
The following is my Herrmann essay. How bored am I?!
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Module: Texts & Contexts – The Music of Bernard Herrmann (MUSI3721)
Module Tutor: Prof. David Cooper
Are large-scale formal processes apparent in Herrmann’s film scores? Taking any Herrmann film score (other than The Ghost and Mrs Muir or Vertigo) as an example, examine how the music contributes to the film’s sense of integrity. Is it possible to detect patterns or structures which function in equivalent ways to the formal structures of art-music (such as those found in symphonies or operas) or is the score simply a collection of fragmentary cues? Try to connect the development of the narrative to the detailed and localised musical changes and discuss whether Herrmann was concerned with distinguishing statements and developments of themes.
Herrmann composed music for melodrams before he entered Hollywood in 1940, a task which is widely acknowledged, not least by the composer himself, to have had influences on future directions his compositional processes have taken. In a newspaper article in 1941, he explained how his previous work was instrumental in learning his craft.[1] This experience made him appreciate the versatility of various ensembles, and accordingly he was better at adapting to the needs of a storyline or narrative than most of his other contemporaries, who composed for standardised orchestra.[2]
It is entirely plausible that Herrmann shunned the conventional practices of Hollywood motion picture scoring techniques. His contemporaries, among them Korngold and Steiner, were practiced in writing in the style of the late Romantics. As such, these two set about scoring music for film with the lush, rich textures typical of this style. In order to develop his own innovative methods of writing for particular ensembles as the film narrative demanded, Herrmann set about shunning convention and drawing on his own experience from his earlier melodram days. His core ideas were then subsequently copied by others throughout his career. The following renders this point with great clarity:
“Herrmann […] pioneered the use of atonal music in film, [and] claimed that small musical fragments, so called "clusters," offered a higher degree of flexibility in the depiction of the irrational […] Goldsmith’s music to Alien is heavily inspired by this attitude.”[3]
This is of interest; these ‘clusters’ that Haga talks about may be perceived as being similar to the ‘cells’ which early 20th century composers were beginning to use as a means of developing and generating thematic material. However, if this is true, then the implications are considerable, for it means that Herrmann did not completely abandon the symphonic style of Viennese opera;[4] (and by extension the kind of orchestration used extensively by the Romantics) it is fair to say that there are characteristics of the Wagnerian model of composition, such as the leitmotif system, which Herrmann adopted throughout his professional career; however, this is not really applicable to Psycho.
“Musical time is abstract time”.[5] The implications of this are that a necessary operating condition of the music accompanying the narrative – whatever its nature – is that the music is structured in its own individual way; in other words, the inherent logic of this abstract time propels and impels the music to conclude at a temporal point in filmic space not necessarily in accordance with the logic of ‘human time’ as expressed in the diegesis.[6] This process of propulsion is what induces psychological continuity in the audience’s subconscious.
The assumption outlined above can be seen in a consideration of the nature of musical phrases, which act and react according to intrinsic logic, contrasted against an infinite array of possibilities in human expression which follow their own laws of logic – perhaps it may even be argued that expression has no logic. Moreover, the key point of the above was that abstract musical time does not necessarily concur with filmic time. Psycho opens by giving us normalised time (an exact time and date) and ends with de-normalised time (a situation in which time has ceased to exist.[7]) This is further supported by the statement:
“Crucial to the […] centre of the failure of romance in […] Psycho is the confronting and overcoming of a voracious, enervating past. In ironic fictions time is linear […] romance and irony thus clash in their understanding of time’s regenerative or entropic powers.”[8]
In Psycho the prime enervation (that is, the force behind disruption of composure) is Norman’s illness. The entropic power (a measure of order and disorder in a system) which Norman possesses is also illustrated by the film score.
The next big issue is that of continuity. Any given narrative will impose restraints upon the resulting soundtrack – film, by nature, is discontinuous, and can symbolically represent events which ‘happen’ eras apart, countries apart, worlds apart, and so forth. Music, and by extension, film music, is logically continuous, and therefore attempts to make some kind of imposition of order upon a discontinuous medium. So there is a struggle between the narrative imposing demands upon the soundtrack, and the soundtrack imposing demands – that is, temporal continuities upon the narrative. This is why many soundtracks are perceived to be collections of fragmentary cues. Central to perceptions of continuity in a film score is the issue of integrity, and here, the score contributes an incredible amount.
With such seemingly never-ending atonality, more emphasis is invariably placed on rhythmic structures. Here, Herrmann excels by shaping motivic material through changing rhythms, for example in the opening cue the motif changes from quaver/quaver to dotted quaver/semiquaver. A sense of integrity is traditionally achieved within a motion picture by means of a score functioning as a cohesive entity; that is to say, cues are inherently discrete items coalesced to form a unified whole. Consequently, if the overriding perception is one of stylistic, motivic, or harmonic homogeneity, then an ‘integrated’ score results. Heterogeneity - harmonically, stylistically or otherwise - is a prime reason for a breakdown in unity. The cinema’s usual function is as a means of entertainment for the masses. A completely atonal soundtrack may well have confused some cinema-goers, who need clearer musical signposts than the subtleties of chord note relationships. It is probably for this reason that some sort of standardisation and consistency is introduced metrically rather than harmonically.
Further contributions to the film’s integrity can be seen in:
(a) The various levels on which the score operates. Psycho is by turns violently obtrusive (‘The Murder’) and unobtrusively ambiential (‘The Stairs’) in nature. A consideration of the statement: “Film music binds the spectator into the fictive reality through its promulgation of identificatory affect between audience and screen.”[9]
(b) The way cues are introduced – consider ‘Temptation’. This is not heard until [0:10:28] in the film, after the camera has zoomed in on the money in an envelope for a good few seconds. The viewer is allowed to analyse the situation before the ‘hesitation’ motif appears. This could not be classified as ‘overstating’ the visual material, since it merely functions as an affirmation. Subsequently, a visual event then acts as a secondary affirmation; the colour of Marion’s bra changes from white (implying connotations of the good, angelic, divine) to black. (connotations of the evil, devil or criminal-minded) Also consider the scene where Marion driving cross-country when it starts to rain, and she turns her windscreen wipers on; [0:24:38] the music is synchronised precisely to the fixed motion of the wipers.[10]
(c) The sense of complicity we share, courtesy of Hitchcock’s relentless exploitation of audience identification. By the time the audience has become a party to the voyeuristic excesses of Norman, as first Norman and then the audience watch Marion undress to take a shower, Herrmann’s deft scoring seems more like a commentary on this referentialism rather than a complimentary sequence of auditory events.[11]
Little touches like these show the depth of effort that has gone into the composition, and also force another contrast between normalised and de-normalised time. We can also now see that another function of the film score is to provide affirmation of diegetic events.
Comments by Herrmann himself, in an interview in Sight and Sound, disclose his opinions on the reasons for the existence of film music: “The real reason for music is that a piece of film, by its nature, lacks a certain ability to convey emotional overtones.”[12] This is certainly the case with the three-shot sequence where Marion flees across cross-country in her car; Herrmann himself said that, without music, she might as well have been going to the supermarket.[13] Coupled with this statement, “Many composers […] compose only in a solipsistic world […] Herrmann throve on the work of others […] he was a musician of immense learning and culture.”[14]
Bearing these viewpoints in mind, it is now clear for us to see how Herrmann’s mind worked; it is why, when the camera pans around Norman’s stuffed birds, the music is a sequence [rational] of half diminished 7ths [irrational], portraying not only Marion’s twisted fascination with the parlour with the accompanying sinister undertones which coming to a peak when the camera rests on the paintings of women being raped but also the inherent filmic logic that the two main protagonists are both on the run from lethal events in their pasts; it is why the first stab in the shower scene isn’t a physical one but a pre-emptive auditory one.
The persistent denial of musical closure is also something of a Herrmann speciality – one expects a diminished or half diminished chord to close on a more diatonic chord, but this is denied for the great majority of the Psycho score, the only exception in ‘The Parlor’ is in bar 6, in which a G#m chord changes to an A7 chord.[15] The usual harmonic function of a dominant 7th is ignored here, Herrmann taking an almost Beethovenian approach to harmony and juxtaposing unusual chords purely for their colouristic effects.
The renowned scholar Adorno, along with his contemporary Eisler, wrote a treatise on composing for the films. Adorno was a complex figure, a Marxist (i.e. socialist) with elitist tendencies, who took a denigratory stance on motion picture scoring. It would have been easy for Herrmann to have created a ‘stereotypical’ (in Adorno’s eyes) soundtrack when writing for Psycho, with hackneyed clichés such as tremolo strings, sequential dissonances, and other oft-used devices. To some extent, he does indulge in this practice, perhaps because his momentous relationship with Hitchcock was drawing to a close (Psycho was released in 1960, Torn Curtain in 1966) or possibly because the screenplay lent itself well to the disorganisation of sound which non-standard chords produce:
“Herrmann’s breadth of musical culture was not of the superficial kind frequently affected by Americans in their anxiety to conform to their own conception of cultured Europeanism. He hated pretentiousness and exhibitionism.”[16]
We can therefore see an early strand of minimalist technique developing in Herrmann’s writing. In the film, there is also a piece of nondiegetic music, which is an excerpt from Beethoven’s Eroica symphony. This is heard when Lila Crane (played by Vera Miles) is looking around the Gothic house adjacent to Norman’s motel, when she explores Norman’s room on the third floor. Consider the historical background to the Eroica symphony and the reason for quoting it in the film becomes clear: the Eroica symphony was originally to be titled the ‘Bonaparte’ Symphony, in reference to Napoleon Bonaparte, a radical French consul in the process of reforming Europe after conducting sweeping military campaigns over the continent. When Napoleon eventually crowned himself emperor in 1804, Beethoven was reportedly so angry at this ‘tyrant’ that he tore up the first page of the autograph score and re-titled his work the Eroica symphony. Therefore it seems likely that the link of tyranny is the strongest reason why it would be quoted: it is also a reflection on the triumph of the kingdom of death.[17]
Rather than adhere to any strict conventions from the practices of Western art music, here Herrmann instead prefers to concentrate on creating a core set of motifs which are somehow interrelated, before putting these through a subtle process of variation. In terms of form, this is not dissimilar to the approach he used for Vertigo. This concurs with the statement: “Herrmann always drops the idea quickly and never develops it in any way.”[18]
However, whereas Vertigo’s motifs were “chained together to create much longer musical passages”[19], Psycho’s are fragmentary, mutually exclusive items serving as evocations of Norman’s psychosis, the next evolution of a certain motif being not identical to its precedent but subtly altered in some way or form, sometimes combined together, as in the ‘sigh’ and ‘hesitation’ motifs to form a driving ostinato. It is merely the shifting instrumental textures throughout the score which prevent automatic identification. In comparison to the processes found in Western art music, we can still see a parallel between the approach taken in Psycho and that of a ‘theme and variations’ form, with variations being understood in the most liberal sense. Key diegetic events are given new or developed thematic material. In Psycho these are the title scene, Marion stealing the money, the first time Marion meets Norman, the murder, the stairs (when Arbogast dies), and the end titles.
Track 1 (‘Prelude’) introduces the title theme; a dissonant, moderately-paced piece of music using a variety of chords including tritones and juxtaposition of a major 7th with minor 7th chord; see appendix A for further analysis of the main theme. There is evidence to suggest some localised changes already in the main theme: the staccato quavers found in bar 3 – 4 have been transformed into a dotted quaver/semiquaver rhythm later on in the same cue.
Track 2 (‘The City’) contains material from the previous track: in Appendix A, consider the two-bar extension to the two opening four-bar phrases. This is repeated here with a subtle metamorphosis. The very fact that Herrmann is using stable rhythmic cells is of great importance. Tracks 3 and 4 (‘Marion’, ‘Marion and Sam’) share a common structure ending on the same G min/maj 7th. This serves to highlight the nuclear, unfulfilling relationship between Marion and Sam, heightened by min/maj juxtaposition as in the title track.
Track 5 (‘Temptation’) is a prelude to what happens next in the narrative – a piece of writing that makes perfect sense within the context; whilst pedal notes are performed on the upper strings, discordant quavers with deliberately interjected silences are heard underneath, giving the texture something of a dark, brooding nature. This perfectly complements the dilemma facing Marion.
Track 6 (‘Flight’) is little more than a slower rendition of the introductory thematic material. This is a good example of how Herrmann induces psychological tension. In the scene accompanying the cue, Marion is seen driving cross-country with the money, attempting to escape from her former boss and the wealthy oil tycoon. Subsequently, we, as the audience, are made to feel Marion’s tension as, for instance, she spies her boss on the street corner. This is all the result of an ingenious approach in which two chords, one a half-diminished 7th, the other a minor 9th with an added 4th have been used with driving semiquavers in the middle of the texture[20]; it is these semiquavers, with deliberately interjected rests, which provide the propulsive force of the cue talked about earlier. Some self-borrowing is evident in this score; track 7 (‘Patrol Car’) is identical to track 6, for example. The argument that this film score shows parallels with a ‘theme and variations’ form is made stronger when one considers the motifs listed on the cue sheet in Appendix B: cues 5 – 11 inclusive provide an almost completely alternating pattern between the ‘hesitation’ and the ‘psycho’ motifs; furthermore, cues 9, 11, 13, 23, 24, and 37 are variations of earlier material.
Consider what these scenes would be like with nondiegetic silence; a different sensation entirely would result. Herrmann’s masterful control of the quietest film music affords him a wealth of opportunities; will a stinger result? Will the music shift from diminished tonalities and dissonance back into the realm of diatonicism, as in ‘The Parlor’?
So far, it seems, the only certainty about Psycho is uncertainty. Herrmann has used such barely discernable auditory events in a highly effective way. The slower rendering of the theme in cue 6 imparts a formidable sense of tension to the audience. There will be psychological reasons why our minds make such a link, but suffice it to say there is ample evidence of Freudian undercurrents in Psycho.[21]
The augmented chord is of great importance to the sound world of Psycho. In theory, it is a perfectly regular triad with the 5th augmented, but split apart it is also two stacked major 3rds, (e.g. F-A, A-C#) so not only do we have a topical reference from Herrmann on Norman’s perspective and his delusional state of mind, but we also have a chord whose function is to express ‘rational irrationality.’ Another musical cliché evident from appraising the score is that of the three-note descending ‘sigh’ motif involving a minor 9th. This is reminiscent of Wagner’s Prelude to Tristan und Isolde.
The music from ‘Flight’, as discussed above, is a textbook example of how to complement on-screen tension, whilst the music accompanying the infamous murder scene (track 17, ‘The Murder’) in the shower is dutifully mimicked by unearthly sounds from the violins, using alternating techniques of arco, pizzicato, and glissando. In orchestration terms, this is autonometric compared to previous material, and for good reason: Hitchcock has provided the visual equivalent of Herrmann shunning convention when the heroine dies 45 minutes into the film; it defies categorisation, and that is what, taken with the murder, makes the viewer so uncomfortable: “Art in its widest aspect is a part of the instinct to order and interpret life, to isolate into some form of permanent and reliable experience the abominable flux of the universe.”[22],[23]
When Arbogast returns to the Bates motel after visiting the phone booth to speak to Lila, he searches around before walking to the adjacent mansion. Another local change in the score happens here: in ‘The Stairs’, (cue 29) the ‘madhouse’ motif has been reduced in range to a chromatic D-Eb-Db, (0:48 – 0:49) then Eb-Db-D, (0:53 – 0:54) and Db-Eb-D, (0:58 - 0:59) which repeats twice, the second repeat leaving out the third configuration. This is an astonishingly successful cue, even in reductive form, for it has many functions:
(a) the audience is provided with an auditory confirmation that Marion was indeed at the Bates motel, with a familiar encircling feminine characteristic now present in the new reduced motif (Marion was present during the first rendition of the ‘madhouse’ motif) (“music also plays the role of confirming the emotional response of the spectator”[24]) (b) it pre-empts Arbogast’s murder, (c) it uses 2 out of the 3 pitches found in the original motif; the only deviancies are the range and the 3rd pitch.
The opening of ‘The Murder’ is re-stated later on, sped up, to open the next cue, ‘The Knife’. This is another great example of a cue with a dual function – at 30 seconds, less than half the length of ‘The Murder’, it not only serves to remind the audience of Marion’s murder in the shower, but it also compliments Arbogast’s murder because we remember the function that cue played earlier. What Herrmann has therefore managed to achieve in ‘The Knife’ is a track which takes, even recapitulates, the earlier material and metamorphoses it into something different, yet easily recognisable. The metrical groupings have been left intact for this cue (‘The Murder’ was in 3/2, ‘The Knife’ is in 3/4) In both these cues, pitch (vertical) is as responsible as harmony (horizontal) for creating and sustaining anxiety. In Western art music, if one considers that developing or introducing new material in the recapitulation was an unusual practice, it could be argued that this cue shows material that has undergone similar processes.
The range of sounds at Herrmann’s disposal plays an extremely important role in contextualising the scene. As Chion observes, film is limited by the finite dimensions of the frame in which it is shot, cut, and sequenced, but audio events are free to wander and blend between different narrative levels in the diegesis.[25] The manipulation of pitch and harmony on at least two exclusive sound levels (the non-diegetic, atmospheric setting of muted strings) combined with explicitly diegetic (and therefore foregrounded) motivic material imbues the score with its much-celebrated tension.
One of the core reasons why Herrmann’s score for Psycho is so successful is because he uses a range of techniques to separate the logic of the music from the logic of the scenes. These techniques include having cues start in rhythmic unison, then undergoing simple changes as required by the narrative; dominant sevenths which do not properly resolve; above all, logical separation must therefore involve music reacting to itself rather than to diegetic events. Consequently, Psycho is not so much about deliberate, controlled anempathic separation, but it is more about having the score imitating, but never ‘mickey-mousing’, the narrative. This is called synchresis, a term derived from synchronism and synthesis.[26] We can therefore see that synchresistic procedures are of abiding importance to the score of Psycho, as they not only function as tools for separation of logic but also as for exploring the dimension of temporal continuity and discontinuity.
Where previously Herrmann might have used procedures normally found in formalistic art music – that is to say, taking the operatic principles of Wagner in which explicitly diegetic events (a character’s ululation, a motion from room x to room y, a door opening, or some other key narrative event) are used to signify change, in a film such as The Ghost and Mrs. Muir, here he presents a sound world that lies in stark contrast. His procedures are reminiscent of Debussy, in that both composers restate themes with very little or no development.
Another aspect of the symphonic tradition in Western art music is that of structure, and the use of formal structures in particular. Structures such as sonata form and binary form are traditionally defined by tonality; two distinctive tonal areas are usually compared and contrasted. This is not the case with Psycho. Psycho achieves some parallels with Western art music on small-scale localised detail – for instance, recurrence of themes, common cue structures – but there is insufficient evidence to argue any parallels with large-scale formal design.
There are four conclusions I can draw from answering this question.
The first of these is that I think, in Psycho, Herrmann was concerned with making distinguishing musical statements but less so with their subsequent developments. There is ample evidence for this in the score, whereby a key diegetic event such as the shower murder scene is supplied with new material, which never recurs until the second murder in the mansion. In the case of motivic material in the earlier cues, subsequent versions are condensed or expanded to suit the narrative requirements, rather than developed per se. Furthermore, muted strings are used throughout the score as a ‘surface layer’ to set the atmosphere, from which motifs are then derived.
The second of these is that a sense of integrity is traditionally achieved within a motion picture by means of a score functioning as a cohesive entity; cues are inherently discrete items assembled to form a unified whole. Consequently, if the overriding audience perception is one of stylistic and harmonic homogeneity, then an ‘integrated’ score results. Heterogeneity, whilst not a bad thing in itself, breaks down cohesion and subsequently any perception of unity. There are elements of the Psycho score which suggest acknowledgment of Western art music principles, but convention is never adhered to in the true sense, and this can be seen in, for example, the very loose ‘theme and variations’ form evident in the score.
The third of these is that any narrative will impose restraints upon the resulting soundtrack – film is inherently discontinuous, and can symbolically represent events which ‘happen’ eras apart, countries apart, worlds apart, and so forth. Music, and by extension, film music, is logically continuous, and therefore attempts to make some kind of imposition of order upon a discontinuous medium. The outcome is a struggle between the narrative imposing demands upon the soundtrack, and the soundtrack imposing demands – that is, temporal continuities - upon the narrative. This is why many soundtracks are perceived to be collections of fragmentary cues, and Psycho is no exception. The sense of perpetual irresolution only serves to heighten the fragmentary nature.
The fourth and final conclusion to make is that Herrmann manipulates both pitch (vertical) and harmony (horizontal) to create and sustain anxiety. In terms of texture, Psycho operates on at least two different levels, including the most primary basic level of atmospheric muted strings (that is, at the background level) and a more complex secondary semi-foregrounded level, most of which occurs in the first ten or so cues.
Word Count: 4,418
Bibliography
Brill, Lesley. The Hitchcock Romance: Love and Irony in Hitchcock’s Films (New Jersey, Princeton University Press, 1988)
Bruce, Graham. Bernard Herrmann: Film Music and Narrative (Michigan, UMI, 1985)
Chion, Michel. (ed., trans., Gorbman, Claudia) Audio-Vision: Sound on Screen (New York, Columbia University Press, 1994)
Cooper, David. ‘Film Form and Musical Function in Bernard Herrmann’s Score to Vertigo’, The Journal of Film Music, 1 (2003)
Evans, Mark. Soundtrack: The Music of the Movies (New York, Da Capo Press, 1979)
Golding, William. Lord of the Flies (London, Faber and Faber, 1991)
Gorbman, Claudia. Unheard Melodies: Narrative Film Music (Bloomington, University of Indiana Press, 1987)
Huntley, John and Manvell, Roger. The Technique of Film Music (Chatham, Focal Press, 1957)
Kalinak, Kathryn. Settling the Score: Music and the Classical Hollywood Film (Wisconsin, University of Wisconsin Press, 1992)
Manvell, Roger. Film (Middlesex, Penguin, 1946)
Nelmes, Jill. (ed.) An Introduction to Film Studies: Third Edition (London, Routledge, 2003)
Palmer, Christopher. The Composer In Hollywood (New York, Marion Boyars, 1990)
Prendergast, Roy M. Film Music: A Neglected Art (New York, W. W. Norton, 1992)
Russell, Mark, and Young, James. Film Music: Screencraft (Switzerland, Rotovision, 2000)
Smith, Steven C. A Heart At Fire’s Center: The Life and Music of Bernard Herrmann (California, University of California Press, 1991)
Spoto, Donald. The Art of Alfred Hitchcock: Fifty Years of His Motion Pictures (Doubleday, New York, 1992)
Sterritt, David. The Films of Alfred Hitchcock (Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1993)
Wood, Robin. Hitchcock’s Films (London, A. Zwemmer Ltd., 1965)
Web Links
Haga, Thor J. ‘Film Music Ex Narratio: Does Film Music Exist Outside the Narrative?’, Film Score Monthly, August 2002. (Accessed 2nd October 2004) <http://www.filmscoremonthly.com/articles/2002/14_Aug---Film_Music_Outside_the_Narrative_part_One.asp>
Wrobel, William. ‘Psycho Chord Profile’, Film Score Rundowns, June 2002. (Accessed 18 November 2004), <www.comcen.com.au/~agfam/rundowns/chordprofile2.pdf>
Videography
Psycho, director Alfred Hitchcock, composer Bernard Herrmann, screenplay Joseph Stefano, based on the novel by Robert Bloch, producer Shamley Productions, USA, 1960, 109 minutes
Discography
Herrmann, Bernard. Psycho: Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (McNeely, Royal Scottish National Orchestra) (Varèse Sarabande, California, 1997)
[1] Bruce, Graham. Bernard Herrmann: Film Music and Narrative (Michigan, UMI, 1985), p. 36
[2] Huntley, John and Manvell, Roger. The Technique of Film Music (Chatham, Focal Press, 1957), p. 205
[3] Haga, Thor J. ‘Film Music Ex Narratio: Does Film Music Exist Outside the Narrative?’, Film Score Monthly, August 2002. (Accessed 2nd October 2004), <http://www.filmscoremonthly.com/articles/2002/14_Aug---Film_Music_Outside_the_Narrative_part_One.asp>
[4] Evans, Mark. Soundtrack: The Music of the Movies (New York, Da Capo Press, 1979), p. 22
[5] Gorbman, Claudia. Unheard Melodies: Narrative Film Music (Bloomington, 1987, University of Indiana Press), p. 24
[6] Loc. cit. (Gorbman)
[7] Wood, Robin. Hitchcock’s Films (London, A. Zwemmer Ltd., 1965), p. 114
[8] Brill, Lesley. The Hitchcock Romance: Love and Irony in Hitchcock’s Films (New Jersey, Princeton University Press, 1988), p. 200
[9] Kalinak, Kathryn. Settling the Score: Music and the Classical Hollywood Film (Wisconsin, University of Wisconsin Press, 1992), p. 33
[10] Russell, Mark, and Young, James. Film Music: Screencraft (Switzerland, Rotovision, 2000), p. 28
[11] Spoto, Donald. The Art of Alfred Hitchcock: Fifty Years of His Motion Pictures (Doubleday, New York, 1992), pp. 317 - 320
[12] Gilling, Ted. ‘The Colour of the Music’, Sight and Sound, 41 (1972), p. 37
[13] Smith, Steven C. A Heart At Fire’s Center: The Life and Music of Bernard Herrmann (California, University of California Press, 1991), p. 239
[14] Palmer, Christopher. The Composer In Hollywood (New York, Marion Boyars, 1990), pp. 237 - 240
[15] Wrobel, William. ‘Psycho Chord Profile’, Film Score Rundowns, June 2002. (Accessed 18 November 2004), <www.comcen.com.au/~agfam/rundowns/chordprofile2.pdf>
[16] Palmer, Christopher. The Composer In Hollywood (New York, Marion Boyars, 1990), p. 241
[17] Spoto, Donald. The Art of Alfred Hitchcock: Fifty Years of His Motion Pictures (Doubleday, New York, 1992), p. 326
[18] Prendergast, Roy M. Film Music: A Neglected Art (New York, W. W. Norton, 1992), p. 140
[19] Cooper, David. ‘Film Form and Musical Function in Bernard Herrmann’s Score to Vertigo’, The Journal of Film Music, 1 (2003), p. 3
[20] Prendergast, Roy M. Film Music: A Neglected Art (New York, W. W. Norton, 1992), p. 141
[21] Sterritt, David. The Films of Alfred Hitchcock (Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1993), p. 100 - 102
[22] Manvell, Roger. Film (Middlesex, Penguin, 1946), p. 142
[23] Golding, William. Lord of the Flies (London, Faber and Faber, 1991), p. ix
[24] Nelmes, Jill. (ed.) An Introduction to Film Studies: Third Edition (London, Routledge, 2003), p. 78
[25] Chion, Michel. (ed., trans., Gorbman, Claudia) Audio-Vision: Sound on Screen (New York, Columbia University Press, 1994), pp. 66f.
[26] Ibid., p. 224
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