Brontosaurus in the water, Diplodocus on land, 1897 (painting) by Charles R. Knight. Wikimedia Commons, published in the New York Tribune, July 6 1919
The Music of John Williams and More
Today’s concert breaks with the long-held belief in Hollywood that the best film music is supposed to remain unnoticed by the cinema audience. This doesn’t mean that the music is unheard, but rather that it is subordinated to the dialogue and the visuals, supporting the narrative without drawing attention to itself. From its very start in the 1890s, cinema has always involved the coordination of moving images and music, whether provided by live accompaniment in the theater during the silent era or embedded in the film’s soundtrack in the sound era, which began in about 1930.
Though a necessary component of the medium, film music has not been highly regarded by the concert establishment. In fact concerts devoted to music for the cinema have yet to establish themselves as regular features in the programming of major orchestras, and are instead relegated to a city’s pops ensemble—most notable among them the Boston Pops (for a time conducted by John Williams) and the Hollywood Bowl Orchestra. These crossover ensembles illustrate the dilemma of film music, which eludes designation as either classical repertory or popular music while relying upon another art form, cinema, for its meaning.
This very scarcity of concerts dedicated to film music makes today’s event a special treat. It provides not only a broad swath of the most notable scores from the last eighty years, but also gives us insight into composers whose work has been formative for John Williams while featuring his own most memorable and important music. The attentive listener will certainly recognize elements of Williams’s style in the program, such as the colorful use of the orchestra in Max Steiner’s music for Casablanca, the bold dash of Korngold’s Overture to The Sea Hawk, or the ardent passion of Bernard Herrmann’s “Scène d’amour” from Vertigo.
If the late 1930s was the Golden Age of Hollywood film scoring (Gone with the Wind, Citizen Kane, Casablanca), it was Max Steiner who ushered in the full orchestral sound that characterized those films. He had emigrated from Austria—Vienna, to be exact—well before the wave of Jewish refugees from the 1930s, settling in Hollywood in 1929 upon signing with the studio RKO. His breakthrough came with the score for King Kong (1933), which set a standard for horror and fantasy through an orchestration dominated by brass and strings that would continue to serve him through the end of the decade.
By the time of Casablanca (1942), Steiner had signed with Warner and was at the top of his game, nominated for an Academy Award with Gone with the Wind (1939) and winning for Now Voyager (1942). Steiner initially did not want to insert “As Time Goes By” by Herman Hupfeld as the love theme in Casablanca, but the shooting schedule did not permit the replacement of the fateful scene in Rick’s café, so Steiner composed his music around that popular theme. In his Suite from Casablanca Steiner has pieced together the score’s themes to fashion an abridged version of the film’s narrative. We hear his Orientalizing theme for Casablanca, then a fragment of the Marseillaise—signifying the French spirit—followed by Hupfeld’s tune, which is stated in full by solo piano. It is spun out and repeated by orchestra and then turns dark, leading to the theme for the Germans (their national anthem); eventually that melody must yield to the triumphant Marseillaise.
Korngold’s Overture to The Sea Hawk (1940) may well lead listeners to believe they are hearing a Williams score, with its brass fanfare that calls to mind the main theme of Star Wars. Certainly the heroism of Errol Flynn’s Sea Hawk character finds more than an echo in that of Luke Skywalker and Han Solo: in both scenarios the protagonists battle evil empires and develop love interests, all of which plays out in their respective scores. Ostensibly about Elizabethan England’s conflict with Spain and its armada, the Sea Hawk allegorizes Britain’s ongoing war with Nazi Germany. The island nation’s (and Flynn’s) heroism is mirrored in the opening fanfare. Korngold’s score—some call it his best—also features lush, sweeping string melodies that contrast with the brass motive and anticipate Williams’s most lyrical creations, like the flowing main theme to Jurassic Park.
After World War II a film composer rose to prominence whose cinematic voice turned away from the lavish music of Golden Age film toward an intimate approach to scoring more in keeping with the film noir aesthetic that had taken hold during the war years. The name Bernard Herrmann could strike fear in the hearts of audiences familiar with his screeching strings from Psycho, but in the “Scène d’amour” from Vertigo (1958) (the composer’s fourth collaboration with Alfred Hitchcock), we encounter the romantic side of Herrmann. Through its muted strings, minor key, and harmonic suspensions, the surging melody expresses a passion fraught with feelings of sadness and loneliness. Herrmann was never a composer of the “big gesture” like Steiner or Korngold. As exemplified in the music for Schindler’s List, Williams also inherited the more introspective, melancholic side of Herrmann’s work.
Los Angeles-born John Williams was a product of the prestigious Juilliard School, studying piano in the mid-1950s under noted teacher Rosina Lhévinne. He soon left formal training for work, however, first as jazz pianist in New York nightclubs and then as studio musician in L.A., where he began scoring for television and film. Audiences may not be aware that, prior to his breakthrough collaboration with Steven Spielberg on Jaws (1975), the Williams sound was already heard on North American screens in films such as Goodbye, Mr. Chips (1969) and The Poseidon Adventure (1972) and television series including Lost in Space (1965–68) and Gilligan’s Island (1964–67). It was in these movies and shows that he was able to develop his abilities as a melodist and orchestral colorist.
At the same time Williams distinguished himself in the world of screen adaptations with his collaboration on the film version of Fiddler on the Roof (1971), for which he arranged Jerry Bock’s original songs (1964) and conducted the orchestra. The score’s diegetic opening music for solo violin is played in the film by a character whose rooftop location is said to represent the precarious balance between tradition and progress. The film was nominated for eight Academy Awards, including for Best Picture and Best Director (Norman Jewison), and it won three. Williams counted among the winners for his score adaptation, prefiguring the successes he would notch with the music for Jaws and Star Wars. In all he has taken home five Oscars (the other two were E.T. and Schindler’s List) and has received 54 nominations, the most for any living person.
If for Fiddler Williams reworked someone else’s music, his score for Jaws (1975) is wholly his own and—along with Star Wars (1977)—is credited with having re-introduced the Golden Era orchestral sound into movie theaters. Never have two notes figured so prominently in popular culture as the opening musical gesture of Jaws, which has come to sonically symbolize any kind of menacing situation. But listen for the angular horn melody against the low-pitched half steps: it introduces a chaotic modernist element to the inexorability of the shark’s threat.
In comparison with the one-creature, one-theme horror economy of Jaws, the space opera Star Wars: A New Hope brims with musical ideas. Our concert tonight features two selections from the Star Wars Suite, namely the rousing fanfares of the opening and the end titles. Williams’s music for this first film in the series also includes the noble and haunting theme for the Force, the gentle lyricism of Princess Leia’s theme, and the lively jazz of the cantina. (One musical idea not yet revealed in this installment is the Imperial March, which we first hear in The Empire Strikes Back.) Through the prequels and sequels the composer has built a complex web of motives that inform the attentive audience member regarding characters, places, and even objects. But the music transcends the level of mere identification: it also reveals the emotional world associated with those aspects of the film.
Throughout his career Williams has remained committed to the sound ideal of Golden Age Hollywood scoring, which translates to certain principles that he has more or less maintained: traditional orchestra without the aid of electronics, a deliberate avoidance of popular music styles, and an emphasis on thematic development through leitmotifs (repeating ideas) and rich melodic writing. Another composer might have relied on electronic instruments to create the sound world of Star Wars, but Williams has demonstrated how space opera can achieve grandeur and emotional depth through purely orchestral means; even when communicating with aliens as in Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977), he uses a standard major-minor harmonic system!
Thus Spielberg’s E.T. (1982) eschews space-age synthesized sounds for its music, focusing instead on how a traditional approach to scoring can express deeper universal truths and emotional states. The cue titled “Adventures on Earth” occurs at the film’s emotional climax, and it features Williams’s thematic material in complex interactions until the E.T. idea emerges triumphant in the end. This is quintessential Williams at the peak of his ability to move the film audience—young and old—through a resonant depth of expression. By this time Williams and Spielberg had established such mutual trust that the director allowed Williams to compose the cue apart from the picture edit, after which the director would cut the sequence to match the score.
Through the science fiction and adventure scores of the late 1970s and the 1980s, Williams secured the legacy of Golden Age orchestral scoring and forged his role as its leading exponent. Composers such as James Horner (Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, 1982) and Alan Silvestri (Back to the Future, 1985) adopted the spirit and the detail of his sound even as directors were giving their composers tracks by Williams to serve as models. In his own ongoing compositional work Williams adhered to the guiding principle of deeply expressive, narrative-driven musical storytelling up to his last major score, for the Spielberg release The Fabelmans (2022). As a result we could remark that his core style has remained remarkably consistent, notwithstanding adjustments according to cinematic genre and style.
The 1990s brought Williams more diverse work, as today’s program attests through the music for Jurassic Park and Schindler’s List—two films that were both released in 1993 but required vastly different musical approaches. For Jurassic Park Williams adopted balanced tones of thrilling adventure and dignified grandeur, while Schindler’s List required music that was somber and restrained yet poignant. The Theme from Jurassic Park is by all means a wonder of lyrical, long-breathed melodic writing, without a hint of the horror Steiner captured in his King Kong score. In the introduction to the Jurassic Park theme, we hear Williams’s love for the French horn, which plays a rather enigmatic series of four notes that only make sense in retrospect. The main theme itself conveys the wonder and majesty of these ancient creatures, a sensibility that carries over into the livelier second theme.
With the Theme from Schindler’s List Williams returns to the solo violin in connection with the persecution of Jews, but now it takes on the tone of a haunting lament in combination with the plaintive tones of an English horn. The pairing of violin in its low register and the deep-throated English horn was an inspired stroke of instrumentation by Williams, deepening the intensity of emotion. Scored only for soloists, strings, and winds, the theme is a masterful example of his mature musical sensitivity to a film’s story. The music is so impactful that some have called it the saddest theme in all of film music, comparable to the equally mournful Adagio for Strings by Samuel Barber.
The first three films of the Harry Potter series (2001–04) provided Williams with a challenge far removed from his previous work: how do you write for a fantasy world with children as the protagonists? You could follow the path of Randy Newman’s playful whimsy in the Toy Story franchise (1995–99), or of Alan Menken’s Broadway-inspired tunefulness in Disney musicals like Beauty and the Beast (1991) and Aladdin (1992). Or you could stay true to your core ideals of full orchestra, a web of leitmotifs, and rich, expressive thematic development. Williams expanded the orchestra for these fantasy films by one instrument that has now become iconic for the series: the celesta. This keyboard instrument possesses an ethereal, bell-like tone that evokes the sense of enchantment underlying the world of Hogwarts. “Hedwig’s Theme” exploits the celesta and swirling strings to depict Harry’s pet owl in a whimsical melody. Williams puts the theme through its paces in a series of variations that successively reveal the owl’s mysterious character and powerful potential.
This evening’s celebration of John Williams shines a light on the film composers whose work inspired him and also reveals the elements that rendered his own scores the music of our lives. Perhaps because of his consistent adherence to the principles described above, we can agree with Steven Spielberg’s assessment of Williams’s music as “timeless.” A nonagenarian, he may not physically dwell among us for much longer, but his musical legacy will remain ours for generations to come. — © James Deaville
Paul-Boris Kertsman is an emerging conductor and pianist noted for his expressive musicianship and instinctive connection with audiences. In the upcoming season he begins his appointment as head of music and conductor at Lucerne Theatre and joins the Aspen Music Festival as assistant conductor. He recently completed two seasons as assistant conductor of the Musikkollegium Winterthur, where he worked closely with Music Director Roberto González-Monjas, led performances, and supported renowned guest artists. Notable engagements include Bernstein’s Trouble in Tahiti in Lucerne, a production of Mozart’s Idomeneo directed by Michael Sturminger, and his debut at the Musikverein Vienna with the ORF Radio Symphony Orchestra. He has led the Vienna Philharmonic’s Prokopp Academy, appeared on Austrian National TV, and worked with the WDR Rundfunkchor. A committed advocate for contemporary music, Kertsman has collaborated with composers including Matthias Pintscher, Chaya Czernowin, and Hannah Kendall. He debuts next season with the Vorarlberg Symphony Orchestra for a festival performance of new music. Born in New York and raised in Vienna and Chicago, Kertsman completed his conducting studies with Mark Stringer at the University of Music and Performing Arts Vienna.
Violinist Bing Wang joined the Los Angeles Philharmonic as associate concertmaster in 1994. She previously held the position of principal second violin with the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra. Since 2009 she has also been guest concertmaster of the Shanghai Symphony Orchestra, where she has been highlighted in televised concerts conducted by Riccardo Muti, Daniele Gatti, and Jaap van Zweden. As a soloist Wang has won critical praise for her performances with the Los Angeles Philharmonic. She appears annually as both concertmaster and soloist at the Hollywood Bowl, where she performs solos from movie classics under the baton of composer John Williams. She has also been a featured soloist with the Oregon, Pacific, and Eugene symphonies, the Young Musicians Foundation Debut Orchestra, and the American Youth Symphony. Wang has collaborated with distinguished artists such as Lang Lang, Yefim Bronfman, Emanuel Ax, and Jean-Yves Thibaudet. Born in China, Wang attended the Music Middle School affiliated with the Shanghai and Peabody conservatories and the Manhattan School of Music, where she studied with Berl Senofsky and Glenn Dicterow. Wang is adjunct associate professor at the USC Thornton School of Music, has been with the AMFS since 2003, and is an artist-faculty member of the New Horizons program, which is made possible by an endowment gift by Kay and Matthew Bucksbaum.
