Cross-fading in Manhattan: Howard Skempton on composing music for film

If not twins, music and film are certainly siblings. Both play with time and exercise charm. My own practical involvement in film began when I was thirteen, when I bought a cheap 8mm cine camera. A 50-foot spool of film cost about thirty bob (including processing) and I quickly learnt to “edit in camera”. Making films was never the all-consuming passion that composing became when I was sixteen, yet it remained influential and itself open to innovation. Richard Lester’s Help! (with The Beatles) prompted me to turn the camera on its side, and the preternaturally long shots of Antonioni’s movies encouraged me to follow suit, stretching both my budget and the credulity of my audience (my immediate family). It was about ten years ago, some time after my cameras had been retired (irretrievably on the blink) and celluloid had become an endangered species, that I had an email from Mode Records in New York asking for my address because a director, Michel Gondry, had been in touch to investigate the possibility of using my music in his latest film Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. A few days later, a disarmingly handwritten letter arrived from Michel who explained that he had recently been editing the final sequence of his movie, with the radio on, and that my Surface Tension, the title track of my Mode disc of short chamber pieces, had been broadcast and had somehow “lifted” the scene. Not knowing anything about what he had heard, he first contacted the radio station and then the record company.

Anyone who knows and admires Michel Gondry’s films will understand why he chose to write a characterful letter rather than send a simple email. In due course, we had a meeting in London where his music videos were being shown at the ICA. He booked me into his hotel so that discussions could be open-ended and even resume over breakfast.  Dressed inappropriately in my best (OK, my only) suit, I must have seemed eccentric, positive and perhaps a little wary. Two months later, I had a call from one of Michel’s American producers, asking if I could spend a week in New York, firstly to view the film and then to work on some musical ideas. No payment was mentioned, but the offer of assistance (a music editor, and any equipment I needed), plus flight and hotel accommodation, was generous. It was a busy time, I was tired, with a big choral piece to write, but this was a golden opportunity.

The evening I arrived at my hotel, Michel rang to welcome me and to arrange a meeting at the Partizan offices just round the corner. Two months after filming, Michel was fully engaged in the editing process, so my music editor and I were left alone to watch the movie in its provisional form. When it finished, I turned round, and there was Michel in the doorway, obviously curious to know my opinion. Even in its unfinished state, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind was magical. The filming, script and performances (the all-star cast included Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet) were a delight. My only complaint was about some of the music. Two or three tracks from my mode disc had been used and worked beautifully. At other times, the film seemed to be let down by the broodingly minimalistic material that had been substituted for silence. Perhaps this drone-based material (by a relatively well-known composer) was too close, stylistically, for comfort?  Maybe. I realised that music must do more than resonate with a movie: it must somehow enliven it. I think Michel must have been as surprised by my strong reaction as I myself was, but was also amused.

On subsequent days, I spent most of my time in the music editor’s tiny studio, mostly at the computer, looking at scenes from the movie and working with fragments of existing music (for example, some of my piano pieces). I witnessed with wonder the benefits, or otherwise, of Pro-Tools and cross-fading. We would work from early in the day until late evening, taking a break, mid-afternoon, for hamburgers and salad in a local bar. Michel would appear only occasionally (the music editor’s studio was in a different part of Manhattan) to discuss progress; and to remind me that he needed to persuade his producers that I was the right composer for the job. I remember a meeting with the producers. I mentioned that concert music was my bread and butter and one of them was quick to reply, “That’s the trouble, Howard! That’s all it is: just bread and butter!”

Once I was home, a contract was drawn up, but eventually the producers’ misgivings held sway. Michel has since used my music in another film of his, and is excited about using much more in an animated feature (a work in progress).  And, yes, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, spared my involvement, was marvellous!

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