To reach the eternal emptiness of the universe.
That’s exactly the kind of post I was trying to avoid, but thanks for playing.
Josh, I believe you hit the nail squarely on the head. Those opening scenes work far better than using a narrator, I found myself pulled in just as you described. And I could not describe it better than yourself “this is going to be a journey that’s just as important as the destination.” I am curious as to what your reading of the ending is however.( Sorry I know that it’s off topic.) Another sequence that uses silence the Jules Dassins’ film “Riffi”. The heist that occupies the center of the film is extremely effective and I believe is the template for all the pictures that followed it. If I remember it accurately (it has been a number of years since I’ve last seen it) the heist itself “almost” takes place in real time.
The book explains the ending unequivocally (Arthur C. Clarke and Kubrick sort of wrote it together). You can find several ‘readings’ as well as the actual explanation here.
Sounds like I need to see Riffi. Love a good heist. Thanks!
Somebody once asked what, if any, advantages sound film had over silents. The answer was: “The use of silence.”
Even in the silent days, the good composers knew when to pull the plug on the score and let a scene go under its own power.
Silence with pictures reaches us through different channels in the brain than sound with pictures. It’s not a gimmick, just neurological reality, much like a black screen with sounds forces its way into our heads in a different way than if both are represented simultaneously.
Both have their uses, as filmmakers certainly know.
“2001” with that awful National Geographic opening would have been a disaster. In addition to being badly written, it would have anchored the film in a cheap reality that was the exact opposite of what Kubrick was after.
One of the quietest sound films I have ever seen is about music. “Tous Les Matins du Monde” had all of us sitting at the edge of our seats. This was not silence, per se, but the use of quiet, in a very effective way. Every note in the film came as a startling contrast.
There are two kinds of ‘silence’; the lack of ‘live’ sync sound, but with sound effects and/or music, and the “real” silence, the total lack of audio as a scene plays. The first one is not uncommon, the second one is the far more powerful, and not used all that often.
With total silence, especially in today’s constant-input world, you are yanking the carpet out from under the audience; in effect telling them: work harder; I ain’t giving it all to you just like that. It creates discomfort for a lot of people. It is also very memorable.
I wish I could remember more examples right now, but if they come to me, I will post again.
Silence in films – I immediately think of Band Of Outsiders! Antonioni also comes to mind.
When used at the right time it can be more drama building than music.
There was another thread recently that was about Claire Denis’ recent move into making almost silent films. I’d say her, Tsai Ming-liang, Hou Hsiao-hsien, Jia Zhang-ke, and a few others are on a short list of directors that can go extreme lengths of time without anything but diegetic sound and it only makes their films more powerful. A great example is contained in the ending of Tsai’s Vive L’Amour. I don’t want to give away the ending for those that haven’t seen it (it is the ending after all), but I’ll say that it’s just something that if I were to describe would seem ridiculous, but in the context of the film it’s a scene that’s as effecting as almost any other in film.
Well, I guess I have to say something else now… Um…
Damn! Nothing.
claus, I really like your quote at the beginning of your post. If handled correctly it certainly can add a whole new dimension to the film experience.
“Show, don’t tell” is one of the most important rules in cinema and scriptwriting, isn’t it?
In the Dardenne’s Lorna’s Silence (no pun intended) silence is used very masterfully. There is a very deep cut after a scene with Lorna and Jérémie Renier’s character, in which he seems rather hopeful for the future. The next picture after the cut shows her, taking clothes off a cupboard, alone in the flat she shares with him. The scene goes for some time without a word, and slowly you realise: He is dead, she is collecting his clothes. That is a devastating moment, words could not add anything to it.
Josh—Though Genaro was a bit glib in his reply, as far as 2001 is concerned, he is entirely wrong. I think a great deal of that early silence is meant to juxtaposed with the vast emptiness of space, but in a way that ultimately connects all things rather then simply saying ‘Gee the universe sure is big.’ On a side note, and I’m guessing most people are aware of this already but I just realized it on my latest viewing (probably around the 20th-this is my all time favorite movie), the ‘Dawn of Man’ sequence doesn’t end until the monilith is found on the moon. Like I said, a little off topic, but it just opened the film up for me again and I had to mention it.
Back on topic, I just saw Werckmeister Harmonies for the first time (it was also the first Tarr film I’d seen) and was impressed by Tarr’s use of silence/quiet. The seen, with Jancos and Mr. Ezsters are walking in two shot, and the camera just tracks with them and all you here is their footsteps. I found this a powerful moment, highlighting the ideas in the film about routine and the disruption of it. I look forward to looking at more of Tarr’s work.
Film is first and foremost a visual medium. Every director who’s any good knows how to advance a story-action without words.
Kim ki-duk’s use of silence in his movies also convey a lot of meaning. It can range from a feeling of guilt or unease in several moments of Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter… and Spring; to express complicity and intimacy with the leading couple in Bin-jip; or to depict awkwardness and shock like in the sequence of the “paper face” (I won’t spoil this one, you’ve got to see it yourself) in Shi gan aka Time. He’s even used silence to create suspense and anxiety: in the movie Samaria when the detective finds out his daughter is having sex with different guys, he starts a chase after those who have been lying with her, and we can only expect everything’s going to end tragically.
Some directors use silence to show they are being cinematic, which can be a mistake as silence should not be principally a mannerism or ego trip. It should have integrity behind its meaning and impact. It’s the same with camera movement and stillness. Take the “Anju’s ripples” scene in Sansho the Bailiff, handled without fuss or self-glorification. There is some (external) sound but it is in keeping with the rest of the film.
Kenji, that’s a great example. Maybe the best in all of cinema.
I like the way Melville uses silence in his films, like the first 10 minutes of Le Samourai and the heist sequence in Le Cercle Rouge.
Oh, another thing, anybody else find it a strange experience sitting through the end credits in silence? I always get a weird feeling, like at the end of the Dardennes’ films, like there was no closure for me, and I felt the same for Revanche.
I am really enjoying reading this thread.
That is true <;))( (I’ll just call you Carlo from now on). It’s a somewhat unsettling feeling. When Irreversible (I can’t stop talking about this film) opened when I was watching it with my friends and the credits rolled first, in complete silence, it made the opening of the film very disquieting, there was a very uncomfortable air right at the beginning of the film. Noe didn’t even have to do anything to cause discomfort in all three of us.
Irreversible was the film I first thought of when Carlo mentioned silent credits. It’s a vacuum that demands to be filled with your thoughts—and they just pour into it.
I’m curious, Col. Dax, whether any of you spoke during those credits or just let them play in silence?
I didn’t (or I didn’t open conversation), but I was the only one that had seen the film before so, I already knew about the effect the credits were going to have. My friend said, “What’s going on?” and I said “Shhh. Watch the movie.” We didn’t really talk again until the end unless to say things, “Jesus!” and “Oh man!” and to dry heave, it’s an intense experience.
Damn, my cover is blown! hehehe <‘,))( Claus has really illustrated two uses of silence in films perfectly in his post, but I think there is also a third kind of silence that a lot of us have been talking about that is used in film, namely none of the characters talking, no music, just natural sound. Come to think of it, is there any silence at all in a movie theater? The best thing about moments of silence in a film is when you just hear the projector whirring, and that’s all I hear when those end credits with no music roll. And maybe that’s why I usually prefer to sit closer to the back of the theater.
@<;))(: I vividly remembering seeing Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind theatrically.
I sat near the top during a matinee showing. Few others besides myself.
I sat there watching memories fleeting, disappearing.
While everyone else in the theater got up and left.
Until I was left alone to watch the rest.
To me, this made it all the more cool.
I finished the movie alone.
Joy.
Wow, you’re so lucky, Josh. I would love to see a film in a theater all alone. The theater experience also contributes to the silence, I think, because one thing that does ruin those moments of silence in films are people munching on popcorn, fiddling wrappers, opening soda cans, etc. If the audience themselves can maintain silence while watching a film, it is really a sign of respect to the film and its makers. I’ve had couple of experiences like that, but it’s very rare, and mostly in film festivals and because the filmmaker is present. <’,))(
It was so appropriate as to be surreal with my Eternal Sunshine experience. All I could do was sit there and smile because I was getting it while all these fools left. I was literally alone for the second half of the film (and this was a the Magnolia in Dallas, not some shitty dollar theater).
It was the only time I’ve seen a movie in a theater where the audience added to my enjoyment of the film by leaving me the hell alone.
Eric Rohmer is a very misunderstood director. His characters speak a lot because that’s what people do- and with the uncertainties, nonsense, delusions, and sometimes improvisations etc of real life, but what he says on the Rohmer homepage here is right; he shows things.
SPOILER The ending of the Green Ray, SPOILER which may be the the most wonderful single second in cinema (the other slightly longer great moment i’ve mentioned above)- but not as good as the real thing! Marie Riviere and her likeable young guy, we know he’s just right for her, fantastic casting, well they’re looking for what she’s overheard about, the rare almost mystical green ray or flash as the sun sets at sea, they talk, their body and facial language is expressive, there’s music too, and then there’s just that small moment of silence, and i tingle and cry. And the greatest line of dialogue in cinema history (better even than Bob Stutsman’s quote from Holiday), well it’s not a line it’s a single word. And if any of you have seen and loved the film and then seen the ray itself- with a loved one too- than you are truly blessed. And the tears are pouring down my face, had i not seen the film i would never have seen the green ray for real either, and the sheer beauty of its meaning would not have been so apparent.
I meant to say Genaro ISN"T entirely wrong…whoops.
Are we talking about diagenic vs. non-diagenic sound, or just silence, full stop?
Either.
House of Leaves
Originally, the ‘Dawn of Man’ section of Kubrick’s 2001 had a bit of narration on top it. Here’s what it was (from a photograph of a type-written sheet of paper titled ‘DAWN OF MAN NARRATION – 1, Draft 2’, 29, Sept. ’62):
The were children of the forest – gatherers of nuts and fruits and berries.
But the forest was dying, defeated by centuries of drought, and they were dying with it.
In this new world of open plains and stunted bushes, the search for food was an endless, losing battle.
Yet the beasts of prey – the lion and the leopard, and the scavenger hyenas – could thrive even in this harsh environment. There was always food for the hunters.
But the man-apes had no natural weapons of claw or fang; and even if they could obtain meat, it would be useless to them. They had not yet acquired a taste for flesh; nor could their bodies absorb such alien food.
So they had never learned to hunt – to kill.
In the midst of plenty, they were starving to death.
No wonder Kubrick ultimately eliminated it—it reads like a poor Discovery Channel narrator and doesn’t fit the tone of the film at all. More importantly, it’s a classic case of ‘telling’ rather than ‘showing’, since we get all of that from the film without it. But Kubrick’s choice to go silent over the opening of Dawn of Man benefits the film in several ways.
First, it directly follows Strauss’ impressive opening of Also Spracht Zarathrustra, and moving from that to silence (really should say ‘stillness’, since you can hear the wind in the background), allows the audience to hone in on the images before them. It’s all they have, so they focus more deeply.
Second, it allows one to settle into the film. Those first few, beautiful landscape shots play out over several seconds. Kubrick is doing more than just setting the stage—he’s allowing the film to breathe. In a sense he’s telling us to sit back and relax, that this is going to be a journey that’s just as important as the destination.
When more sounds come into the picture they are guttural and animalistic and we are introduced to Kubrick’s ‘man-apes’. Here the lack of narration more closely brings us into their world as it is a world without language. It’s an alien world to us (ironically), one where the comfort of a narrator would have spared us the fear of the leopard crouching above us, the finality of a bone thumping against a limp body, the perturbation of the monolith.
I thought it would be interesting to discuss silence in films, and not just lists of your favorite silent moments but examinations of why they are silent (or ‘still’) and what effect they have on the scene, the film, the audience, etc.