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Exposing the Interior Through Sound in Uncut Gems and Punch-Drunk Love

Melissa Luna

 

In both Punch-Drunk Love and Uncut Gems, the interior of the character is expressed through sound design and score.

 

In Paul Thomas Anderson’s Punch-Drunk Love (2002), Adam Sandler is Barry Egan, a man who has his own business making unbreakable toilet plungers and who falls in love with a woman named Lena (Emily Watson). The film follows the structure of a hero’s journey for Barry, as he gradually progresses from being an anxious loner to becoming more confident, eventually successfully winning Lena’s heart. Barry’s anxiety is visually represented by angry outbursts the character has when forced into a corner. Sonically, his anxiety and love for Lena are represented by the musical score, and the volume and quality of the sound effects, all of which work to convey Barry’s emotions. The Safdie Brothers’ 2019 film Uncut Gems bears many similarities to Punch-Drunk Love — the most obvious being that the lead roles in both films are portrayed by Adam Sandler. One of the main similarities I will be discussing in this essay is how the soundtracks of both films are used to communicate and represent the interiority of the protagonists. In the case for Punch-Drunk Love, Jon Brion — the film’s composer — beautifully communicates Barry’s anxiety, his love for Lena, and his growth throughout the film and likewise Daniel Lopatin – the composer for Uncut Gems – illustrates Howard’s impulsivity and anxiety caused by his self-destructive behaviors with the score. Each film utilizes music to effectively blur the boundary between diegetic and non-diegetic space in ways that directly oppose the belief that the diegetic and the non-diegetic are meant to be understood as completely separate. I will be using theories proposed by writers such as Daniel Frampton and Ben Winters to form my argument against the existence of the non-diegetic, choosing to instead use Claudia Gorbman’s term ‘“extra-diegetic”’ to describe external sounds and music that have been added to the film’s score (Winters 225). I will also be pulling from Daniel Frampton’s Filmosophy and his theory on the existence of the “filmmind” to propose that these pieces of music cannot fairly be defined as non-diegetic; they are clearly integral parts of the diegesis of the films as they affect the characters and are seemingly also affected by the actions of the characters. I’ll be describing how, in moments of emotional intensity, the volume or pitch of the score is literally affected by the emotions of the characters, implying that there is a direct relationship between sound quality and internal emotion.

From the beginning of Punch-Drunk Love, there’s an element of surrealism to the set design, character interactions, and score. Visually, there is much about the film that is obviously not grounded in a reality like ours. The way Barry’s desk is initially shot, for instance, in a vast empty room, sets up the visual surreality of the film; there are also small moments, like how the payphone booth lights up when Barry calls Lena in Hawaii, that suggest the world of Punch-Drunk Love seems to exist entirely within Barry’s mind. This boundary visually confirms the film’s questionable connection to our reality, although we still accept everything we see as being a part of the world of the film. Throughout the film there are also several interludes where the only thing shown onscreen are a variety of colors, while music, and at times dialogue, plays over them. The first time this occurs is a little over ten minutes into the film, as the track “Overture” plays. The film cuts to this scene after Barry, has a short interaction with his love interest, Lena. The interaction with Lena seemingly spurs intense emotions within Barry which are visually illustrated by these colors. This could be understood as a visual representation of synesthesia, a mental condition that allows someone to experience more than one sense at the same time. Paul Taberham describes the colors as visual hints towards Barry’s synesthesia in the film, meaning that these pauses in the film’s narrative are literally a look into what Barry’s seeing in his mind (Taberham 155). Synesthesia most commonly occurs when someone is listening to music, so it can be assumed that the colors we see in this first instance are actually based around the piece of the soundtrack that plays right after Lena leaves.

The colorful interludes are also used to emphasize the supernatural elements of Barry’s character and of the film world. The second time this moment occurs it serves as a transition between locations as the voice of the phone sex worker who’s extorting Barry for money can be lightly heard over the ethereal track accompanying the moving colors. This instance of the colorful tableaux being used is interesting because if we are still to believe that they are an example of Barry’s synesthesia, then this again means that we are hearing and seeing what Barry is hearing and seeing. While there is no indication that Barry has any knowledge of what’s going on with the people harassing him, the implication that Barry is somehow able to hear what’s going on in another state may be taken as another hint at how the fabric of this film’s reality is not quite like ours.

Like in Punch-Drunk Love, there are moments within Uncut Gems where the film is seemingly not grounded within our reality, and the characters, namely Howard (Adam Sandler) and Kevin Garnett, (played by himself), seem to have a supernatural connection to the world they’re in. There’s also an emphasis on colors in Uncut Gems, although unlike Barry’s synesthesia, it’s the color of the gemstones that draw Howard in. Specifically, the black opal that Howard buys is what holds all the power and serves as the crux of the story in Uncut Gems. When both Howard and Kevin look into the black opal, they have spiritual visions that seem to hint at their greatest desires. Beginning at the point when he first looks into the black opal, Garnett has an intense connection to the gem. As scenes from his past — and possibly from his future — play out, the sound of Howard’s voice explaining the opal’s origin to him gets noticeably quieter and is drowned out by a piece from the score. Garnett’s trance is inevitably broken by the sound of the jewelry counter’s glass breaking, snapping both Garnett — and in extension, the audience — out of that trance. This brief escape into Garnett’s mind not only hints at the supernatural elements of the opal, but also at the way that the character’s interiority is tied to the audio-visual aspects of the film. This technique of cutting out the score, or emphasizing certain pieces of the soundtrack to drown out dialogue, is used multiple times within the film.

 

Both films contain abstract sequences of color accompanied by music, drawing us further into the characters’ experiences.

 

While the musical compositions within the soundtrack are what I mainly want to discuss, it’s also important to talk about the other elements of the sound design — traditionally described as diegetic sound effects — that work with the extra-diegetic aspects of the score to create a soundtrack for films that function as musicals without words. This idea of a musical without words is one that I would like to hold onto; the way the diegesis is defined within musicals is much different from the diegesis of typical narrative films. When characters sing in musicals, the songs are almost always considered to be a part of the film’s world and are often used to express the inner thoughts or emotions the characters are feeling. The same can be said for the way music is used in narrative films, but for some reason there exists a need to separate the music in a soundtrack from the diegesis, despite there being many aspects within Punch-Drunk Love that point to the music having a significant effect on the film world. For example, there are moments within the film where the score dies out briefly to allow for a piece of dialogue or a sonic motif to play. When considering Frampton’s definition of the “filmmind,” these examples serve to further emphasize the way that the extra-diegesis is affected by elements of the diegesis, effectively blending the two worlds together.

There is a sparseness to the soundtrack of Punch-Drunk Love that makes every sound feel much louder and more emphasized than they would in real life. The score doesn’t actually make its first appearance until around eight minutes into the film, and before this it’s extremely obvious that there is no music. It almost sounds like there are microphones attached to Barry’s shoes as every single step he takes echoes and reverberates with force. This emphasis on ambient sound within the score can be seen as an example of “rendering,” which Michel Chion describes as the process of using sound effects to evoke a feeling, such as the sound of a “whoosh” when a sword is swung to indicate agility (Chion 109-110). While watching Punch-Drunk Love, we become attuned to the way the soundscape of the film’s world works, and we learn to pay more attention to these innocuous sounds because of how they’re mixed in the score.

Around mid-way through the film, Barry and Lena share their first kiss, and there’s another prominent example of Barry’s feelings being communicated by the score. Barry has just dropped Lena off at her apartment after dinner and gotten back to work when he’s told he has a phone call waiting for him. Throughout the week, Barry has been the subject of many unsolicited phone calls from scammers harassing him for money, so it’s a pleasant surprise when the person on the phone turns out to be Lena. Lena softly tells Barry that she wishes he’d kissed her earlier, spurring Barry to immediately run straight out and rush to find her apartment. The track accompanying Barry’s journey back to Lena, “Punch Drunk Melody,” does not communicate anxiety, but love. “Punch Drunk Melody” makes an appearance mainly during instances when Barry is thinking about Lena, as there is a clear connection between their relationship and the song. The song has a light and whimsical tone, and even though Barry is likely nervous while walking back to the apartment, the score instead communicates his anticipation for seeing Lena again.

Much later in the film, after Barry and Lena return from Hawaii, the scammers — who previously had beaten up Barry — intentionally crash into his car while the couple is driving home. This crash causes Lena to be injured, and seeing her blood triggers an almost supernatural response from Barry. He gets out of his car and proceeds to effortlessly beat up the men who drove into them. While this scene occurs, the song “Tabla” from the film’s soundtrack plays. “Tabla” is a good example of a song that plays during moments of intense feelings, most often anxiety, for Barry. The track is distorted in this scene as well — like the previous scene in the bathroom — and any editing done to the song was only done to make the recording sound worse. This points towards there being a connection between Barry’s feelings and the quality of the audio and soundtrack. Like in the bathroom scene earlier, the bad quality is triggered by the intensity of Barry’s emotions, though what’s of importance in this scene is not the reasoning behind the distortion, but the fact that the distortion itself exists, as it’s further confirmation that there’s a connection between internal emotions and the score.

 

The composer for Uncut Gems, Daniel Lopatin, uses the film’s score to align us with Julia’s (Julia Fox) perspective.

 

In Uncut Gems, there is a scene at the midpoint of the film where Howard and his mistress Julia (Julia Fox) get into a huge fight after Howard catches Julia alone with the singer The Weeknd (played by himself). Thus far, this is the biggest fight we’ve seen occur between them in the film. Daniel Lopatin, in an interview breaking down his process when making the score for this scene, stated that this point in the film is the first time the audience is meant to get a look into Julia’s psyche. This shift in perspective is emphasized by the camera’s dedication to following Julia after her fight with Howard. The swelling of the music is a clear indicator of the rush of emotions she’s feeling. The camera also begins to follow Julia after Howard leaves in a taxi, almost like the film is implicitly taking her side. The music in this scene — like many other music pieces in Uncut Gems — has a bit of an odd feel to it, as it’s almost jovial in tone. This makes sense when looking into the origins of the music: the piece began as a direct reference to Joseph Haydn’s “Symphony No.88 in G Major.” The way the original piece is enhanced causes the score to take on an almost spiritual quality. There is a somewhat amiable feel as the camera tracks alongside Julia walking back past the club. This strange, childlike youthfulness in the track’s tone makes sense when considering Julia’s age and her dynamic with Howard. Additionally, most of the scenes that I’ve mentioned in this paper are all long takes. Particularly for the scene I just described, the way the camera chooses to remain on the characters, as well as the function of the cuts and other directorial decisions, all have clear motivations and intent behind them. These motivations are partly defined by the music that is playing as the scenes play out.

In his book Audio-vision: Sound on Screen, Michel Chion also speaks about a form of music he produces that he refers to as “musique concrète.” He produces this music by using recorded sounds that are put together to become music. The sparse ambient sounds in the Punch-Drunk Love soundtrack create this effect, and Barry’s footsteps are a sound that particularly stand out as examples of musique concrète in the film. The dancing scene, for example, features the tapping of Barry’s feet in motions and rhythms that feel akin to someone like Gene Kelly’s dancing in Singin’ in the Rain (1952). This is true for other sonic motifs in both films as well. For example, the sound of a phone ringing is a common motif throughout Punch-Drunk Love. Barry is often on the phone because of his business, but also because of the villains of the film, who are trying to extort him for money. Similarly, Howard also spends a lot of time on the phone, and in both films phone calls are used to typically enhance the anxiety of each scene: in Punch-Drunk Love, the tension of the scene is enhanced as the content of each phone call is typically threatening to Barry; in Uncut Gems, the phone calls are often chaotic and full of screaming. In his book, Chion defines the acousmatic dimension, which can most simply be understood as the offscreen space where sound with no visible source exists. The continued use of phone calls in the films are great examples of acousmatic voices – or offscreen voices – being utilized to emphasize a sense of intensity and chaoticism in the protagonists’ lives.

In his article on what he calls the “non-diegetic fallacy,” Ben Winters states “that branding music with the label ‘non-diegetic’ threatens to separate it from the space of the narrative, denying it an active role in shaping the course of onscreen events, and unduly restricting our readings of the film,” clearly explaining how there are no truly non-diegetic aspects of a soundtrack (Winters 224). Even a non-diegetic score is being used to communicate what’s inside of a character’s mind, which is a part of the world of the film. Winters cites Claudia Gorbman’s definition of what she calls the “extra-diegetic,” a term that has at times been used in lieu of “non-diegetic,” although sometimes considered problematic. As film theorist Daniel Percheron suggests, the term can be used to describe sounds that have been added to the film’s world from an external source, rather than sounds that are external to the world of the film (Percheron 18).

When considering the soundtrack of the mind and how the score communicates the interiority of the characters by sonically illustrating the rhythms and melodies they have in their head, the line separating the diegetic and non-diegetic is clearly not as rigid as it seems. Furthermore, choosing to differentiate between the diegetic and non-diegetic implies that the non-diegetic score was created solely for the spectator, yet I would argue there is a clear connection between the real emotions of the characters and the sounds we’re hearing. Film is not an exact visual depiction of the world, and the need to define a diegesis is direct proof of the world of a film being its own separate entity. Daniel Frampton also makes the argument in his book Filmosophy, as the author Ben Winters quotes, “‘that films can use music to undercut or counteract the visual element,’ which Frampton refers to as films thinking ‘against the image’. What this concept offers in our present context, then, is a way to justify the presence of music as part of the created world, with all the potential fluidity that film-thinking allows.” (Winters 233) As supported by Framptonand Winters’ claims, there is reason to believe that a film’s world is all-encompassing, and even if every character can’t hear every piece of music, that doesn’t mean the music can’t be included when defining the aspects of a film that are included within the diegesis. Separating the diegetic from the non-diegetic, particularly in regards to sound, makes no sense, especially when there’s proof supporting the notion that the concept of the diegesis in film isn’t as resolute as most film scholars would lead you to believe.

 

Works Cited

Chion, Michel. Audio-visual: Sound on Screen. Columbia University Press, 1990.

Percheron, Daniel, and Marcia Butzel. “Sound in Cinema and its Relationship to Image and Diegesis.” Yale French Studies, no. 60, 1980, pp. 16-23.

Taberham, Paul. “Synaesthetic Film Reconsidered.” Lessons in Perception: The Avant-Garde Filmmaker as Practical Psychologist, Berghahn Books, 2018, pp. 151-168.

Winters, Ben. “The Non-Diegetic Fallacy: Film, Music, and Narrative Space.” Music & Lettersvol. 91, no. 2, 2010, pp. 224-244.

 

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