Music in Action Film

Sounds Like Action!

James Buhler, Mark Durrand, James Buhler, Mark Durrand

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2020
• ISBN:
  9781351204255
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Media & Performing Arts
• Subtopic: Music History & Criticism

Music in Action Film is the first volume to address the central role of music and sound in action film—arguably the most dominant form of commercial cinema today.

Bringing together 15 essays by established and emerging scholars, the book encompasses both Hollywood blockbusters and international films, from classic works such as The Seven Samurai to contemporary superhero franchises. The contributors consider action both as genre and as a mode of cinematic expression, in chapters on evolving musical conventions; politics, representation, and identity; musical affect and agency; the functional role of music and sound design in action film; and production technologies.

Breaking new critical ground yet highly accessible, this book will be of interest to students and scholars of music and film studies.

PART I

Action Scored

Politics, Representation, and Identity

1
Favela Chic in Action

Soundtracking Urban Violence in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

K. E. Goldschmitt

Rio de Janeiro is famous for its extremes. It has some of the most dramatic coastlines in the world, featuring steep mountains that give way to the beaches lined by alternating forests and ritzy neighborhoods. The city’s tropical mystique has often inspired makers of glamorous international spy film franchises (and their spoofs), such as Moonraker (1979) and L’homme de Rio (1964), to incorporate Rio de Janeiro into the plot. In recent years, however, the city’s violent crime (it is often called the murder capital of the world) and extreme poverty have also come to the forefront of international awareness, making its favelas––the local word for its hillside slums––as popular in action film as its beaches.¹ The favelas of Rio de Janeiro are now so famous in the global imaginary that “favela” has become shorthand for precariously constructed neighborhoods that are both culturally rich and replete with crime and poverty. What’s more, favelas are now trendy in international settings, inspiring art gallery shows, and a globe-​spanning chain of high-​end music clubs called “Favela Chic.”² It should be no surprise, then, that alongside their monetization in international markets, favelas have become the site of fantasies of vigilante justice and improbable feats of survival, soundtracked so as to emphasize urban grit.

For almost two decades, action films set in Rio’s favelas have reinforced a link between favela life and fantasies of global slum violence. In most cases these films used musical and visual references to that location to add a level of realism to the action sequence in question. However, an early chase sequence in Fast Five (2011) shows the extreme of using the setting of a favela to enact fantasies about global slum violence. The sequence focuses on the flight of Dominic (Vin Diesel) from combined U.S. and Rio de Janeiro forces and drug lord lackeys in Rocinha, Rio de Janeiro’s most famous favela, in the tourism-​friendly South Zone of the city. Rather than choreographing the chase along the scenic topography of Rio’s iconic forests or beaches, the filmmakers chose to feature the grit and poverty of a favela, as Dominic leaps from rooftop to rooftop to composer Brian Tyler’s score.³ The chase intensifies when Agent Hobbs (Dwayne Johnson) breaks through a giant glass window to pursue Dominic on foot (Figure 1.1a), emphasized by a swell in the low brass. Soon, the pace of the visual editing speeds up to quick cuts between aerial and hand-​held shots of Brian O’Connor (Paul Walker) and Mia Toretto (Jordana Brewster) racing through the narrow passageways between favela homes (Figure 1.1b), and Dominic running away from the drug gang’s machine gun fire. The sequence comes to a climax when all three of the film’s protagonists attempt their escape via the rooftops of Rocinha (with complementary rising lines in the brass and strings). As the characters attempt to escape both law enforcement and drug gang lackeys, alliances shift, with Dominic saving a member of Rio’s military police (played by Elsa Pataky) and soon joining up with task-​force members to attack the masked gang members. The rooftop action comes to an abrupt end when Mia suddenly halts, and we’re shown a rapid panoramic view of Guanabara Bay off in the distance before the camera shifts to the rooftop below—a precarious structure that will not support a landing. Mia and Brian jump anyway, crashing into the home and leaving their pursuers without a trail.

FIGURE 1.1 Fast Five (2011): (a) Dominic Toretto (Vin Diesel) runs throughout the Rocinha favela; (b) Mia Toretto (Jordana Brewster) and Brian O’Connor (Paul Walker) leap to their escape with Gaunabara Bay in the background.

By the time that Fast Five was produced, the meaning of favelas in film had become so cemented that the imagery alone did all of the work of communicating gritty, authentic, slum life as the backdrop for action without the need for sonic reinforcers. Apart from a brief interjection of spoken Portuguese—Brazil’s national language––as the protagonists flee their favela hideout, the sonic makeup of the sequence employs standard action film conventions and could be placed anywhere. The filmmakers chose to strip the soundtrack of any sounds that originate in the favela to make more room for sonic fantasies of action and violence. The score is hard-​hitting, emphasizing lower frequencies, digital effects, and percussion meant to complement the excitement on screen. That soundtrack choice is puzzling, given that it is the only major sequence to take place in the favelas, and in light of the effort the filmmakers went through to license hip-​hop music from Rio de Janeiro for use elsewhere in the film.⁴ One could interpret that choice as generalizing the favela as a location, equating it with anywhere else The Fast and The Furious franchise has been set (Tokyo, Los Angeles, etc.). From the conventional score to the lack of sounds from the favela, elements of the sonic design express a randomness or haphazard scene placement. In that sense, it is a type of “any-​space-whatever” (via Gilles Deleuze), where the location is not yet fully fleshed out or situated in the sonic world of the film, and instead functions more like an obstacle course that could be anywhere; indeed, the musical specifics linking the film to Rio de Janeiro only appear in later scenes.⁵ The combination of action film tropes (e.g., Agent Hobbs breaking through a giant glass window) and this lack of specificity demonstrates just one common way that favelas have been portrayed in major blockbuster films. Filmmakers have been so successful at linking favelas to fantasies of poverty, criminality, and violence, that these neighborhoods have become a shorthand. Audiences no longer require sonic or musical signifiers to understand these references. Cinematography alone offers films exotic specificity without distracting from the excitement taking place at the center of the screen. That chain of signification has consequences for interpretations of Brazil as a country and favela life.

Even as it only vaguely depends on its location, much of Fast Five’s use of the favelas resembles similar chase scenes in films helmed by Brazilians, cementing an emerging trope of what favelas can do for action film. To address that trend, this chapter situates the role of film music, specifically in chase sequences and scenes that depict corruption in the face of Rio de Janeiro’s drug trade, in films made by Brazilians. Through an analysis of how music and sound take part in the perpetuation of stereotypes about urban violence in Brazil, it argues that sensationalist depictions of Rio de Janeiro’s slums and related fantasies about favela life rely on a combination of stereotyping and audiovisual hyperrealism. This happens through the willing participation of local, national, and international promotional apparatuses. In most cases, action sequences set in the poorest neighborhoods of Rio de Janeiro overemphasize their roughness through shaky handheld camera techniques and musical and sonic details that, as I elaborate below, have clear links to discourses of authenticity specifically from the favelas. The placement of these sounds exemplifies the kind of aural verisimilitude that exaggerates the grittiness and violence of these neighborhoods.⁶ Further, I show that the combination of these forces intensifies the social exclusion of Rio de Janeiro’s poorest residents both in Brazil and abroad. Through the confluence of local policies and international distribution, these films’ soundtracks have contributed to the exploitation of these residents in the service of entertainment and fantasy.

Before I demonstrate how films have exploited the reputation of Rio de Janeiro as a place replete with crime, I first detail how favelas have come to symbolize marginality in music and international film. After explaining some of the historical context for the enduring draw of favelas, especially as the setting for portrayals of crime and violence, I explore how soundtrack choices play into and against depictions of violence and criminality in two films made for a Brazilian audience, which later gained international acclaim. By untangling the link between favelas and film music, I hope to encourage a more nuanced view of depictions of violence in the Global South.

The Legacy of Favela, Funk, and Samba in Audiovisual Media

At the time when Fast Five was filmed, the setting in Rocinha was in keeping with major trends in big-​budget action films. Just a few years earlier, Marvel’s Incredible Hulk (2008) had Bruce Banner hiding out in a bottling factory in the same favela to lay low as he attempted to find a cure for his condition of turning into Hulk. Even the animated feature Rio (2011) gave audiences both the Brazil of postcards––tropical beaches, jungles, and carnival––alongside the crime and violence (and limited action scenes) located mostly in favelas, thereby binding crime and violence to action in that country for a younger audience. Due to the support of municipal and national cultural policy changes, Fast Five was part of a wave of interest by non-​Brazilian filmmakers and musicians in Rio de Janeiro’s poorest neighborhood.⁷ In all of these cases, one could argue that fantasy was largely at play, causing Fast Five to be panned by Brazilian critics for feeding negative stereotypes. For audiences who only take note of Brazil in the abstract, and for whom such places as “Brazil” and “Rio de Janeiro” conjure a collection of vague references, Fast Five accomplished its goal and was of value. It was a fun fantasy of vengeance and street j...