A Score of Just Drums: The Moment Antonio Sánchez Changed Film Music in 'Birdman'
When I first watched 'Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance)' (2014), the first thing that felt off wasn't the visuals, but the sound. Riggan Thomson walks through his dressing room, argues with someone in the hallway, and slips into the wings of the stage. In every one of those scenes, there is no orchestra, no piano, and no synthesizer. What is playing instead is drums. A snare roll, the shimmer of cymbals, the tumble of toms. That is all. This film proves in reverse just how much film music has been a 'device for organizing the audience with string instruments and chords'.
The person in charge was Antonio Sánchez. A jazz drummer from Mexico City, he has been a long-time member of guitarist Pat Metheny's group. This was his first major work in film music. Director Iñárritu did not give him a score. He showed him the scenes, had him improvise, and used those takes exactly as they were. The traditional scene of a composer calling a large orchestra to a studio and waving a baton does not exist here.
Why drums?
If you honestly translate the sounds ringing inside Riggan's head into music, it would probably be those drums. His alter ego, 'Birdman,' is squatting in his brain, and the pressure of opening night, his relationships with his ex-wife and daughter, and his anger toward critics are all stuck in a traffic jam. If you were to organize this into a melody, it would be a lie. Because his psyche is not organized.
Since drums are percussion instruments without pitch, they don't label emotions as 'sad' or 'happy.' Instead, they only convey the speed of a heartbeat. When Riggan is cornered, the rhythm becomes more intricate; when he stops, it disappears. The audience's heart rate automatically synchronizes with the character on screen. It is close to the feeling of being beaten by BPM. This is the non-verbal audience guidance chosen by Iñárritu.
The meaning of the improvisation method
Sánchez's drums were recorded using the jazz method of having no prior score. He played against the footage and adopted the takes he liked. At first glance, this seems like an inefficient way of doing things, but it fits strangely well with the film's pseudo-one-shot cinematography. The filming policy of shooting continuous time without cutting and the recording policy of playing from start to finish without stopping are structurally driven by the same philosophy. Since the footage 'does not cut,' the music 'does not cut' either.
What is interesting is the scene in the middle of the film where the actual drummer is seen playing in the corner of a hallway. The sound that should have been on the 'outside' as a film score suddenly pokes its face into the 'inside' of the screen. For a moment, the audience's framework of the world they are watching is shaken. It intentionally breaks the boundary between the film score and the music within the film. This is also part of the film's strategy to bring the 'live' nature of theater into cinema.
The Academy Award misunderstanding
The film's music was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Original Score. However, the Academy later revoked its eligibility. The reason was that because a certain amount of classical music by Mahler and Rachmaninoff was used, it did not meet the requirements for a new composition. Sánchez publicly protested this decision, asking, 'How do you count all those drums I improvised?' In the end, the decision was not overturned.
While this may look like a minor technicality, it is actually a question about the very definition of film music. Is a score a sheet of music, or is it an acoustic experience? Is improvised percussion performance 'composition' or 'performance'? The Academy's rules are clearly biased toward the former, assuming the 20th-century model of 'composer = someone who writes notes on paper.' This film stepped into a territory that the model misses, and the institution could not keep up. It is a frustrating story, but it conversely proves the sharpness of what this film was trying to do.
In the lineage of jazz scores
There have been several moments in history when jazz has come to the forefront of film music. The improvised muted trumpet that Miles Davis played in the studio while watching the footage of 'Elevator to the Gallows' (1958). That was also the same 'watch the footage and improvise' method as Sánchez. If you consider that this film is redoing the same methodology half a century later with only drums, the lineage connects into one line.
However, in Miles's case, the role was largely to bring the image of 'jazz = stylish night music' into the film. The drums in this film have no such decorative quality. Rather, they are atonal and aggressive, ringing only to make the audience feel uncomfortable. Even with the same 'improvised jazz' label, the function is completely different. Sánchez's drums are closer to another character than music, visualizing the inside of Riggan as an alter ego.
That controversial sound
I can understand the feelings of those who say they don't like this score. The endlessly ringing cymbals are irritating, and because there is no melody, you cannot hum it on your way home. It is music that disappears the moment you leave the theater. But I think that disappearing is the correct behavior for this film's music. Since it exists to stick to Riggan's mental state, it is fine for the music to disappear when he disappears from the screen. It is not the type of score you buy on a soundtrack to listen to repeatedly after watching. It is music for one time only, just for that screening time. The courage of Sánchez, who carried this out perfectly for two hours, should be re-evaluated.
Related books
'Listen to the Treasure of Jazz Drums! A Disc Guide to 200 Undisputed Masterpieces' (Katsuaki Komiya) — A book that thoroughly explains 200 discs by drummers who remain in jazz history. It is suitable for checking where the sounds Antonio Sánchez improvised are positioned in the tradition of jazz drums while tracing the lineage of great performances.
'Over the Shoulder of an Actor' (Taiichi Yamada) — A collection of essays on the relationship between an actor's body and the director. It makes you realize that the improvisational drums in this film are a continuation of the improvisational line delivery of stage actors.
'[Illustrated] Textbook of Film Music' (Yoshikazu Suo) — A book that analyzes 'why this music plays here' for each scene of masterpiece films. It is suitable for thinking about how the improvised drums chosen by Antonio Sánchez deviate from the grammar of film music while comparing them with orthodox film music theory.
(Some links include PR)