What would the movies be like without the crack of Indy's whip, the "thwip" of Spider-Man's
web-shooters, or the crackling screech of Doc Brown's DeLorean?
"What did I tell you!"
You don't just watch movies.
You listen to them, too.
Sound designers are responsible for making sure that a movie's soundtrack not just the
music, but everything you hear in the film tells the story just as clearly as its visuals.
Here's how they do it.
Sound design has been an indispensable part of filmmaking since 1926, when Warner Bros.
released Don Juan, the very first feature-length movie to use synchronized sound, The film
lacks spoken dialogue, though, which would begin to hit movies the following year.
Synchronized sound has been an integral part of the moviegoing experience ever since...for
better or worse.
"I really thought for a moment that maybe, just maybe, there was a reason you..."
Most modern blockbusters have dozens of people on the sound team, and many of them specialize
in just one small part of the process.
Some teams create sound effects while others mix them together, all with the goal to make
any given scene, no matter how explosive or how intimate, hit our ears just right.
But what do sound designers actually do?
Well, for one, they create and sequence almost all of the sound effects you hear on a movie's
soundtrack.
A lot of these are taken from sound effect libraries.
That's why you sometimes hear the same stock sound effect in multiple movies.
Take, for instance, the famous Wilhelm Scream:
Named for a character in the 1953 Western The Charge at Feather River, the sound effect
came out of the mouth of Private Wilhelm when he was shot in the leg with an arrow:
"Wilhelm!"
"Yeah!
I'll just fill my pipe!"
But before then, the scream originally came from a 1951 film called Distant Drums:
The scream has reportedly found its way into well over 400 movies like all four of the
Indiana Jones films and once you know to listen for it, you'll be surprised at where you find
it.
Like during a deadly and harrowing scene from The Girl with all the Gifts:
But that's not the only famous sound effect.
Listen to the thunderclap that rings out when lightning hits the Hill Valley clock tower
in Back to the Future.
Sound familiar?
It should.
That sound effect has been in too many films to count since it was first introduced way
back in 1931.
"Now I know what it feels like to be God."
Sometimes, though, sound editors need something new.
For example, for The Irishman director Martin Scorsese felt it was very important that every
car featured in the movie, a period piece that spans multiple decades, sounded like
their real-world counterparts.
For that, he turned to editor and mixer Eugene Gearty, who won an Oscar for his work on Scorsese's
Hugo.
Gearty spent a day out in a field by John F. Kennedy International Airport in New York,
capturing engine sounds from nine different period-appropriate cars to use in the final
film.
It's not always that easy.
Genre movies often feature fantastic sights and sounds, forcing sound editors to think
outside the box.
Listen to the giant boulder that Indiana Jones outruns in Raiders of the Lost Ark.
That's actually the sound of a Honda Civic rolling down gravel.
And for the crunchy, grinding sound that Terminator: Salvation's villainous machines make when
they move...
"Hey!"
Supervising sound editor Cameron Frankley achieved that by mangling pieces of metal
with a log splitter and recording the results.
For the thriller Bird Box, Glenn Freemantle and Ben Barker wanted to make sure the creatures
could be identified by sound alone.
They began by recording people whispering, then layered bee sounds on top, creating an
otherworldly sound that neither the characters nor the audience are likely to forget.
The sound also evolved throughout the film.
When the monsters are about to attack, Freemantle and Barker mixed in animal noises to give
the sound design a more visceral punch.
Going out into the world looking for a specific sound is one thing, but foley artists work
a little differently.
They create each sound specifically for the scene they're working on, and they work in
real time.
Need help picturing it?
Here's a scene of a knight on a horse:
All those richly layered sounds: the waving grass, the bouncing armor, the pounding rhythm
of horses' hooves are typically the work of foley artists.
Here's the same scene, before the foley mix:
"Whoa there!"
Obviously that's a joke, but the principle is surprisingly similar.
As movie footage plays on a projected screen, foley artists do their best to match sounds
with what's happening in the film.
They'll stomp on piles of twigs, squares of gravel, and marble slabs to create footsteps.
They'll bang on metal sheets to spruce up car crashes.
Wooden doors double for the creaking of a medieval trebuchet, and sure, halved-out coconuts
probably do make great horse noises.
Quentin Tarantino's The Hateful Eight is a great example of a film absolutely full of
top-notch foley work.
Allegedly, Tarantino hates re-recording dialogue in post-production, but getting actors' lines
theater-ready removed all of The Hateful Eight's ambient noise.
"Hey Mr. Ruth!"
"What."
"There's another fella on foot up here on the road."
"Hey!"
"What?"
Sound editor Wylie Stateman had to spend over 200 hours re-creating the soundscape from
scratch, putting every scrape, swish, and sploosh back into the film's soundtrack by
hand.
"You're starting to see pictures, ain't ya."
Of course, none of this work means anything if you can't tell what's happening in the
movie, which is why processing the dialogue is another one of the sound team's big responsibilities.
That's not always as dry as it sounds.
For the Coen brothers' western anthology The Ballad of Buster Scruggs, sound editor and
re-recording mixer Skip Lievsay got to make Tim Blake Nelson's voice bounce off canyon
walls, and imagined what it was like to hear him singing from inside a guitar.
It's not only the stars who rely on the sound design to give them their voices, either.
On film sets, extras don't speak, they just pantomime.
It's more important to get a clear recording of the actors' dialogue than background noise.
"Jones!"
As a result, any time there's a crowd, it's up to the sound crew to bring them to life.
Often, background chatter is recorded in the studio by a group of actors known as a "loop
group."
However, sound designers sometimes use other approaches.
For The Curious Case of Benjamin Button designer Ren Klyce sent a member of his staff to a
southern retirement home with microphones attached to his sunglasses to clandestinely
record the old folks' chatter.
Those recordings ended up in the final movie, giving the fantastical story a much-needed
sense of realism.
"Trust you ladies can help me out with that."
Sometimes, the dialogue recorded on set isn't usable, forcing the sound designers to re-record
it during post-production.
This process is known as Automated Dialogue Replacement, or ADR.
When recording ADR, actors watch the movie on a screen and attempt to replicate their
original vocal performances as best they can while trying to make the lip syncing match
up.
There are all kinds of reasons why you might need to do this.
On James Bond films, the action scenes are loud enough that capturing dialogue on set
is impossible.
"How long?"
"Two minutes.
One minute."
"GUARD!"
"I'm fixing it."
"If he moves, kill him."
Britt Ekland, the actress who played Willow in Robin Hardy's The Wicker Man, was Swedish,
but the movie is set in a rural Scottish community.
As a result, Ekland's voice was replaced via ADR twice.
If you listen closely you can hear the difference between her dialogue and that of her co-stars.
"No apples?"
"No apples?
On an island famous for its fruit and vegetables?
"I expect they've all been exported."
ADR is a tedious and challenging process, and most actors hate it but there are notable
exceptions.
Meryl Streep is reportedly a big fan, while Marlon Brando, who was a notorious mumbler
late in his life, relied on ADR to complete his performances.
"Have you lost your f---ing mind?"
"My mind?
Yes, years ago, why?
"Well what did you tell them?
What did you tell this kid?"
"What did I tell who?"
"Your guy, your inside guy."
Once all of the sound effects, dialogue, and music have been rounded up, it's time to combine
them.
This step is called "mixing," and it's very, very important.
Without mixing, some sounds will be too quiet, and others will be too loud.
Mixing helps make sure you hear what you're supposed to hear, without the dialogue getting
lost in the shuffle.
Meanwhile, a great mix can help tell the story in ways other tools can't.
For Steven Spielberg's War Horse, seven-time Oscar winner Gary Rydstrom played up the natural
sounds in the film's opening scenes...
"That's it.
Good boy.
You've got it.
Good boy."
Then he slowly phased them out as the violence and action of the film's story intensified.
"It's alright, Gunter."
Later in the movie, when the horse ends up in a French farmhouse, Rydstrom cranked up
the nature noises again, recalling the animal's more peaceful days.
"It was your mother's.
I hid it so as not to encourage you."
On There Will Be Blood, mixer Michael Semanick used the soundtrack to help sell the movie's
violence.
Thanks to the aggressive sound mix, it really feels like oil is being ripped out of the
ground.
And when things go wrong, you can feel it in your bones.
During the oil rig explosion, the mix alternates between quiet and loud moments, keeping you
on your toes and telling you everything you need to know about one character's tragic
accident.
During quieter scenes, the soundtrack preserves the gritty nuance of the actors' voices, really
selling all the hardships they've been through like the scene where Daniel Plainview's son
tells his father he's leaving to start his own company.
"This makes you my competitor."
"No, it's not like that."
"It is like that, boy."
When all these techniques are brought together, magic happens.
Just look at Alfonso Cuaron's Roma.
Without a traditional score, it's up to Roma's sound design to do all of the heavy lifting,
emotionally speaking.
Just take a look at this scene, and remember that there's none of the typical music to
guide your emotions.
To say that it succeeds is an understatement.
On most films, this process lasts between two and five weeks.
It took ten weeks to create Roma's final mix and naturally, the sound team used all kinds
of tricks.
To capture Mexico City's soundscape, a team went out on Christmas Day, when traffic was
minimal, to capture the city's natural noises.
While Dolby Atmos surround sound is usually reserved for big-budget blockbusters, Cuaron
and Lievsay found that the technology was perfect for creating immersive, intimate moments.
It all adds up beautifully.
When Roma's lead character runs from the house and to a nearby theater, the city comes alive
with the sounds pouring from local storefronts, steadily growing crowds, and increasing amounts
of traffic.
In some cases, the sound is designed to build suspense for something you know is happening,
even before you actually see it with your eyes, like in this scene:
Through sound, Roma both builds an entire world and offers unique insights into its
protagonists' experiences.
It's haunting and beautiful, and one of the best arguments for the importance of sound
design you'll ever see or, in this case, hear.
Thanks for watching Free Film School.
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