Sound Design for Film E-Book

Tim Harrison

• Herausgeber: The Crowood Press
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 364

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

Sound Design for Film offers an in-depth study of one of cinema's most powerful storytelling tools, exploring the creative landscape and proposing a variety of contemporary approaches to audio design. Opening up a hidden world of narrative techniques, experienced designer Tim Harrison provides key insights into how sound works on audiences to guide them through stories. Topics covered include: the creative process from script to delivery; visualizing your design ideas; developing characters and settings, and using motif and metaphor. Also covered is recording foley and sound effects along with editing and manipulating audio and the final mix. Serving as a tool for creative reflection and development, this unique book offers invaluable approaches for enhancing your storytelling skills, wherever you are on your filmmaking journey.

Leseprobe

Sound Design

FOR FILM

Harrison, T., Recur at Henry Wood Hall (2018)

Sound Design

FOR FILM

TIM HARRISON

First published in 2021 byThe Crowood Press LtdRamsbury, MarlboroughWiltshire SN8 2HR

[email protected]

www.crowood.com

This e-book first published in 2021

© Tim Harrison 2021

All rights reserved. This e-book is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication DataA catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN 978 1 78500 915 0

Cover design by Design Deluxe

CONTENTS

FOREWORD

DEDICATION

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

INTRODUCTION

1LISTENING: SOUNDSCAPES, AUDIENCES AND STORIES

2CHARACTER: PSYCHOLOGY AND ACTING WITH SOUND

3SETTING: AMBIENCE, IMMERSION AND SENSE OF PLACE

4MOOD: EMOTION, TONE AND WORKING WITH MUSIC

5SYMBOL: SOUND WORLDS AND METAPHORS

6SHAPE: SOUND MAPS, CONTRAST AND MOTIF

7VOICE (PRODUCTION): THE ART OF ON-SET RECORDING

8VOICE (POST): DIALOGUE EDITING AND ADR

9IMAGE: SPOTTING AND SOUND–IMAGE RELATIONSHIPS

10TIME: TRANSITIONS, RHYTHM AND TIME PERCEPTION

11SPACE: ACOUSTICS, SILENCE AND THE FREQUENCY SPECTRUM

12AESTHETIC: EXPLORING THE OVERALL FEEL OF A SOUND TRACK

13COLLABORATION: ROLES AND WORKFLOW WITHIN THE INDUSTRY

14TRANSFORMATION: OTHERWORLDLY CAPTURE AND MANIPULATION

15FINALE: MIXING AND DELIVERING A FILM

APPENDIX I ONE LAST DANCE SCRIPT

APPENDIX II MAN VS SAND SCRIPT

APPENDIX III DYNAMIC QUALITIES OF SOUND

GLOSSARY

REFERENCES

INDEX

FOREWORD

Sound is within us and it is personal. The energy of its vibrations moves us, creating deep emotions and feelings that are central to the art of storytelling. What we think of something depends largely on how we feel about it, yet sounds beyond music are rarely in the focus of our conscious thinking. Under the umbrella of the visual world, we tend to think that sounds, and even tastes and smells, are only accessories of pictures and objects. On the contrary, in films, sound design gives as lively a background to the moving image as the so-called vital effects accompanying our daily lives, which psychology refers to as background feelings or sensations. The background feelings of film sound are usually rooted in layers of human consciousness that are more ancient and deeper than linguistic and symbolic structures, which is why they are difficult to talk about. In other words, we are facing a serious gap in verbalization.

Tim Harrison’s unique book offers a delicate gateway across this abyss. The text succinctly and purposefully guides the reader through fourteen chapters, not written in the chronology of filmmaking, nor intended to reveal the most secretive design practices or sound engineering solutions – although at times it touches on these issues. Instead, each chapter provides us with an opportunity to learn about individual approaches and creative sound design frameworks. At the same time, the book also functions as a kind of verbalization interface to help us talk about sound and share our auditory experiences. The latter is particularly important for creative collaboration, since, as Tim suggests, the sound designer is a specialist in sound mechanisms of action while the director is a specialist of the film on which they work together. This is why they need to understand each other not only at the level of sound, but also at the level of words in this two-way artistic process.

What exactly is sound design? This question is often asked by professionals, students and critics interested in our work. It’s hard to give a short answer, but anyone who is genuinely interested in the creative potential of sound will definitely enjoy this book.

Tamás Zányi, Sound DesignerSon of Saul, 1945, Sunset

DEDICATION

For Ev, who has taught me so much.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This book would not have been possible without the generous contributions of my friends and colleagues. Thank you to Tamás Zányi for setting the scene with his foreword and to those who agreed to be interviewed: Nick Baldock, Anna Bertmark, Leslie Gaston-Bird, Ed Hanbury, Dayo James, Tom Lindsay, Don Nelson, Ian Pons Jewell and Larry Sider. Peer reviews were carried out by Anna Bertmark, Adele Fletcher, Emanuele Costantini and Paul Richardson. Prano Bailey-Bond, Anthony Fletcher and Glen Laker kindly allowed me to reproduce their screenplays and Point1Post and Twickenham Studios graciously opened their doors for photos of industry facilities. Mick Duffield, Maya Eilam, Paul O’Brien and Alfred Wales provided specialist graphic materials, and Public Domain Review proved to be an essential resource for illustrations.

I would also like to acknowledge the contributions of my closest colleagues, both within my company – Seb Bruen, Pär Carlsson and Sam Mason – and at the university – Klaus Fried, Polly Nash, Deborah Salter, Ian Liggett and Stefano Ciammaroni. They have all played a significant role in my development as a sound designer.

INTRODUCTION

A VERY BRIEF HISTORY OF FILM SOUND

Whilst cinema may still be considered a primarily visual medium, the importance of film sound has been steadily gaining wider recognition over the years. The focus on the image has its roots in the early development of film, when only one of the three key ingredients of sound design – dialogue, sound effects and music – was present, in the form of musicians who provided live accompaniment to silent movies before synchronization technology was developed.

Harrison, T., Soundscapes (2019).

By the late 1920s, however, sound and image could be combined in sync and this led to the unleashing of the ‘talkies’. A verbal string was added to cinema’s bow, and pre-recorded music and sound effects could also be married up to the moving image. The following decades saw a steady stream of advancements in sound recording, manipulation and reproduction technology, and the field began to mature. By the late 1970s, US practitioners such as Walter Murch, Alan Splet and Frank Warner had elevated the craft to such a degree that the credit ‘sound designer’ was introduced, in recognition of the vital importance of film sound as a creative discipline.

The average audience member these days may still be blissfully unaware of the role of the sound designer, but this is a fact that many of us have no desire to change. A little bit of mystery goes a long way, and sound designers are rarely drawn to the limelight in the way that many composers are, for example. They remain, though, ever keen for the field to continue to expand and evolve. This book is written with future and current practitioners in mind, but is also aimed at anyone who wishes to dig deeper into the area for the sake of research.

WHAT IS IN THIS BOOK?

This book is not intended as a definitive document of how sound designers are, or should be, approaching film sound. Rather, it offers a set of ‘lenses’ for thinking about film sound. These have been useful in my own development, inspired by teachers, friends and fellow practitioners, many of whom have generously given their time to contribute to this text. My thinking around the subject has also been heavily influenced by my role as a tutor of film students, which has generally focused on those specializing in directing, editing and sound, aiming to provide narrative tools to help them navigate the early stages of their emergence as storytellers. My writing does not assume any grounding in sound or narrative theory and practice, but ideally you will have access to some basic sound equipment to carry out the suggested activities, alongside coming up with some experiments of your own.

The book is organized around creative themes, rather than chronological practical phases. However, there is still some linear progression involved, with the first half of the book largely concerned with the kind of sound-design thinking that can be done before a film is shot, and the second half with how to approach the shoot, and what happens after.

There is no need to read the book in sequence – if you are most interested in a particular area, feel free to dig right in. Technical terms are defined when first introduced, but they are also listed in the Glossary, which hopefully also doubles as a catch-all for most of the industry lingo that might be encountered on a project.

The book has no ambitions to be a contemporary technical handbook, and makes no mention of specific equipment or systems – microphones or software, for example. Instead, it takes a more general approach to the underlying principles. The main focus is on story – I feel strongly that sound ideas should flow out of narrative ones, and the structure of the book reflects this.

While the book is written from a sound designer’s perspective, certain chapters will be of particular interest to those focused on one of the other roles within the sound post team. For anyone with a specialism in mind, the following list might be a helpful guide (Chapter 1 is recommended for all as a starting point):

•Dialogue and ADR:Chapter 2 Character, Chapter 7 Voice (Production), Chapter 8 Voice (Post), Chapter 15 Finale.

•Production sound:Chapter 7 Voice (Production).

•Foley:Chapter 2 Character, Chapter 9 Image.

•Sound editing:Chapter 3 Setting, Chapter 8 Voice (Post), Chapter 9 Image, Chapter 10 Time.

•Sound effects recording:Chapter 2 Character, Chapter 3 Setting, Chapter 11 Space.

•Creative processing:Chapter 14 Transformation.

•Mixing:Chapter 14 Transformation, Chapter 15 Finale.

Chapter 13 (on collaboration) is also suggested reading for anyone serious about becoming a practitioner in the wider area of film sound.

THE STAGES OF FILMMAKING

A basic outline of how the process is ordered may be helpful here, especially for those with little prior knowledge.

Filmmaking is divided into four main phases:

1.Development: screenwriting, attaching director and actors, financing. It is relatively rare for a sound designer to be involved at this point.

2.Pre-production (‘pre’): detailed planning of how the film will be made. It is fairly common to bring the sound designer onboard during this phase.

3.Production: the shooting process, which is largely the domain of the production sound department. Usually, the sound designer is only involved indirectly.

4.Post-production (‘post’): editing, colour grading, visual effects, and of course audio post-production all take place after the shoot. This is the phase where the sound designer’s ideas start to come together in practice, adding new audio layers, whilst refining the work of the production sound team and picture editor, and guiding the film towards the final mix.

Being brought on to a project at an early stage allows the sound designer to have more of an impact on the film, but this does not always happen in reality, usually for budgeting and scheduling reasons. If a sound designer is brought in only at the last minute, it can make it impossible for that person to deliver their best work. On balance, it may be better for a sound designer to turn down the offer of a project if the timetable is not appropriate.

The film industry generally prefers people to learn by shadowing more senior colleagues and developing working methods under its guidance, as opposed to seeking too much practical development outside of its gates. This is understandable – every crew and facility does things differently and it can be a challenge for new recruits to ‘unlearn’ things they have previously picked up. However, it also runs the risk of entrenching conservative attitudes and values around how things should be done. There are ultimately no rules in the making of art, and, whilst you will find many examples here that break down particular creative successes, each person, and each project, is different, and you should develop your own ways of operating. Sound design is a highly collaborative discipline, and a collective approach may maintain a particular route along which a team is working. Knowing when to stray from the path – to the benefit of the film at hand – is a key skill for a designer to develop.

Reading this book will not turn you immediately into a sound designer, or allow you to walk straight into a job, but it will hopefully offer some useful perspectives, regardless of what stage you are at in your creative development. Ultimately, the way to become a designer is by designing – you have to live out the role to develop your own embodied knowledge and come up with your own views on the process. However, allowing other viewpoints to interact with your own practice is often a good way to begin or to evolve, and this is how this book is designed to work.

1LISTENING

SOUNDSCAPES, AUDIENCES AND STORIES

Still the noise in the mind: that is the first task – then everything else will follow in time.

(R. Murray Schafer)

As filmmakers, we work towards a command of sound in stories. But in order to create worlds that feel authentic, we must first learn to give up control, and develop the skill of listening. As with any other skill, this takes practice.

Birkle, A., The Acrobat Schulz V (1921). THE GEORGE ECONOMOU COLLECTION DACS 2021

Let us imagine for a moment that we are on a moving train; let us focus on the sounds around us. Perhaps we hear electronic chimes and stilted announcements overhead, or the clinking of a passing catering trolley. We would hear the sounds associated with the train itself too: the rhythmic clattering of wheels on tracks, the rush of air through tunnels, a sonorous blast of the horn.

When we begin to design our own scenes, listening explorations of this kind become our references. Like a cook who understands what each ingredient brings to a dish, and can vary the combinations to achieve different results, we will develop ‘recipes’ to recreate the sounds and experiences of our world. Working with layers of audio, we can mix and blend any number of ingredients, allowing us to shape, emphasize and focus the end result. Once we have learned to listen, each scene will demand its own adaptation of the formula, guided by mood, genre and our characters’ state of mind.

LISTENING TO THE WORLD

In Themes and Variations, composer John Cage suggests that ‘music is permanent, only listening is intermittent’, meaning that the world continuously produces a kind of natural music. We have only to decide to listen and an infinitely complex dance of sound waves comes into focus. You might be aware of his composition 4’33”, in which the musicians are instructed not to play their instruments for the duration of the performance. The sound of the piece is whatever is audible in the space during those four minutes and thirty-three seconds. It might be the shuffling of audience members, the working of an air-conditioning unit, the faint sounds of traffic bleeding in from outside. Each time the piece is performed, the acoustic environment tells a story that is unique to that particular moment – a sonic fingerprint that can also be described as a soundscape.

4’33” calls for a deeper exploration of the soundscapes around us. We can respond at any time by concentrating on the moment, clearing our minds of other thoughts. Shifting our attention between different audible elements, we can uncover layers of hidden detail, and by changing the context – time, place, in motion or stationary – we can draw comparisons within our own experiences. Pauline Oliveros describes this kind of meditation as deep listening – a reflective practice that works towards an intuitive and profound understanding of sound.

LISTENING ACTIVITY A

Immerse yourself in the soundscape of your present experience. Close your eyes and listen to the sounds around you, wherever you happen to be at the moment. Focus on one sound source at a time, trying to feel rather than think about it. Explore the shape, texture and rhythm of each layer before moving on to the next. Continue this cycle until you have taken in every sound within your field of hearing.

BREAKING DOWN THE SOUNDSCAPE

Intuitive knowledge is something we continually use in our work, but as designers we also need to develop analytical modes of thinking about sound.

Three categories of soundscape: earth (the ocean at Barrika), non-human life (snow monkeys at Jigokudani Park) and humanity (street crossing in Bilbao).

R. Murray Schafer’s The Tuning of the World gives us a useful approach, dividing the soundscape into three groups:

•Sounds of the Earth (for example, whistling wind, creaking glaciers, rumbling volcanoes).

•Sounds of non-human life (for example, chirping insects, warbling birdsong, howling wolves).

•Sounds of humanity (for example, clanging industry, babbling voices, beeping machines).

Soundscape example: Bilbao street at dusk.

This system gives us a neat way to break down our listening experiences, thinking about how each layer of sound relates to us.

To explore the schema, imagine what you might hear on a street at dusk:

Earth

Non-human life

Humanity

Wind in trees

Dog barks

Car engines

Birdsong

Footsteps

Insects

People speaking in local language(s)

In our designs, we can creatively control the balance of the three groups, using each to colour a scene in a particular way. A cityscape would usually be dominated by human sounds, giving a sense of people in control of their environment. Adding the cry of an urban fox suggests another world, hidden beneath the surface, while a thunderstorm could convey the feeling of greater powers at work, beyond the realm of human control.

LISTENING ACTIVITY B

Return to the soundscape of your current situation with a more thoughtful ear. Perhaps you can hear rain, wind or other planetary sounds. Are there animals or birds in earshot? How many layers of human sounds are present? Note down everything you can hear across the three soundscape categories.

LISTENING AND AUDIENCE

Understanding how sound affects us is key to controlling our stories, and by exploring the noise of our day-to-day lives we can chart the emotions it evokes. Picking up our urban soundscape, we can identify the feelings that might be associated with each element:

Sound

Emotion

Wind in trees

Relaxing

Birdsong

Cheerful

Car engines

Irritating

Emotion is partly triggered at the aesthetic level of the sounds themselves, but their underlying meanings can affect the listener just as much. For instance, the soothing effect of the sound of rain on a window may be partly caused by its sonic properties, but it may also be due to an idea that it reinforces a sense of protection from the outside world.

Other sounds we encounter are designed to give us clear information – the beep at the supermarket checkout says the item is scanned, the ping of the oven timer means the food is ready, the noises at the dinner table tell us how delicious it was, or otherwise. The world is full of these auditory signs, which we map out in internal dictionaries, linking sounds to what they represent.

But what of the sounds that do not catch our attention – are they still having an effect? We might assume that if we fail to notice a sound, it delivers no message, and has no impact on how we feel. In reality, whilst the unconscious selects only certain events to offer up, we are constantly processing sound, and being influenced by it. This background zone colours our experience in a profound way, and manipulating it is key to designing sound.

One common example is the rumble, a very low-pitched and continuous sound that is felt through vibration as much as it is heard. This device is a staple of horror sound, evoking unseen forces, or setting up the idea that things are about to take a turn for the worse. Rumbles can be reproduced on standard full-range loudspeakers, but cinemas usually also have subwoofers, designed to reproduce only the lowest sounds at high volume. Many film mix formats also contain a channel that is sent only to the subwoofer, known as the low-frequency effects (LFE ), or the rumble track. This low-end material can be mixed in gradually, to avoid signalling its arrival, and tends to produce feelings of unease – a sense of something being not quite right. Unaware of any information being delivered by the sound, the audience will respond on a purely visceral level, in a reaction that may be linked to an evolutionary past in which rumbling earth was a sign of impending danger. As the moment ends, the sound often stops suddenly, creating a dramatic change that brings a palpable sense of relief.

One additional factor to keep in mind when considering emotional response is the wider context. No encounter takes place in isolation. Each sound modulates an existing set of meanings and feelings. The sound of wind blowing through trees might bring a sense of relief on a hot day, but it might make a cold day feel more unbearable. The sound of laughter may trigger a different response in a listener who feels down compared with someone who is more upbeat. In films, this context is given by the script. The creative response is guided by imagining ourselves in the emotional state of the characters, and within the world of the scene.

LISTENING ACTIVITY C

Choose three elements in your current soundscape. How do the different sounds make you feel, if anything? Note down your responses.

LISTENING TO SCRIPTS

The initial read-through of a script should be treated as a sacred process. There is only one shot at a first-time experience of a story, and it is in this moment that the creative team is most closely aligned with its eventual audience. It is an ideal time for ideas to crystallize. Those ideas should be encouraged to emerge directly from the story, so it is wise to avoid seeing any images for as long as possible. Any visual stimulus may make us imagine conventional sounds, perhaps by triggering memories of other films.

During the first script reading, try to let the dialogue and action run at real-time pace in your mind, as you breathe in the text. Quickly jot down any sound-related words that your intuition presents, or circle significant moments on the script. This annotated copy can then be referred to throughout the process, giving you a snapshot of the ways in which your imagination responded during its first encounter with the story. If you become lost along the creative path, this resource can help to anchor you – our first intuitive thoughts are often the ones we end up returning to.

During the more practical phases of the work, the listening process continues as the film comes together, and not only in the literal sense. We focus our attention to receive and interpret creative clues from an emerging film, in a process of divination through intuition, analysis and play. As we carry out our experiments, we will make discoveries and happy accidents will occur. For this, we need to ensure our mind is always open to possibilities and is able to recognize the gifts and discard the distractions. Every film has a different voice, which the sound designer must strive to decipher.

Throughout our development as designers, we learn to listen to the world around us, responding to the scripts we read and the films we watch and make. At the same time, we explore our emotions through inward focus, reflecting on how sound affects us. Taken together, these modes of listening build the foundation of our process, as we turn our experiences into powerful stories.

LISTENING ACTIVITY D

Read the One Last Dance script in Appendix I to test out your intuitive story-listening powers. Allow your imagination to conjure soundscapes as you go, writing down anything that seems to resonate with each scene.

Do not worry if you have limited ideas at this point. Your intuitive powers will grow with experience and we will be looking at different practical approaches in each chapter.

2CHARACTER

PSYCHOLOGY AND ACTING WITH SOUND

You never really understand a person...until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it.

(Harper Lee)

The expression we read on a face, or hear in a voice, can create strong emotional resonances within us, a process of mirroring that is central to cinema. This empathic power allows us to suspend our own mindset, and experience things from the point of view of a character.

Lequeu, J.J., Frontispice de La Nouvelle Méthode (1792). BIBLIOTHEQUE NATIONALE DE FRANCE

Sound affords us a variety of tools to open up these inner perspectives and pull an audience inside. From physical expressions of personality and mood, to enhancements and distortions that create a sense of subjectivity, the role of the sound designer is one of connection. We approach characters through readings, observations and discussions, getting to know who they are, how they experience the story and how it changes them. By building a deep sense of empathy between ourselves and our subjects, we can learn to channel those emotions authentically through our work.

CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT

In most scripts, storytelling revolves around a main character, or protagonist, a figure who is established as having desires and motivations. When another element is introduced that stands in the way of their goals, there is a tension, which is known as conflict. The obstacle is the antagonist. Antagonists are often written as ‘baddie’ characters but can also take the form of a setting (the hotel of The Shining), a non-human entity (The Fog), or an internal force within the protagonists themselves (Jekyll and Hyde). In a traditional story the protagonist attempts to overcome the conflict, in order to achieve their desires, either successfully or not. Ensemble pieces take these ideas and expand them out to a collection of related characters. Whatever the context, there must be something at stake for the characters that hooks us into the drama.

An example emotional trajectory: charting the arc of the main character from One Last Dance (seeAppendix I).

Once we have become emotionally invested, each scene should offer something new to keep us interested. This might be a furthering of the protagonist’s relationship with the conflict, with their feelings and desires, or with other characters to move the story along. Sound offers powerful tools for these kinds of developments, delivering information – about characters, plot, setting – and fixing narrative perspective – who are we with, and what is their arc, or emotional trajectory?

To explore how sound design might communicate character development, it can be helpful to visualize the progression, and to chart a character’s arc. By giving ourselves a clear idea of how the character is feeling in each scene, and where the emotional transitions should happen, we can transmit a coherent emotional thread to the audience.

CHARACTER ACTIVITY A

Read the Man vs Sand script in Appendix II and consider how the character develops through the timeline. What are his desires and motivations, and the obstacles in his path? How does he change during the story?

Draw an emotional trajectory to represent this character arc, using a series of connected circles, as in the One Last Dance example.

ACTING WITH SOUND

Another key element of characterization is the communication of personality traits – qualities and quirks that form patterns of behaviour. Is the subject assertive or timid? Open or closed? Consistent or unpredictable? Actors embody these characteristics and express them directly through their craft. This work is further shaped in the dialogue edit, where the audible side of performance is sculpted. It is the film’s editor who decides which takes the audience sees, but if the sound designer wants to push a delivery one way or another, alternate sound takes may be swapped in and fitted to the image, or lines re-recorded to achieve a different performance. We can also write additional lines for when a character is off screen, or add breath to convey their mood. (As dialogue is perhaps the most sensitive area of sound work, two chapters in this book are dedicated to exploring it.)

Another way we translate character into sound is through the work of foley artists. Like an actor, a foley artist temporarily inhabits a role, adding the sounds of character movement and interaction using physical props.

There are three main categories of foley:

•moves or cloth;

•footsteps (abbreviated to feet, foots or steps);

•specifics, spots or props.

These are recorded as separate layers, using specialized techniques. There is something unique about an artist performing sound effects in this way. In the 1990s Hollywood studios spent a large amount of time and money developing digital foley systems, but found that the results were somehow lacking in emotion. The nuances of real-world performance bring richness of texture and meaning, and this is a magic that is hard to bottle. There are various digital systems commercially available today, which can help where no other solution is practical, but they should be considered a pale imitation of what real-life performance can bring.

Moves

‘Cloth track’ refers to the movement sounds of clothing, performed to match the motion of characters on screen. This helps bring the image to life, build a sense of intimacy with characters and smooth over joins in the dialogue edit. Once you start listening for moves, or recording them yourself, they may feel over-the-top, but, if cloth tracks are well synced and mixed, an audience will not notice them. However, they may detect a certain ‘flatness’ if they are removed. Good sync comes through performance, and is helped out by judicious editing, also known as fitting. When people start to cut foley, they often leave moves largely untouched, but close attention is vital. Any stray sounds where there is no-screen movement must be removed, otherwise the illusion of the foley attaching to the image may be broken. If a performed sound is too short to cover the motion, a longer gesture from elsewhere in the recording can be cut in, whilst other moments may require topping, tailing or shifting in time. The bigger and dramatically more significant an actor’s motion, the louder the sound should usually be.

During foley sessions, artists tend to start with moves, often covering the film in a single pass that takes into account the movements of most on-screen characters at once. This allows for a complete run of the film, building a feel for its rhythms without the need for any pit stops for prop changes. The sound is created by using different pieces of material held in a bunch and either rubbed together or, at times, moved across their own body. Certain kinds of fabric perform better than others – cotton and denim tend to work well, whereas synthetic fibres can sound a bit thin, or have a scratchy quality, peppered with little click-like sounds. The general aim is for a smooth, rounded result. However, if a particular character’s costume has a special sonic quality – as would be the case with leather, sequins, nylon or similar – the sounds would often be handled as a separate layer with a specific material to bring recognizable detail. Accessories, such as bags or jewellery, can also be added in additional passes.

The sound designer can sometimes advise on these more characterful elements during pre-production. If a director wants a character’s movement to impose itself strongly on the film, we can make suggestions to the costume designer, for example, to determine whether sound can be incorporated into their plans. Various identifying features can be used to deliver information about a character to the audience – loose change in pockets says one thing, while jangling jewellery may say something else.

Steps

The kind of shoes a character wears will tell us something about them, as will the style of their walk. The range of possibilities is clearly reflected in the English language, which has over sixty verbs for this action, from amble, hobble and sashay, to lurch, pace, and so on. There is a rich palette to work with. Designer and foley artist Nicolas Becker recalls a scene that further illustrates the depth of information that can be delivered in this seemingly simple movement. His direction was for the character to ‘perform footsteps, ascending a staircase, yet in ascending that staircase…to reach an emotional epiphany, change his mind, and continue up with new purpose’. There was ‘no visual, no dialogue, no music, just footsteps’.

Usually recorded in a studio, with a stationary microphone, footsteps are performed on the spot, often with a male and female artist working separately to cover all characters between them. Wearing shoes carefully selected for their sound, artists employ a heel-toe technique that creates two distinct sounds for each step, often with an added slide or shuffle as a character comes to a stop. Importantly, artists must wear very soft clothes, usually cotton, to minimize unwanted noise as they perform. If a film requires animal footsteps, these can be performed by hand, wearing gloves with false fingernails or paper clips attached to the fingers.

Watching the shoulders is the best method for getting into the rhythm of a walk. The lowest point in their cycle is where the corresponding foot connects with the floor – this trick gives a little more warning of the impending impact and, whilst feet are often framed out of tighter shots, shoulders are usually visible. When a character enters or exits a scene, extra footsteps must be performed to allow for fade transitions – the video reference used in the session can be prepared with visual indicators, called streamers or wipes, to cue a character’s off-screen entry and help ensure sync. Sometimes, rhythms can be tricky to master, either due to eccentricities in an actor’s performance – as in Jack Nicholson’s line-avoiding pavement dance in As Good As It Gets – or because of issues relating to the cutting together of different shots. In these cases, a pattern needs to be worked out and performed until just right.

Once the foley is combined with the other sound layers, it is important to take care to avoid two sets of footsteps for the same movement. Some steps may be audible in the sound from the set. The on-set steps alone may be used if they work well, or, if the foley adds something special, it can be lined up very precisely with the actor’s location sounds so that they are heard as a single element.

Specifics

Any actor interaction that falls outside moves or steps is filed under the category of specifics, or spots. As with the other foley elements, the performance of these actions – punches and pats, squeaks and squelches – carries character information. The choice of prop will lend certain qualities, whilst helping to define a film’s genre and style. Jacques Tati’s Playtime uses comically ridiculous sounding items for interactions with futuristic conveniences, as part of a satire on the role of technology in the modern world. Horror films tend to combine extremely exaggerated foley props with on-screen gore to amplify the sense of disgust. Even more ubiquitously, across many styles of film, whenever a gun is handled it imposes itself on the scene through sound, rattling and clicking as though about to go off at any second, mirroring the dramatic power of the object. This approach can be employed for any object that has a dramatic significance in a particular scene – by exaggerating the associated foley, the audience’s attention is drawn to its importance.

A good foley store contains many prop options, categorized by the kinds of sounds they produce.

Another aspect of foley specifics is sweetening. In on-set sound, interactions with props can often sound overly distant, as a boom operator will generally focus on the mouth of the actors. Sweetening involves recording an additional layer, designed to work with the on-set element, to add weight and closeness, along with any other desired characteristics. Prop choice is again key here – the only rule is to think laterally, as the right sound may bear no relation to what was used in the film. Keep experimenting until you find something that brings just the right character.

RECORDING FOLEY

Working alongside the foley artist there may be a recordist, also known as a foley mixer (although on lower-budget productions all the foley roles may be filled by a single person). The mixer handles the selection and placement of microphones (generally known as mics) and the operation of the recording system. The sources of sound being recorded are usually very quiet, so a well-isolated recording environment becomes particularly important. Foley studios, also known as foley stages, are designed with this in mind; the alternative is a space that is reliably very quiet at certain times of the day. Foley is usually captured with a mono (single-channel) mic at a distance of two to three feet, giving a natural, yet intimate sound. Additional mics at different distances are sometimes used, to allow for more of the room sound to be blended in, although this will only be useful in a good sounding space. If there are acoustic issues with the room – background noise or excessive reverberation, for example (seeChapter 11 Space) – you may need to go in closer, exaggerate performance, or use louder, ‘larger than life’ props, and then compensate by pushing those layers back in the mix. In a very difficult room, you should get as near to the mic as possible, and deal with the proximity effect – a colouration of sound found in close recordings – by removing some bass from the recordings at a later stage.

The foley mixer runs the desk and recording system, alongside the choice and placement of mics.

Small-diaphragm condensers (upper image) are good all-rounders for foley, dealing with sharp impacts well. A larger diaphragm (lower image) might be used for a richer result. On the large-diaphragm mic, a switchable pick-up pattern can be seen, listing, from left to right, cardioid, omnidirectional, figure-of-eight and hypercardioid.

The choice of equipment is also important, requiring a mic and recording system with a low level of self-noise. The temptation may be to use a very directional mic, such as the hypercardioid or supercardioid shotguns used on film shoots. These work well to minimize room noise, but can be overly fussy for props with multiple points of sound expression. Shotgun tubes also sometimes colour sound in unpleasant ways. Condenser mics with the slightly less directional cardioid pick-up pattern are generally used, and are the most common kinds of mics found in modern recording studios.

If possible, it is wise to have a number of mics on hand. If a prop’s sound is not quite right, and the issue cannot be resolved with placement or performance, it is always worth trying a different mic. It is helpful to have both small- and large-diaphragm condenser mics available – a small diaphragm tends to be the best choice in many cases, giving a more natural feel that deals better with sharp transient sounds, whereas the larger variety provides enhanced bass, which can be helpful for exaggerated effects. Experimentation is key, with each decision guided by the audience experience that you are trying to achieve.

The pick-up patterns of microphones may need further explanation:

1.Cardioid (so-called for its resemblance to a heart) is a pattern that picks up more from the front, and less from the back. This is often the most useful pattern for foley.

2.Omnidirectional picks up sound equally in all directions. It is a potentially useful pattern if a mic is to be placed within a foley object.

3.Figure-of-eight records sound equally from the front and back, but rejects sounds from the sides, which can be helpful to capture two performers with a single mic.

4.Hypercardioid is a more directional form of cardioid, rejecting even more sound from the back.

Surfaces

Footsteps are particularly troublesome to record in rooms that are not purpose-built for foley. Recording studios are often constructed using a ‘room within a room’ floated floor design, and footsteps can cause the inner structure to resonate, adding a ‘booming’ quality to recordings. This undesirable effect may also be found in domestic spaces. Added to this, surface materials that are brought into the studio – a slab of concrete, a sheet of wood, or similar – cannot simply be placed on the ground, as they will indicate their diminutive size, as opposed to sounding as though they are part of a real-world surface. This is because objects resonate at a pitch that is proportional to their size, an effect that is heard in the keys of a xylophone. A small slab will make a high-pitched tone when it is stepped on, which does not sound very convincing.

The foley pit at Twickenham Studios. The surfaces are mainly used for footsteps, but can also be used for objects moved across floors or falling to the ground, and so on.

To get round both of these problems, a proper foley studio will be built with concrete foley pits, each one containing a different surface material for the foley artist to work with, arranged in such a way that the artist is able to hop between surfaces as a character moves from one kind of floor to another. The pits are dug into the studio floor, and ideally bonded to solid earth below, thus preventing any high-pitched resonance.

A foley pit can be improvised by filling a big container with soil and bedding down a surface inside. The container can then be placed on top of an absorbent material, such as foam tiles, to help prevent room ‘booming’. At a push, footsteps can alternatively be recorded on location, either during production or post, although the inevitable background noise may cause issues down the line.

CHARACTER ACTIVITY B

For this foley activity you will need two portable devices – one to play back a video (for example, a laptop, tablet or smartphone) and another to capture sound (a portable recorder, smartphone, or similar).

Find a short film clip that includes some interesting character movement, but no dialogue. Download the video on to the playback device and prepare your recording device for action.

The activity is easiest done in pairs – one to hold the devices, the other to perform the foley. Alternatively, place each device on a surface or a stand.

1.First make a list of all the elements you would like to record for the clip – moves, steps, object interactions and so on.

2.For each take, press record on the recording device and announce which element you are about to perform.

3.Then press play on the video, and read out the player’s clock display for a few seconds (for example, 1, 2, 3).

4.Perform the foley and stop both devices. Repeat for each layer of sound on the list.

Following these steps will make it much easier to sync up the recordings later. It is the technique often used for doing foley on location, helping to ensure that you do not end up with hundreds of seemingly random recordings.