Rick Altman Film Sound—All Of It In the Introduction to Sound Theory/Sound Practice I called for a treatment of "Cinema as Event."1 I suggested that we consider cinema not as text alone, nor even as text plus reception, but as a three-dimensional event occupying space and time within a multi-dimensional culture. While that exhortation has attracted a certain amount ol attention from Tom Gunning and others, no systematic attempt to revise our critical praxis has grown out of the notion of cinema as event. This article is an attempt to put some teeth in the claim that cinema must be treated as a full-fledged event. The article is divided into four parts. I begin by suggesting that our current definition of film sound is overly narrow, inherited as it is from a text-oriented tradition. Instead of one type of sound, we should be considering at least four different categories of sound. I then provide a historical overview of legitimate theater design from the standpoint of audience sound. A third section treats theater soundscape changes over the course of film history. Finally, I consider appropriate ways to theorize film sound when it is redefined lo include the entire soundscape of cinema as event. Four Types of Film Sound In the past, the term "film sound" has always meant the sound produced by. for, or with the film. In other words, we have regularly taken for granted that our topic is the sound that accompanies the film, the sound that is part of the text, the sound authored by the same industry that authored the film. By accepting this restricted definition of our object of study we have not only unduly limited the range of our possible conclusions. but we have inadvertently supported one of the film industry's most important but self-serving tenets: that among all the sounds produced in and around a movie theater, only the sound produced by ami for the film is fully worthy of attention. Instead of limiting our analysis to this restricted version of film sound, let us instead attend to all the sounds produced in connection with film exhibition. Only by expanding our definition of film sound can we hope ever to understand the industry's investment in restricting our attention to its own utterances, and our interest in refusing that restriction. Rick Altniiin, "Film Sound — All ()ľ It. "iris 27 (Sprin» IWH: pp. 3I-4X. Rick Altinan M Once our definition of film sound has been expanded. Him sound as traditionally lui,rsUHKl takes us place as one of four sound categories associated with I. m nmon and consumption. Inside the theater, the sound „f.lwßln, «complemented Í sometimes rivaled) not only by a.ulitmr sounds but also by ,/„ no.se oihe ' Iv/mv that serves as vehicle for the Ulm. The category ol apparatus no.se ,nc hides J )n, v the hum of the projector, but also the sounds made by fans, air-mc-mg systems loaded loudspeakers, and even ushers, squeaky seats, or no.sy Hoors In add. .on 1 three types of interior sound, film exhibitors once produced a substantial level of Z ,Ln,Lul outside the theater. Thus, four different modes (and sources, ot «Id:'textual accompaniment, apparatus, and audience sound on the ins.de. and „Ivertisimi sound on the outside. aU ^ ------------ -■' Known during the nickelodeon pe- riod as "ballyhoo," sounds directed by exhibitors into the street were so common, and so loud, that they had to be outlawed in many cities. Inherited from the dime museum and film's fairground family history, ballyhoo included everything from a barker's patter to the beating of a big bass drum. Many early theaters simply extended the projection booth phonograph horn through the wall above the „eke. booth.'so that recorded music could be played directly into the street dioure I -GrandThea.re; Buffalo. NY (c. 1906)). An alternative approach was smply .„■put an automatic piano or orchestra in the entrance. Today we wouldn t think ot sellin» our wares - either films or lectures - through these ballyhoo techniques. Outlawed, avoided, and repressed, overt advertising and open recognition ot cinemas commercial status„o longer defines enema sound. Instead, m most phices th duec interpellation that once charactered exterior ballyhoo has been lolded ,n o inteno accolnpan.ment.Cinema'scarnivalprecedentsarenowhidden.asitwere.behind.ilms CarTiímľthe early years of enema, apparatus noise and audience sounds often cla I 1 As have si o vn m a recent articled musical accompaniment was by no means an „ Iry leature of early Him exhibition. Instead, the sound o. a J- ^jng-people talking regularly competed with the sound of the projector. In 1907, Barton W. Currie voiced his frustrations at the noise of so many crying bab.es. Ot course. ,hey were in thcir „others' or the nmscghV arms. But they were^^^ Ihcm. They cluln'l disturb the show, as .here were no counter-sounds, and many ol them Pri'lotmilly absorbed in the moving pictures.' I-iv. I Film Sound — All Of It 33 Just as ballyhoo's commercial discourse was soon dissimulated by an industry anxious to play up its cultural and aesthetic contributions rather than its financial revenues, so all signs of material authorship were soon suppressed by a campaign to silence the sounds of the film apparatus. Projectors were hidden in fireproof booths, fans were overhauled, floors were carpeted, seats were bolted down and oiled. By the time the film industry discovered feature films in the teens, it had already done away with virtually all audible evidence of its material investments and its commercial existence. The demise of apparatus noise and advertising sound is ol course not an ineluctable natural phenomenon. On the contrary, the silencing of all sounds not produced as a complement to the image helps us to recognize the stakes involved in the cinema industry's eventual reduction of all theater sounds to the one type that we now think o( as film sound. Nowhere is the industry's purpose clearer than in the systematic silencing of the audience. In no other case is it quite as easy to recogni/.e the ideological dimension of our own habitual reduction of film sound to accompaniment sound alone. But the relationship between spectacle and spectator has a long history; in order to understand the broader importance of film sound configurations, it is necessary to understand the changing role of the audience in the overall conception of theatrical space and activity. Four Modes of Theatrical Organization Renaissance, neoclassical, romantic, and modern theaters display interesting differences, along with a clearly identifiable progression. The Renaissance application of perspective principles to theater set design went hand-in-hand with a new organization of spectatorial space. Based on the one-point system of perspective, theatrical sets clearly privileged the spectator location corresponding to the set's perspectival center (figure 2 — Set from La Caelum clelle Amazzimi; Rome. Italy (1690)). From that spot alone would the set design appear fully coherent and logical. Furthermore, sets were sometimes designed with receding corridors that assured privileged vision and knowledge to the persons sitting at their point of intersection (figure 3 — Teatro Olimpico; Vicenza, Italy (1584)). Special attention was thus paid to the single spectatorial location that could guarantee full knowledge and understanding. That privileged spot would of course be reserved for the local prince — patron and sponsor of the theatrical event. With the prince sitting at the focal point, the stage set's perspective was anchored. ľix-2 80 u Rick Altman /•/>!. 5 and as it were justified, by the prince's presence and location. As Stephen Orgel puts it, "what the rest of the spectators watched was not a play but the queen at a play." Or when James I succeeded Ľh/abeth, "The king must not merely see the play, he must be seen to see it.'4 Increasingly, theaters were thus built around two poles: on one end the stage, opposite it the raised and ornate royal box. While lew boxes dominate their theaters as completely as at Sabbioneta (figure 4 — Teatro Scamozzi; Sabbioneta, Italy (1590)), virtually all such spaces are large enough to accommodate multiple individuals and movable chairs — the commodities of conversation, as the French used to say under the Old Regime. Considered from the standpoint of sound, the Renaissance theater established a clear opposition between stage dialogue and royal conversation. Audience noise was not only permit-led, but in a sense required, since the prince's word was necessary to set the drama in motion, while verbal interchanges among the royal visitors constituted an essential part of the evening's entertainment. Neoclassical theaters intensified this arrangement in two important ways. Seventeenth- and eighteenth-century stages were often deeper than the theater's seating area, creating substantial viewing difficulties for spectators located in the side boxes, thus enhancing the prestige of the panoptical royal box (figure 5 — Ground plan of the Palais Royal Theatre; Paris, France (from Diderot and ď Alemberť s Encyclopedic 1772)). This fusion of temporal and aesthetic power was often symbolically expressed by sumptuous ornamentation. Indeed, so much prestige was attached to the royal box and its activities, that all the other boxes were arranged to make it just Film Sound —All Of It 35 as easy to follow drama in the royal box as to view the action on the stage. The resulting horseshoe shape gave spectators a full view of all other boxes, in most cases much better than their view of the stage (figure 6— Boxes of the Teatro San Carlo; Naples. Italy (1768); figure 7 — Royal box of the Teatro San Carlo; Naples. Italy (1768)). The greatest prestige was of course associated with boxes located within earshot of the royal conversation. In a hierarchical world where value was based on the closeness of one's family connections to the sovereign, it is hardly surprising to find that allocation of theatrical space followed a similar logic. Alternately, noble spectators would actually be allowed to sit on the stage itself, thereby overtly recognizing their own role as spectacle for the lesser nobility.^ Theater sound as well was impacted by the horseshoe theater. With lines of sight to the stage far less important than direct access lo the boxes of prominent families, the Ihealei was constant ly aim/./ with talk about the social realities that it existed lo display and maintain. Whereas the Renaissance theater was set in motion by the prince and literally reflected the prince's position through perspectival markings, the neoclassical theater was justified by and reflective of the nobility and its social structure. In a very real sense, seventeenth- and eighteenth-century theaters existed in order to set audience dialogue in motion, just as Renaissance theaters served to demonstrate the princely patron's godlike ability to conjure up theatrical representations simply by speaking a single creative word. With the romantic period came a new set of problems and a new source of spectator sound. Though many nineteenth-century theaters, like New York's Metropolitan Opera (figure 8 — Metropolitan Opera; New York, NY (from the Daily Graphic. m*& /•V.v. 7 /•Vi;, s 28 36 Rick Altman «&,*■■* BOSTON BIJOU THEATRE •* D ■grBro Of 3 «at S ^ < >T • * '* ">d C«l«Ö luira Txkatx» Pitouuuma '■''K- y 1883)), retained multiple levels of conversation-encouraging boxes, three trends conspired to undermine aristocratic control of theatrical space and sound. In the past the floor of the theater had been allocated to the lower classes, often as standing room. The unruliness of this crowd became so problematic during the age of revolutions that individual fixed seating was regularly installed, turning the "pit" into the "parterre," "parquet," or what we now call the "orchestra." During the same period, the triumph of capitalism led to revaluation of theatrical seating. Henceforth, space would be allocated according to spectators' ability to pay for a single performance rather than through permanent ownership of a family box. Emulating the seating plan of Wagner's 1876 Bayreuth Festspielhaus, theaters like the Boston Bijou (figure1)—Seatingdiagram of the Boston Bijou Theater; Boston, MA (1883)) modified the familiar horseshoe arrangement, with individual numbered seats in the orchestra (and. in this case, a balcony as well), all turned directly toward a far shallower and thus fully visible stage. In the past, prestige had been attached to the boxes located closest to the prince; translated into ticket prices, prestige would now be defined by closeness to the stage, that is by assurance of the ability to see and hear the stage spectacle adequately. Whereas the old system facilitated the grouping of already acquainted spectators — families and their guests in the boxes, the lowerclasses in floor-level standing room areas —the new system put strangers next to each other. While pricing structure guaranteed that the classes would not be radically mixed, numbered tickets and rows of individual seats regularly positioned patrons next to unknowns. The silencing effect of this system's anonymity can hardly be considered a coincidence. A major purpose of nineteenth-century theater designers was to concentrate attention on the stage, at the expense of conversation and other audience sounds. The importance of stage activity was further enhanced over the course of the last century by the rise of virtuoso musicians and theatrical stars, from Paganini to puderewski and from Franz Liszt and Anton Rubinstein to Jenny Lind, Sarah Bernhardt, ;md Luhe Langtry. Here we witness a major transition in power, in spatial valuation, and in their sonic consequences. The Renaissance situation located all power with the Patron, the prince, the worldly potentate. With the rise of the virtuoso, however, the Film Sound —All Of It 37 sanation was v.rtually reversed. The presence of royalty must now be explained bv the presence of star performers, rather than vice versa. Power now emanates .'on, the stage ather than from the royal box. Previous configurations allowed continuous con versa-' t.onal activity among socially privileged and clearly differentiated spectators: with stars and virtuosos the only appropriate audible reaction ,s applause, a uniform recognition of Pc,former power and spectator homogeneity ,n the lace of genius and stardom the new «.urccs of significant differentiation, h ,s no wonder that, as James 11. Johnsonhas shown in hls fdSCinating Llsteninf, m par.s: A Ciilniral Hhi(>nii ihc Old Regime audiences were transformed in the post-revolutionary era to a new reverence, a new desire for careful listening, and thus to a new silence In this country, however, audiences were slow to adopt new standards of silent spec atorship. A, the turn of the nineteenth century, audience activity was that newspapers often reviewed the audience as well as the performers. As late as 1S a New Orleans judge ruled that the purchase of a ticket conferred a le.al rieht to hiss and stamp ,n the , eater. A decade later, the American compose, ,,u„s Moreau Gott'cliá.k complained oí "animated conversation all the t,me I was play,,,." F.ven the upper c asses got ,n,o the act. A, the Metropolitan Opera, a society leader mi,h, break he 3l7;";1 kThy pmsram by dls,nbll,,ng ,lw «'"*""'»'■«—-»i- •» i™ guests. Active audiences remained the order of the day. whether in the concer hall the theater, or the museum. The highest level of the theater. ,he home of the so-called galéry gods, wasanespecally spiri.edsourceofspec.a.o, aclmty, including no, only app ause. but stamping, hissing, roaring, whistling, and verbal commentary as well As evidenced by the 1849 Astor Place Opera House no, in New York City. mid-century American audiences believed „ was their sovereign right as theateruoe.Mo retailor ,h Sncľr; ľ" 'ľ"taSteS' ThC rcla,ÍOnShÍp bClWCĽn aCU,rS !'"d W»« ;" '"a' '"-' still included a strong measure of give and lake. In reaction, the final quarter of the nineteenth century witnessed a stern disciplining of audience conduct, carefully delineated in recent books by Lawrence Levine and lohn F. Kasson.; During the 1870s. New York Philharmonic president Georse Temple.on Strong initiated a campaign against audience unruliness. Even before he became the first conductor of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. Theodore Thomas gained a reputation or admontshmg audiences. Once, during a Central Park concert, he was annoyed bv a front row wag who. try as he might, proved unable to l,gh, h,s cmar. Alter multiple interruptions. Thomas stopped the orchestra, turned around, and ironi/cd- "Go on '„■< Don , mmcl us! We can all wait until you light your cigar." While conduct,,^ Mendelssohn s MulsunrnwrN^luS Dream, Thomas gave thesmnal iora lonudmm roil dunng which he stared down a couple that had been chattme; only when .heir conversation ceased did he give the signal for the orchestra to resume. In this century Arturo Toscanm, would rap with his baton until whispering stopped at ,he Metropolitan Ope,a. Pierre Monteux would lap on the podium to qu,e, the Boston Symphony 35 .18 Rick Ah man Orchestra audience. Leopold Stokowski actually lectured Philadelphia Orchestra nicliencc members about their various faults. When an unhappy audience erupted in pisses during a performance ofSchoenberg, Stokowski stridently demanded his right to licedom ol expression. Applause alone remained as an acceptable audience activity. But cven applause was not acceptable at all times. Stokowski led the charge against the nineteenth-century practice of treating arias or movements of symphonies as individual uniis that could be responded to separately. Indeed, he actually asked fora referendum on abolishing applause from the concert hall entirely. In the world of popular theater, ;, similar audience control movement was initiated by Tony Pastor and continued by F. p. Proctor and B. F. Keith." Ironically, while arbiters of taste were actively squelching audience freedom, theater design continued an anti-aristocratic democratizing trend, not only in so-called legitimate theaters, but also in spaces designed for film viewing. All seats would henceforth be aimed in the same direction, all eyes anil all ears directed toward the same spectacle. In nickelodeons, all rows were typically ľm m parallel. In purpose-built film theaters, the seats would commonly be fixed and arranged according to a modified radial pattern, with seats angled toward the stage. This fan-shaped arrangement reached its peak with the picture palaces of the nineteen-twenties( figure 10 — Paradise Theatre; Chicago, IL (P)2X)). Note that the democratizing impulse apparently embodied in the visual design of twentieth-century theaters hardly seems devoted to the cultivation of free speech. Though sight lines are enhanced, the audience's freedom of expression is actually diminished. Spectators are no longer gathered into small groups, as they were in private boxes. Seating is no longer mobile, as it always was in the box system. Spectators are »o longer turned toward each other, as they were in horseshoe theaters. Audience members can no longer see each other, as they could in the antebellum period, since house lights are now regularly lowered during the performance, thus concentrating attention on the performers." Everything is done to assure a quiet house, one whose wrelully separated temporary inhabitants will make noise only in appropriate response 10 t lie stage or screen. Silencing the Film Audience Today we take it for granted that the film medium was created as a commercial device designed to permit projection of images to paying audiences. We readily assume Film Sound —All Ol It W lha Urns arei n an important way , he direc, heirs a( nme.cemh-ccn.urv realist nou-K Ye, the early history »leincmahelics.hcsc common assumptions. As Tom Gun,,,,,, has rccen,lydem(,ns,ra.ed."-,luMaim,ěiebr(nhersorig,iK.llycl,nceived1hc,rc1ncn,a,o..;,ph I«'" an amateur market, as a proio-camcordcr destined to take pictures of"babv" ami -, game ol cards with the neighbors" or "the „am you arrived on las. summer" and "our nends a, the lac.ory." In other words, one version of cinema began as an extension „,' lacc-.o-lace lolk activity, .jus. as radii, began as a walkie-talkie-like point-to-point medium, carrying personal messages from ship to shore, or between i.uliv iduals know,, to uch other, lelore they became a mass entertainment medium, .novin» pictures constituted an illustrated extension of the letter and a storable version of lace -,o-lacc contact. Initial y conceived as memories of real experiences. 1,1ms were desired to be showntolriciHlsoltheliguresonthcscreen.Assuch.theywcreclearlydcsi.iredtoelic vcibal reactions; rathe, ihan an end in themselves, ,hcv were par, of I, discursive sccnan«, a dialogue, n which, he audience plavs one ,olc. an ,n,e,ac,,o,i ,,, , , speclalors to speak as well as to hear. ~ In the exhibition pracce of American „avclmg exlnbuors. I.uimcv's ordinal vision was partly realized. In „„4. for example, each of ,he four Vita.raph ,oun,„. companies had an advance cameraman who would 111,,, townspeople ,en dľ.vs before .he main company am ved. "You can see pictures of your very own .own, Vour verv own lire department, and what is more, you can see yourself," ,he ads proclaimed " No Renaissance pnnce ever had „ better! Jus, as one-pom, pcrspec.ive projec.ed the prince s apparent v,s,on directly onto the stage set. Vi.agraph's advance man made sure that the upcoming Mm exhibition would confirm ,hc ups.a.e shop owner's sense ol his own idenn.y. Ol course the film alone is only the beginning of ,he experience films l.ke these are mean. ,o ehe, recognition on the par. of the crowd. Verbal confirmation is required to give these images full community sahency Much attention has been paid to the spectacular, decla'rative. discursive nature of the so-called cmema of attractions." but we need to recall that Benvemste's discours is a two-way atlau. to the./e of the enema of attractions corresponds the ,„ of audience response. For film audiences of the firs, decade, virtually every film constituted an extension»! th,s reflective technique. FilmsoflamiNarcven.soffeivd opportunities for spectators to express recognition. Filmed news mirrored the spectator's world thus engaging the audience and eliciting verbal reaction. Fven Passion Plavs and'earlv narrates systematically depended more heavily on familiarity than on the narra.i vc\ scl -contained logic. But purely discursive filmmaking would soon be abandoned as ,he v ewerľ n'TTr ^l '" ,:lVO'' '"' " "CW ^ '" "^"^ "'"»»«kinp. mvi.ing vcw ,s o Klennly w„h characters rather than to react on ,he basis oldier own Z Z r I Sh,ri W,H,kl hC,ald ",;my dK1"^ '" "" """'"'"■. ««H «he leas, of whic involved audience activity. When cinema Urs, came on the scene. American popular theater enjoyed an active t-clition ol interaction between performers and the audience. In beer gardens, m,nsu5 5 14 33 40 Rick A Itman s|1(,ws. Chautauquas, amusement parks, circus sideshows, Wild West shows, burlesque, .uld vaudeville, audiences were expected to laugh, to sing, to speak, to comment, even to aruue. Barly film audiences followed directly in this tradition. Babies cried, mothers Iketl. mcll conversed. From uptown to the Bowery, spectators translated the intertitles, explained the action, and discussed its meaning. As W. Stephen Bush put it in 1909, lake any dramatic or historic picture: in fact, almost any picture .... Stand among the audience .„ul what do vou observe ' As the story progresses, and even at its very beginning, those gifted with \ linle imagination and the power ol speech will begin to comment, to talk more or less excitedly '11K| u-y to explain and tell their friends or neighbors. This current of mental electricity will run ap and down. wild, irregular. unconlrollahle.i: Not yet gentnfied. nickelodeons were marked by discursive sound practices that recalled the interactive modes of earlier popular theater. All over America, audiences sam: illustrated songs, often adding their own irreverent lyrics. Narrators addressed the audience directly, pianists invited spectators to join in the chorus, performers recorded by early sync-sound systems looked the camera — and thus each audience member — straight in the eye. hi 1915. at the very end of the nickelodeon era. Vachel Lindsay could still imagine the possibility of what he called "Conversational Theatre." In his treatise on The Art of the Moving Picture. Lindsay urged exhibitors to distribute cards encouraging patrons "tii discuss the picture with the friend who accompanies you to this place."" Though Lindsay's -Conversational Theatre" never materialized, the very idea serves to remind us of what cinema might have been. During the Russian Revolution, agit-trains used films as a catalyst for political discussion and activity. Establishing an often imitated third-cinema practice. Fernando Solanas and Octavio Getino interrupted their 1968 Hour of the Furnaces to elicit viewer discussion and debate. When we limit our notion of film sound to sound emitted by the film industry, we tacitly acknowledge the failure of— or our lack of interest in — this collaborative and audience-involving conception of filmmaking and exhibition. For all of the recent attention to the gentrificatton and feminization of nickelodeon audiences, it is about time we recognized that the silent Iihn era's main transformation was the silencing— and thus the disenfranchisement —of the audience. Ironically, it was at the very height of the movement to democratize the visual aspects of theater space that a concerted effect was made to silence the audience, thereby de-democratizing the theater soundscape. Interestingly, the process of squelching audience sound involves a double disguise, a careful concealment of film ,,., ;/ music's source as well as its logic. In nickelodeon theaters, the Wiirtilirr 1 ITmillllK»! Film Sound —All Of It 41 piano and sound effects were usually fully visible. When the pianist was replaced by an automatic instrument, like Wutiitzer's PianOrchestra (figure 11 — Rudolph Wurhtzer Co. advertisement (Moving Picture World, January 22, 1910, p. 107)), the photoplayer was located front and center, right beneath the screen. In this early period, not only did the source of film sound remain fully visible, but the choice of film music clearly remained in local hands — to the point where patrons could even influence the pianist's selection or the choice of piano roils. By the mid-teens, however, music selection was increasingly dependent on cue sheets distributed with each film by the producui" company. ř As music authorship left local hands, so the film orchestra, fully visible at stage height during the overture, receded into the pit during the film. At the height of the silent film period, both the organ and the orchestra, and sometimes even the piano, had separate lifts, making it easy to hide the source of the music. When Hollywood converted to sound, this dissimulation became even easier. Though loud speakers were at first split between the now empty orchestra pit and the stage (figure I 2 —Cross-section ofa 1927 theater equipped with Vitaphone "A" Equipment (H. M. Wilcox. -Data for Projectionists on Operation of Vitaphone." Exhibitors' Herald. May 9. 1927, p. 12)), they were eventually firmly established behind the screen (figure /■■,>. /.-' 13 — Western Electric advertisement showing a cross-section ofa 1929 Vitaphone-equipped theater (Saturday Evening Post. July 13. 1929. p. I I I)). offering an invisible and as it were unaulhored sound source. The physical concealment of sound sources is matched by an even more powerful implicit attribution of film sound authorship to the film itself.'Before 1910. film music-was often chosen from the hit parade of current popular songs, often matched to the film by title or lyrics." During the early teens, however, film producers systematically campaigned (»abandon popular music in lavorof wordless light classical compositions matched to the film by rhythm, harmony, and emoiiveconnotaiions.1-1 Ascruics like The Him Index's Clyde Martin and The Moving Picture World's Clarence B. Sinn recognized, popular songs depended on audience knowledge and tended lo induce singaloiiĽs and rowdy behavior, whereas purely instrumental music could be counted on tocarrv j******** *»***->»">**>» 42 Rick Allnuin its meaning even to spectators who might never have heard the music before. With popular music it was hard to keep the audience from singing or humming along, but there was no danger ol'the audience joining in the chorus of a song without words. Whereas popular song accompaniment regularly led to musical puns and other anomalies clearly authored by the house pianist, the emotional effect of light classical music seemed to ,iiow directly out ol'the film's narrative situations themselves. By folding the audience into the diegesis. the film's story line, the new accompaniment standard simultaneously achieved several important goals. First, it carefully reduced real spectator individuality, substituting instead a temporary fictional homogeneity based on the audience's common immersion in the film and its emotions. Second, it transformed each spectator from recognized (audible) interlocutor in an overtly discursive situation to (invisible) voyeur and (silent) ecouteur of a distanced history. Thud, by effacing cinema sound's direct address to the audience, it removed overt interpellation's invitation to respond. The early teens campaign to standardize film sound thus accomplished far more than simply replacing American popular songs by Ľuropean light classics. By folding the audience into the diegesis. the film industry succeeded in eclipsing spectator individuality, fostering audience silence, and thus inducing spectators to play a key role in the rise of Hollywood hegemony, which requires film viewers to abandon of their own free will their right to free speech. The conversion to sound only reinforced this tendency. Ironically borrowing its initial microphones from the telephone and from Bell Laboratories" celebrated public address system, sound cinema made it virtually impossible for members of the audience to accede to the microphone. Sound cinema's increasing amplification made audiences increasingly ineffectual. Once, it had been literally possible for stage performers to engage in dialogue with audience members; now. dialogue between shadows would be amplified over a hidden loud speaker. Once. Al Jolson would strut out on his runway, looking every spectator in the eye. breathing discours in his every public word; now. silling and listening to his private moments with his screen mother, we would be transformed into voyeurs and écouteurs of a private histoire. Once, cinema was touted as a promising element in a democratic public sphere; now noisy patrons are shown the door. As the stated policy of the Washington. D.C. American Multi-Cinema puts it: "Two shushes and you're history.""' Once, you could count on the right of free speech even in a movie theater; now. a bulletproof vest would provide more appropriate Protection. Just ask Seattle moviegoer Kelvin Kirkpatrick. recently gunned down by a tellow spectator who took exception to his comments about Analyze This (Harold Kamis. IWO). What we commonly refer to as film sound is thus much more than a virtually e°ntinuous mixture of dialogue, sound effects, and music, reproduced at a nearly instant total level. It is also the tendentious result of a long historical process, hiding Film Sound —All 01'It 43 film authorship, concealing film's commercial nature, dissimulating sponsorship, abandoning ballyhoo advertising, covering apparatus noise, and silencing the audience. Only when film sound is seen in this broader context can we recognize the extent to which it has become the repository of the many sounds that it has displaced. What we call film sound works so well because it surreptitiously folds multiple functions into what is apparently a single sound track. Sound Economy Thus far 1 have called for awareness of a broader spectrum of sounds than is commonly treated by film scholars, recalled the longterm historical importance of audience sound, and analyzed the suppression ol audience sound as one example ol'the form an expanded definition of film sound might take. I,est the silencing of audiences delineated by that example be misunderstood as a justification for an increasuiüly narrow definition of sound, however. I will in this final section suggest two additional types of analysis to which an enlarged definition ot film sound might reasonably lead. In the exhibition situation sounds neverexist independently; they are always pan of a single soundscape varying in scope according to the architecture anil location ol'the theater. Within this context sounds are by definition physically interdependent: advertising, apparatus, audience, and accompaniment sounds all share the same sound space and thus quite literally interfere with each other. This interaction is what I will term sound's local economy. Heavily dependent on the necessity of physically sharing a single soundscape. the local economy of exhibition sound is by no means limited" to physical considerations, however. Because each sound domain is part of multiple systems and plays several roles in exhibition strategy, the varying relationships among theatrical sounds involve a delicate and shifting balance between competing and colluding sound investments. Our purpose has long been limited to understanding the sounds that accompany the image. But we cannot accomplish that goal. I suggest, without analyzing the entire film exhibition soundscape. In particular, we must attend to the complex economy relating and separating multiple sound sources and their purposes. Sharing physical space, exhibition sounds are caught up in a single force field (what the French call a mľl:ori cle forces); in order to understand the sound ofcinema events, we must therefore attend to the tension between sounds as well as the stresses within any individual sound source. Just as social interchange depends on evolving standards of turn-taking, and other conventions of successful conversation, so cinema is marked by changing modes of exchange between screen and audience. Though Kasson and Levine correctly describe audiences' overall trajectory from active to passive, a more accurate understanding of 44 RickAltman ,xhibition sound requires careful analysis of the shifting methods used to authorize and ■oiitrol audience sound. To cue applause, live performers regularly use intonation and boilv language. When adopted by cinema, the same strategies proved inadequate ivCause the fixed film sound track was incapable of assessing and answering audience ,lcllVjty. Whether on Cameraphone in 1907 (Vesta Victoria singing "Waiting at the Church"). Phonofilm in 1922 (De Wolf Hopper reciting "Casey at the Bat"), or Viiaphone in 192o (Henry Hadley conducting the Overture to Tannhäiiser). early .^i formance films often conclude with a bow to the camera; that is, they take for granted i he performer's traditional theatrical ability to guide audience response. In subsequent films, however, cinema performers abandoned direct address and bows to the audience. Instead, the star system and a Wagnerian approach to accompaniment sound established an cniirelv new relationship with the audience. In the same way. the advent of sound cinema profoundly affected the timing of comic dialogue. The rhythms of a live comic and a cinema comedian are different precisely because the former can react to audience sound in real time while the latter must predict and control audience laughter in advance. This is of course why television developed the laugh track — not only to incite audiences to laughter, but also to channel audience response in a fashion that avoids stepping on subsequent jokes. The relationship between advertising and accompaniment sounds involves similar interaction. Typically neglected by historians of silent film sound as exterior to the theater and not truly constituting film accompaniment, ballyhoo music played on the street nevertheless performs an important role in the development of standard silent film accompaniment practices. Film Index critic Clyde Martin says he was actually dismissed as an accompanist from the best St. Louis theater because his playing couldn't he heard on the street. "That is the fault with the average exhibitor today," says Martin, "he doesn't want a piano player, he wants a Bally-Hoo."'7 This connection between advertising and accompaniment sound is confirmed by Martin's Moving Picture World colleague. Clarence E. Sinn. "When music was first introduced in the picture theater," he points out, "they 'whooped 'er up' until the music could be heard out on the street.""* according to Sinn, drums were introduced into film accompaniment only in order to •nerease the volume enough so that the sound could be heard out front. The history of S|lcait film sound cannot be written independently of the continuing interaction among ")e various sound sources constituting the overall cinema event. Similarly, the history of the cinema apparatus cannot be isolated from other film y,aiuls. lor example, the early teens introduction of a second projector spawned a sea ellil|ige in exhibition practices. Abandoning alternation between films and audience-"lv,)lving song slides, theaters adopted alternation between the reels of feature films, Us engendering major changes in audience participation modes. In the late twenties, ',Ľ introduction of synchronized sound led to the radical reduction of all other sounds. Film Sound —All Of It 45 a process partially reversed by current theme park moving picture shows that use sound and movement to elicit carefully targeted and timed audience responses Cinema sound cannot be adequately understood one sound system at a time- we must also attend to the complex interactions of cinema sound's local economy Yet however substantially such attention will enlarge the range of current scholarship still more is required. We must also consider what I will call the general economy of cinema (and media) sound. Sounds produced in and around the theater cannot be fully understood by reference to their local economy, that is through sounds that are co-present with the film •mage; they must also be studied with reference to the temporally or geographically displaced sounds that they provoke, permit, or parallel. ' Analyzing the musical's "operational" role in The American Film Musical I made the case that the musical genre is generated by a culture designed to replicate theater and Mm music in the home.1" It is not possible to understand the musical, I claimed without charting piano sales or without studying the role of sheet music in American entertainment. In other words, what we habitually term the "text" of the musical is insufficient to comprehension of the genre. In addition to the text we must also consider not only the event of the text's production (what I have here termed sound's "local economy") but also the broaderextensions of that event into the culture at large (or "general economy") Just as illustrated songs call on audience members to sing out as an in praeseniia part of the show, so musicals implicitly invite audience members to sing later on as an ,/, absentia part of the show. Though the relationship between stage sound and audience sound may be more obvious in the former situation, the connection between exhibition sound and its cultural follow-up is no less important in the latter case. Know,,,, which distribute modes (sheet music, cylinder, disc, cassette. CI), video) permuted Ton-s to survive their films is essential to understanding the films themselves (a fact that remains just as true of today's compilation sound tracks as it once was of classical musicals) Indeed, analysis of sound circulation patterns is a particularly important manner of discovering how a culture uses its texts. Attention to sound's general economy quickly foregrounds the different purposes that films may serve in different contexts. While some audiences have succeeded in resisting the middle-class ideal of silent absorption (e.g.. prewar Yiddish audiences some African American spectators, and most midnight movie .nasses) manv others have sought to retain their freedom of expression not through immediate//, v/,„ reaction but by scheduled, deferred responses. From cine-clubs to college enema classes and from the Anthology Film Archives to experimental film festivals or museum retrospectives, silent spectatorship is often followed by discussion conceived as part and parcel of the overall film-viewing event. To be sure, these discussions rarely interrupt the film, but the fact that they don't begin until the film has disappeared from the screen does not keep them from entering fully into the film experience. The meaning of is 46 Rick Airman experimental films, and many others— that is, their place in culture— cannot be ., rasped w ithout reference to the general economy of which they are a part. l'he need I or at tent ion lo questions o I general economy is perhaps even more urgent in the case of other media. The nineteenth- and early-twentieth-century creation of a modern public sphere, with its curious combination of capitalism and democracy, was hcu\il\ dependent on the ability of the new mass-produced and broadly distributed media to provide the public with common experiences, common emotions, and common topics for the day's conversation. At first blush, the trajectory of these media (cheap newspapers, dime novels, records, cinema, radio, television) seems to stress a simple silencing and dispersal of spectators. Serial novels were first consumed and discussed in reading parlors, but later assimilated to the culture's general pattern of individual consumption. Films initially received a raucous reception in interactive theaters, but later developed quiet audiences. Radio was originally designed to engage the immediate interaction ol lamihcs and other social groupings, but now depends on the solipsism of car radios and the Walkman. Community viewing characterized early television, but today's America has a TV in every room. Instead of seeing these developments solely in terms of audience discipline and fragmentation, however. I suggest (hat we recognize the mass media's increasing tendency to accept, appropriate, and eventually target deferred and displaced reaction. That is. if early in their history diverse media attract active audiences eager to interact immediately and on the spot (thus replicating the reception patterns of live events), they subsequently encourage and depend on audience dialogue occurring later, often in a different location. In order to understand the Monday Night Movie. Monday Night football, or M outlay night talkshows. we must adopt methods that recognize Tuesday's talk as part and parcel of Monday night television's general economy.2" I look in the lulure lor studies that will take into account a broader range of sounds. As our understanding of film sound grows in depth, so must it develop an expanded extent. II we wish to understand the auditory world, it is not enough to concentrate on image AND sound — the gospel that we have been preaching for lo these many years, f'iiless »o are willing to address questions of local economy and ileal with problems of general economy, we will never succeed in comprehending film sound — all oľ it. Notes f "(icncral Introduction: Cinema as Event" in Rick Mlman. Sound Theory/Sound Practice iNcvt York: ;'HHlal!;i-. 1992). pp. 1-14. -■ Rick Aliman. The Silence ol Hie Silcnts." Musical Quarterly Vol. 80. No. 4 (1996): pp. 648-718. Film Sound —All Of It 47 l'mvcrs„v,„ral,,or„,a Press. I97S, p|, n | , ()l "T"'' '" ""' A''w/"'' AV~- < Merkels: ''"""i "' '•<■*.....—: 'I, «J/^W^^^ chiles perspective sets Iron, loos, espeenIK ,„ I n i ' ," , "KJU ls'""1 :""l,ence- -see (Irecl, » l,„ *<«■',«■„„„,,„.....A/....../„„.Bcrkclv M t (;'rJ ■;>'"-11-""'■''''■«'""-«-. V«. ...../ Harry W,I.m„, Ped.cord. „„. 77,,.,™ ,,, /^ľ^ ,,7 y ľ"' 7" ^"■^"'V PP "'"*>7......I t'mvcrsity Press. I 9Š4). especially pp 44 (,! " ' """ " '"h""11'^' Southern Illinois ^'"Ä.....Ph./w/,,(l, - UMir. I Is- M 7. 228-229: ami .lav I Capl„, XI é s^""'"; °<'«» *l I'muTsMy Press,. cspccalK pp mí W H' JOhnSl>"-'— '" "- ' '■«"««" "<- .Si, > h„.....-s„v „„,„,„.......w 7: Lawrence W. I.cvinc. llivl,hro»//,„,•/.,■„„■■ //,,. /.,„ Kumhndec: Harvard thnvcrsny Press. ,WX) ;llll| , , ;'"''.^'"" '" < »«»»« ""—In ,„ .„„,„,.„ "/»..,,,,,,/,< „,„„;,,„„,„■„ (Nev, York: Hill and Wan' I9W . 7""7 '""'"'■l"- ■»— ,„ paragraph arc taken Iron, Uvine, p. I79IÍ. and Kasson p ' -., , „ '"CS "' """ il,ul lhť ^úi»ť «: As my colleague Corey Creeknnir has pomied oui i,,'„,.' ,i »''yWWMcVs,^..... "-.and 'Z .....-1'-1'"—-.......—lylromrL;.....^l^Z^^Z p.--^ľ^.....-,...... perlorniancesbecamecommonnnheHnaluiiine,,,!,!;. ^'^'^ '" ih-» C'-,„a o, ,.u„„c, " ,„ I I: Quoted by Charles Musser ,„ //,, ľmerJn",," ""' 'Ws J ' '""'^ Senhner's,. p. 40.Š. ' "'U '" ' '" < ""'""' "«-An,,;;, an S, reen „, /W7,Ncu York: \2: W. Siephen Rush. -The Human Voice as a ľ,clor ,„ ,1, • M lW/,/Vol 4.No 4 (January 2 t 1900, „„ 44(, ,7. , "' "l,M"VI"'; IVl""' -SI,..«.■." A/»,-,««.. /•„„„■, Un,vcrs„y()rCal,,orn,a Press mn^\2^ n-2),,„d-The,,vnU,ckc,:,;;c,:,! ,ľ/ľw:r7,o:'rAi,nu,;'"Thi's'1--.....-s"^-...... M«»^"-".in,lon: 1,^^^^......A.k-.. Kk-. AMmm,,....., »UL'IX^ - '- —- "N-.....e de U '": U«»>^ hy Dou.lu ( o , , , ° "'"' < ""'""'""''/- " < ""«>: PP- -«■ III. State, (Mad,son: ,yJnivt.;ily ^^S' i^T',' /"-"^ '^"™- /''""""........» '"" '"-/ ;s-c!:!^rr'|,'r^,'u',,a',ui-'"'™''^^ r;Ri:^'-««--^^^ .....■-"'■""■"p..**. 20: One model lor an expanded analysis c,ľ, -I -v-i *" ," '"" ''M,*t"r"',> ,>,X'H--- '*,s7l-P- -*-"«-. Sound." wh.clulemonsiraies L TV Í Z ^Vi " 7" ,'* T'^ '" " ' "'"'"'^ "" "IVk-v......" •'■elcv.s.on How" and wha, I iwv^^.""t,^ I'ress. 1986). pp. 39-S4. "-1"'W».v> < ultute. cd tan.a Modlesk, (Bloom,,,,,,,,,: lud.ana ll„,ye,Mii 2852 15 19