Music composer Duke Ellington for Anatomy of a Murder (1959) with actress Lee Remick during filming. (Carlyle Productions/Sony Pictures via Cite de la Musique)" border="0" height="391" width="511">Music composer Duke Ellington for Anatomy of a Murder (1959) with actress Lee Remick during filming. (Carlyle Productions/Sony Pictures via Cite de la Musique)

Can you imagine Star Wars without John Williams’ rousing theme music? Can you imagine Lawrence of Arabia without the inspiring and expansive desert theme by Maurice Jarre?

What is this alchemy that is created when the movie and its musical score become forever joined in our memories?

We only need to hear a few notes of the James Bond theme, or a few notes of the theme from Jaws and our imagination jumps in recognition. These are almost “sound logos”. There are many other signature themes — Mission Impossible, The Pink Panther and Raiders of the Lost Ark.

A thrilling exhibition, “Musique & Cinema: Marriage of the Century?” at the Cite de la Musique museum in Paris, recently provided film lovers with a wonderful education on the role of music in the cinema and a delightful trip down memory lane.

The first film that ever had its own original score was L’Assasination du duc de Guise in 1908. It was of course, a silent film, and synchronised sound was still a long time into the future. The Jazz Singer, 1927, heralded the arrival of “the talkies”.

The French are justly proud that they invented cinema in 1895 (the Lumiere Brothers) and a French film had the first especially composed musical score.

Nowadays, the power of a good music score is immense, as it works on our subconscious and it can be used to accentuate and manipulate our reactions and emotions.

 You only have to try an experiment. Watch a DVD of a good film with which you are familiar — a part without dialog, but turn off the sound. The experience is vastly diminished.

Generally, a composer joins the project once the image editing is done. They have to sense what is required of them from their viewing of the edit. Often they are given a list of musical cues along with the exact length that their piece should be, to fit the image.

But sometimes the music comes first.

There are many legendary partnerships, of film directors and musicians, who work together during their long careers.

Can you imagine Star Wars without John Williams'€™ rousing theme music? Can you imagine Lawrence of Arabia without the inspiring and expansive desert theme by Maurice Jarre?

What is this alchemy that is created when the movie and its musical score become forever joined in our memories?

We only need to hear a few notes of the James Bond theme, or a few notes of the theme from Jaws and our imagination jumps in recognition. These are almost '€œsound logos'€. There are many other signature themes '€” Mission Impossible, The Pink Panther and Raiders of the Lost Ark.

A thrilling exhibition, '€œMusique & Cinema: Marriage of the Century?'€ at the Cite de la Musique museum in Paris, recently provided film lovers with a wonderful education on the role of music in the cinema and a delightful trip down memory lane.

The first film that ever had its own original score was L'€™Assasination du duc de Guise in 1908. It was of course, a silent film, and synchronised sound was still a long time into the future. The Jazz Singer, 1927, heralded the arrival of '€œthe talkies'€.

The French are justly proud that they invented cinema in 1895 (the Lumiere Brothers) and a French film had the first especially composed musical score.

Nowadays, the power of a good music score is immense, as it works on our subconscious and it can be used to accentuate and manipulate our reactions and emotions.

 You only have to try an experiment. Watch a DVD of a good film with which you are familiar '€” a part without dialog, but turn off the sound. The experience is vastly diminished.

Generally, a composer joins the project once the image editing is done. They have to sense what is required of them from their viewing of the edit. Often they are given a list of musical cues along with the exact length that their piece should be, to fit the image.

But sometimes the music comes first.

There are many legendary partnerships, of film directors and musicians, who work together during their long careers.

Recording session of the music for Black Narcissus (1947) with the London Symphony Orchestra conducted by the composer Brian Easdale. (Collection Joel Finler/The Archers/Carlton International Media via Cite de la Musique)
Steven Spielberg and John Williams have been a team since Spielberg'€™s first film, Sugarland Express (1974). They are great friends, and can almost read each other'€™s minds; such is the trust between them. Lincoln is the 26th film on which they have collaborated, over forty years. Williams came out of retirement to do this film at Spielberg'€™s request.

Spielberg tells the story of how he asked Williams to come up with a theme for Jaws, and how he was less than impressed when they met at the piano and John Williams played him the repetitive chords (like a fast beating heart) which herald the terrifying appearance of the giant shark. Williams, then said, '€œTrust me! That is Jaws'€, and Spielberg knew by that time, to go along with him.

The legendary director has said that such is his respect for Williams that he sometimes re-cuts a piece of footage, to fit the music of John Williams.

Brooklyn resident Angelo Badalamenti was first hired by David Lynch, as a dialogue coach for Isabella Rossellini, on the film Blue Velvet but when Lynch learned that he was a musician, he sought his advice, and they soon created a working partnership.

When working on Twin Peaks, Badalamenti described how, before the shooting the two of them sat down at the piano, and he asked Lynch '€“ '€œWhat is it about?'€

Lynch described the opening images and story in a very evocative manner, and Badalamenti picked up on it and began to pick out a few notes on the keyboard, which built to a crescendo as Lynch'€™s description became more and more vivid. Within that one session, they had the '€œLaura Palmer Theme'€. Lynch says, '€œI love Angelo Badalamenti like a brother. His music will tear your heart out. I sit next to him and we talk and I describe the ideas'€.

In Vienna, there is a whole museum devoted to just one film and its traditional Viennese zither theme music by Anton Karas. Of course, the film is Carol Reed'€™s The Third Man (1949), starring Orson Welles, Joseph Cotton and Alida Valli, which was set in Vienna. The '€œHarry Lime Theme'€, topped the US charts in April and July 1950. It was the triumph of the soloist.

Sometimes a musical score comes first, and the film plays second fiddle, so to speak. Such was the case with The Parapluies du Cherbourg (1964) by Jacques Demy. The music for this charming film, much beloved by the French and around the world, composed by Michel Legrand, preceded the film, which starred the young Catherine Deneuve. The film won the Palme D'€™Or at Cannes Film Festival and also the Technical Grand Prize. Actually this was the first musical film in which all the dialog was sung.

 The most recent film version of Les Miserables (2012) by Tom Hooper introduced new technology that allowed the songs to be sung and recorded on set by the actors during the shooting '€“ a great leap forward in musical film-making, giving a much more realistic impression.

Before this, the method known as '€œplayback'€ was used. The actors sung '€œhalf-throat'€ during the filming, but during playback they had to sing full-throat in perfect synchronisation with the image for the recording of the songs. Apparently Judy Garland was brilliant at this task.

Sometimes a film'€™s music is inherently part of the story, such as in Amadeus or The Cotton Club '€“ that is, the actors within the story are hearing or playing it or perhaps it'€™s just a radio in the room they are in.

In India Song (1975), writer/director Marguerite Duras tried a different approach. There was no dialog at all, but wall-to-wall music throughout the film, and the entire story was narrated by an off-screen voice.

Terence Davies, born in 1945, made a moving trilogy of films, which started with Distant Voices, Still Lives, which was based on his own youth. He used in a very evocative way, the popular songs of the times, which were part of family life as he grew up.

The magical encounter between these two art forms is a beautiful gift for all of us who love the cinema. Just consider these '€œmarriages'€ between filmmakers and musicians: Fellini and Nino Rota; Sergio Leone and Ennio Morricone; Alfred Hitchcock and Bernard Hermann; Blake Edwards and Henry Mancini; James Cameron and James Horner; Claude Lelouch and Francis Lai; Pedro Almodovar and Alberto Iglesias; Peter Greenaway and Michael Nyman; and you will be convinced.