Introduction

The Man Who Would Be King (1975), John Huston’s buddy/adventure film, with an added acerbic take on British colonialism, utilises Maurice Jarre’s musical score in both its traditional, non-diegetic, form, and in an interesting weave that combines the music with diegetic sound effects/ambience, often to ascribe emotive qualities to a place or a setting in the film. This formal analysis will investigate score music as a tool for writing mood and emotion into the film when sound and music is weaved in a relationship, as Anahid Kassabian says, that belong: “to a third ‘in-between’ category” that lies interposed between the diegetic and the non-diegetic, and how these particular sounds are often both congruous with and analogous to the characteristics of the scripted words forms and meanings located in the screenplay.

I will locate and utilise three points of audiovisual synchronisation, as established by Michel Chion, as topics of analysis, and then trace these points of “audiovisual phrasing” back to John Huston and Gladys Hill’s screenplay, which was an adaptation of a Rudyard Kipling novella, to locate the written expressions that forms the basis for the film’s audiovision, to see if there is a correlation between the characteristics of the scripted words and the coordination of the sound/music weave.

The Man Who Would Be King (1975) is, on the surface, a straightforward adventure film following two seasoned former British soldiers, now rouges by trade, in their epic overland journey beyond the Khyber Pass in an attempt to become rulers of an unsung region of remote Afghanistan called Kafiristan. While the film’s narrative is fairly traditional, the film has an incisive undertone of colonial criticism, similar to that of Apocalypse Now’ and, in extension ‘Heart of Darkness’, creating complex themes and subtext within the film. The dramatic score, by renowned film music composer Maurice Jarre, is equally traditional but it, like the narrative, contains undercurrents and intricate enhancements, like the utilisation of traditional Indian instrumentation, musicians, and musical sequences. But, it is the formal build-up and interweaving of this music with the film’s diegetic sound that provides a complexity worthy of investigation.

Maurice Jarre’s score exist at three discrete levels, at different points through the film:

1. Non-diegetic: as pure dramatic score music, totally dominating the soundtrack, often being the only audio element. For example, over the reveal of the two adventurer’s new ‘army’ of Afghans, in all its splendour and magnitude.

2. Diegetic: as source music. There are points of Indian music/drumming/chanting (is it Moroccan trance music?) utilised, especially in the opening sequence as we weave through byzantine bazaars that metonymically establish the setting of India (very similar to E.M Forster’s intro to A Passage to India). While the music could be considered non-diegetic at the start of the intro sequence, as we don’t really see any musicians, the musicians are weaved in later, alongside other chanters and drummers, as we move through the bazaars of Lahore: “a city of beggars, prophets, untouchables, fakirs, tribespeople, British soldiers, starving dogs, holy cattle, camels and hovering kites” (Huston & Hill, 1974). In other words, these audio elements exist in the place '“in-between”, as Kassabian calls it. Here the music functions as an underscore, or incidental music perhaps, providing colour and atmosphere, clearly placed under, or alongside the natural sounds (spot sounds) and ambient sounds of the diegesis.

3. Source Score: here, elements from the dramatic score, clearly non-diegetic, are arranged like an underscore. Coordinated with the natural and ambient sound effects to create an evocative audio weave, often utilised in metonymic montage sequences representing place and setting.

It is this third level that is of interest, particularly because this level also has two different iterations, one of which clearly lies beyond the in/out dichotomy of diegetic and non-diegetic.

Audiovisual Synchronisation: Point I - Entering the Foothills

As the two adventurers enter the Hindu Kush foothills, using an extended Dissolve-To, Non-diegetic Music (NDM) starts, an unaccompanied flute playing a slightly staccato upwards oscillating variation of the theme used over the journey sequences, a track called ‘Journey to Kafiristan’. But, unlike the NDM used earlier (classic dramatic score), this musical ornament is coordinated with and accompanied by the Diegetic Sound Effects (DSFX) of the clopping hooves of the mules, clearly coming through underneath the music.

Then, as we move further up the hills, another extended Dissolve-To. As our ‘heroes’ appear centre frame, the flute is joined by a muted trumpet playing the standard ‘Journey’ theme in a western, classical manner, almost like a counterpoint to the Indian flute, a reminder of the Englishness of the main characters still present despite of, and in contrast to, the alien unfamiliarity of these foreign lands. This two-instrument sequence functions like a metonym for the East versus West thematic that infuses this whole film. The DSFX of clopping hooves is still present underneath as the camera performs a pan-right/tilt-up to reveal the massive mountains facing our heroes. And now, Carnehan Off-Screen (OS) in a soliloquy like Voice-Over (VO) comes in:

There are a several interesting things going on here. Firstly, the use of the unaccompanied flute playing a solitary, wistful tune, provides a sense of the lonely expanse and almost other-worldly remoteness and mythical/mystical qualities of the setting. While this is not scripted as such in the screenplay, the use of Carnehan’s OS/VO soliloquy functions as a call-back to Kipling’s office, reminding us that he, and we, are still actually there in that office, where the tale of the adventure is being recounted. This provides a trajectory to the earlier scene in Kipling’s office where the perilous and terrain of the region that the adventurers are now trying to traverse, were first discussed in mythical, almost mystical terms:

The slow building up of NDM (flute + trumpet) also functions in several ways; the upward-movement of the music underscores the upward movement of the travellers; the counterpoint of eastern and western instrumentation functions as a metonym for the subtextual thematics of colonialism, an association of the east - west in the encounter of the music, and placement of western travellers in eastern lands; and, finally, the upward movement of the music lays the groundwork for the next section of NDM as the majesty of the mountains is revealed for the first time.

Audiovisual Synchronisation: Point II - Crossing the Hindu Kush

As Carnehan’s OS/VO ends, another NDM ornament is introduced; a howling cacophony of blaring horns, and an assembly of cymbal crashes, drum rolls and string sforzandos that intensifies as each iteration of this NDM section is cut synchronously, on the cymbal crash, in a rapid montage of jagged snow-capped peaks, appearing like serrated teeth on the horizon.

The music is now pure NDM, totally dominating the soundtrack, with no DSFX present. The jagged serrations of the mountain peaks, as they appear, “range upon range”, clearly matching the jagged, sharp edged sounds layered one upon another, an audiovisual phrase comprehensibly cued by scripted words signifying profusions of volatile, sharp, serrated and pointy outlines (my emphasis):

• “The DEMONIC HOWL of HIGH winds.”

• “a RAGGED hole is TORN […]”

• “HIGH JAGGED PEAKS tracing long plumes of blown snow, GLORIOUSLY, against a blue-black sky.”

• “range UPON range of the HIGHEST PEAKS on earth […]”

• “[…] PEAKS and PINNACLES, CLIFFS and ESCARPMENTS.”

As the music reaches a crescendo, and the horns and strings undulate in almost dizzying fluctuations, the music fades down, Carnahans OS/VO fades back in, we cut to an EWS of the two travellers dwarfed by the enormity of the top of the world, and the DSFX of a deep resonant boom and rumble is introduced, clearly a DSFX spot sound of a mountainous rumble, maybe an avalanche.

Over this movement, from the non-diegetic coloration of the jagged peaks to the diegetic rumble of the mountains, Carnehan’s OS/VO continues, again cresting a trajectory between this wild country and the civilised shelter of Kipling’s office:

The end result is an intricate set of audiovisual elements: frame size and settings; camera movements and angles; montage; and a complex combination of diegetic and non-diegetic audio (sound effects and music), including audio elements that reside both in the diegetic and the non-diegetic; that are carefully and expertly weaved together. This weave is cued by the scripted words, and subtextual thematics of East meets West, man versus nature and, for the particular section of the film analysed here, the terrifying danger of the jagged peaks, all clearly located in the text of the screenplay.

Audiovisual Synchronisation: Point III - Entering Sikandergul/The Temple

In this section of the film, our heroes have overcome almost impossible odds and a host of natural and human dangers, and have installed themselves as gods, the descendants of Alexander the Great, and are ruling with benevolence. They are then summoned to the mythical and mystical city of Sikandergul, the high-temple of the priests who preside over the peoples of Kafiristan.

As they approach the main gate, following a montage sequence of journey shots, each more exotic and mysterious then the next and underscored by a developed version of the flute and horn theme, this time accompanied by glissandos of undulating sitar patterns, there is no music. The scene’s only audio is made up of only a few DSFX elements: footsteps; the rustlings of the surrounding crowd of monks and acolytes; and the natural ambience of birdsong.

Following a short dissolve-to, we are now inside the city, walking up its streets, surrounded by more monks, priests, and acolytes. But, a new sound element is introduced: the tinkling soft jingle-jangle of small chimes.

This tinkle lies over the DSFX of footsteps and rustling murmurs, and is held for the entire sequence, through the streets to the temple entrance.

It carries on as our ‘heroes’ enter into the temple courtyard, up the temple steps, and over the reveal of the high-priest.

The interesting quality of this tinkle is that it could well be a diegetic sound, it is not far-fetched to think that such chimes would be a part of this holy city. But, the fidelity of the sound suggests otherwise. The sound doesn't change in quality or direction as we move through the city. It remains constant, as if it was a piece of underscore, or ambient music. But, as with the other similar moments of revealing and entering into specific settings throughout the film, this audio element is laid down in such as a way that it is accompanied by DSFX throughout the whole sequence, footsteps reverberating in the corridor-like streets, and an expanse of crowd sounds as our ‘heroes’ enter the temple courtyard.

And so, the sound of the chimes is utilized to colourise the image, to infuse ambience and a feeling of mystique to the place we are in, similar to how many of the audio elements function in the sequences discussed before. This deliberate placement of the sound in-between the diegetic and the non-diegetic functions like metaphor for the place we are in, an “added value” as Chion says, to make us: “feel that [sound and image] are naturally connected, that the sound comes from the image” (1994, p.5).

The interesting thing regarding the chimes is that they are not cued directly by the scripted word, probably indicating they were a post-process addition. But, an addition that could well have been influenced by the mystical and reverential character of the holy city of Sikandergul scripted as subtext, and hinted at in an earlier sequence:

Conclusion

The scripted words written by Gladys Hill and John Huston function as cues for the audiovisual phrasing of The Man Who Would Be King (1975). But the cues have qualities that go beyond the simplistic ‘blueprint’ analogy often attributed to, and used as an explanation for, the function of the screenplay.

The audio elements, and the nature of their assembly, are often intimately related to the form, shape and meaning of the scripted words. It is an intimacy that is poetic in nature, which produces correlations between the characteristics of the scripted words and the coordination of the sound/music weave in which the shape and the meaning of the text is replicated through the choice and assembly of the audio elements: the text has not simply inspired the construction of the audio, it has been transmuted into the film’s audiovision.

Sources

Chion, M. (1994). Audio-vision: sound on screen. New York: Columbia University Press.

Huston, J. (Writer & Director). (1975). The Man Who Would Be King [Motion Picture]. USA: Columbia Pictures Corporation.

Huston, J. & Hill, G. (1974). The Man Who Would Be King [Screenplay]. USA: Columbia Pictures Corporation.

Kassabian, A. (2001). Hearing Film: Tracking Identifications in contemporary Hollywood film music. New York & London: Routledge.