The 20 Best Uses Of Diegetic Music in Film
In case you haven’t heard, Suicide Squad is an abysmal movie, an obnoxious, joyless, tuneless, racist, idiotic, misogynistic, misguided and misconceived dumpster fire of a film. It represents not just the nadir of superhero movies, but the nadir of cinema-going as we know it. One of the more boneheaded artistic flourishes featured in Suicide Squad is its tone deaf soundtrack. There’s roughly one new needle drop for each new scene in Suicide Squad, and their uses range from underscoring painfully obvious character beats (i.e., The Rolling Stones’ “Sympathy for the Devil” starts blaring over Viola Davis’ entrance, Rick James’ “Super Freak” bumps and grinds to Harley Quinn’s pole dance, Kanye’s “Black Skinhead” appears when Deadshot tears apart the shooting range, Eminem’s “Without Me” blasts during an gear-up montage, etc), to just “Fuck it, why not!” (Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody,” over the epilogue for some reason?). One gets the sense of smug self-satisfaction behind David Ayer’s music cues, but the results are more frequently disastrous than they are particularly clever, and highlight one of the many problems with the movie.
Obviously, this extensive tooling of music is a necessity on DC’s part to match wits with Marvel’s properties, most notably Guardians of the Galaxy, a film that also featured a ragtag group of misfits set against a bopping rock soundtrack of cool 70’s and 80’s hits. But therein lies the rub: Guardian’s playlist feels like it was specifically curated for its placement in the picture, and each song plays out in a refreshingly organic nature. The music is also exclusively featured on Chris Pratt’s Walkman, making it diegetic, meaning the songs we are hearing are sourced directly from the film itself. Suicide Squad’s soundtrack, on the other hand, is an entirely non-diegetic, chaotic mess: songs are mixed into the film’s audio with no discernible rhyme or reason (though presumably it’s to cover up Warner Bros.’ botch job). I’m not saying all music should be strictly diegetic – Scorsese has practically made a career out of not doing this – but a little sensible consideration is appreciated when you’re, you know, making a good damn soundtrack for your movie.
With all this in mind, I’m here to celebrate the best uses of diegetic music in film, and have gathered 20 movies that adroitly source the songs within them to support the narrative, or, more importantly, affect the characters we’re watching on screen. For the purpose of this piece, I am excluding any musicals, music-related biopics, concert films, and the collective works of Cameron Crowe. I’m also limiting all of my choices to one per director. Don’t ask me why, it just felt like the right thing to do.
Apocalypse Now - “Ride of the Valkyries”
To kick things off with perhaps the most famous entry on this list (and one that’s been parodied to death), Francis Ford Coppola’s war epic finds Captain Willard (Martin Sheen) and a small crew of men travelling up the Nung River into the heart of darkness, all during the Vietnam War. Willard’s mission: assassinate one of their own, a renegade soldier named Colonel Kurtz (Marlon Brando), who has gone dangerously insane. At the start of their mission, they receive an escort to the river courtesy of Lieutenant Kilgore (Robert Duvall), a commander of a local air cavalry unit. Kilgore’s combat strategy includes the use of Wagner’s opera to “scare the hell” out of the enemy while they soar through the skies and lay fire upon them. The resulting sequence is one of the most indelible in cinematic history:
Blue Is the Warmest Color - “I Follow Rivers”
Abdellatif Kechiche’s Palme d’Or winning Blue Is the Warmest Color is one of the greatest films of the last decade, so much so that it’s a shame critics and audiences alike were unreasonably up in arms about the sexually explicit nature of the film. Even so, the quality of the film perseveres, no doubt in part to the incredible, naturalistic central performance by Adele Exarchopoulos. Portraying a teenaged girl (also named Adele), the story revolves around her sexual awakening from high school into early adulthood, as guided by her girlfriend, Emma (Lea Seydoux, also outstanding). In this clip below, Adele, now having blossomed into a young woman, is caught in a moment of idyllic bliss at her birthday party, while Lykke Li gently plays in the background. Her dance moves are particularly enchanting:
Blue Valentine - “You Always Hurt the Ones You Love”
Blue Valentine is by no means an uplifting film, but there is an undeniable sweetness culled from this scene that is immensely joyful to watch, wherein Dean (Ryan Gosling) plays his ukulele to serenade a tap-dancing Cindy (Michelle Williams), during their first date. It’s a beautiful and quietly powerful moment (and one that would serve as the backdrop for the film’s trailer), with the two performances silently observed by Derek Cianfrance’s camera in one long unbroken take. The cheery, delightful chemistry between both leads is so palpably strong that the inevitable dissolution of their relationship is rendered all the more devastating:
Bronson - “It’s a Sin”
Hailed by some as a bold, stylish auteur and dismissed by others as an insufferably vacant anus, whatever your stance may be on Danish helmer Nicolas Winding Refn, there’s no denying two things: that he can construct a gorgeous looking movie, and that he has a sharp ear for music. Nearly all of his films are riddled with great soundtrack cuts (diegetic or otherwise; Drive is this writer’s favorite soundtrack of the 21st century), and one of Refn’s most memorable uses of a song derives from his bipoic Charles Bronson (the British prisoner, not the American actor), the aptly-titled Bronson. Bronson is carried by Tom Hardy’s full-bodied performance as the titular criminal: a violent, snarly, borderline-animalistic menace who has spent over 30 years of his life in solitary confinement. Early on in his prison tenure, Bronson is admitted to a psychiatric ward, where the leisure time involves all the patients partaking in a group dance to the Pet Shop Boys:
Chungking Express - “California Dreamin’”
Few filmmakers can depict a romance quite as splendidly as Wong Kar-Wai can, and while many consider In the Mood for Love to be his most seminal work as a director, I’m decidedly more partial to Chungking Express. Produced during a two month hiatus from production on his wuxia epic Ashes of Time, Chungking Express tells the tale of two separate couples falling in love. In the latter half of the film, the girl is Faye Wong, who becomes smitten with a cop (Tony Leung), and casually breaks into his apartment to clean his living space and listen her favorite song, “California Dreamin.’” This Mamas and the Papas song plays approximately a dozen times in the film, so it’s wholly understandable if you’re left feeling burned out by it by the film’s end. But for me, each subsequent appearance somehow feels more invigorating than the last, and when matched with Wong Kar-Wai’s direction, Christopher Doyle’s mesmerizing cinematography, and Faye Wong’s spirited performance, I find that I never get tired of it:
Ex Machina - “Get Down Saturday Night”
Ex Machina made quite a splash last year, collecting universal praise from critics and audiences all the way to Oscar gold (for Best Visual Effects). While I certainly enjoyed Alex Garland’s film, I recognize I’m in the minority when I saw I was not overtly enamored with it like everyone else apparently was, but one scene does stand out as superb. In the film, a young programmer named Caleb (Domhnall Gleeson) wins a one-week stay at the Kubrickian home of the reclusive CEO Nathan (an extraordinary Oscar Isaac). Caleb learns that Nathan has been surreptitiously developing sentient AI, and, in the film’s most entertaining set-piece, demonstrates he is more than capable of busting a move with his robot servant:
44 Inch Chest – “Without You”
Who needs dialogue when you can tell your story through song? 44 Inch Chest comes across as a pseudo-sequel to the vastly superior Sexy Beast. It’s not necessarily a bad film, but I find that it often falls short when aping on the success of its profane predecessor. But there is one moment in 44 Inch Chest that is pitch perfect, and it occurs immediately: we see the remnants of a house, torn to shreds with shattered glass piled on the floor, ripped pillows and a smashed TV; a frightened poodle hides under a sofa; and Ray Winstone lies on the living room floor, a look of pain seared into his eyes, all while a record Henry Nilsson’s “Without You” plays on repeat. He’s just had the worst break-up of his life. The song itself may be on the nose, but it unquestionably works within the context of the scene:
Fucking Åmål - “I Want To Know What Love Is”
Much like 44 Inch Chest, this is another great instance of utilizing a song in a scene that definitely should not work yet absolutely does. Gifted Swedish filmmaker Lukas Mooysson’s wonderful coming-of-age tale, Fucking Åmål (aka Show Me Love to international audiences) depicts the budding relationship between two teenage girls, Elin (Alexandra Dahlstrom) and Agnes (Agnes Ahlberg). Vowing to leave town and start a new life together, the two hitchhike in a car with a kindly stranger, and, with Foreigner blasting on the radio, they share their first real kiss. It’s a sweet, charming scene that truly feels genuine, fully embracing the cliché to transcend it. Take note, Suicide Squad:
Grosse Point Blank – “Under Pressure”
I mentioned this previously in my Bowie piece, but it works so well I reckon it warrants a spot here. Martin Q. Blank (John Cusack) is a professional hitman who returns to his hometown of Grosse Pointe, MI to reunite with his former girlfriend (Minnie Driver) and attend his ten-year high school reunion. At said reunion, he converses with a former classmate, now a brand new mother, and when asked to hold her baby, Martin gazes inquisitively into the baby’s eyes and witnesses a new side a life he had never known he was missing, all while the sounds of David Bowie swell in the background:
The Guest - “Haunted When the Minutes Drag”
Featuring what is assuredly one of the best soundtracks of the past five years, Adam Wingard’s The Guest is a terrific throwback to 80’s slasher films, bolstered with a modern aesthetic similar to Nicolas Winding Refn’s Drive. A soldier named David (Dan Stevens) arrives at the home of the Peterson family, which includes daughter Anna (Maika Monroe), to inform them that their son has died. The Peterson family happily takes David in, and though seemingly benevolent at first, something is definitely off about David, and sure enough, bodies start piling up around town. Before the proverbial shit hits the fan, Anna offers to make David a mix CD of some of her favorite tunes, and while she drifts off into the night, we see David alone in his bedroom, sitting, staring, waiting…
Holy Motors - “Let My Baby Ride”
Holy Motors is a tremendously fascinating work by Leos Carax, anchored by a phenomenal lead performance by Denis Lavant. It’s intoxicating, magical, brilliant, alluring, and downright insane, all in equal measure. Ostensibly, the plot follows a man named Oscar (Lavant), who is tasked with “performing” various assignments around France, chaperoned to each one by his limousine driver/handler (Edith Scob). About halfway through the film, Carax unleashes his “Entr’acte,” a full-on jam session with finding Oscar and a fleet of accordionists covering RL Burnside’s “Let My Baby Ride.” Just because. What’s essentially a mid-movie palate cleanser (before Oscar’s next assignment) transforms into the most vibrant sequence in the film:
The House of the Devil - “One Thing Leads To Another”
There’s no shortage of love for The House of the Devil here at Optimism Vaccine (my colleague Steve Cuff has written about it previously), and I absolutely think it’s one of the best horror movies in recent memory. Though shot in 2009, it’s lovingly crafted to resemble a film produced in the 1980’s, brandishing its retro, 16mm aesthetic with pride. The plot concerns Samantha (Jocelin Donahue), a college student looking to make her next month’s with the offer of an unusual babysitting job. Little does she know, the eerie homeowners have dubious intentions for this poor girl. As Steve so eloquently put in his piece, the Samantha feels like a real character that the audience is more than capable of sympathizing with, and her spontaneous dance sequence to The Fixx in the gargantuan mansion hits all the right spots:
The Long Goodbye - “The Long Goodbye”
Of all the pleasures found in Robert Altman’s The Long Goodbye, one of the more memorable ones is his inventive use of the titular song. Written by John Williams, “The Long Goodbye” pops up in many variations throughout the film, anywhere from car radios to a barroom piano player’s rehearsal, to even a grand Mexican parade. It’s a fitting ode to Elliot Gould’s chain-smoking private eye, and one of the many rewards reaped upon multiple viewings is spotting the multiple iterations. In the clip below, listen to how the song alternates between two different singers and supermarket muzak when shifting locations and perspectives:
(The music begins at 4:13)
Miller’s Crossing - “Danny Boy”
One of the Coen Brother’s finest efforts, the “Danny Boy” sequence in Miller’s Crossing finds the Coens at the peak of their powers. Mob boss Leo (Albert Finney) has an attempt made on his life, but he more than holds his own against his would-be assassins, making swiss cheese out of the goons with a Tommy Gun, all while a Frank Patterson song roars in the background (played on a Victrola in Leo’s bedroom). The action starts in a burning house and eventually takes to the streets outside, but the volume of the song never diminishes, remaining firmly planted in the center speakers as Leo makes art with his Thompson:
(Please excuse the shit quality of this clip)
Mommy - “On Ne Change Pas”
On paper, the soundtrack for Xavier Dolan’s Mommy sounds like a nightmare of Suicide Squad proportions, featuring songs from The Counting Crows, Eiffel 65, Dido, Celine Dion, Oasis, and Lana Del Rey. But when played on screen, these song selections could not be more perfect. The highlight of the entire film arises from the use Celine Dion’s “On Ne Change Pas” (something I would never think I’d write in a million years), wherein bad boy Steve (Antoine-Olivier Pilon) dances with titular mother Diana (Anne Dorval) and their shy neighbor Kyla (Suzanne Clement), in the kitchen of their home. Dolan’s film paints a portrait of three severely damaged personalities, each struggling to cope with their own personal problems and neuroses, but this scene finds them forgetting the pain to come together in a harmonious moment of levity:
Mulholland Drive - “Llorando”
“Llorando” may not necessarily be most memorable musical moment in David Lynch’s typically impressive oeuvre (that honor would probably go to “In Dreams” from Blue Velvet), but it’s easily the most haunting and emotionally resonant musical sequence from all of his works. New-in-town actress Betty (Naomi Watts) and amnesiac Rita (Laura Harring) visit the Club Silencio, a theatre located in the deep pit of Los Angeles’ black heart. Inside, they witness an unusual musical act, featuring Rebekah Del Rio singing a Spanish-language cover of Roy Orbison’s “Crying.” The emotional tenor of the song weighs heavily on Betty and Rita, and, right when it hits you them the hardest, Lynch pulls the rug out from underneath, revealing it all to be a lip-sync act. It is quite possibly the single finest moment in a career comprised of fine moments:
Once Upon a Time in the West - “The Man With the Harmonica”
Few things in this world are as marvelous as Sergio Leone’s Spaghetti Western classic. Leone is a master at mining tension from the simplest of situations, and nothing manages to top the opening sequence of this film. Three killers embark upon a train station, and patiently await for a train to arrive. Once it does and appears seemingly empty, they turn to leave, only to stop dead in their tracks at the most terrifying sounding thing in the world: Charles Bronson playing a harmonica. The ensuing exchange proves to be equally deadly:
Reprise - “Deceptacon”
The exuberance of youth and passion of creativity clash with struggle of genius in Norwegian director Joachim Trier’s debut, Reprise. Phillip (Anders Danielsen Lie) and Erik (Espen Klouman Høiner) are two best friends and aspiring writers. Erik’s work is rejected, and leaves him feeling devoid of talent. Phillip’s work, on the other hand, receives immediate acclaim, and he becomes an overnight literary sensation in Oslo. The wealth of fame becomes too much for Phillip to handle, who is hospitalized for self-destructive behavior, leaving a rift between friendships. Looking to make amends, an energetic party sequence (and an impromptu iPod change-up) sparks things to life, and reminds the pair of simpler, happier times:
The Rover - “Pretty Girl Rock”
If you ask me, David Michod’s The Rover is one of the few unsung masterpieces of the last twenty years. Everything about it is impeccable: the stark, gorgeously-shot landscape; the taut, pared down storytelling; and the astonishing lead performances by Guy Pearce and Robert Pattinson. Pearce plays Eric, a man who has had his car stolen by a vicious gang of thieves. To reclaim his property, he kidnap-recruits Rey (Pattinson), the younger brother of the gang’s leader, to track them down. Their journey eventually takes them to the gang’s hideout, and upon deciding to descend upon the thieves the next morning, Keri Hilson’s “Pretty Girl Rock” starts playing on the soundtrack. The song’s appearance is totally incongruous to the rest of the film’s mood (in fact, the first time I saw this I genuinely thought my movie theatre’s speakers had broken and were bleeding in sound from the next auditorium over), until it’s revealed that Rey is simply listening to the song in his car, pitifully singing along to the “Don’t hate me ’cause I’m beautiful” chorus line. For such a spare and gripping thriller, it’s this scene that becomes the highlight of the movie:
The 25th Hour - “Bra”
The dolly shot has become a staple in the works of Spike Lee. The conceit is simple enough: plant the camera and the actor on the same dolly track, so that when moved simultaneously they remain perfectly still, while the world moves errantly around them. The resulting image is arrestingly surreal, almost inhuman in appearance. This effect is jarring, and often produces mixed results, but Lee finds the right pitch in The 25th Hour, in which Anna Paquin dances out of a nightclub restroom in a drug-induced haze, with Cymande thumping on the soundtrack: