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- Volume 10, Issue 2, 2019
Soundtrack, The - Volume 10, Issue 2, 2019
Volume 10, Issue 2, 2019
- Editorial
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- Articles
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Mother tongue: Uncanny sound, migrant voice and the home movie
By Tessa DwyerThis article takes a personal journey through a home movie made by my immigrant grandfather. Constituting one of my grandfather’s most complex narratives, the film Confidentially Yours provides a fascinating glimpse into 1950s Melbourne. It also holds deep significance for research into language and accent on-screen. Featuring my mother as narrator, the film is at once deeply familiar, homely and utterly strange – with my mother’s voice almost unrecognizable due to her affected accent that harks back to a time when Britain’s cultural influence in Australia was far more marked than today, with British Received Pronunciation (RP) speech dominating screen and broadcast media. Through the strange sound of my mother’s voice-over in Confidentially Yours, this article reflects upon the significance of screen voice and accent more broadly in order to consider how tongue and tone address the viewer, perform the self and negotiate nation.
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Sounding Obsession: A discussion on sounds from a garage film
Authors: John Cumming and Martin PotterThis article is a discussion piece that reflects on the authors’ video article ‘Obsession: Redux – Sounds from a Garage-Film’ (Cumming and Potter 2019) and the digitized soundtrack of co-author John Cumming’s film Obsession (1985). The authors explore the processes of, and concepts behind, creating the original multi-layered analogue soundtrack for Obsession, an artefact of creative practice from a specific moment on film culture and of filmmaking within Melbourne ‘post-punk’ culture of the early 1980s. As a personal and self-reflexive work, the Obsession soundtrack is replete with memory, both personal and popular, local and global. It is a collection of oral objects – an audio archive of live recordings and media samples made in Melbourne, Australia, between 1978 and 1985. The discussion piece revisits the Obsession soundtrack, alongside the redux of this film, in the context of contemporary literature and practice in sonic thinking. The representation of the self and relationships in sound is underpinned by Michel Chion’s (1994) understanding of palimpsest and Raul Ruiz’s (1995) ideas on poetic objects and shamanic films. The purpose of this investigation is to link sonic memories and subjective self-representation to specific practices of soundtrack composition and specific sites and moments of cultural history. The synthesis of concepts, methods and works that we examine here contributes to an emerging discourse around embodied and reflexive sound.
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Penguin Café Orchestra, Malcolm and Mary: The soundtrack of Melbourne’s outcast children
More LessThe 1970s and 1980s inner suburbs of Melbourne, Australia, in Malcolm (Tass, 1986) and Mary and Max (Elliot, 2010) are places of banality and imprisonment that beg for imaginative escape. This article argues that the distinctive Penguin Café Orchestra (PCO) music on the soundtracks of both films defines, facilitates and celebrates this escape as a product of a child’s imaginary. The shared use of PCO in both films creates a lingua franca between the titular characters of each film and a Melbourne that is redefined in these imaginary spaces by characters it ultimately cannot contain. In contrast to the liberatory and irrational pleasures of child’s play in Malcolm, in Mary and Max PCO connotes a wonderment borne from an entrapment in disappointment and loneliness. The need to contain the imaginary of Melbourne’s outcast daughter, unlike its son, is rendered explicit through the use of Barry Humphries’ voice-over narration.
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Predestination: Uncanny (mis)recognition, science fiction and ‘home movie’ moments
By Djoymi BakerThis article uses the science fiction film Predestination (Spierig Brothers, 2014) to examine the combined role of sound and image in the subjective ‘home movie moment’. Vivian Sobchack argues that even within a fiction film, an audience member might recognize a familiar location, momentarily pulling them out of a fictional engagement with the screen text and instead facilitating an engagement more aligned with that of a home movie. Given Sobchack’s interest in phenomenology, it is noticeable that she focuses exclusively on the cinematic image in this particular work. I argue that liminal blurring can occur between modes of engagement, triggered by both image and sound. In Predestination, the puzzle narrative that colludes with the uncanny voice is paralleled by the way that the sights and sounds of Melbourne facilitate uncanny home movie moments, shot through with science fictional estrangement.
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