I actually had a very interesting and accidental sound observation in my intro to French cinema class earlier this week. We were watching a silent film, truly a silent film with no music or anything, in King 101, and all of the sudden I hear a very strange clicking. Something was rattling around inside air conditioning unit and it sounded virtually identical to the clicking of the the teeth in a film reel. It was very strange accidental and beautiful. Listening even closer I could hear all the electronics that occupy that horrible room: the projector fan whirling, the computer in the front, all the DVD players in the back, making their tiny electrical hums. It seemed to overwhelm the mild human noise of breathing, and sleeping. It was only interrupted by the shift in weight on the old chairs, which would squeak sharply. The best thing, and something I've noticed for the longest time, is it appears that the people who make the most noise while shifting their weight are those who try to make the least amount of noise. You can actually hear their slow and carefully strategized movements and followed by their embarrassment at their failures. Just by the rhythm and pace of the squeaks you can hear their surprise and disappointment.
My second sound observation was shortly after I turned my car off after returning home one night. The obvious sounds came in at first, the tiny clicks of the engine, the air coming to a halt, some mild wind outside the car, the keys, still barely moving, but I waited further, and pushed beyond this. It became very strange; I could hear noises outside, but they were very faint and distant since it was in the middle of the night. Instead the most dominating noise was this stillness, an almost deafening hum in the car that seemed to have no source. Perhaps it was just my ear drums (I do occasionally listen to music loudly) that were just reverberating, but it somehow sounded external, like every atom in the car was screaming and shaking violently, trying to escape from this prison of air.
This may sound like a strange statement to start off with for a response to Walter Murch's observation of sound, but I am obsessed with pregnancy. Every aspect of it seems infinitely interesting and mysterious to me. I have previously considered the use and function of sound in a pre-natal environment, but I felt the most interesting observation Murch pointed out was the sudden immersion to all the other senses once we are born. Obviously we don't remember or recall this, but it was something everyone consciously experienced. I try to relate these back to evolutionary terms. Obviously sight is most crucial to our (human) survival, but sound clearly plays a distinct and important roll as well, so it does seem strange that this sense would develop or, at least, be activated first. Perhaps it is for our own biological safety inside the womb, and we at least have some elements coming in from the outside world before we are actually born, but it is still very interesting to think about. My father is a known audiophile and has always had an ear for high and precise fidelity (personally I found low fidelity just as, if not more, interesting) so I've always been exposed to a large array of strange and interesting sounds. I've also attempted to remove myself from sound. I've taken two sign language classes, attempting to understand communication without any audio ability. Obviously, I will (hopefully) never truly understand what it is like to be deaf, but I do try to immerse myself in this experience, and I think that is the point of Murch: we are so accustom to sound, we almost the interesting elements of it. To sit down and concentrate, study, and observe sound, seems like an art in and of itself, despite the fact that we constantly do it, even at an unconscious level. It is something that must be paid attention to and appreciated much more, both in film, and our lives.
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