Translate this Article...
If you�ve been a long-time reader of this blog, you may have noticed that I tend to eschew more technical filmmaking terms (like, I rarely discuss camera angles, for instance); this is because I generally don�t know the terms. But back in 2010, when Stephanie Zacharek was still writing film reviews for Slate, I vividly remember her discussion of diegetic sound in Wes Anderson�s Fantastic Mr. Fox, and I thought to myself, �Hurrah, I�ve learned a film term!�
So, what is the difference between diegetic and non-diegetic sound? Our old pal Wikipedia describes it well:
Sound in films is termed diegetic if it is part of the narrative sphere of the film. For instance, if a character in the film is playing a piano, or turns on a CD player, the resulting sound is diegetic. If, on the other hand, music plays in the background but cannot be heard by the film's characters, it is termed non-diegetic or, more accurately, extra-diegetic. The score of a film is non-diegetic sound.
Thank you, Wikipedia. So now that we know about diegetic and non-diegetic sound, I would like to discuss the best, most compelling use of diegetic sound that I have ever seen in a movie: the use of Radiohead�s �Creep� in Tran Anh Hung�s Cyclo (1995).
First, some details on Tran Anh Hung and his films. Tran has had an interesting and varied career. Born in South Vietnam when there was still a South Vietnam, his family emigrated to France following the fall of Saigon. It was in France that he made his first feature film, The Scent of Green Papaya (1993), a gentle and impressionistic exploration of a young girl�s experiences as a house servant in pre-war Vietnam. The movie was a French-Vietnamese co-production filmed entirely in studios in Paris.
Made just two years later, Cyclo looks like it was made by a different filmmaker altogether. Filmed on-location in Ho Chi Minh City, Cyclo is gritty and grotesque and sometimes disturbingly violent, in sharp contrast to the leisurely and inoffensive �coming-of-age� story told in The Scent of Green Papaya. Cyclo follows two main plot strands: in the first strand, we find an unnamed cyclo driver (a cyclo�or xich lo in the idiosyncratic Vietnamese adaptation of the Roman alphabet�is basically a bicycle rickshaw, as far as I can tell) whose cyclo has been stolen and who has no way of getting it back (this is one of those movies where there don�t seem to be police anywhere) and so starts doing jobs for local mobsters to make money. It�s kind of one of those �downward spiral� sorts of crime movies at this point.
The other plot strand follows the cyclo-driver�s sister (also nameless, played by Tran Nu Y�n-Kh�, Tran Anh Hung�s wife) and her boyfriend (Hong Kong superstar Tony Leung Chiu-wai, designated in the credits as �the Poet�). The boyfriend is a gangster and he�s kind of introducing his girlfriend to the world of prostitution. I say �kind of,� and perhaps �sex work� would be a more accurate term than �prostitution,� because the premise is that she provides fetish play without sexual penetration to her clients. This is something of a digression, but I must mention one of the client�s fetishes, because it�s one of the most elaborate perversions I�ve ever seen depicted: He has the sister stand in her underwear in a tub of dough and step up and down in it while he lies on the ground with a stethoscope, listening to the sound of her stepping in the dough.
Well, as he continues to pimp his girlfriend, Leung�s character becomes increasingly skeptical about the rightness of this activity, because (A) he apparently loves her and (B) he�s aware that he�s debauching her. And this leads up to the greatest use of diegetic music I�ve ever encountered. The scene, which I will show you momentarily, unfolds like this: Leung and a would-be client sit at a table in a bar/dance club negotiating the terms of the sister�s services while periodically glancing over at the dance floor, where the sister�a hand-cuff attached to one wrist�is suggestively dancing to Radiohead�s �Creep.� And as she does so, and as Leung continues his negotiations, he seems to come to the realization that he himself is a �creep,� if ever there was one, and he abruptly up and flees the night club, just as Thom Yorke reaches the bridge and commands, �Ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuun.� It�s perfect! Here�s the scene in its entirety:
Wasn�t that great? I can never hear �Creep� without thinking about Cyclo. The only other song I can think of that�s become inextricably linked with a film in my mind is the Kinks� �This Time Tomorrow,� as it appears in Philippe Garell�s 2005 film, Regular Lovers (Les amants r�guliers). I will close this post with that scene, for your delectation:
