The Sound of Combat: The Role of Music in Martial Arts Cinematic Fight Scenes
Producing for an audience that is often enthralled with fast action, many films in the last decades have shifted their tolerances to allow an interruption in their narrative for the thrill of extended combat scenes. The constructions of combat scenes are approached differently than the rest of the film: specific combat choreography, weapon choice, speed of camera filming, the variety of cuts and angles, environment and weather, and the costume choice of protagonists and antagonists are all given special attention. The distinction of these scenes from the surrounding narrative is reflected also in the scoring of the music that accompanies these scenes. Martial arts films look back to history to inform their scores; throughout history, there is a clear connection between music and martial arts. When Bruce Lee revolutionizes the practices of martial arts filmography, the pioneering scoring techniques become refined. A schism emerges at the turn of the century between traditional music styles (used in Asian Wuxia films) and popular music (especially in French martial arts films). What emerges through an examination of the contrasting works of the martial arts genre is the threefold function of music in the fight scenes. First, music is the foundation to which the martial arts choreography is synced, which is an inversion of its role in film otherwise, and because of this, it refrains from commenting on the fight. Second, music is brought to the forefront of the audio landscape, likely following the classical role of substituting for dialogue. Third, music grounds the practice of martial arts in history by elevating it from primitive or savage fist-fighting to a contemporary relevance in the narrative setting. All of these functions can be seen in a selection of films that represent the diversity of martial arts film subgenres.
Throughout the ages, music is inextricably tied to martial arts. This connection is not unique to a single culture. Generally speaking, the essence of the martial arts film genre is informed by the East-Asian cultural areas (specifically those areas of China, Japan, and Korea). The legendary war strategist Sun Tzu confirms the link between drum and rhythm music and martial arts as early as the Sung Dynasty (960-1126), used as a communication tactic during military combat, especially nighttime conflicts: “Gongs, drums, pennants, and flags are the means to unify the men’s ears and eyes.”[1] Other archaeological sources further suggest that some commanders used drums, “taigu,” continually during a battle to distract and demoralize the opponent.[2] The function of drumming in feudal Japan reflects the military functions in China.[3] At least in Japan, however, traditional drumming, “taiko,” was connected to the gods and often had a place in the royal courts.[4] It is from these two cultures that the modern day martial arts arise to complement combat filmography and it is therefore appropriate that the traditional drumming is similarly used to complement the film score.
Another art that is less known, but arguably impressionistic on the film techniques of the last several decades, is the dance martial art capoeira. Though sources disagree on its true origins, film and capoeira expert Andrew Kingsford-Smith contends that the art was brought to Brazil by African slaves in the 1700’s, who in turn revived and edited the practice of the art in order to avoid persecution.[5] Capoeira, in present form, is a game in which two competitors are continually moving and kicking in rhythm to the music that is generated by a circle of spectators with drums, instruments and sometimes lyrics. Many of the motions, especially the kicks, resemble many of the kicks in East-Asian martial arts,[6] but it is not certain whether one was influenced by the other or if there is even a connection.
Other notable martial arts that are directly interwoven with music include the Philippine martial art of the Eskrima (Philippine Arnis) and the Hawaiian Ha’A Koa (Dance of the Warrior). Eskrima is a martial art that focuses on combat with rattan sticks that are about an inch wide and two and a half feet long. Practitioners may use a single stick in the dominant hand or two sticks. Martial arts amateur and researcher Tammy Johnston explains that this art, much like capoeira, was combined with music to prevent persecution by the Spanish in the 1700’s.[7] The result was a stick-dance that was equally lethal as it was artistic. Hawaiian Ha’A Koa is a dance art that combines a variety of instruments, oils, and dance with martial arts movements, such as offensive techniques with a boat paddle.[8] Both of these arts likely have contributed to the tradition of accompanying game or combat activities with music.
In the 1970s, renowned actor Bruce Lee, who rose to stardom in the East as an actor in the 1960s, became known internationally by three movies: The Big Boss (1971), Enter the Dragon (1972), and Game of Death (1978). These movies jump-start the international hype over martial arts in cinema and pave the way for such actors as Chuck Norris, Jackie Chan, David Carradine, and movies like Karate Kid (1984). It also set the tone for later actors such as Jet Li, Michelle Yeoh, Zhang Ziyi, Jason Statham, and Donnie Yen, as well as the entire Wuxia and action/thriller genres. Plausibly, Bruce Lee’s cinematic career influenced how such movies as the Star Wars original trilogy, among others choreographed their own fight scenes. It should be noted that several icons around Bruce Lee’s time and earlier, such as Muhammed Ali and Jhoon Rhee, did in fact stimulate a predisposed interest in the fighting arts for the wider public.
A pristine model of the construction of Bruce Lee’s fight scenes can be seen as the final fight in Game of Death.[9] In this scene, Hai Tien (Lee), is moving up the floors of a pagoda to reach his ultimate nemesis. On each floor, he must overcome a different martial arts champion. John Barry, the composer of the film score for this movie, wrote simple accompaniments that appeal both to the contemporary audience and to the Asian musical tradition. The music is produced by electronic synthesizers and other rock band instruments, both popular groups of instruments among the movie-going public in the 70’s. The harmonies themselves, however, used many parallel fourths and pentatonic scales, both characteristic structures of Eastern styles.
Unique to Bruce Lee’s martial arts films, with regards to scoring, is the abundance of silence. There are long periods during a fight scene when there is no music. The effect created by silence is one of hypersensitivity to the action of the fight and an elevated sense of suspense with regard to the outcome. During the silent times, when there is no commentary on the advantage of the fight, no mickey-mousing, and the audience is left “holding their breath,” so to speak. Since Bruce Lee’s films are pioneering the genre, it is only predictable that the very aspect of them that makes them unique would be capitalized upon. With this in mind, the uses of silence and music are clear: begin the fight scene in silence, then add music so that the audience will tolerate an elongation of the fight.
In this movie, there are five distinct scoring themes used to accompany Bruce Lee’s final combat sequence. Each fight begins with the theme of silence as Hai Tien (Lee) meets each nemesis. The fight with the nunchuku assailant actually lasts nearly two minutes before any nondiagetic music is heard. The second music theme is alternations between minor chords on a synthesizer and random drumming (presumably on a timpani or bass drum). This theme section uses some mickey-mousing to highlight the hits and throws. However, this theme section is used the least amount of the themes. The third theme accompaniment is introduced when Hai Tien meets the Gold Belt Karate Champion. This music is built on the characteristic Asian sound of open fourths and fifths:[10]
This figure is the first measured tempo heard in the accompaniment, at 120 bpm. This theme is not synced to any of the hits or throws and is generally loud. It is at the forefront of the audio, only quieter than the yelling. The fourth theme accompaniment is more reminiscent of a 70’s disco or popular music at the same pulse and is harmonically related to the previous theme:[11]
This theme area, like the former, does not mickey-mouse. It is quieter overall than the former but still second only to the screaming of the fight. The fifth theme that is used to accompany the fight sequences is introduced during the fight with the tall afro/sunglass man. It is a basic rock beat, also at 120 bpm, and is alluding to the beats of the popular rock bands or rap accompaniment of the era.[12] It does not have a hummable melody, but pitched material is created on a synthesizer. All musical themes are interspersed throughout. Silence is used only for the seconds in between fight sequences and cued by the defeating blow dealt to each nemesis by Hai Tien. Overall, the entire fight sequences last nearly 15 minutes (1:21-1:35), and is without any real development to the narrative plot.
What is created by this movie is a series of four possibilities for fight scene accompaniment: silence, classical score music with mickey-mousing, constant world/ethnic/traditional music, and popular/contemporary music. Of these, there seems to be a favor toward the world music and the popular music, neither of which use mickey-mousing and both of which are of a constant beat, since these types of music were accompanying the vast majority of the combat. These two types of music will be the essential divide between the two branching genres of martial arts films: those of the ancient Asian films (Wuxia) and those of contemporary action films. It is apparent that future martial arts film producers feel a stronger need for cohesion between the setting of the film (ancient or contemporary) and the style of music that is used. Furthermore, it seems that the subsequent martial arts film producers and composers completely neglect the free-flowing mickey-mousing music heard at points in these early fight sequences. Some silence is used by successors, more often as a precursor to fight scenes. The final custom that is clearly established by Bruce Lee’s movies, as represented in this fight sequence, is the raised volume of the fight scene music.
Perhaps the most well known Wuxia film in the genre is Ang Lee’s certain masterpiece Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.[13] Score composer Tan Dun uses a combination of western instruments and ethnic Chinese instruments, alongside cello soloist Yo Yo Ma, in a true tour de force of world music film scores during the turn of the century.[14] The score is generally sublime and fulfills the traditional roles of the classical film score: it smoothens transitions, covers time, relates to the character of the scene, and comments on themes of honor, loyalty, love, and envy. What is important about this film, as well as Hero (for which he also composed), Tan Dun steps beyond the classical film composer line and is involved in the production as a whole.[15] This suggests two-way dialogue between the plot and the score, as it affirms the dialogue between Tan Dun and Ang Lee. Therefore, his decisions for the score, including the fight scenes, are more autonomous and have the freedom to transcend the rut of subservience.
Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon is known in martial arts film circles for its marriage of the extremes of Chinese martial arts with wire techniques, producing a flying effect with leaps and kicks. In the fight between Jen, the thief in the night, and Shu Lien, the guest at the victim's home, the music is limited to ethnic Chinese drums in the style of the taigu/taiko drumming. The suspenseful scene leading up to the confrontation is marked by an ostinato in the claves alternating with a pluck or two from a string instrument (along with a barely audible pedal tone in the string basses), performed at about 126 bpm:[16]
When master Bo becomes alerted to Jen the thief, the music moves immediately to the ethnic Chinese drums and all pitched instruments cease while the drums take up the ostinato in a relentless repetition, signally the true beginning of the fight scene. As the fight ensues, a diagetic gong is rung by a guard but the drumming continues until it is broken by a free-rhythm clave that is signaling master Bo’s realization that the thief is of the Governor’s household. Suddenly, the scene cuts back to Shu Lien in hot pursuit of Jen, the two literally flying over the rooftops with the wires while the ostinato in the ethnic drums resumes, just as relentless as before, now at 144 bpm. The fight continues with the two martial artists flying and leaping with superhuman strength, until they find that the fight has taken them up over the walls of a giant courtyard. As the taigu drumming progresses, the new parts rhythms of the drumming are heard:[17]
When the third measure of this taigu pattern is played, there is an instance of when the fight scene is synced to the pattern of the music. The repetitive eighth-sixteenth-sixteenth-eighth note rhythms inspire an overhead visual shot of the two women spinning kicks over and under each other. Suddenly, Shu Lien is interrupted by a dart from somewhere above the buildings and in her distraction, Jen is able to get away. At this point, the drums accelerate to near 176 bpm while Jen is floating away by the wires and cease suddenly when Shu Lien is left alone in the courtyard.
In this briefly analyzed example, Tan Dun is appealing to the role of drumming to accompany combat, the same drumming outlined by Sun Tzu, as a refined Chinese war tradition. Therefore, the music helps to disguise the improbability of the wire techniques and elevate the fighting from just throwing punches and kicks to something more along the lines of strategic war tactics and combat prowess. The style of drumming is directly related to taigu/taiko drumming. Notice in Attachment A, a transcribed taiko work by Koki Suzuki and distributed by Taiko Resource Center how the traditional eastern drumming work called Harmony begins with a simple homophonic ostinato in all drums. This is similar to the clave ostinato rhythm that moves to the drums as the fight ensues. As the Harmony progresses, the rhythms become more polyphonic and active, as is also heard in Tan Dun’s score. The tempo marking in Harmony is at quarter note at 160 bpm. The pulse in Tan Dun’s drum piece begins at 126 bpm, then 144 bpm, then accelerating to 176 bpm. The mean of these tempi is around 150 bpm, which is near the marking in Harmony. The taigu drumming in the film does not mickey-mouse any of the strikes and, like Harmony, changes texture and pattern by its own agency. It does not change rhythm or place any accent or special technique alongside the combat. Noting these similarities between Harmony and the score for Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, it is clear that the fight is synced to a traditional format taigu/taiko work. Though there is some dialogue, the volume of the drumming is elevated: it is not just background music, but something more central to the audiovisual spectacle. The unique functions of fight scene music are obvious in this traditional Wuxia fight scene set in ancient china, as they are in others.
One of the most fascinating fight scenes in the Wuxia genre is found in Zhang Yimou’s highly praised work, Hero. The movie is about an assassination attempt on the Qin ruler in ancient China. Throughout the land are many assassins, none of who are powerful enough to reach the ruler, except one. In order to approach the throne, this secret assassin, Nameless (Jet Li), who originated from the conquered state of Zhou, must gain the confidence of the king by killing other major assassins. Nameless develops and perfects a technique that looks like it kills without truly being fatal. He enlists the sacrifices of four assassins in the province and stages the battles with them in order to approach the throne. His first “battle” is with a spear-wielding assassin named Sky. The confrontation opens with Nameless challenging Sky as he departs the chess house before leaping into a sword strike that is narrowly blocked by Sky. After a brief scuffle accompanied by the characteristic Chinese taigu drums (nondiagetic) at 120 bpm, Nameless requests a blind musician in the vicinity accompany the two warriors on his guqin by a monetary payment.
Nameless then speaks an aside to the audience (in the narrative as a recounting of the fight to the king): “Martial arts and music are different, but they share the same principles. Both stress attaining a supreme state. Sky and I faced each other for a long time. Neither of us moved. We both fought the battle in our minds.” The filming becomes grey scale with nondiagetic screams in the background as the audience is taken to the fight inside the warriors minds, a world where the diagetic music of the real narrative world is technically nondiagetic to this imaginary world. In this imaginary world, the martial arts is closely and carefully synced with the free flowing pentatonic music of the guqin, which is a complete subversion of the usual function of film music being synced to the plot. The imaginary fight scene ends as the blind man strums so aggressively he breaks all the strings on his guqin and the audience is brought back to reality with the reentrance of the traditional score with taigu drumming as Nameless leaps into a strike in slow motion, cutting the raindrops and defeating Sky.
The selection of the guqin tells a lot about the plot in general, but also about this specific fight. The guqin is among the highest regarded instruments of archaic China; it is the instrument of the learned, scholars, and poets.[18] It is a complex instrument with seven strings and various plucking techniques. A general examination of the written music[19] of the guqin reveals several things about guqin performance that is closely connected to what is seen and heard in Hero.Though some of the notation is of this present-day guqin work is of western format, it is nevertheless an accurate representative of the traditional performance. Firstly, there is great variety and fluctuation in the dynamics and tempo of the work. Much like a spectacle martial arts fight, there is little or no constancy. Secondly, the guqin work is very much a free-flowing recitative style with some reoccurring ideas (like that of the 1—161331 pattern), but is for the most part fairly unpredictable. Thirdly, the work is complex and imprecise. Like martial arts, guqin music relies heavily on oral tradition (that is, leading by example) instead of learning from a written source. In the setting of the movie (the Warring States period of China, pre 200 B.C.E), the guqin was used in the aristocracy to accompany the reciting of poetry.[20] These characteristics of guqin performance are essential in dissecting this fight scene and uncovering the function of music in fight scene filmography.
The radical construction of music for this fight scene reinforces the reoccurring themes that fight scenes are choreographed and synced with the music, not the other way around. The guqin music is at the forefront of the audio presentation. Therefore, use of the guqin speaks to an elevated role of music for this interruption in the narrative plot line. Using the poetic guqin superimposes a feeling of elegance and refinement on what would otherwise be seen as barely better than primitive scuffling; the combat is a poetic ancient Chinese art.
On the other end of the spectrum of martial arts films lies Kiss of the Dragon, a French action film from 2001 featuring Jet Li as Liu Siu-Jian “Johnny,” a Chinese cop at the Chinese embassy in France who is set up by a crooked French detective to take the fall for the murder of a Chinese ambassador. The film score is by Craig Armstrong and is functioning in the classical role. Unlike the two Wuxia films, this film employs contemporary rap and popular songs, (appropriately because it is set in the present day). The narrative of this movie is fascinating: it can be clearly divided into two threads. The first thread is the plot itself, in which Johnny must uncover the murder plot, save the young sex slave, and rescue her daughter from Inspector Richard. The second is the plot about Johnny’s martial arts abilities. At the beginning of the movie, Johnny enters the hotel and sees “the twins,” two tall blonde men who are clearly formidable martial artists themselves. Other henchmen as well are set up in this way. Throughout the plot, Johnny continues to confront these martial artists who are competing with him for the martial arts title, from gunmen to a Karate class, and Johnny always defeats them with ease. That is, until the twins confront him at the end of the movie in the martial arts fight scene that has been building up since their first eye contact.
It is during this climactic fight scene that Armstrong breaks away from the traditional score. Here he inserts a rap song by American rapper Mystikal called “Mystikal Fever.” The ostinato rhythm of the rap, played on a stacked minor chord by a synthesizer is repeated throughout the entire 2:30 minute fight sequence against the twins:
Other instruments included in the song are timpani, a trap-set, an electronic harpsichord, and a synthetic drum kit. The pulse is in quarter notes (given the rhythm above) at about 96 bpm. Like the other examples, the music for this fight scene is elevated to the forefront of the auditory stage, competing only with the sounds of the fight (crashes, kicks, blocks). The constancy and repetitiveness of the rap song hides who is winning the fight. It continues until the very moment Johnny kills the first twin, at which point the music stops suddenly. It is at this point that the spectators realize that Johnny has already won the fight because either twin on their own is not capable of defeating Johnny. Therefore, when Johnny gets the advantage, it is clear who the victor is and there is no longer necessity for the music. Soon after, the film score resumes its normal role.
Another use of Armstrong’s choosing Mystikal’s rap music, aside from its refrain from commentary on who is winning the fight, is that it makes the fight 21st century “cool.” In the setting of the movie, rap and hip-hop music is analogous with the younger generation and with the most up-to-date culture fads. It is used in juxtaposition with the ancient kung-fu practices to produce the sensations of newness, trendiness, innovation, and relevance for spectators. In this way, it is acting precisely the same way the taigu drumming acts in the Wuxia films in set in ancient China: it reimagines what might normally be seen as three uncivilized barbarians in plain clothing throwing kicks and jumping around.
The impression of musical capoeira on the martial arts film industry can be seen, for example, by its centrality in the movie Only the Strong,[21] a story about a Green Beret who brings capoeira to at-risk students in a Miami school district after learning it on a term of service in Brazil. In this movie, set in the 90’s, the music is diagetic, being played over a boom box, as a manifestation of the pop-culture of the era. This uplifted status of being in the environment with the narrative highlights its essential status in the art: it would not be capoeira without any “real” diagetic music, heard by the characters, and it wouldn’t be quite right unless it was traditional capoeira music, which was recorded on a cassette and played on the boom box. The traditional capoeira music is comprised mainly of traditional Brazilian or African rhythms and Portuguese lyrics. The music itself is repetitive, constant (pulse about 92 bpm), and built mostly on rhythm instruments such as shakers and drums. It reinforces the functions set forth by Bruce Lee’s films and taken up by later producers: music is not synced to fight scenes, rather the opposite. Furthermore, it cushions the fighting and prevents it from being seen as just a gangster confrontation but a demonstration of the highest art. As Ahmad Qadir Fidaus, a capoeira master, tells reporter Sharon Wong, “If you can kick and fight, that doesn’t make you a martial artist; you’re just a fighter.”[22]
However, capoeira contributes more to martial arts choreography and overall character settings than it directly contributes aspects of its art. Take for instance the opening fight scene in Transporter 3.[23] The music starts after the silent five seconds warning Frank gives to his aggressors. The music is rhythmic and repetitive, as has been a recurring theme of the examples. It keeps a constant pulse and duple time signature around 120 bpm and uses an electric guitar and synthesized sounds in rhythm with non-melodic material. The volume of the music is at the forefront of the audio, easily competing with the sounds of the punches and crashes from the throws. The fight starts with Frank in the center of a circle of aggressors, much like the setup for capoeira, and there is even a piano next to one of the aggressors, as though it is one of the instruments of the music. The music continues while the fight is synced to the constant music: the jacket throw, the arm throw, the leg break, and the other ending moves are all timed to happen after the fourth measure of the music. In this way, this fight scene pays tribute to the rhythm and dance of capoeira while maintaining a construction of Eastern martial arts for its choreography.
The role of music in martial arts fight scenes is different than it is during the rest of the film. The audio of music is elevated, both in order to help make the special effects of fighting techniques more believable and to help the audience tolerate the breakaway from the narrative line. The music acts as a guide for the choreography of the fighting; it is something to which the fighting can be syncs to create a coherent audiovisual spectacle. The type of music that is used helps to ground the fight scene in the highest artistry of the culture, because without it, the fighting would be just a sloppy way to settle a disagreement. These functions of music were tested by John Barry in his score for Bruce Lee’s pioneer martial arts genre films. Throughout the end of the 20th century, these techniques were refined and split into two types: ancient drumming for the Wuxia genre and pop culture music for the action genre set in the present day. In spite of this split, all of the functions of the fight music remain. For an audience enamored by the thrills of combat martial arts scenes in cinema, future producers and composers are left with a challenge set forth by the progression of the genre: how far can martial arts scenes go in interrupting the narrative?
[1] Sun Tzu, Art of War, translated by Ralph D. Sawyer (New York: Basic Books, 1994), book 7 “military combat,” (page 198 of this translation). He refers to a text titled the Military Administration and his statement is in agreement.
[2] Stephen (pseud), “Chinese Traditional Drumming, Chinese Language Blog. http://blogs.transparent.com/chinese/ This blog site is hosted by a group, Transparent Language, that is affiliated with the such government agencies as the Defense Language Institute.
[3] “Overview and History,” Taiko Resource (http://www.taiko.com/).
[4] Id.
[5] Andrew Kingsford-Smith, “Disguised in Dance: The Secret History of Capoeira,” The Culture Trip http://theculturetrip.com.
[6] Sharon Wong, “Lethal dance of capoeira,” New Straits Times, September 3, 2000.
[7] Tammy Johnston, “The Martial Arts Music Connection,” NOHO, nohoartsdistrict.com.
[8] Id.
[9] Game of Death, directed by Robert Clouse and Bruce Lee (Hong Kong: Golden Harvest, 1978).
[10] Score by John Barry. My general transcription.
[11] Id.
[12] For instance, listen to “Rapper’s Delight” (1979) by the Sugarhill Gang, a formative single in the hip-hop industry. The rap accompaniment here uses the same rock beat pattern at 112 bpm.
[13] Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, directed by Ang Lee (USA: Columbia TriStar Home Entertainment, 2000).
[14] Joseph Stevenson, “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon,” AllMusic www.allmusic.com.
[15] Eric Hung, "Tan Dun Through the Lens of Western Media (Part I)," Notes 67, no. 3 (2011), page 662.
[16] Score by Tan Dun. My general transcription.
[17] Score by Tan Dun. My general transcription.
[18] Isabel Wong, “The Qin and its music” The Music of China, Cabrillo College www.cabrillo.edu, PDF document.
[19] See attachment B. The function of this music is different but similar; notice the written lyrics beneath the notation. See note 16.
[20] Wong, “The Qin and its music”: Up until the Han dynasty, when it becomes a solo instrument.
[21] Only the Strong, directed by Sheldon Lettich, (United States: Twentieth Century Fox, 1993), 22:00-26:00.
[22] Wong, “Lethal dance of capoeira.”
[23] Transporter 3, directed by Olivier Megaton, produced by Luc Besson (France: EuropaCorp, 2008), 00:12:41.
Attachment A
etc.
Attachment B
etc.
