Singin' In The Rain - The Function Of The Number In A Musical
Thoughts On: Singin' In The Rain (1952) & Other Musicals
A look at the place and purpose of musical numbers with the musical narrative.
One of the most fascinating genres of all cinema, I find, is the musical, for it is likely one of the most complex and, its individual films, some of the most difficult to construct. A musical, especially in Indian cinema, is, contrary to the genre's title, not characterised by just music. The musical is almost always a conglomeration of multiple genres; it is in Indian cinema that we find the most genres collide in 'masala films'. So, whilst the foundation of a musical is song, mapped over this is so often dance, action, romance and more.
Much could be explored in regards to the presence of multiple genres inside what is supposedly one genre, the musical, but, what fascinates me more today is the foundation of the musical. What I would then like to explore today is the place of musical number in the musical.
It seems self-evident that there are two kinds of musical numbers, those that do and do not help tell and progress the story. This is a very common notion in the criticism and analysis of musicals. It can be formulated at such: certain numbers fall into the diegesis of the general narrative whilst others temporarily form a new diegetic space, an extradiegesis. This is, in a way, just a more complicated way of saying that certain musical numbers help progress the story and others do not. However, if we take a while to pick this idea apart, this idea of musicals numbers that either form their own diegesis or fit into the already existing one, we can find some interesting ground.
Diegesis is a confusing concept when we try to define it. It emerges from ancient Greek and means 'narration' or 'narrative'. Greeks, such as Plato, drew a distinction between diegesis and mimesis. Mimesis means representation or imitation. It, like diegetic, has come to mean something beyond a basic definition. However, fundamentally, we can think of mimesis as acting and diegesis as narration. To tell a story diegetically, one would use narration: "Jeff was one day hungry, so he decided to make lunch". To tell a story mimetically, one would use action alone; we would simply see Jeff indicate he is hungry and then make lunch. The difference between diegetic and mimetic storytelling is that, in the case of memisis (acting), story emerges from within a constructed space, whilst, in the case of diegesis (narration), story is told from above, outside of a constructed space.
It seems that, as these terms have descended through the ages and been translated and reconceptualised, they have come to mean something more complicated. Mimesis is generally thought of abstractly in the field of literary theory; it is conceptualised as a philosophy of art as an imitation of life. We reserve the idea of drama for acting and have taken the process of acting (mimesis) and held it over the formation of art more generally. Diegesis, on the other hand, has stopped meaning narration. In fact, in the field of film criticism, the meaning of this word has been inversed. Instead of describing narration, i.e something that exists beyond the story being told, diegetic describes the story itself, the narrative. Thus, everything that is on screen and apart of the space of a given story is diegetic. In this sense, Jeff making his sandwich on screen is apart of the diegesis. However, the narration of this process would be non-diegetic as the narration does not naturally come from Jeff's kitchen.
The film Blazing Saddles is a particularly interesting one in regards to its toying with the meaning of diegetic and diegesis. Blazing Saddles is a spoof Western about a black man who becomes one of the very first sheriffs in the Old West. Take a look at this clip that first shows Bart as the newly appointed black sheriff:
What is diegetic and non-diegetic in this scene? The joke/gimmick is that it's impossible to really determine. Let us take the obvious example of the music to dissect briefly. As we first see Bart in his uniform and on his horse, we hear anachronistic jazz music that is to be associated with black American culture - thus stereotype is shattered. Bart's outfit further breaks stereotype, replacing the expected sheriff garb with a stylised, 'pimped out' suite meant to emphasise and supportively play with the appropriation of what we'd consider a white man's role by a black man. The jazz supports this tongue and cheek appropriation, but from this resonance, arguably, comes a cheapness. This is to suggest that Brooks (director) does the obvious in not only making a sheriff dress 'black', but also in giving him a theme tune that is equally 'black'. He reverses this association, however, and pokes fun at this stereotype-breaking (but nonetheless highly stereotypical) harmony by putting a full jazz orchestra in the middle of the desert.
The appearance of the orchestra reveals that the music that seemed non-diegetic (not part of the actual world) to actually be diegetic; thus, the jazz band is taken out of a recording studio that is never acknowledged on film and put in the actual desert with the hero. However, in featuring the jazz band in the desert, does Brooks really make the sound diegetic, or does he entirely transform the space and thus create a new diegesis? Does Brooks make a joke separate from the actual story (the diegesis) or can this joke be considered to be apart of the story?
Before answering these questions, it is important to realise the end of the story. After his introduction, the black sheriff has to defend a small town against bandits. However, the crooked official who sent the black sheriff to the town also sent the bandits; he did this so he could drive everyone out and profit from the railroad that is to be built through it. As the final showdown between the bandits and the town plays through, we suddenly cut to the studio in which the Western is being shot. We then get this scene:
The finale of this movie is entirely summed up by this chaos. Brooks makes a postmodern spoof Western about Westerns that not only plays with the old genre tropes, but re-creates a vision of the world in which these films were created. Thus, the Western set is connected to a 30s musical set. However, is the reality beyond the Western the 1930s? Or is it the 70s (when Blazing Saddles was actually made)?
We are not supposed to care about this, rather, it is the recognition that there is no defined and real space, no diegesis, that is supposed to make this funny. I don't think this smart-ass anarchy is particularly funny, but Blazing Saddles remains an interesting deconstruction of the rules of what is diegetic and non-diegetic, of what is a true story space and what is merely apart of a much wider contrivance.
It is with Blazing Saddles that we find an extreme contrast and confusion of diegetic and non-diegetic. But, traditionally, it is very obvious what is and is not apart of the diegesis. Let us then look at this clip from a classical Western:
What we see on screen, John Wayne giving the girl to her family, is the story: it is the diegesis. However, the music that plays on top of this is not in the world even though it seems like it could be of it: it is non-diegetic. And this is despite the fact that the music is commenting on the diegetic space, essentially telling John Wayne to ride away. Alas, because the non-diegetic music and diegetic space are perceived by the viewer, and constructed in a way to do this, they form the greater cinematic space, a meta-diegesis if you'd have it.
The difference between this scene from The Searchers and Blazing Saddles is that the entire cinematic space, the meta-diegesis, of The Searches is confined; we understand that the world is wholly contrived for the purpose of conveying the story - even with flares of information that are not from the world of the story. In Blazing Saddles, there is no confinement of the general narrative. The story then has no distinctive diegetic base, nothing that we can point to sand say this is the story and its space. Instead, the story spreads, very literally, beyond the fourth wall, beyond the screen and out into something approximating the real world with endless self-consciousness. Traditionally, the audience and the artist are a narrative's only links to reality (the artist to a far lesser degree). (For more on this topic, click here). But, what Brooks does, and what filmmakers rarely do, is give the diegetic space autonomy and consciousness to connect itself to the world and not have a true diegesis.
The two examples we have just looked at demonstrate the boundaries of diegesis in the traditional and spoof film; a spoof film has no strict diegesis to speak of whilst the traditional narrative is very confined. The musical is fascinating because it often has a diegetic space, but it is of a slightly autonomous nature. As described previously, musical numbers can inject into the general diegesis of a narrative a separate diegesis that remains connected, thus becoming self-conscious to some degree.
To conceptualise this, we can think of a narrative to be akin to a cell.
A cell, contains a nucleus, mitochondria, robisomes and more floating in cytoplasm. These structures help the cell function: the nucleus contains DNA that is copied. Ribosomes take this copy of DNA and turn it into protein. This protein is whisked out of the cell and used to fuel other parts of the body. Mitochondria keep this process going, giving fuel to the structures that make this protein from DNA, and thus the body stays alive.
A narrative is similar to this in that drama (conflict) is manifested by action and turned into information (meaning, entertainment) by characters before being exported out of the cinematic space to the audience. Structure and supportive characters/villains, fuel the construction of conflict and its transformation into meaning/entertainment. This all occurs in the equivalent of cell cytoplasm: the liquid in which everything floats in a cell. A narrative's cytoplasm is its diegetic space: is the frame of a screen and story.
Whilst a narrative constructs its meaning and entertainment, it must be noted that 'the cell' receives material from the outside. This extracellular material that is accepted into the cell, the narrative, is its non-diegetic components: a musical score, narration and various other sound effects being the most typical materials welcomed. And so this is how the cell/narrative functions: it creates its own materials with extracellular support.
Cells, every now and then, do more than just produce proteins that are released. At times, they cultivate a large mass of material that forms a bud.
We can see in this picture of a budding yeast cell that there is a point in this process where one cell becomes two attached cells, connected by an internal cytoplasm. In a film such as Blazing Saddles, what occurs is that one cell, one diegetic space, gives birth to a multitude of other cells and spaces via budding. The only way to understand this narrative is then to zoom out of the cell and have a meta-viewing of events and thus see a conglomeration of narrative cells. In musicals, however, there forms a bud that does not always become severed from the main cell. This bud is the musical number.
The musical number described as a bud implies that it is born of the narrative, but separate from it. Not entirely detached, however, it shares the diegetic fluid in which the primary drama exists. With such a conceptualisation, it is easily accepted that the musical number is extradiegetic, is an attachment to the story, not entirely connected or separated.
It must be noted at this moment that not all musicals utilise musical numbers. There is an operatic mode of the cinematic musical that sees all of the dialogue sung and accompanied by music. In films such as this, an example being The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, there is no classical musical number; there is no bud that sprouts out of an original cell. With that said, we can begin to look at the common musical and its musical numbers.
In my estimation, musical numbers bud from the narrative with one of two processes. The bud is either made by 'the cell' by constructing specific materials for it alone, or, it constructs new materials that are distributed throughout the entire cytoplasm. In our allegory, we have to assume that the new cell that forms a bud is different from the original cell; we mean this formally as the musical number is different from the traditional cinematic space as suddenly everyone is singing and dancing unrealistically. To build this bud, material different from that which exists in the original cell must be contrived. As we have already suggested, this new material can either be confined to the new bud alone, or, some may remain in the original bud.
What we are suggesting with this allegory is simple: some musical numbers are further separated from a narrative they emerge from because they are made up of their own diegetic material, whereas other musical numbers remain closer linked to the original narrative and even change its composition in coming into existence. We come, here, all the way back to the assertion that some musical numbers affect the story whilst others just exist by its side. However, with our exploration of diegesis and our conceptualisation of narrative as a cell, this simple assertion becomes more complicated and precise.
Let us now expand with a look at some examples. We shall start with an expected, classical example of the musical: Singin' In The Rain. This is a film about silent movie stars who have to make talking pictures for the first time. Two central characters are a movie star couple. They've always hated each other, but were always associated with one another on the silent screen. As the talkies come in, the leading man falls in love with a new actress whilst struggling to make films with his old co-star. This story forms the main diegesis with support from exradiegetic musical numbers.
In one famous sequence, The Good Morning sequence, the leading man, his friend and his love interest decide they will make the terrible romantic talky he has just starred in into a musical (hence, save it). The day, or rather morning, then seems to be a good one:
The motivation for this song is a new idea. However, the function of the song is to express the emotions of the characters. The music and dance is the means of expressing emotion and thus this is slightly separate from the original narrative, but it is nonetheless helping to build character. It is then an important part of the narrative as it preempts the realisation that the plan may fail because of Gene Kelly's (Don Lockwood's) co-star, Lina. This musical sequence is then slightly transformative of the main diegesis as it impacts the story in general through character by making a mini-narrative out of their emotion. We find a similar outcome of the titular song:
Here, the musical number is an expression of how Gene Kelly's character feels: he has surely fallen in love. It then transforms the diegesis of the film as it emphasises the presence of love and romance. This musical number does this despite not effecting the plot; in the musical number Gene Kelly is not arrested, nor does he fall ill, and so this does effect anything beyond this moment, it merely emphasises a feeling. This number is then not highly transformative as its impact on the diegesis it steps out of is not literal, it is only felt in our conception of character.
With our next number, we go to further back in the narrative to a point at which Gene Kelly's character lacks the motivation to act in film. His friend, however, is there to help:
Because this is such a distracted and elongated number, it is very easily suggested that this has nothing to do with the general narrative and its diegesis; thus it forms its own extradiegetic space divorced from the original diegesis. This is not very true, however. This musical number presents the core theme of the narrative and supplies its underlying meaning. It then rationalises that role of the actor is to do what he does best, which is act, and in acting, in having the show go on, he entertains. This idea maps onto Don Lockwood's relationship with Cathy. He forces the show to go on the only way he can: by being himself. Instead of living a lie with Lina, the actor, somewhat ironically, has to start living the truth. And this sentiment is born in this sequence. Thus, it impacts the diegesis of the narrative by emphasising theme.
Our next example is a number that is not very well attached to the diegesis of the narrative. Whilst Don Lockwood struggles to learn how to speak for the talkies, there is this moment:
This number is seemingly motivated by nothing other than the film's yearning for spectacle, entertainment and music. Spectacle of this sort always plays a part in the motivation for a song to start in Singin' In The Rain - this is why each song is only slightly transformative; the songs are only so necessary. (The film wouldn't work without the songs, however - and not just because it'd be boring, but because it'd be less expressive).
A need for spectacle creates the most separate musical 'buds' that stick out of a narrative like a rather sore thumb. It is because we recognise that these numbers are there for spectacle alone that we can so easily criticise them and musicals more generally. If the story is subservient to the music, why have a story? It is the attachment of the musical number's diegesis with the narrative diegesis that puts them on equal playing fields and justifies the musical's existence.
One could argue that the musical died and struggles to be revived because of music videos. Why make a whole movie just to shoot a few music videos when we have (and have for decades now) the technology and platforms to just watch music videos? As a side-note, Indian musicals seem to thrive, not necessarily because they balance narrative with musical number, but because the music industry and film industry are so deeply connected. In most other countries there is no such relationship and so the musical has been allowed to die away whilst (for this among many other reasons) it remains a strong part of Indian cinema.
That said, let us move on to the penultimate example of a musical number from Singin' In The Rain. Here, we are going to be shown the new footage that has been shot for the terrible film that Don Lockwood is trying to save. This is the second of two numbers we are shown consecutively:
As brilliant as these two numbers are, they simply fill up time with spectacle; the spectacle is maybe self-justifying, but it could have linked with the narrative, in terms of theme and meaning, more coherently. Because this number comes about opportunistically, it is non-diegetic or entirely extradiegetic: it is a musical within a musical, an off-shoot of the plot, but has almost nothing to do with the original story.
What we then see presented by Singin' In The Rain is an array of musical numbers that each are linked to the main diegesis of the story differently. Some numbers impact the space through theme, other through character, some through tone, but almost all have a strong basis in spectacle. There is only one particular number that progresses the plot whilst juggling character and genre. It is with You Were Meant For Me that Cathy and Lockwood come together...
This is heavily linked to the main diegesis of Singin' In The Rain and is one of the most directly transformative numbers in the film because it literally moves the plot along - there are a few other partially musical moments, but they are not necessarily full-blown numbers, that also progress the plot (such as the You Are My Luck Star moment). So, it is having looked at the rather diverse array of numbers and their functions from Singin' In The Rain that we start to grip how musical numbers can impact diegesis as well as formulate their own space in a musical.
It is having established some good ground with Singin' In The Rain that I'd like to take a look at a few other numbers from other films to question function beyond attachment to the main diegesis of a narrative. We then start with a scene from Shall We Dance In Which Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers have to pretend to be married, but do not get along:
This number flows away from the main diegetic space by seeing dialogue overtaken by song, which is overtaken by dance. The plot is then progressed in this number before theme and character are given a bump. In such, we see the two characters conflict yet dance together, harmonise over their disharmony - such being the fundamental idea of the film. From this there further emerges spectacle. And so its with this number that we can take a moment to emphasise the place of spectacle in the musical.
Most musical numbers are put in place so that something dazzles the audience; in Old Hollywood cinema, what dazzled in the best musicals was the skill of the performers - this is a rarity these days. Having said that, spectacle is not in and of itself meaningless. As we see with in Shall We Dance, spectacle allows the filmmakers to package a huge chunk of the narrative into a highly expressive extradiegesis. That is to say that the bud that the musical number forms is a concentrated version of the main cell. This can be seen in most great musical numbers. Whether they progress story or not, they will almost always aim to summarise and emphasise a particular moment. We see this in the abrupt musical moment from 500 Days of Summer:
The burst into song and dance is a statement made by the director: he uses the musical number impressionistically to show how the world can change around us when we fall in love. This is done in many movies. However, its function is to take a section of the narrative and condense it into a concentrate of all the emotion we are wanted to feel from a certain phase of the narrative.
We see musical numbers fail and become rather cheap spectacle when they do not encapsulate or express a section of narrative. This can be seen the film film Ishq. This is about two rich kids who fall in love with poorer kids despite their fathers' hatred for lower castes. Late in this narrative, we jump into this song, and it has very little to do with anything:
Here we have just one example of spectacle for spectacle's sake. This number fails because it does not attempt to transform the plot, theme or characters, nor does it try to express the spirit of a section of the narrative. Alas, this brings us to another function of the musical number. Whilst it so often has us step outside of a moment it can also (and sometimes simultaneously) push us into it. We have referenced this already with our mention of songs that express character or emotion, but let us look at a number from Dil Se. (Lyric translation here).
This is probably my favourite musical number ever put to film. And the reason for this is its ability to step inside a character and foreshadow a possible narrative to come. This is then the first musical number that comes early on in Dil Se. Shahrukh Khan's character sees a girl he likes at a train station and tries to buy her tea - tries to grab her attention in any way he can. She, however, brushes him off and then leaves on her train before taking the tea he buys. He watches her train go and we step inside his head to see his imagining of the two dancing as they travel, walking in the shade of love.
Most of the songs in Dil Se drive into characters' imaginations to not only capture the feeling of a previous scene, but to express this feeling through a character's perception. A good example of a particularly surreal number in which colour and location play a significant role comes later in the narrative. This moment is about love that should not be, but just might manifest. Unbeknownst to Khan's character, he has fallen in love with a terrorist and she for him. This number encapsulates the passion they feel for one another despite their differences. (Lyric translation here).
The kind of expression seen in Dil Se is particularly brilliant as it is subtly transforming the space by delving into character and providing insight. However, it is more common to see characters express themselves in a slightly more operatic mode. A good example of this comes from Sweeney Todd, which is a film about a barber who wants to kill an evil judge who betrayed him and a woman who, fruitlessly, falls in love with him:
Here is a great example of characters telling us how they feel and what they plan, revealing the subtext of the narrative and foreshadowing character and narrative arcs to come. The mode of storytelling here is less complicated than that seen in Dil Se, but it is not too dissimilar in its function. In such, we are given insight into how characters feel, and mapped over this is lyric, poetic spectacle.
Forms of insight are multitudinous, but the two key types of musical number that transform the main diegesis of a narrative do so by exploring character or theme. We have already seen examples of characters being explored so let us take one final look at a musical number. This is from Swades and it is a moment where the plot stops so that our main character can explore the developing ideas of the narrative. Thus he sings about meaning, giving insight into theme, and the potential of children beyond their assigned castes. (Lyric translation here).
What we may determine at this point is that there are two key modes of musical numbers that transform the cinematic space. On one hand, spectacle is the source of transformation, which is to say that affection through music is the function of a musical number. In these circumstances, information we already have is condensed and highlighted. Another mode of the transformative number introduces new information with insight. This is what we see in Dil Se, Sweeney Todd and more: we are given new information and insight (concerning characters, theme and more) that transforms the diegesis. We can label these two modes the transformative spectacular mode and the transformative insightful mode; one mode steps back from the narrative and the other steps into it. That said, let it be emphasised that numbers can easily contain insight and spectacle.
Much more could be analysed in regards to the musical number's impact on diegesis and drama, but we will conclude having established that musical numbers are often extradiegetic. The best extradiegetic spaces, however, are transformative, and so they change the story they step away from. And the purpose of us exploring this is to be able to judge musicals critically, with specificity and an eye that sees the musical elements as narrative components, not just attachments of fun.
So, before we end, I want to leave things open to you. What do you think about the function of musical numbers? How do some of your favourite songs on film impact the general narrative?
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A look at the place and purpose of musical numbers with the musical narrative.
One of the most fascinating genres of all cinema, I find, is the musical, for it is likely one of the most complex and, its individual films, some of the most difficult to construct. A musical, especially in Indian cinema, is, contrary to the genre's title, not characterised by just music. The musical is almost always a conglomeration of multiple genres; it is in Indian cinema that we find the most genres collide in 'masala films'. So, whilst the foundation of a musical is song, mapped over this is so often dance, action, romance and more.
Much could be explored in regards to the presence of multiple genres inside what is supposedly one genre, the musical, but, what fascinates me more today is the foundation of the musical. What I would then like to explore today is the place of musical number in the musical.
It seems self-evident that there are two kinds of musical numbers, those that do and do not help tell and progress the story. This is a very common notion in the criticism and analysis of musicals. It can be formulated at such: certain numbers fall into the diegesis of the general narrative whilst others temporarily form a new diegetic space, an extradiegesis. This is, in a way, just a more complicated way of saying that certain musical numbers help progress the story and others do not. However, if we take a while to pick this idea apart, this idea of musicals numbers that either form their own diegesis or fit into the already existing one, we can find some interesting ground.
Diegesis is a confusing concept when we try to define it. It emerges from ancient Greek and means 'narration' or 'narrative'. Greeks, such as Plato, drew a distinction between diegesis and mimesis. Mimesis means representation or imitation. It, like diegetic, has come to mean something beyond a basic definition. However, fundamentally, we can think of mimesis as acting and diegesis as narration. To tell a story diegetically, one would use narration: "Jeff was one day hungry, so he decided to make lunch". To tell a story mimetically, one would use action alone; we would simply see Jeff indicate he is hungry and then make lunch. The difference between diegetic and mimetic storytelling is that, in the case of memisis (acting), story emerges from within a constructed space, whilst, in the case of diegesis (narration), story is told from above, outside of a constructed space.
It seems that, as these terms have descended through the ages and been translated and reconceptualised, they have come to mean something more complicated. Mimesis is generally thought of abstractly in the field of literary theory; it is conceptualised as a philosophy of art as an imitation of life. We reserve the idea of drama for acting and have taken the process of acting (mimesis) and held it over the formation of art more generally. Diegesis, on the other hand, has stopped meaning narration. In fact, in the field of film criticism, the meaning of this word has been inversed. Instead of describing narration, i.e something that exists beyond the story being told, diegetic describes the story itself, the narrative. Thus, everything that is on screen and apart of the space of a given story is diegetic. In this sense, Jeff making his sandwich on screen is apart of the diegesis. However, the narration of this process would be non-diegetic as the narration does not naturally come from Jeff's kitchen.
The film Blazing Saddles is a particularly interesting one in regards to its toying with the meaning of diegetic and diegesis. Blazing Saddles is a spoof Western about a black man who becomes one of the very first sheriffs in the Old West. Take a look at this clip that first shows Bart as the newly appointed black sheriff:
What is diegetic and non-diegetic in this scene? The joke/gimmick is that it's impossible to really determine. Let us take the obvious example of the music to dissect briefly. As we first see Bart in his uniform and on his horse, we hear anachronistic jazz music that is to be associated with black American culture - thus stereotype is shattered. Bart's outfit further breaks stereotype, replacing the expected sheriff garb with a stylised, 'pimped out' suite meant to emphasise and supportively play with the appropriation of what we'd consider a white man's role by a black man. The jazz supports this tongue and cheek appropriation, but from this resonance, arguably, comes a cheapness. This is to suggest that Brooks (director) does the obvious in not only making a sheriff dress 'black', but also in giving him a theme tune that is equally 'black'. He reverses this association, however, and pokes fun at this stereotype-breaking (but nonetheless highly stereotypical) harmony by putting a full jazz orchestra in the middle of the desert.
The appearance of the orchestra reveals that the music that seemed non-diegetic (not part of the actual world) to actually be diegetic; thus, the jazz band is taken out of a recording studio that is never acknowledged on film and put in the actual desert with the hero. However, in featuring the jazz band in the desert, does Brooks really make the sound diegetic, or does he entirely transform the space and thus create a new diegesis? Does Brooks make a joke separate from the actual story (the diegesis) or can this joke be considered to be apart of the story?
Before answering these questions, it is important to realise the end of the story. After his introduction, the black sheriff has to defend a small town against bandits. However, the crooked official who sent the black sheriff to the town also sent the bandits; he did this so he could drive everyone out and profit from the railroad that is to be built through it. As the final showdown between the bandits and the town plays through, we suddenly cut to the studio in which the Western is being shot. We then get this scene:
The finale of this movie is entirely summed up by this chaos. Brooks makes a postmodern spoof Western about Westerns that not only plays with the old genre tropes, but re-creates a vision of the world in which these films were created. Thus, the Western set is connected to a 30s musical set. However, is the reality beyond the Western the 1930s? Or is it the 70s (when Blazing Saddles was actually made)?
We are not supposed to care about this, rather, it is the recognition that there is no defined and real space, no diegesis, that is supposed to make this funny. I don't think this smart-ass anarchy is particularly funny, but Blazing Saddles remains an interesting deconstruction of the rules of what is diegetic and non-diegetic, of what is a true story space and what is merely apart of a much wider contrivance.
It is with Blazing Saddles that we find an extreme contrast and confusion of diegetic and non-diegetic. But, traditionally, it is very obvious what is and is not apart of the diegesis. Let us then look at this clip from a classical Western:
What we see on screen, John Wayne giving the girl to her family, is the story: it is the diegesis. However, the music that plays on top of this is not in the world even though it seems like it could be of it: it is non-diegetic. And this is despite the fact that the music is commenting on the diegetic space, essentially telling John Wayne to ride away. Alas, because the non-diegetic music and diegetic space are perceived by the viewer, and constructed in a way to do this, they form the greater cinematic space, a meta-diegesis if you'd have it.
The difference between this scene from The Searchers and Blazing Saddles is that the entire cinematic space, the meta-diegesis, of The Searches is confined; we understand that the world is wholly contrived for the purpose of conveying the story - even with flares of information that are not from the world of the story. In Blazing Saddles, there is no confinement of the general narrative. The story then has no distinctive diegetic base, nothing that we can point to sand say this is the story and its space. Instead, the story spreads, very literally, beyond the fourth wall, beyond the screen and out into something approximating the real world with endless self-consciousness. Traditionally, the audience and the artist are a narrative's only links to reality (the artist to a far lesser degree). (For more on this topic, click here). But, what Brooks does, and what filmmakers rarely do, is give the diegetic space autonomy and consciousness to connect itself to the world and not have a true diegesis.
The two examples we have just looked at demonstrate the boundaries of diegesis in the traditional and spoof film; a spoof film has no strict diegesis to speak of whilst the traditional narrative is very confined. The musical is fascinating because it often has a diegetic space, but it is of a slightly autonomous nature. As described previously, musical numbers can inject into the general diegesis of a narrative a separate diegesis that remains connected, thus becoming self-conscious to some degree.
To conceptualise this, we can think of a narrative to be akin to a cell.
A cell, contains a nucleus, mitochondria, robisomes and more floating in cytoplasm. These structures help the cell function: the nucleus contains DNA that is copied. Ribosomes take this copy of DNA and turn it into protein. This protein is whisked out of the cell and used to fuel other parts of the body. Mitochondria keep this process going, giving fuel to the structures that make this protein from DNA, and thus the body stays alive.
A narrative is similar to this in that drama (conflict) is manifested by action and turned into information (meaning, entertainment) by characters before being exported out of the cinematic space to the audience. Structure and supportive characters/villains, fuel the construction of conflict and its transformation into meaning/entertainment. This all occurs in the equivalent of cell cytoplasm: the liquid in which everything floats in a cell. A narrative's cytoplasm is its diegetic space: is the frame of a screen and story.
Whilst a narrative constructs its meaning and entertainment, it must be noted that 'the cell' receives material from the outside. This extracellular material that is accepted into the cell, the narrative, is its non-diegetic components: a musical score, narration and various other sound effects being the most typical materials welcomed. And so this is how the cell/narrative functions: it creates its own materials with extracellular support.
Cells, every now and then, do more than just produce proteins that are released. At times, they cultivate a large mass of material that forms a bud.
We can see in this picture of a budding yeast cell that there is a point in this process where one cell becomes two attached cells, connected by an internal cytoplasm. In a film such as Blazing Saddles, what occurs is that one cell, one diegetic space, gives birth to a multitude of other cells and spaces via budding. The only way to understand this narrative is then to zoom out of the cell and have a meta-viewing of events and thus see a conglomeration of narrative cells. In musicals, however, there forms a bud that does not always become severed from the main cell. This bud is the musical number.
The musical number described as a bud implies that it is born of the narrative, but separate from it. Not entirely detached, however, it shares the diegetic fluid in which the primary drama exists. With such a conceptualisation, it is easily accepted that the musical number is extradiegetic, is an attachment to the story, not entirely connected or separated.
It must be noted at this moment that not all musicals utilise musical numbers. There is an operatic mode of the cinematic musical that sees all of the dialogue sung and accompanied by music. In films such as this, an example being The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, there is no classical musical number; there is no bud that sprouts out of an original cell. With that said, we can begin to look at the common musical and its musical numbers.
In my estimation, musical numbers bud from the narrative with one of two processes. The bud is either made by 'the cell' by constructing specific materials for it alone, or, it constructs new materials that are distributed throughout the entire cytoplasm. In our allegory, we have to assume that the new cell that forms a bud is different from the original cell; we mean this formally as the musical number is different from the traditional cinematic space as suddenly everyone is singing and dancing unrealistically. To build this bud, material different from that which exists in the original cell must be contrived. As we have already suggested, this new material can either be confined to the new bud alone, or, some may remain in the original bud.
What we are suggesting with this allegory is simple: some musical numbers are further separated from a narrative they emerge from because they are made up of their own diegetic material, whereas other musical numbers remain closer linked to the original narrative and even change its composition in coming into existence. We come, here, all the way back to the assertion that some musical numbers affect the story whilst others just exist by its side. However, with our exploration of diegesis and our conceptualisation of narrative as a cell, this simple assertion becomes more complicated and precise.
Let us now expand with a look at some examples. We shall start with an expected, classical example of the musical: Singin' In The Rain. This is a film about silent movie stars who have to make talking pictures for the first time. Two central characters are a movie star couple. They've always hated each other, but were always associated with one another on the silent screen. As the talkies come in, the leading man falls in love with a new actress whilst struggling to make films with his old co-star. This story forms the main diegesis with support from exradiegetic musical numbers.
In one famous sequence, The Good Morning sequence, the leading man, his friend and his love interest decide they will make the terrible romantic talky he has just starred in into a musical (hence, save it). The day, or rather morning, then seems to be a good one:
The motivation for this song is a new idea. However, the function of the song is to express the emotions of the characters. The music and dance is the means of expressing emotion and thus this is slightly separate from the original narrative, but it is nonetheless helping to build character. It is then an important part of the narrative as it preempts the realisation that the plan may fail because of Gene Kelly's (Don Lockwood's) co-star, Lina. This musical sequence is then slightly transformative of the main diegesis as it impacts the story in general through character by making a mini-narrative out of their emotion. We find a similar outcome of the titular song:
Here, the musical number is an expression of how Gene Kelly's character feels: he has surely fallen in love. It then transforms the diegesis of the film as it emphasises the presence of love and romance. This musical number does this despite not effecting the plot; in the musical number Gene Kelly is not arrested, nor does he fall ill, and so this does effect anything beyond this moment, it merely emphasises a feeling. This number is then not highly transformative as its impact on the diegesis it steps out of is not literal, it is only felt in our conception of character.
With our next number, we go to further back in the narrative to a point at which Gene Kelly's character lacks the motivation to act in film. His friend, however, is there to help:
Because this is such a distracted and elongated number, it is very easily suggested that this has nothing to do with the general narrative and its diegesis; thus it forms its own extradiegetic space divorced from the original diegesis. This is not very true, however. This musical number presents the core theme of the narrative and supplies its underlying meaning. It then rationalises that role of the actor is to do what he does best, which is act, and in acting, in having the show go on, he entertains. This idea maps onto Don Lockwood's relationship with Cathy. He forces the show to go on the only way he can: by being himself. Instead of living a lie with Lina, the actor, somewhat ironically, has to start living the truth. And this sentiment is born in this sequence. Thus, it impacts the diegesis of the narrative by emphasising theme.
Our next example is a number that is not very well attached to the diegesis of the narrative. Whilst Don Lockwood struggles to learn how to speak for the talkies, there is this moment:
This number is seemingly motivated by nothing other than the film's yearning for spectacle, entertainment and music. Spectacle of this sort always plays a part in the motivation for a song to start in Singin' In The Rain - this is why each song is only slightly transformative; the songs are only so necessary. (The film wouldn't work without the songs, however - and not just because it'd be boring, but because it'd be less expressive).
A need for spectacle creates the most separate musical 'buds' that stick out of a narrative like a rather sore thumb. It is because we recognise that these numbers are there for spectacle alone that we can so easily criticise them and musicals more generally. If the story is subservient to the music, why have a story? It is the attachment of the musical number's diegesis with the narrative diegesis that puts them on equal playing fields and justifies the musical's existence.
One could argue that the musical died and struggles to be revived because of music videos. Why make a whole movie just to shoot a few music videos when we have (and have for decades now) the technology and platforms to just watch music videos? As a side-note, Indian musicals seem to thrive, not necessarily because they balance narrative with musical number, but because the music industry and film industry are so deeply connected. In most other countries there is no such relationship and so the musical has been allowed to die away whilst (for this among many other reasons) it remains a strong part of Indian cinema.
That said, let us move on to the penultimate example of a musical number from Singin' In The Rain. Here, we are going to be shown the new footage that has been shot for the terrible film that Don Lockwood is trying to save. This is the second of two numbers we are shown consecutively:
As brilliant as these two numbers are, they simply fill up time with spectacle; the spectacle is maybe self-justifying, but it could have linked with the narrative, in terms of theme and meaning, more coherently. Because this number comes about opportunistically, it is non-diegetic or entirely extradiegetic: it is a musical within a musical, an off-shoot of the plot, but has almost nothing to do with the original story.
What we then see presented by Singin' In The Rain is an array of musical numbers that each are linked to the main diegesis of the story differently. Some numbers impact the space through theme, other through character, some through tone, but almost all have a strong basis in spectacle. There is only one particular number that progresses the plot whilst juggling character and genre. It is with You Were Meant For Me that Cathy and Lockwood come together...
This is heavily linked to the main diegesis of Singin' In The Rain and is one of the most directly transformative numbers in the film because it literally moves the plot along - there are a few other partially musical moments, but they are not necessarily full-blown numbers, that also progress the plot (such as the You Are My Luck Star moment). So, it is having looked at the rather diverse array of numbers and their functions from Singin' In The Rain that we start to grip how musical numbers can impact diegesis as well as formulate their own space in a musical.
It is having established some good ground with Singin' In The Rain that I'd like to take a look at a few other numbers from other films to question function beyond attachment to the main diegesis of a narrative. We then start with a scene from Shall We Dance In Which Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers have to pretend to be married, but do not get along:
This number flows away from the main diegetic space by seeing dialogue overtaken by song, which is overtaken by dance. The plot is then progressed in this number before theme and character are given a bump. In such, we see the two characters conflict yet dance together, harmonise over their disharmony - such being the fundamental idea of the film. From this there further emerges spectacle. And so its with this number that we can take a moment to emphasise the place of spectacle in the musical.
Most musical numbers are put in place so that something dazzles the audience; in Old Hollywood cinema, what dazzled in the best musicals was the skill of the performers - this is a rarity these days. Having said that, spectacle is not in and of itself meaningless. As we see with in Shall We Dance, spectacle allows the filmmakers to package a huge chunk of the narrative into a highly expressive extradiegesis. That is to say that the bud that the musical number forms is a concentrated version of the main cell. This can be seen in most great musical numbers. Whether they progress story or not, they will almost always aim to summarise and emphasise a particular moment. We see this in the abrupt musical moment from 500 Days of Summer:
The burst into song and dance is a statement made by the director: he uses the musical number impressionistically to show how the world can change around us when we fall in love. This is done in many movies. However, its function is to take a section of the narrative and condense it into a concentrate of all the emotion we are wanted to feel from a certain phase of the narrative.
We see musical numbers fail and become rather cheap spectacle when they do not encapsulate or express a section of narrative. This can be seen the film film Ishq. This is about two rich kids who fall in love with poorer kids despite their fathers' hatred for lower castes. Late in this narrative, we jump into this song, and it has very little to do with anything:
Here we have just one example of spectacle for spectacle's sake. This number fails because it does not attempt to transform the plot, theme or characters, nor does it try to express the spirit of a section of the narrative. Alas, this brings us to another function of the musical number. Whilst it so often has us step outside of a moment it can also (and sometimes simultaneously) push us into it. We have referenced this already with our mention of songs that express character or emotion, but let us look at a number from Dil Se. (Lyric translation here).
This is probably my favourite musical number ever put to film. And the reason for this is its ability to step inside a character and foreshadow a possible narrative to come. This is then the first musical number that comes early on in Dil Se. Shahrukh Khan's character sees a girl he likes at a train station and tries to buy her tea - tries to grab her attention in any way he can. She, however, brushes him off and then leaves on her train before taking the tea he buys. He watches her train go and we step inside his head to see his imagining of the two dancing as they travel, walking in the shade of love.
Most of the songs in Dil Se drive into characters' imaginations to not only capture the feeling of a previous scene, but to express this feeling through a character's perception. A good example of a particularly surreal number in which colour and location play a significant role comes later in the narrative. This moment is about love that should not be, but just might manifest. Unbeknownst to Khan's character, he has fallen in love with a terrorist and she for him. This number encapsulates the passion they feel for one another despite their differences. (Lyric translation here).
The kind of expression seen in Dil Se is particularly brilliant as it is subtly transforming the space by delving into character and providing insight. However, it is more common to see characters express themselves in a slightly more operatic mode. A good example of this comes from Sweeney Todd, which is a film about a barber who wants to kill an evil judge who betrayed him and a woman who, fruitlessly, falls in love with him:
Here is a great example of characters telling us how they feel and what they plan, revealing the subtext of the narrative and foreshadowing character and narrative arcs to come. The mode of storytelling here is less complicated than that seen in Dil Se, but it is not too dissimilar in its function. In such, we are given insight into how characters feel, and mapped over this is lyric, poetic spectacle.
Forms of insight are multitudinous, but the two key types of musical number that transform the main diegesis of a narrative do so by exploring character or theme. We have already seen examples of characters being explored so let us take one final look at a musical number. This is from Swades and it is a moment where the plot stops so that our main character can explore the developing ideas of the narrative. Thus he sings about meaning, giving insight into theme, and the potential of children beyond their assigned castes. (Lyric translation here).
What we may determine at this point is that there are two key modes of musical numbers that transform the cinematic space. On one hand, spectacle is the source of transformation, which is to say that affection through music is the function of a musical number. In these circumstances, information we already have is condensed and highlighted. Another mode of the transformative number introduces new information with insight. This is what we see in Dil Se, Sweeney Todd and more: we are given new information and insight (concerning characters, theme and more) that transforms the diegesis. We can label these two modes the transformative spectacular mode and the transformative insightful mode; one mode steps back from the narrative and the other steps into it. That said, let it be emphasised that numbers can easily contain insight and spectacle.
Much more could be analysed in regards to the musical number's impact on diegesis and drama, but we will conclude having established that musical numbers are often extradiegetic. The best extradiegetic spaces, however, are transformative, and so they change the story they step away from. And the purpose of us exploring this is to be able to judge musicals critically, with specificity and an eye that sees the musical elements as narrative components, not just attachments of fun.
So, before we end, I want to leave things open to you. What do you think about the function of musical numbers? How do some of your favourite songs on film impact the general narrative?
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