What's the Deal with Soundtrack Albums?: Metal Music and the Customized Aesthetics of Contemporary Horror Joseph Tompkins Cinema Journal, 49, Number 1, Fall 2009, pp. 65-81 (Article) Published by University of Texas Press DOI: 10.1353/cj.0.0155 For additional information about this article http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/cj/summary/v049/49.1.tompkins.html Access provided by Allegheny College (28 Jan 2014 19:36 GMT) What’s the Deal with Soundtrack Albums? Metal Music and the Customized Aesthetics of Contemporary Horror by JOSEPH TOMPKINS Abstract: This essay argues that fi lm music functions not only as a cross-promotional medium for marketing movies and licensed recordings, but also as a key site for ef- fectively managing and containing processes of consumption. Heavy metal music is deployed in horror fi lms like Freddy vs. Jason (Ronny Yu, 2003) to interpellate particular niche audiences and taste communities. Thus, soundtrack albums reveal a fundamen- tal assumption within media fi rms that a manageable relationship between niche for- mats and consumer tastes exists to be exploited. inutes into the 2003 crossover horror fi lm, Freddy vs. Jason (Ronny Yu), the audience is treated to a brief moment of “bite size theory.”1 Wasting no time in serving up the slaughter, we watch (and hear) as Jason stalks, cor- M ners, and impales with his trusty machete yet another unsuspecting, lustful teen—a hapless young girl who just wanted to take a midnight swim in the nude. However, before we resign ourselves to business as usual—Jason’s back again to hunt down pesky adolescents who really ought to know by now that the woods are not a safe place to be at night (didn’t the poor girl hear the menacing string har- monics and Jason’s signature heavy breathing?)—something uncanny happens: the victim comes back to life. Skewered to a tree, the undead girl rehearses a litany of slasher horror fi lm no-nos: “I should have been watching the children; not drinking; not meeting a boy at the lake.” The self-reproach continues as one victim morphs into another: “I deserve to be punished; we all deserve to be punished.” Next, Jason’s mother appears to reassure her son (and the audience) of his trademark 1 I’m borrowing the phrase “bite size theory” from Michael Bérubé; see his essay, “Bite Size Theory: Popularizing Academic Criticism,” Social Text 36 (Autumn, 1993): 84–97. The author wishes to thank Richard Leppert, Mary Douglas Vavrus, Doyle Greene, and Julie Wilson for their helpful comments on previous drafts of this article. He also thanks the editor and the two anonymous reviewers for their valuable feedback and suggestions. Joseph Tompkins is a PhD candidate in the Department of Cultural Studies and Comparative Literature at the University of Minnesota. He researches horror fi lms, fi lm music and sound, and critical media theory. © 2009 by the University of Texas Press, P.O. Box 7819, Austin, TX 78713 P.O. Press, © 2009 by the University of Texas www.cmstudies.org 49 | No. 1 | Fall 2009 65 04_Tompkins_065-081_CJ_49-1.indd65 65 11/20/09 11:02:20 AM Cinema Journal 49 | No. 1 | Fall 2009 Figure 1. The blood-soaked opening title for Freddy vs. Jason (New Line Cinema, 2003). “gift” of imperishability—“no matter what they do to you, you cannot die”—before sending him on his way to Elm Street, where there’s more carnage—and to be sure, more profi ts—to be had. In case we needed catching up, this sequence does it for us by way of a savvy plot contrivance that intermixes pop culture with pop theory. Borrowing a Cliffs Notes page from Robin Wood, the fi lm crudely rehearses Freudian theories of the slasher killer as superego incarnate in order to refl exively comment on itself, its two ghastly protago- nists, and their (rightful) place in the sordid pantheon of horror fi lm baddies. With not a little irony, the fi lm stakes a claim for a Freddy and Jason revival, knowing full well that the audience is in on the game. In fact, one might even say the producers are banking on it. But something else is going on here as well. Before Jason makes his way to Elm Street to duke it out with Freddy on his home turf, the title credits hack their way through a fl esh-colored backdrop (Figure 1). As the title appears, soaked in blood, the dripping noises that hint at the splatter and gore about to ensue give way to the aggres- sive nu metal riffs of Spineshank’s “Beginning of the End.” The music lasts but a few seconds, just long enough to aurally register the intertextual linkages: metal and horror seem to be a match made in hell (or the executive boardroom). The music cues us to hear the coming together of these two horror franchise heavyweights in a particular way, not only endowing the title sequence with a particular mood or atmosphere, but also lending New Line Cinema’s twin holdings a fresh brand identity. Put differently, aside from its formal and narrative functions of highlighting the title letters and easing the visual transition from one shot to the next, the soundtrack also works to manage our experience of Freddy and Jason more generally, aurally tagging these two franchises to fi t a certain market niche. So, while we enjoy another slice ’em and dice ’em episode in the Freddy and Jason chronicles, we’re encouraged to associate the metal music we hear with the spectacular viewing pleasures of horror; at the same time, the soundtrack becomes the locus for an effective practice of content manage- ment, where fi lm and music industries are able to swap their respective properties in order to repurpose extant material and diversify potential markets. 66 04_Tompkins_065-081_CJ_49-1.indd66 66 11/20/09 11:02:22 AM Cinema Journal 49 | No. 1 | Fall 2009 On the whole, the customized Freddy vs. Jason metal-infused soundtrack, which in- tersperses instrumental cues with bits of prerecorded metal music, resonates nicely with the opening tongue-in-cheek sequence. Both amount to shrewd textual devices aimed at a particular taste culture. Whereas the title music forgoes the traditional, somber orchestral score in favor of a rompish, generic metal tune, the opening scene heralds what will be a thoroughly postmodern fi lmic experience, replete with inter- textual slasher fi lm references and astute self-refl exive gestures that reward audience members according to varying levels of pop culture literacy. In short, this is a studio fi lm that knows, in terms of the market, where its bread is buttered.2 Taking a step back to examine recent developments affecting the fi lm and music in- dustries, we might understand the Freddy vs. Jason soundtrack as part of a more general corporate strategy that seeks to rationalize consumption in order to mitigate market uncertainty. This practice is not new; fi lm music has long served as a central cross- promotional medium for marketing both movies and motion picture soundtracks.3 However, the current industrial context of conglomeration and concentration signifi - cantly extends fi lm music’s promotional reach and commercial functions. In addition to selling soundtrack CDs, fi lm music functions as a site for launching new artists, pro- viding a renewed platform for singles or “leftover” tracks, and, most importantly, orga- nizing consumption patterns by positioning media products according to the imagined tastes, preferences, and habits of idealized target demographics. Therefore, in order to better understand what, exactly, is the deal with the sort of fi lm music deployed in horror fi lms like Freddy vs. Jason, one needs to examine the “critical industrial practices” that impinge upon cultural—which is to say, textual—production.4 As John Caldwell notes, ongoing structural changes—conglomeration, increasing market segmentation, the introduction of new technologies, and the rise of online media—have fundamentally transformed the cultural and economic function of me- dia texts. In particular, what Caldwell terms “critical textual practices” are one way for culture industry managers and professionals to further consolidate their political and economic power by actively intervening in discussions regarding “the formation of culture and the signifi cance of media in that formation.”5 For Caldwell, “critical textual practices” describe the way “ancillary” media texts—like the soundtrack al- bum—have become an integral site where the industry is able to “comment on itself,” 2 The obvious fi nancial incentives driving the crossover fi lm lend new meaning to what Linda Schulte-Sasse dubs the “knowingness” of postmodern horror cinema. Commenting on the highly self-refl exive character of horror fi lm texts, Schulte–Sasse borrows from Philip Brophy’s description of modern horror as, essentially, a “genre about a genre.” See Linda Schulte-Sasse, “The Mother of All Horror Movies: Dario Argento’s Suspiria,” Kinoeye 2, no. 11 (2002), www .kinoeye.org/02/11/schultesasse11.php (accessed March 10, 2008); and Philip Brophy, “Horrality: The Textuality of Contemporary Horror Films,” Screen 27, no. 3–4 (1986): 5. 3 See, for example, Jeff Smith, The Sounds of Commerce: Marketing Popular Film Music (New York: Columbia Uni- versity Press, 1998); and Alexander Doty, “Music Sells Movies: (Re)New(ed) Conservatism in Film Marketing,” Wide Angle 10, no. 2 (1988): 70–79. 4 See John T. Caldwell, “Critical Industrial Practice: Branding, Repurposing, and the Migratory Patterns of Industrial Texts,” Television & New Media 7, no. 2 (2006): 99–134. 5 Ibid., 102. 67 04_Tompkins_065-081_CJ_49-1.indd67 67 11/20/09 11:02:22 AM Cinema Journal 49 | No.