The 60 best soundtracks of all time
“I was looking forward to him playing me something melodic,” said Steven Spielberg. “But John Williams,” and the director held out two fingers as if they were two old socks, “was just pounding away on the low keys with these two, faster and faster.” Spielberg burst out laughing at the time. This was supposed to be the theme of Jaws? Today this melody counts Williams to the classics of film music. The hunting motif still causes discomfort, more than 40 years after the cinema premiere. It is a masterpiece of effectiveness.
Music influences the assessment of an event. It amplifies or softens what we see – it manipulates. The shark in the water becomes faster because the rhythm dictates it. Sound and image then together form our impression, which becomes memory. Nothing illustrates this interaction better than the film that John Williams quotes: Alfred Hitchcock’s “Psycho”. Of course, the shower scene in which Marion Crane is murdered with a knife by Norman Bates also works without music – a good film has to work without music. But the stabbings reveal greater horror because the composer Bernard Herrmann illustrates them with staccato strings. As Leigh’s blood flows towards the drain, the viscous sound of a cello joins in. As if it were this totality of all sounds that was responsible for death and then erased all traces.
And what happened after this world-famous scene was completed? A deep rift arose between the director and his resident composer. Hitchcock wanted the shower murder without instrumental accompaniment, probably just wanted to hear the stabbings. Would “Psycho” have been just as good then? You don’t want to believe in it. The desire for music is too great, the knowledge that it simply has to make pictures better.
How film music is remembered
Sometimes your memory messes with your plans. Not even the musicians themselves are immune to this. Ennio Morricone said he considers the opening scene of Sergio Leone’s spaghetti western “Play Me a Song of Death” to be one of his greatest triumphs. A bloodbath, says the master, to the sounds of “Man with a Harmonica”. We know the harmonica melody, but the problem is: it doesn’t even appear in the moment quoted by Morricone. The beginning even has no score at all. Morricone remembered wrong – but the music is so closely tied to the film that you think it’s playing on a loop.
We have selected the 60 best soundtracks. We have taken into account those that consist primarily of self-composed pieces or adaptations of existing material (such as Walter Carlos’ “Clockwork Orange”). Samplers of long-released hits (“Pulp Fiction”, “Trainspotting”) and scores to which the film was more of an accompanying work – rather than the other way around, as is appropriate for a soundtrack (which means Prince’s “Purple Rain” is omitted) were not included. All scores are ordered chronologically.
Read here: The best soundtracks of all time.
Gone with the Wind (1939)
Max Steiner
The world-famous final melody, Rhett leaves Scarlett and she collapses on the steps of the plantation, is mistakenly treated as a love theme. However, it is dedicated to the country estate “Tara” – Steiner’s two and a half hour soundtrack was so opulent: even buildings were honored. Twelve “Original Scores” were nominated at the 1940 Oscars, but Steiner lost to Herbert Stothart’s “Wizard of Oz.”
Elevator to the scaffold (1958)
Miles Davis
Director Louis Malle considered it a coup to have hired Davis for his Jeanne Moreau film – for the trumpeter it was a commissioned work, completed after two days. The five-piece band improvised on a screen projection of the film. It’s remarkable how Davis drove the evolution of jazz. Cool jazz became this free-floating modal jazz – which in turn is a precursor to free jazz.
Ben Hur (1959)
Miklós Rosza
The mother of all epic scores, and with over three hours of music (out of a film length of 212 minutes) it is said to be the longest soundtrack of all time. For his drama about a fallen prince who fights back as a slave, director William Wyler hired the Hungarian Miklós Rósza, the top composer of his time, known for his collaborations with Hitchcock and Billy Wilder.
Psycho (1960)
Bernard Herrmann
The “legendary shower scene” should be in every film music handbook: Herrmann relied on staccato strings, accentuating Hitchcock’s quickly edited murder. The suspicion that the shrill sounds were generated electronically was refuted: the microphones were placed close to the instruments. Hitch originally wanted the sequence without music, which led to a falling out between director and composer.
Out of breath (1960)
Martial Solal
The great irritation was that Godard’s Nouvelle Vague pioneer film, which was designed for realism, was given a jazz soundtrack that was less narrative and more self-sufficient. Pianist Solal, now 90 years old, gave the pulsating city atmosphere of Paris the appropriate hectic pace with his shimmering keyboard playing and additional strings.
West Side Story (1961)
Leonard Bernstein
As musical director of the New York Philharmonic, Bernstein was the logical choice for the screen adaptation of the Broadway hit. The film by directors Robert Wise and Jerome Robbins is even more popular than the stage version; Bernstein and his lyricist Stephen Sondheim hired three times as many musicians as intended. An orchestral spectacle, as if instruments could dance.
Lawrence of Arabia (1962)
Maurice Jarre
Jarre received his first Oscar, and the alliance with director David Lean would lead to further Academy Awards (“Doctor Zhivago,” “Journey to India”). The dream team was the inspiration for Steven Spielberg/John Williams. It had everything in it: the vastness, the exotic, the loneliness, the miracle of life. “Lawrence of Arabia” established the soundtrack as a force of nature.
The Pink Panther (1963)
Henry Mancini
The title tune is dedicated to the jewel thief Phantom (David Niven) – but of course everyone thinks of the four-legged friend who was later immortalized in a comic series when he hears the song, which contrasts velvet-pawed curiosity with shock blasts (feeling: caught!). At the same time, composer Mancini established his unprecedented symphonic jazz with Latino influences.
A Hard Day’s Night (1964)
The Beatles
As well as “Magic Mystery Tour” (1967), the Fab Four’s third studio album, stands on its own and is appreciated even without the film (director: Richard Lester). “And I Love Her” and “Can’t Buy Me Love” were hits, the band’s further development was shown in the title track, which laments Beatlemania. Harrison’s iconic opening chord represents madness. It sounds crooked and somehow not crooked.
My songs – my dreams (1965)
Richard Rodgers
Of course, “Edelweiss” is not the national anthem of Austria, but Robert Wise’s dreamy and political musical film adaptation (it deals with the annexation of the Alpine state to Nazi Germany) has also found its way into pop culture. Björk refers to it in “Dancer In The Dark”, Christian Bruhn reminds us of it with his “Heidi”. Rodgers’ “The Sound Of Music” (original title) is the finest escapism.
Dance of the Vampires (1967)
Krzysztof Komeda
He could have become the most sought-after composer in Hollywood, but the 37-year-old died in 1969 as a result of a fall at a party. Komeda equipped Roman Polanski’s bloodsucker grotesque with diabolical choirs, with Eastern European folklore that makes everyone’s hair stand on end – but also with a hymn to the beautiful Sharon Tate (“Sarah In Bath”).
Play me the song of death (1968)
Ennio Morricone
Everyone probably knows the melody, but it is the second part of “Man With A Harmonica” that defined the style: a heavenly, proudly marching choir transforms the bloodthirsty cowboys into glorious fighters. The anti-hero motif survived the spaghetti western, and whenever Tarantino unleashes his killers, who are his saviors, he has Morricone in mind.
In the heat of the night (1967)
Quincy Jones
As a police officer tasked with solving a murder in a racist southern community, Sidney Poitier, Hollywood’s first black superstar, received musical support from Quincy Jones and, in the title song, Ray Charles: “Stars with evil eyes stare from the sky…”. A win-win-win situation that brought Norman Jewison’s drama five Oscars – but none for the three African Americans.
Bullitt (1968)
Lalo Schifrin
Alongside John Barry, Schifrin, now 85, was considered the man for spy music. The pianist celebrated his breakthrough with “Mission Impossible” and Peng!-Peng! Orchestra, but the score for Peter Yates’ cop thriller was his masterpiece. Tense brass thump, lurking bass, percussive continuous fire. The Argentinian re-recorded it with the WDR Big Band in 2000.
On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (1969)
John Barry
Barry’s eleven Bond scores are all spectacular, this one overwhelms with the courage to prepare the title motif as a purely instrumental mixture of band and orchestra and with Louis Armstrong’s divine “We Have All The Time In The World”. The other pieces can be found today on cocktail jazz samplers and as recording music for Rocko Schamoni’s shows.