I want to start by doing an experiment.
I'm going to play three videos of a rainy day.
But I've replaced the audio of one of the videos,
and instead of the sound of rain,
I've added the sound of bacon frying.
So I want you think carefully which one the clip with the bacon is.
(Rain sounds)
All right.
Actually, I lied.
They're all bacon.
(Bacon sizzles)
(Applause)
My point here isn't really to make you hungry
every time you see a rainy scene,
but it's to show that our brains are conditioned to embrace the lies.
We're not looking for accuracy.
So on the subject of deception,
I wanted to quote one of my favorite authors.
In "The Decay of Lying," Oscar Wilde establishes the idea
that all bad art comes from copying nature and being realistic;
and all great art comes from lying and deceiving,
and telling beautiful, untrue things.
So when you're watching a movie
and a phone rings,
it's not actually ringing.
It's been added later in postproduction in a studio.
All of the sounds you hear are fake.
Everything, apart from the dialogue,
is fake.
When you watch a movie and you see a bird flapping its wings --
(Wings flap)
They haven't really recorded the bird.
It sounds a lot more realistic if you record a sheet
or shaking kitchen gloves.
(Flapping sound)
The burning of a cigarette up close --
(Cigarette burns)
It actually sounds a lot more authentic
if you take a small Saran Wrap ball
and release it.
(A Saran Warp ball being released)
Punches?
(Punch)
Oops, let me play that again.
(Punch)
That's often done by sticking a knife in vegetables,
usually cabbage.
(Cabbage stabbed with a knife)
The next one -- it's breaking bones.
(Bones break)
Well, no one was really harmed.
It's actually ...
breaking celery or frozen lettuce.
(Breaking frozen lettuce or celery)
(Laughter)
Making the right sounds is not always as easy
as a trip to the supermarket
and going to the vegetable section.
But it's often a lot more complicated than that.
So let's reverse-engineer together
the creation of a sound effect.
One of my favorite stories comes from Frank Serafine.
He's a contributor to our library,
and a great sound designer for "Tron" and "Star Trek" and others.
He was part of the Paramount team that won the Oscar for best sound
for "The Hunt for Red October."
In this Cold War classic, in the '90s,
they were asked to produce the sound of the propeller of the submarine.
So they had a small problem:
they couldn't really find a submarine in West Hollywood.
So basically, what they did is,
they went to a friend's swimming pool,
and Frank performed a cannonball, or bomba.
They placed an underwater mic
and an overhead mic outside the swimming pool.
So here's what the underwater mic sounds like.
(Underwater plunge)
Adding the overhead mic,
it sounded a bit like this:
(Water splashes)
So now they took the sound and pitched it one octave down,
sort of like slowing down a record.
(Water splashes at lower octave)
And then they removed a lot of the high frequencies.
(Water splashes)
And pitched it down another octave.
(Water splashes at lower octave)
And then they added a little bit of the splash
from the overhead microphone.
(Water splashes)
And by looping and repeating that sound,
they got this:
(Propeller churns)
So, creativity and technology put together in order to create the illusion
that we're inside the submarine.
But once you've created your sounds
and you've synced them to the image,
you want those sounds to live in the world of the story.
And one the best ways to do that is to add reverb.
So this is the first audio tool I want to talk about.
Reverberation, or reverb, is the persistence of the sound
after the original sound has ended.
So it's sort of like the --
all the reflections from the materials,
the objects and the walls around the sound.
Take, for example, the sound of a gunshot.
The original sound is less than half a second long.
(Gunshot)
By adding reverb,
we can make it sound like it was recorded inside a bathroom.
(Bathroom gunshot)
Or like it was recorded inside a chapel or a church.
(Church gunshot)
Or in a canyon.
(Canyon gunshot)
So reverb gives us a lot of information
about the space between the listener and the original sound source.
If the sound is the taste,
then reverb is sort of like the smell of the sound.
But reverb can do a lot more.
Listening to a sound with a lot less reverberation
than the on-screen action
is going to immediately signify to us
that we're listening to a commentator,
to an objective narrator that's not participating in the on-screen action.
Also, emotionally intimate moments in cinema
are often heard with zero reverb,
because that's how it would sound if someone was speaking inside our ear.
On the completely other side,
adding a lot of reverb to a voice
is going to make us think that we're listening to a flashback,
or perhaps that we're inside the head of a character
or that we're listening to the voice of God.
Or, even more powerful in film,
Morgan Freeman.
(Laughter)
So --
(Applause)
But what are some other tools or hacks
that sound designers use?
Well, here's a really big one.
It's silence.
A few moments of silence is going to make us pay attention.
And in the Western world,
we're not really used to verbal silences.
They're considered awkward or rude.
So silence preceding verbal communication
can create a lot of tension.
But imagine a really big Hollywood movie,
where it's full of explosions and automatic guns.
Loud stops being loud anymore, after a while.
So in a yin-yang way,
silence needs loudness and loudness needs silence
for either of them to have any effect.
But what does silence mean?
Well, it depends how it's used in each film.
Silence can place us inside the head of a character
or provoke thought.
We often relate silences with ...
contemplation,
meditation,
being deep in thought.
But apart from having one meaning,
silence becomes a blank canvas
upon which the viewer is invited to the paint their own thoughts.
But I want to make it clear: there is no such thing as silence.
And I know this sounds like the most pretentious TED Talk statement ever.
But even if you were to enter a room with zero reverberation
and zero external sounds,
you would still be able to hear the pumping of your own blood.
And in cinema, traditionally, there was never a silent moment
because of the sound of the projector.
And even in today's Dolby world,
there's not really any moment of silence if you listen around you.
There's always some sort of noise.
Now, since there's no such thing as silence,
what do filmmakers and sound designers use?
Well, as a synonym, they often use ambiences.
Ambiences are the unique background sounds
that are specific to each location.
Each location has a unique sound,
and each room has a unique sound,
which is called room tone.
So here's a recording of a market in Morocco.
(Voices, music)
And here's a recording of Times Square in New York.
(Traffic sounds, car horns, voices)
Room tone is the addition of all the noises inside the room:
the ventilation, the heating, the fridge.
Here's a recording of my apartment in Brooklyn.
(You can hear the ventilation, the boiler, the fridge and street traffic)
Ambiences work in a most primal way.
They can speak directly to our brain subconsciously.
So, birds chirping outside your window may indicate normality,
perhaps because, as a species,
we've been used to that sound every morning for millions of years.
(Birds chirping)
On the other hand, industrial sounds have been introduced to us
a little more recently.
Even though I really like them personally --
they've been used by one of my heroes, David Lynch,
and his sound designer, Alan Splet --
industrial sounds often carry negative connotations.
(Machine noises)
Now, sound effects can tap into our emotional memory.
Occasionally, they can be so significant
that they become a character in a movie.
The sound of thunder may indicate divine intervention or anger.
(Thunder)
Church bells can remind us of the passing of time,
or perhaps our own mortality.
(Bells ringing)
And breaking of glass can indicate the end of a relationship
or a friendship.
(Glass breaks)
Scientists believe that dissonant sounds,
for example, brass or wind instruments played very loud,
may remind us of animal howls in nature
and therefore create a sense of irritation or fear.
(Brass and wind instruments playing)
So now we've spoken about on-screen sounds.
But occasionally, the source of a sound cannot be seen.
That's what we call offscreen sounds,
or "acousmatic."
Acousmatic sounds --
well, the term "acousmatic" comes from Pythagoras in ancient Greece,
who used to teach behind a veil or curtain for years,
not revealing himself to his disciples.
I think the mathematician and philosopher thought that,
in that way,
his students might focus more on the voice,
and his words and its meaning,
rather than the visual of him speaking.
So sort of like the Wizard of Oz,
or "1984's" Big Brother,
separating the voice from its source,
separating cause and effect
sort of creates a sense of ubiquity or panopticism,
and therefore, authority.
There's a strong tradition of acousmatic sound.
Nuns in monasteries in Rome and Venice used to sing in rooms
up in galleries close to the ceiling,
creating the illusion that we're listening to angels up in the sky.
Richard Wagner famously created the hidden orchestra
that was placed in a pit between the stage and the audience.
And one of my heroes, Aphex Twin, famously hid in dark corners of clubs.
I think what all these masters knew is that by hiding the source,
you create a sense of mystery.
This has been seen in cinema over and over,
with Hitchcock, and Ridley Scott in "Alien."
Hearing a sound without knowing its source
is going to create some sort of tension.
Also, it can minimize certain visual restrictions that directors have
and can show something that wasn't there during filming.
And if all this sounds a little theoretical,
I wanted to play a little video.
(Toy squeaks)
(Typewriter)
(Drums)
(Ping-pong)
(Knives being sharpened)
(Record scratches)
(Sawing sounds)
(Woman screams)
What I'm sort of trying to demonstrate with these tools
is that sound is a language.
It can trick us by transporting us geographically;
it can change the mood;
it can set the pace;
it can make us laugh or it can make us scared.
On a personal level, I fell in love with that language
a few years ago,
and somehow managed to make it into some sort of profession.
And I think with our work through the sound library,
we're trying to kind of expand the vocabulary of that language.
And in that way, we want to offer the right tools
to sound designers,
filmmakers,
and video game and app designers,
to keep telling even better stories
and creating even more beautiful lies.
So thanks for listening.
(Applause)