Mein Kino für Die Ohren (My Cinema for the Ears), a 59-min film by Uli Aumüller, is not only a fascinating “under the hood” peek into aspects of the creative processes of two important contemporary composers, but also an impressive experimental work for video and tape in its own right. The DVD is presented primarily in French with some English, along with optional German, French, and English subtitles. It also includes four audio tracks in stereo format.

The film depicting the lives and creative processes of Francis Dhomont and Paul Lansky is difficult to describe. It skirts idiomatic elements common to art film, documentary, and video while presenting a nonlinear examination of its subjects. Although this may be considered a strength in many aspects, it also may lead to some confusion as to where the documentary ends and the experimental film begins. With footage of Mr. Dhomont recording samples in the field and in the studio, and footage of Mr. Lansky tweaking samples on the computer, viewers are treated to a brief glimpse of both composers working in their respective environments. Mr. Aumüller punctuates the film with footage of conversations between both composers, with Mr. Lansky speaking in English and Mr. Dhomont speaking in French (and a little bit of the other way around, to be fair!). Some of these interchanges seem scripted, although they contribute to a kind of subtle dry wit that underlies the whole film. However, while it is interesting to see the impetus for Mr. Lansky’s Table’s Clear, the viewer is somewhat less interested in seeing Mr. Dhomont skipping stones on a lake. The “action” elements are a bit contrived in spots.

One of the most interesting aspects of the film is the cohesiveness between dramatic and artistic elements. A discussion between Mr. Dhomont and composer Christian Calon about music made for the ear, rather than for paper, flows into a series of stunning water transformations accompanied by Mr. Dhomont’s Un autre Printemps. During such scenes, though, one wonders whether the accompanying water sounds in the foreground are part of Mr. Dhomont’s composition or part of the film. However, on rare occasions the video trivializes the audio. The direct synchronicity of elements during Mr. Lansky’s Night Traffic seems a bit too comical at times. During this part of the film, the video resorts to a clichéd montage of the industrial city, rather than balancing the audio and visual elements in a more experimental format as in the bucolic scenes.

While Mein Kino für Die Ohren offers much to the viewer, we see Mr. Dhomont much more than Mr. Lansky, and learn much more about his musical impetus. Curiously, Mr. Aumüller seems to be aware of this, offering three audio tracks by Mr. Lansky (Night Traffic, Table’s Clear, Idle Chatter Junior), while offering only one by Mr. Dhomont (En cuerdas). Both composers are quite equally represented on the DVD as a whole, but one wonders why the discrepancy between film and audio appearances exist.

The DVD is well worth [its] purchase price. Video artist Robert Darroll is integral to the success of the DVD, and both he and Mr. Aumüller should be commended on the wonderful visual elements for this project. A combination of education and art, this would make an excellent film to show composition students, although it may not be what most of them would stay home on a Saturday night to watch!

This is a fascinating documentary about two composers, French/Canadian Francis Dhomont (who lives in Montréal and [was] affiliated with Université de Montréal) and American Paul Lansky (who lives in Princeton, NJ, and is affiliated with Princeton University), and the type of music they write, “musique concrète,” or “electroacoustic / électroacoustique,” although they do not approach it in the same way or produce the same types of compositions. Music played on instruments can reference a sound in nature, thereby evoking a visual image; these composers use the real sounds, which they collect on site and treat electronically to make recorded musical compositions. They manipulate sounds on tape or in digital files in a studio in the same way that a filmmaker manipulates images on film in the editing room, seeking “to hear the music in the sound.” The narrative portion of the program includes interviews with the composers, shots of them working in the field and in their home and university studios, conversations between them, and demonstrations.

A complete six-minute composition, “Un autre printemps,” by Dhomont, inspired by the poem that Vivaldi places at the beginning of the score for his “Primavera,” is included at the end, as the soundtrack for a video montage by Robert Darroll that uses photographic elements from nature and computer-generated images representing some of these elements, closing the circle begun at the outset with the demonstration using the first two movements of the Vivaldi, focusing on the second which features the musical representation of the barking dog mentioned in the poem. We see the appropriate portion of the Vivaldi score with its notation as well as the text of the poem in French in the course of the video. We see Dhomont recording a dog barking and electronically isolating and manipulating the sound, and subsequently coaching a violist in his attempt more accurately to reproduce the real sound-to some extent an exercise in futility, since the instrument can only suggest it-with the real one in the background. This cyclical form is also emphasized by the use at the opening of an interview clip from the conclusion in which Dhomont likens his compositional process to “a voyage of discovery,” and himself to Christopher Columbus, setting out to find one thing and finding something else that is completely different. Many of Dhomont’s sounds are water-based. The video shows gorgeous shots of Canadian landscapes resembling those described by Vivaldi; we are shown the sources of the sounds we hear, focusing on the textures of the natural elements in the close-ups. Hence we have a direct link between the concrete reality in nature and the abstraction that is music. The challenge for the electroacoustic composer is to transform the sounds into a new, different, but pleasant musical experience for the ear.

The program also contains four audio tracks presenting complete works by the two composers. They are: Dhomont’s “En cuerdas” (using sounds produced by the plucked, rubbed and struck strings of a guitar), and Lansky’s “Night Traffic,” “Table’s Clear” (featuring sons Jonah and Caleb on Kitchen Percussion-strikingly reminiscent of gamelan music), and “Idle Chatter Junior.” Lansky’s titles give away the content and its sources, which we have also seen in the documentary portion, along with the methods he uses to isolate the sounds and recombine them. The documentary shows how the sounds were found and transformed into music, but in this portion, the photographic image of the source has been eliminated as we listen-as would be the case in a concert hall. For this reviewer, a couple of the works seemed a bit long and monotonous due to their repetitive nature, but they were far from unpleasant. Their genesis and realization are intriguing, and knowing it enhances understanding and increases enjoyment.

The original soundtrack is in French, except for Lansky’s contributions during the conversations with Dhomont; each clearly understands the other’s language completely even if he does not use it. It is pleasant to be able to listen to it this way. It is also possible to view the film with English or German subtitles. The menu lists a subtitled version of the original, but I was unable to make it work; choosing that item also gave the English subtitles when French is being spoken. The twelve-page booklet contains, in addition to track listings and credits, short essays by filmmaker Aumüller, both of the composers (Dhomont’s in both the French original and English translation), and video artist Darroll, setting forth both their esthetic and their creative goals in the individual works or in their contribution to the project. It is an interesting complementary read.

This is perhaps not a film you would want to watch numerous times (as you might listen to a CD of a classical composition) unless you were a composer or a student of electronic composition, but it is most definitely worth a second, even a third immediate repeat viewing, and one you would want to come back to again at a later date. It is a valuable document, an artistic success, and an informative, insightful and enjoyable viewing and listening experience. Highly recommended. [To read the complete review, please go to the Classical Voice North Carolina’s web site.]

I didn’t expect to like My Cinema for the Ears. The description seemed precious and ill-defined: “An impressionistic, wryly humorous look at nature and the creative process.” It didn’t help that it began unassumingly, with shots of the Stanstead, Canada’s countryside accompanied by Vivaldi’s “Spring” segment from The Four Seasons. So what else is new? Plenty. Not long after that inauspicious introduction, Aumüller introduces veteran electronic composer Francis Dhomont at work, assembling his music to Vivaldi’s poetry. He needs a “faithful dog,” so he goes out into the countryside with his analog recording equipment and finds one. The humor creeps in as he encounters an uncooperative sheep dog, a curious farmer, and bees. Aumüller shows brief glimpses of Dhomont’s computer technology at work, yet not in a dry expository sense, but more as a link in the process. Dhomont is then quoted as saying that Debussy wanted to paint music, which is not exactly true but it leads into a charming sequence composed of Aumüller’s poetic images and Dhomont’s music. He says “we have more in common with the filmmaker than with traditional musicians,” because of the dependence on media and the way that concrète composers intervene by cutting, mixing, etc. At the 19 minute mark a fragment of the piece Water Music (En cuerdas) plays, a hypnotic composition that becomes more concrete with Aumüller’s brilliant use of sped-up and close-up imagery. Soon Dhomont is discussing work methods with American musique concrète composer Paul Lansky.

As more of these segments transpire-interview, compositional fragment, interview again—it becomes apparent what this film is showing us. These musicians mine everything in nature, the city, and social interactions (like parties) as sources for music. A thumping trip over a suspension bridge: why not digitally alter that rhythmic sound and distort it so that it’s both unrecognizable and a fascinating musical figure? Attend a social event and record snatches of conversation. “Loudspeakers are windows into an imaginary space,” says Lansky, with Aumüller skillfully illustrating his point. The DVD comes with four excellent audio tracks, featuring pieces by Dhomont and Lansky. Oddly, they aren’t sequenced, so you have to play each one separately. Also, your DVD player’s pause button may refuse to work, like mine, although I had better luck on my DVD-ROM player. Despite this technological fluke in the middle of a DVD about audio technology, this art/documentary film is memorable and worth having.