A word from Gabriel Yared, Member of the Feature Film Jury

Gabriel Yared, Member of the Feature Films Jury © Valery Hache / AFP

Having won a César in 1993 for L'Amant (The Lover) by Jean-Jacques Annaud and an Academy Award in 1996 for The English Patient by Anthony Minghella, 67-year-old composer Gabriel Yared has impressed each of the directors he has collaborated with through the passionate individuality of his approach. We ask him to talk us through his creative process...

You began working with film in 1980 with Jean-Luc Godard's Sauve qui peut (la vie) (Every Man for Himself). How did the two of you first meet?

Back in 1979, Jacques Dutronc (who had very much enjoyed my collaboration with Françoise Hardy) recommended me to Jean-Luc Godard. I met Jean-Luc, who I only knew by name, and he suggested I experiment with orchestrations taken from the overture of the second act of Ponchielli's La Gioconda. At the time, I'd been doing a lot of orchestra arranging for Hallyday, Vartan, Bécaud, Aznavour, and others. So I told him it wasn't something that interested me. I received a note from him a few days later, in which he suggested I compose my own original score, but to find a way of making the Ponchielli shine through, albeit subliminally.

How did you work together?

I asked Godard to show me some shots, but he replied that that wouldn't be necessary, because he was going to tell me the story. He came to the studio during recording, and edited the images to fit the music. When I saw the film, I was stunned by his way of handling it, the brutal way in which he would sometimes cut a scene. I realised that this man had a very musical ear. This was my first experience with film. Later on, Jean-Jacques Beineix came to see me, because he'd heard that I liked to start working before seeing any images. I composed the entire score for 37°2 le Matin (Betty Blue) (1986) before seeing the film itself.

How has your approach changed since?

Over time, I realised that when the film is finished, it's already too late for me! They always say that music is a crucial component of any film, but how can you possibly create something that works beautifully with the picture, if you arrive at the very last minute when the film crew have been working on it for months? Nowadays, I work on the music before, during and after filming. The process involves lots of discussion with the director, lots of suggestions of atmosphere and themes, and talks with the actors. Once the editing is finished, there's then the crafting process, to add colour to every scene.

Do you see each new film as a new adventure?

Each and every film is like a new experience. And to really get the most out of it, you have to put in the hours. I realise just how important that is. Today, what's known as 'temporary' music is very often used during the editing process, because there is no composer. Being on set from the very beginning means I follow the film through its journey, including during filming.

Any examples?

In La Lune dans le caniveau (The Moon in the Gutter) (1983), Beineix made Depardieu and Kinski listen to my music before filming the scene. Music can paint a picture, but an image cannot produce music. This extraordinary power so inherent to music is something I cherish: a composer's work doesn't accompany or emphasise a film, it elevates and perfects it.

“I play a scene over and over and pause to see how it makes me feel”

What movie score had the biggest impact on you?

Camille Claudel by Bruno Nuytten (1988). I had three months to compose the score. I'd seen the film, and suggested writing three or four epic string orchestra suites. The images had remained stuck in my head. I think it's important to work with your memories of images, what remains. I play a scene over and over and pause to see how it makes me feel. I come back to it later, tweak it, whittle down each scene. This isn't a clinical method, but an approach designed to preserve the film, a philosophy that heightens the film and works with my values as a composer. Each film must serve as an opportunity to create something new.

What do you think of the new technology available?

I was the first to use a sampler in Malevil (1981), by Christian de Chalonge. I prepared each sample myself, I created drops of water, I made blowing sounds to mimic the wind. Yet I was restricted on one level: a composer must rely on more than just his ear. The ear is not a good judge, because in this case, it can only work with what it hears. The composer's real ear is his eyes, writing the music, seeing the architecture of the notes unfurling on the page, learning to hear it. Film needs composers as much as composers need film.

What inspires you?

Everything inspires me, especially when a concept isn't tied down to an image. Fog inspires me, because I can wander where I like and because I can take a wrong turn. That's essential to the creative process.