Violence, music and spectacle

In Mammooty’s crime drama ‘Kalamkaval’, whenever the serial killer is on the hunt, he plays a beautiful vintage Tamil song on a music player. By retreating into his favourite tune, he treats the brutal acts not as chaotic violence but as a calm, routine ritual. Many films similarly show serial killers singing or whistling a tune while committing a crime. In ‘Memories of Murder’, the killer requests the same song on a local radio station before he strikes.This behaviour suggests a sense of emotional detachment and pleasure in the act. As the song and the victim’s muffled screams clash, the audience is left deeply unsettled.However, in recent films like ‘Dhurandhar’ and now ‘Toxic’, filmmakers have begun using loud background music (BGM) during brutal violence. When loud, enjoyable, or high-energy music drowns out the sounds of suffering, violence becomes an exhilarating spectacle. Instead of making the audience uncomfortable about the realities of human cruelty, the film stops asking us to confront what we are seeing, turning suffering into entertainment — mirroring the psyche of the serial killer listening to his favourite music during the act.Showcasing violence has been an essential part of cinema since its inception, and it is intended to reflect society’s harsh realities.But filmmakers often fail to differentiate between using violence in an ‘entertainer’ and violence for ‘entertainment’. Violence used in an entertainer drives the story forward, while violence used as entertainment serves as the primary spectacle in itself. While plot-driven violence makes you root for a resolution, spectacle-driven violence makes you react to the physical act on screen.In ‘Dhurandhar: The Revenge’, in the scene when Jassi goes to avenge his sister, for instance, the emotional moment of looking for his kidnapped sister is followed by ear-splitting background music of the song ‘Aari Aari Aari’ once he starts killing the perpetrators. Film critic Swaroop Kodur says the scene seems to want to have fun with the moment. “Even if the filmmaker wants to show that this is a guy who was born out of grief and sadness and that this is the moment of announcing him as the hero, the audience is hooting and whistling, forgetting his sister — the victim,” he adds.Yash’s ‘Toxic’ secures 18+ UK rating, outpaces Ranveer Singh’s ‘Dhurandhar’ in violenceBut stylised music itself isn’t the problem. Senior journalist and music composer S R Ramakrishna says, “If somebody is beating up or killing somebody and you use horror music, you’re being too literal. Instead, filmmakers can use music that evokes a character’s happier memories or creates an unexpected contrast. When you juxtapose something that is not at all connected, the tone becomes ironic.”In the climax scene of ‘The Godfather’ (1972), for instance, the baptism and massacre sequence is bound together by the loud, booming sound of the church pipe organ. The heavy, sombre, and tragic music, however, does not create a spectacle but exposes the irony of its protagonist — of a man taking an oath to protect a child when his men are out killing people.Films like ‘Goodfellas’, ‘Reservoir Dogs’ and ‘Pulp Fiction’, too, used irony and stylised music to underscore violent scenes. In these films, the juxtaposition can make violence absurd, ironic or disturbing. In films like ‘Dhurandhar’, ‘Toxic’, even ‘Animal’ and many of Lokesh Kanagaraj’s films, the loud, upbeat music used during brutal scenes risks desensitising the audience and detaching them from the horror of the violence.Psychologist Mala Sridhara says violence in films can provide audiences with a form of vicarious pleasure — an opportunity to experience acts they cannot indulge in themselves. But the victim’s pleas, cries or even mournful music can interrupt that pleasure by evoking guilt or sympathy. “So any BGM that contradicts the acts absolves them and instead gives the impression of frivolity,” she says, adding, “This cognitive dissonance can also be enjoyable.”In ‘Kalamkaval’, the song reveals the killer’s disturbing detachment. In films where the soundtrack turns brutality into a rousing spectacle, the film itself begins to reproduce that detachment.

Source: Deccan Herald