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The Music of Imagination

Sneakers is a celebration of imagination. Its computer hackers use imagination to solve their difficulties and to define themselves. Their opponents want to pin things down and control them. The drama places a value we care about under threat: the freedom to play.

There’s a danger in a film about cryptography and computer security. Concentrate on the machinery and you can end up giving the audience a lecture. We can follow how a device works without caring about anyone. James Horner finds the human core of all this cleverness, and scores that.

When I first saw Sneakers as a teenager, its musical texture excited me terribly. It still does. I can’t think of another score that floats quite like it.

ANAGRAM AND ANSWER

The opening titles give us scrambled words, then reveal what they mean. An anagram. An answer. Another anagram, another answer. Before we’ve met anyone, the film invites us to be curious.

Horner gives this game to a saxophone, entirely on its own. The phrases skip along, pause, and start again. Their shape mirrors the shape of the idea onscreen. We hear something, wait, receive something. The score makes the act of discovery accessible and human.

The choice of instrument matters as much as the phrase structure. Imagine the same thing on a clarinet. It would feel too serious. Here, the saxophone’s jazz inflection gives us freedom, and its light rhythm dances through the puzzles. We begin to share the pleasure these people take in what they do.

FLOATING MINDS

As the film opens out, Horner draws on American minimalism and jazz to make a world of effervescent activity. There is a great deal going on without much harmonic travel. The music stays within a general harmonic area while its figures keep moving. It feels like creativity ticking over.

The voices are essential to this. High up, skipping, almost featherlike, they help the whole score float. They mingle with the woodwinds and strings as part of the instrumental texture. We hear people’s voices without being asked to stop and attend to a singer delivering a melody.

I hear something of John Adams in this use of voices and repetition. Horner takes that stylistic possibility and does what he wants with it. The result belongs to the people in this film: a small, close, friendly ensemble. The delicacy of the scoring gives their companionship a musical form. We can hear what they value in the way their music behaves.

A LITTLE PAIN

There is sadness within this floating register. In the opening flashback, Cosmo is caught while his friend escapes. A descending line in the upper violins introduces a slight chromaticism, a little pain. Its lack of vibrato gives it a darker, exposed quality amid the surrounding buoyancy.

That matters. These people have a past, and the past has consequences. Sneakers sustains a lightness of tone without requiring us to believe that everything is happy. The music can carry the hurt within the larger feeling of the film.

The first few minutes establish that tonal character. If the score gave itself over completely to the misery of the arrest, it would promise us a different film. Horner allows the event to trouble the music while keeping its imaginative life in motion.

SHUTTING THINGS DOWN

Later, when the team discovers that the men claiming to represent the NSA have deceived them, the musical world changes. The floating minimalism disappears. I miss it immediately. Its absence feels like a hole.

Low piano unsettles us. Heavy percussion enters, and chromatic clusters disturb the space that had felt so open. Above it, an insistent woodblock keeps going. The music is destabilizing and, at the same time, more insistently organized. Something is imposing itself.

Even the saxophone changes. Its playful material is squeezed into chromatic shapes that make us uncomfortable. We recognize the voice, but hear what is happening to it. This is what gives the threat its meaning. We’ve already experienced the freedom these people live by; now we feel it being constricted.

MUSIC FROM WITHIN

The score establishes a language and lets that language undergo the drama. These musical decisions are metaphors. When a phrase leaves something incomplete, we feel its incompletion, and the uncertainty of the story becomes ours. The film can make us curious, or uneasy, through the way a few notes behave.

This is how I feel a good score working: coming from within the film, from whatever makes it seem alive. Its decisions belong to the same mind as the images and the characters. An unusual texture means very little in itself. In Sneakers, Horner finds a texture that lets us feel these people’s imaginative life, including its pain and vulnerability. We enjoy being in their company, and we care when their music loses its freedom.