The Northman: The Beating Sound of Revenge

Spoiler alert: this post may contain information about the plot of the movie.

It is impossible to think of a film genre without its corresponding sound. The spectrum of emotions that a film arouses is directly related to the music and sounds that make up its atmosphere. Viking productions have already begun to solidify a genre with films like Valhalla Rising, Beowulf, or the classic When the Raven Flies, as well as series like Vikings and its respective sequel Valhalla. This, to the point, that a series of characteristic sounds evoking this era of European history already begins to resonate in the collective imagination. What guitars, harmonicas, and tumbleweeds were for the Westerns is what drums, warhorns, and throat singing are now to Viking films.

We know what a Viking theme sounds like. The question is, how do we continue to build the sound of the genre? In The Northman, we find some interesting answers, which can be taken to future alternative scenarios.

Let's start by saying that, after the visual effects and the beautiful Icelandic locations, the sound and music are perhaps the most striking aspects of the film. With a score of 89% on Rotten Tomatoes, The Northman doesn't exactly stand out for a well-crafted script, a captivating and surprising plot, or stellar performances - despite the legends involved in the production, such as Nicole Kidman, Anya Taylor-Joy, Ethan Hawke, William Defoe, and, of course, Alexander Skarsgård.

Interestingly, both jobs, the music composition, and the sound design and recording were simultaneous and complementary - a sort of constant feedback in which both teams contributed ideas to each other. This allowed for a harmony that is rarely seen in a film. The Northman was shot during the first year of the Covid-19 pandemic, and that involved several challenges, as James Harrison, supervising sound editor, points out in this interview that is seriously worth reading. It wasn't possible to stay outdoors for very long to record new sounds, but, despite that, they managed to build a unique sonic architecture: footsteps in the mud (lots of them), fire, metal weapon clashes, blood spilling and splattering everywhere, crows, wolf howls, snowstorms, etc.; and, although they did use pre-recorded sounds, these came from Iceland. An interesting detail is that all the Foley sounds were taken directly from nature and assembled organically in Dolby Atmos at Goldcrest Theatre 1 in Soho. It was definitely a wise move, considering the music, because of the huge drums they used for that constant beating alluding to some key elements of the leitmotif: the heartbeat in crescendo, as the moment of vengeance approaches.

It is worth clarifying that the use of Dolby Atmos invites the viewer to watch this film in a theater, or using an excellent set of headphones, or a decent sound bar system.

The film is an example of how sound forms the basis for key moments in the film: the death of the king Aurvandill, the invasion of a village in the Kievan Rus, the rituals, the final battle, and so on. Sound and music, in perfect tandem, shape the meaning of a story told in an audiovisual language. What does revenge sound like? What does a mushroom trip sound like? What does the spiritual world sound like amid an ecstasy (for example, when it comes to the tree of the dead scene)? It takes tremendous creativity and excellent use of technique to convey all that.

On the other hand, when we talk about the music, we can affirm that this film is an impressive fruit of the reinvention of sound design. There is a clear and current trend, first traced by Hans Zimmer, in particular, in Inception: the sound aspect of films has moved from music to sonic impressions that are more connected to the essential concept of the narrative. It has moved from offering music leitmotifs to sound leitmotifs. A set of sounds structured around an aesthetic concept, a sound leitmotif, is an optimal way to transmit emotions and ideas. The minds behind this creation have been Robin Carolan and Sebastian Gainsborough, who, interestingly, are not composers in the more classical sense of the term, but members of the British electronic music community.

In The Northman, as Charlie Parkin explains in this video, sound takes on the role of music. What comes closest to music in this film is the combination of drums, a hurdy-gurdy, and a Hardanger (a kind of traditional Norwegian fiddle) but it actually consists of a dodgy repetitive sound that, far from distracting the viewer's attention, leads him or her through a soundscape of raging seas, snowy fjords, furious wind, and, of course, the beating sound of revenge. It is hesitant, rough, and ruthless, like Iceland itself: it does not emit an elegant thrill of beauty. It is about showcasing the resonant texture of these instruments in repetitive monotonous patterns - as in electronic music - rather than offering melodic and epic leitmotifs of universal recall (like those of The Lord of the Rings or Star Wars). 

It is, paradoxically, more memorable and impressive.

If you want to build something like this for your next film, don't hesitate to contact us.

*The images used on this post are taken from Pexels.com