To sum up, two opposing dynamics are at work, at the level of the text and the reading respectively: firstly, morally questionable actions challenge character-identification processes; secondly, the psychological dynamics of television spectatorship require some kind of character identification. Characterization is the result of a composite process of writing, direction, production, performance and postproduction, embracing narrative elements in their strict sense, such as events and dialogues, and features such as camera angles and the soundtrack that, while serving a representational function, impose interpretive criteria on the viewer. In particular, I shall explore how a compiled music score encourages or inhibits identification processes as it articulates representations of crime. Drawing on Bauman’s concept of liquid modernity and by way of comparison, I shall define this gamut of processes as liquid identification: just as Walt finds himself in a “liquid-modern world of flexible norms and floating values” (Bauman 2008, 209), the viewers have to continually renegotiate their identification processes, accommodating the cognitive dissonance resulting from a dissociation of the desire for identification from their moral code.
THE COMPILED SCORE
It is only fairly recently that the use of preexisting music in films has received scholarly attention.[1] Television fiction, however, has specific features that merit a closer look. In fact, the benefit of creating synergies between television and the music industry is based on specific structural premises. In particular, the limited production time available for television series as compared to feature films requires that the time between production and airing be considerably shorter, thus making it possible to promote current popular songs. However, small budgets generally imply more constraints, so that reliance on preexisting music can effectively be a shortcut to lower costs while fulfilling production requirements. Nonetheless, clearance costs can be exceptionally high;[2] hence, the role of the music supervisor, as a mediator between production needs and administrative demands, is especially important.[3] In any case, in an attempt to cut expenses, television-series producers resort extensively to library music, which, as we shall see, can replicate the functions of either the scored or compiled soundtracks, or both.
Unlike the traditional Hollywood film score and its rules of “invisibility” and “inaudibility” (Gorbman 1987, 73), the use of previously recorded material in films is meant to call attention to itself, based on the assumption that its familiarity will draw on preexisting symbolic and emotional bonds to trigger expectations towards the product (Shumway 1999, 36-37). Similarly, Kassabian (2001) argues that, as a general rule, composed and compiled film scores track two different kinds of identification. More precisely, composed scores condition what she calls “assimilating identifications” by drawing the spectator into unfamiliar positions (2). In other words, unlikely identifications with situations or characters demand that the score remain “unheard,” to leave narrative functions unaffected by critical reflection. On the other hand, compiled scores condition “affiliating identifications” insofar as they convey symbolic ties that the viewer has established before watching the film: “These ties depend on histories forged outside the film scene, and they allow for a fair bit of mobility within it. If offers of assimilating identifications try to narrow the psychic field, then offers of affiliating identifications open it wide” (3).
While Kassabian’s theory has many advantages, in that it provides a simple and coherent model for interpreting film music, it also suffers from some limitations, especially when applied to television fiction. More precisely, close observation of television serials suggests that assimilating identifications are not confined to composed scores; likewise, compiled scores do not necessarily foster affiliating identifications. There are several reasons for this, some of which are shared with film music. Firstly, for compiled scores to work in the way Kassabian suggests, the viewer needs to know the songs beforehand. However, related issues like globalization, changing television technology, and audience diversification show that it is problematic to target specific songs at specific viewers. Secondly, not all the music used for the screen can be assigned to either of the aforementioned categories. I am referring in particular to library music, which cannot establish familiar ties with the audience in the same way that the compiled score can; nonetheless, although it has not been composed to accompany specific visuals, library music can have the same functional characteristics of scored music insofar as it is categorized according to parameters such as mood, tempo and instrumentation[4] (Nardi 2012). Thirdly, as I shall demonstrate, the effect of music on identification processes often relies primarily on factors other than the composed/compiled score dichotomy. Finally, and on a similar note, the compiled score also has narrative functions that can interfere with affiliating identifications. In short, Kassabian’s model does not always work, because the distinction between composed and compiled scores is only one of many dimensions of music for the moving image, and not necessarily the most important.
I shall now examine five scenes from Breaking Bad, four of which feature a preexisting song and one features an original song that, as such, constitutes a hybrid between a compiled and a composed score. This will allow me to keep one variable (composed/compiled score) essentially constant in order to highlight how other relevant variables, while serving narrative functions, foster or inhibit identification. More precisely, I shall consider the music’s source—whether it is heard or not by the characters—and its popularity. Moreover, I shall examine the role of the lyrics and the music, including sound editing and mixing, in relation to both representation and identification. On a detailed level, this theoretical framework will account for how music mediates paths of identification with deviant characters, and in particular with Walt. On a broader level, it will help clarify whether there is a common thread running through these different paths that supports a comprehensive model of identification that is peculiar to Breaking Bad—which I have previously defined as liquid identification.
SELECTIVE IDENTIFICATION, MORAL RISK, AND DISENGAGEMENT
In the episode “Over” (3/29/09), Skyler throws a party to celebrate the remission of Walt’s cancer. As she publicly thanks Walt’s former business partners Gretchen and Elliott Schwartz for having paid his medical bills, Walt appears visibly frustrated. He still has grievances with the Schwartzes, who have become billionaires while he has had to settle for a career as a schoolteacher. Moreover, having paid the bills himself through his illegal activity, he probably feels that his self-sufficiency should be acknowledged. Later on, we see Walt putting all his efforts into renovating the house, but this does not meet with his family’s favor, either. At the end of the episode, he finally gets his moment, albeit in the underworld. While shopping at a building supply store, Walt bumps into another meth cook. Initially, he gives the young man some unsolicited advice; however, while waiting in line at the counter, he has second thoughts: he abandons the cart and faces the cook and his sidekick in the parking lot, telling them to keep out of his territory. It is probably here that Walt accepts his criminal identity once and for all. Furthermore, he realizes (and we with him) that there is an element of excitement in crime, and that this excitement can be and end in itself. Indeed, Ferrell (1999) claims that crime subcultures involve “intense and often ritualized moments of pleasure and excitement” (404), so that Walt’s activity can be understood as “edgework” (Ferrell, Milovanovic, and Lyng 2001), involving both highly specialized, albeit criminal, skills and the thrill of avoiding arrest.[5] Fiction allows these pleasures of crime to be transferred vicariously to the viewer, preserving the thrill while insulating from actual risk. However, I argue that risk involves not only apprehension but also moral sanctioning, which is as much a social as an interiorized process and as such cannot be completely suspended during television viewing. This does not necessarily mean that viewers judge fictional characters in the same way that they judge real people, nor that they lack a sense of reality, but rather that they remain moral subjects while watching serial dramas. Consequently, identification with media characters that are dissonant with the viewer’s moral code can be problematic and can require some form of mediation. In this regard, moral disengagement (Bandura 2002) allows for a selective application of moral codes, “redefining harmful conduct as honorable by moral justification, exonerating social comparison, and sanitizing language” (102). Accordingly, viewers apply attitude-maintenance strategies in order to maintain cognitive harmony toward liked characters (Raney 2004, 360).
1
See, in particular, Vernallis (2008); Powrie and Stilwell (2006); Tincknell (2006); Lannin and Caley (2005); Wojcik and Knight (2001); Kassabian (2001); Mundy (1999); Smith (1998); Romney and Wootton (1995).
2
“The growing demand for popular recordings in film, television, and advertising,” writes Smith (2001), “has driven up licensing revenues at a comparable rate. EMI-Capitol Music, for example, has seen its master licensing business nearly quintuple since 1989. Likewise… the costs of using a particular recording over a film’s opening credits are now five to ten times higher than what they were ten years ago” (412).
3
Not surprisingly,
4
This kind of hybrid scoring is predominant in relatively low-budget, quickly packaged—as compared to cinema—television series, and
5
See also Presdee (2000) on the ritualizing of transgression, and Katz (1988) on the seductions of crime.