Outer Space: the Added Value of Silence

Of the many interesting things in Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), one of my favorites is the extensive use of silence.

In most science fiction films which are set in outer space, one finds that filmmakers seem to feel obliged to give us sound effects of spacecraft and space weapons — despite the fact that in the vacuum of space there can be no sound. I suppose most filmmakers believe their audience would find it ridiculous to watch something blow up in outer space without any explosive sound effect. To a certain extent, I think there is some justification in this. For instance, if, during the rebel attack on the Death Star in A New Hope (1977), we were given battle sound effects when the shot is of the interior of a fighter but not when the shot is from outside, it might add an interesting dimension to the film, but it also would adversely disrupt the continuity of the sequence and potentially be a harmful distraction to the audience (despite the constant music itself creating continuity in the scene). It is a dilemma. Our conditioning makes us expect to hear an explosion when we see the Death Star (or any other spacecraft) blow up, even though in reality it would be silent. Caught between the Scylla and Charybdis of Silence and Noise, most makers of outer space films seem to choose the latter.

However, when watching 2001: A Space Odyssey, one of the dominant things we are confronted with is silence. Whenever we see shots from the perpective of the vacuum of space (or, more accurately, its representation on screen) there are no sound effects: it is either totally silent, or we get music. The silence is especially prevalent throughout the Jupiter Mission section. Not only is this scientifically accurate (important in a film that attempts a level of accuracy which in 1968 was unprecedented in a sci-fi film), it also serves an important aesthetic function. The entire film is sparse: small cast, a script of few words, simple-looking costumes and staging — the restrictions on sound add even greater emphasis to this. The sparse atmosphere is quite fitting for a film predominantly set in outer space.

The difference, though, between 2001 and other sci-fi/space films is that 2001 is not about action. Nor is it particularly about telling the audience anything. It is an elegant cinematic poem, designed more to suggest thoughts than to tell something. The sonic, visual, and dramatic restraint allow the film to say more, just as with literary poems the poetry is not necessarily what is written, instead being that which a person projects between the lines. The six-part Star Wars, to me, anyway, also is best interpreted as a cinematic poem, but a poem of a different sort. It is about telling a story — and a story which is filled with much action. This requires it to be handled differently from 2001, and the sonic decisions emphasise these differences. Overall, I agree with the sonic choices made throughout Star Wars, as well as 2001. Nevertheless, I think space films in general make too much use of noise…