Editorials
Such Dulcet, Horrifying Tones: The Music Of ‘Silent Hill’
With the recent cancellation of Silent Hills, I wanted to bring back a piece that I had written several years ago. Some minor changes have been made to ensure the piece was up-to-date.
When I was 14 years old, my friend Alex rented Silent Hill, the first of the now infamous Konami series. He invited me over that night, full well knowing that this game would appeal to my horror fanaticism. Little did he know that he was going to ignite a passion for the Silent Hill franchise that has yet to diminish. Also, little did he know that after turning the game off that night, the two of us were so scared that we sat back to back the whole night, steel baseball bats in hand, ready to fend off whatever creatures came our way.
Let me backtrack for a moment, if I might, to discuss my love of music. This is a passion that began when I was but a small child, perhaps three or four years old at the most. You see, I was able to play video games before I was actually able to fully read. As a matter of fact, the first time I read was when I was sitting with my mother on the couch, my father sitting on the floor a few feet away playing a game of Tetris, the music of Tchaikovsky’s “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy” filling my ears.
These early days of video games — when their soundtracks consisted of not much more than two, perhaps three, melodies — are what I credit as the beginning of my love of music. To this day, I feel stirrings in my chest when I hear the overworld theme from The Legend Of Zelda. When the intro screen of Castlevania II: Simon’s Quest loads, I become slightly uneasy before I can even press “New Game.” And funny enough, over 25 years since its release date, my father and I can still belt out the level music to Karnov.
Although my musical tastes have long since evolved and grown into other avenues and territories, I still find myself paying close attention to a composer’s work when I play a video game. Music is what draws me in, envelops me, and sets the mood. And no video game composer better exemplifies the proper use of music in creating tension and fear than Akira Yamaoka and his work on the Silent Hill franchise.
Being that there are officially nine entries to the series (I’m leaving out the play novel and The Silent Hill Experience), I decided to focus this piece on the impact the soundtracks of the first two games of the series had upon me.
When I played Silent Hill 1, I can honestly say that my view of video games and their impact changed dramatically. Here was the first time that a survival horror game delivered the full package: a terrifying story, brilliantly executed graphics that embraced the limitations of the system hardware, and a soundtrack the likes of which had never been heard before. (And yes, I include Resident Evil in that statement.)
Instead of going down the Resident Evil symphony path, Yamaoka crafted sounds that seemed to come from some abandoned industrial factory, one that is full of the skeletal remains of machinery which creak, bend, and strain as the years float by. This grime, this dirtiness, served as a complement to the filth and graininess of the game.
The selections “My Heaven,” “Don’t Cry,” and “I’ll Kill You” are perfect examples of the cacophonous insanity that players were treated to during some of the more intense moments of the game. Tracks such as “Claw Finger,” “Fear Of The Dark,” and “Nothing Else” show that even during moments of respite, there is a constant unease bubbling under the surface, eager to break free.
Listening to the original soundtrack to prepare for this article, I constantly felt the need to scrub myself clean, to wash myself of the ichor that seems to permeate these 42 tracks. Believe it or not, I used to fall asleep to this music. I wish I would’ve had some foresight and written down my dreams (nightmares?), if only out of current interest.
Silent Hill 2 was able to up the ante for the series primarily due to its release on the Playstation 2, a major hardware upgrade from the Playstation 1. This meant that not only were graphics vastly improved, but also that the game supported much higher quality sound and music as well as 5.1 surround sound. To say that I took advantage of this is an understatement. Honestly, the only reason I purchased my first surround sound system was to hear Silent Hill 2 in all of its aural glory.
My love of the Silent Hill 2 music began even before the game was released. Rather, it began when the first trailer came out using “Theme For Laura” as the music. So entranced was I by this tune that I immediately found a bootleg MP3, burned it to disc, and proceeded to learn it on guitar. Yes, my parents were slightly nervous because of the joy I was getting out of such a terrifying, sadistic game but they learned to get over it. Hopefully.
After the game was released (and I had beaten it countless times), I found the soundtrack for sale at a local anime store. I immediately purchased it; the soundtrack did not leave my Discman for nearly three months. It drew me into its sublime, eerie beauty in a way that no other album had done before. I felt my heart yearn and ache during “White Noiz.” I shivered in fear during “Ashes And Ghosts.” I felt closure when the final chord of “Promise” faded out.
I could easily spend pages upon pages detailing my love for certain tracks and the beauty hidden within, but I dare not bore you readers any more. As it stands right now, when I search for “Silent Hill” in my iTunes library, 425 tracks come up. In terms of time we are looking at 16.3 hours. In terms of memory, around 1.27GB. I use this music for gentle meditation, study and research, background music, and of course, music during Halloween.
And though these tracks serve mainly as a reminder of the stories of the games, they also serve as markers of different eras of my life. As near and dear to me as some of the main characters of Silent Hill are, the most important character, the one that has been with me the longest, is the music.
In this day and age, the word “troll” is often used to describe various online nuisances. Yet as abundant and irksome as the modern troll can be, they aren’t usually as fearsome as their mythological counterparts. I’m not talking about the small and gentler versions that have become more common to see in media. No, there are much bigger and scarier trolls out there—and André Øvredal’s movie Troll Hunter is one of the best places to find them.
It doesn’t take long for Troll Hunter (or Trolljegeren) to dump the Blair Witch Project-esque setup and aim for something a lot fresher. The trajectory of the story is augmented by Otto Jespersen’s character Hans, the titular Troll Hunter. The second he comes barreling out of the deep, dark woods and shouts “troll” at the camera, this movie takes a turn into what feels like uncharted territory. Not only subject-wise, but also conceptually.
For fantastical and made-up subject matter in cinema, found footage is a fast way to add a guise of believability. After all, what we accept to be the most crucial aspect of documentaries—the truth—rubs off on pseudo-documentaries, despite our understanding of the pretense involved. That is what Øvredal delivered with Troll Hunter: a movie so convincing that some viewers wondered if trolls really do exist. So, had this been straightforwardly made, it likely wouldn’t have been as effective. Conventional narratives would be more inclined to treat something like trolls as flat out unreal, and never try to convince the audience to think otherwise.
Hans petrifies the three-headed Tusseladd troll.
The viewers, like the characters trailing Hans, are quickly thrown into the deeper end of that extraordinary story. They have to process all this new information while staying on the go. So, although there is no significant amount of meandering, narratively or physically, there is still a good amount of atmosphere, not to mention tension building. It’s never anything frightful, but then again, Troll Hunter isn’t your standard offering of horror; it’s more on the low end of the dark fantasy spectrum. We aren’t ever spirited away to a faraway world—we stay in rather familiar surroundings, as well as dip into those less so. The outcome is a movie where you’re constantly more in awe than in terror.
As fantasy fiction might do, Troll Hunter prefers not to deal with incredulity. There is no time to waste on doubt, as interviewer Thomas (Glenn Erland Tosterud), soundperson Johanna (Johanna Mørck), and cameraman Kalle (Tomas Alf Larsen) all follow Hans around, recording whatever this character is willing to reveal about his bizarre job. Of course, the Troll Hunter himself is not an open book; in that respect, the diegetic documentary fails to fully capture and unpack the more interesting of its two subjects. Yes, all those giant, monstrous trolls are indeed incredible, but understandably, your mind wanders to their pursuer. What kind of person signs up for this gig and then chooses to stick with it for so long?
Reviews have called out Troll Hunter for its lack of character development. In regard to Thomas and his fellow documentarians, that criticism is valid, but bear in mind, they aren’t the focus of the story, either. Meanwhile, Hans is a well-crafted character. At least better than first realized. Before he was introduced, Hans had already grown tired of the troll grind. Fed up with that low compensation for his services, resentful of the bureaucracy, and wanting to expose his employer on a large scale, Hans’ discontent is glaring.
Then there are those finer details about the Troll Hunter, such as that indifference to both the natural splendor of his everyday surroundings and the affections of an obviously smitten colleague, that also suggest some level of despondency. So it is fair to say this movie doesn’t feature any sizable growth for its characters; however, the namesake isn’t underwritten. No doubt, putting a real-life character like Otto Jespersen in that role is partly why Hans is so fascinating—maybe even relatable.
Otto Jespersen as Hans the Troll Hunter.
There is always a small risk whenever using the term “mockumentary” to describe a found-footage movie, as the word could imply humor where there is none. In the case of Troll Hunter, the term’s usage is appropriate. Some folks have claimed the English-dubbed version has the more comedic tone, however, the Norwegian cut isn’t exactly humorless. Apart from the trolls’ absurd appearances, this is a movie where the characters nearly choke on the monsters’ farts, and Christians are like walking targets. Hans’ complete apathy towards everything is another cause of laughter. Overall, the comedy is intentionally dry and inconsistent. Unfunny, though? Absolutely not.
In a movie where endemic creatures are maltreated, as well as disavowed from living freely and peacefully, it’s hard not to notice the ecological message buried beneath the story. In addition to that is the unmistakable political satire. There is this whole business about intrusive and unsightly power lines—like trolls, they’re big blemishes on the land—that leads to what is perhaps the movie’s funniest moment. The scene in question is that one where certain electric lines, the ones secretly being used to keep the trolls at bay, go in a loop and don’t actually send power to any residents. Yet the monitors of said lines don’t find this at all weird. So it stands to reason that Øvredal was having a go at those who accept the government’s doings without question.
Looking past the fact that trolls aren’t actually real, this movie is an enlightening source of information. And not just for international audiences; Norwegians, too, get schooled about their homeland’s own mythology. It’s also evident from everything on screen that Øvredal and his crew were enthusiastic about the topic. The creature designs are the most indicative of that zeal; those imaginative yet myth-accurate manifestations are equally amusing and grotesque. One second you’re laughing at their phallic noses, the next you’re white-knuckling during a hairy sequence. Most surprisingly is how well the trolls’ visual effects hold up after fifteen years. It’s not all spotless, but on the whole, they remain impressive.
Vouching for a mockumentary about trolls isn’t easy, but those who do come around and give it a shot will more than likely be grateful for the recommendation. For Troll Hunter is a real find in that vast and varied genre we call “found footage“.
A bridge troll reaches up for food and finds Hans decked out in armor.
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