It’s been scientifically proved that hearing is faster than sound – the reaction time to even a murmur is brisker than to a movement. What we hear also evokes more emotions than what we see – many film directors complain that they struggle to get at least one tear from their audience, while the composers can make people cry just sliding fiddlestick through their cello. Music in film can be a big gun – manipulating the audience heart so that is skips a beat or rushes with adrenaline. But there are also more subtle ways to direct the emotional resonance and a focus. Sound design, or sound narrative if you like, is crucial element to guide an audience through the story, to help them anchor in the onscreen world, familiarize with it or remain a stranger in it. What is heard on screen is also a way of connecting to the characters, even if the noise or vibration is barely above the perception threshold. It can be easily verified when you close your eyes while watching the film and just focus on what you hear. For example if you listen to the opening sequence of Agnieszka Holland’s “Green Border”, with sound designed by Roman Dymny it becomes very clear how sound impacts and reshapes the narrative. The story revolves around 3 groups of protagonists: the refugees hoping to get to European Union through dense woods on the Belarussian-Polish border, the Polish board guards pushing them away from the country, and activists trying to help the refugees to survive in harsh conditions and harbor them to safety. The film is based on real events and has a realistic, documentary-like style. However the way sound was used makes the story unrealistic, subjective and symbolic.
The film starts with an air shot of the forest, with a music composed by Frédéric Vercheval quietly creeping in, but what can be heard mainly is this whiz – that type of a still sound that travels with us on the airplane. This barely audible track is an information about the point of view – it’s not a bird’s flying over the woods, it’s the plane with passengers, that we’re about to meet. And the looming woods will be a main location and a murmuring witness to Gehenna that the refugee family, the protagonists of the film will go through. In the next shot we see them, they’re coming from Syria, Afghanistan and other conflict-torn places, speak different languages and they were all promised by Belarussian officials a safe passage through the woods to Poland, hence the European Union. When the protagonist talk to each other on the plane and exchange information – it’s not how the audience bonds with them; actually it’s the sound of breathing , that can be barely heard fosters the connection. The inhale and exhale makes the narrative suddenly subjective – the audience may not process it, but they’re now attaching to a stranger and start to emotionally invest in their journey. It’s a very discreet, very delicate yet very effective way of forming a connection that goes beyond the screen. When the travelers land in Belarus and go to the border they’re hopeful, because everything went so far so smoothly. When they reach the border, the hell starts – and it manifests through sound as well – screaming of the Belarussian border guards. Technically speaking their screams are dialogues lines, but in fact they’re also sound. Menacing, scary sound effects that invoke almost a physiological reaction. The audience doesn’t need to know the language spoken, also it’s quite clear what the guards’ intentions are. But the sheer volume, tone and cadence of what they say has a much deeper emotional impact and anticipates what is going to happen next. The woods that looked calm and idyllic in the first shot will become a damp, cold hell for the protagonists. Or maybe not…? After they’re pushed under the barbwire to the Polish side, with more screaming and even gunshots heard from afar everything quiets down; only the trees are creeking and the birds are quietly singing. The GPS installed on the phone confirms – they’re in European Union, so the hard part is over, they’re safe. The audience can exhale, too. But the feeling of hope, build through the sounds of nature and stillness is not a final one, it’s merely a prelude to more horror – the refugees will be soon pushed back to Belarus by the Polish border guards, and pushed again to Poland. There will be more screaming, more menacing sounds. They’re stuck in hell and there is no way out, even though they’re out in the open.
Marcin Wierzchosławski, the Polish producer of the film adds, talking to us that “through the sound mixing and editing the story turns from a documentary-style film into a horror-like tale”. So whatever the image tells you is an information, and whatever sound design whispers to your ear is a true emotional and symbolical meaning of the story. The duality of the sound and image comes together in “Green Border” to create a horrific story; the one that helps to really understand the tragedy of the refugees and form an empathetic bond with them.
اقرأ أيضا: Sound and Silent Cinema