Screen Sounds: A guide to the best stories about musicians

From the very beginning, it was clear that the moving image and music were always going to be co-conspirators.

Images add to music, giving us the most evocative and wholly indelible associations, from bassoons underscoring animated mice frantically trying to control magical brooms, to astronauts waltzing to the Blue Danube in outer space. 

It’s only natural, then, that both film and television would find a rich vein of stories to tell about musicians themselves. Their music affects us so deeply: why wouldn’t we want to see their stories, too? And, if it’s an excuse for some good music along the way, all the better. 

By now, we’ve seen a century of musical stories on the screen. Familiar and not-so-familiar patterns have emerged, with formulas and surprises alike. From Brassed Off to Mozart in the Jungle, here’s a guide to the best stories on screen about the people who make music. 

The Maestro: Mozart in the Jungle (2014-2018)

Few things are more charismatic than an eccentric, demanding, and impeccably knowledgeable leader. When it comes to the world of orchestral music, it’s clearly the conductor, the maestro, the diva, the musical leader of the pack.

Mozart in the Jungle is the most recent and well-developed of these kinds of stories. The developed-for-streaming television show stars Gael García Bernal as Rodrigo, a young conductor very much modelled after real-life superstar Gustavo Dudamel. Based on oboist Blair Tindall’s 2005 memoir, the series delves into the salacious personal lives of world-class musicians – including plenty of sex, drugs, and classical music.

Despite the many sensual distractions offered by Mozart in the Jungle, it’s the music that really shines. Indeed, Mozart in the Jungle has played a not-insignificant role in getting a variety of contemporary classica music to new audiences, including works by Missy Mazzoli, Laura Karpman, and Caroline Shaw, as well as underheard greats Vítězslava Kaprálová, Isabella Leonarda, and Nannerl Mozart.

Special mentions: Le concert (Radu Mihăileanu, 2009), Amadeus (Miloš Forman, 1984), Deception (Irving Rapper, 1946)

The Virtuoso: Hilary and Jackie (Anand Tucker, 1998)

If being a voyeur into the imagined braggadocio and naughty exploits of the world of conducting and composing wasn’t charisma enough, there’s also the figure of the virtuoso. Film and television producers love a tortured genius, and plenty of talented musicians have provided grist to that particular mill over the years. While the rock ‘n roll biopic has by now become a bit of a formula – naïve talent leads to stardom and a fall from grace – the classical world remains a little more surprising. 

Less seen today than some others, Anand Tucker’s Hilary and Jackie must go near top of the list. It’s based on the true story of sisters Jacqueline and Hilary du Pré, who became world famous for their world-class cello and flute playing respectively. It charts their relationship and struggles, and particularly Jacqueline du Pré’s very public diagnosis of multiple sclerosis and her eventual death in 1987. 

The film attracted serious controversy at the time, with Lord Menuhin, Itzhak Perlman, William Pleeth, Mstislav Rostropovich and Pinchus Zukerman condemning the film as “not the Jacqueline du Pré that we, as her friends and colleagues, knew.” 

Today, two decades after its release, whatever its accuracy, the film remains powerful in its use of music, and its excellent lead performances from a young Emily Watson and Rachel Griffiths. 

Special mentions: Shine (Scott Hicks, 1996), Ladies in Lavender (Charles Dance, 2004)

The Instrument: The Red Violin (François Girard, 1998)

Of all the musical film subgenres, this is the most unusual. It’s a rare thing indeed to encounter a film whose driving force is not a musician, or group of musicians, but rather an instrument itself.

François Girard’s The Red Violin is unique even among this rare cinematic breed. As a film, it spans five distinct eras, locations, and languages: from seventeenth century Italy, to the Chinese Cultural Revolution, to 1990s Canada. The figure that ties it all together is the eponymous Red Violin, a fictional instrument (based on the Stradivarius “Red Mendelssohn”) that seems fated to live through interesting times.

It’s an odd film in many ways, and it’s hard to imagine such an unusual and ambitious project being made today, on film or television. The Red Violin is worth seeing for its remarkable score alone, though. Written by John Corigliano, it went on to beat John Williams (Angela’s Ashes), Thomas Newman (American Beauty), and Hans Zimmer (Gladiator) at the 1999 Academy Awards for Best Score. Powerful company for a powerful film score.

Special mentions: The Piano (Jane Campion, 1993), The Violin (Francisco Vargas, 2005)

The Teacher: Mr Holland’s Opus (Stephen Herek, 1995)

Far away from the elite spheres of orchestras, conductors, and composers, the world of music teaching has provided a perhaps more relatable – and possibly even nostalgic – lens for musicians on screen.

One of the most effective of these was the mid-1990s Richard Dreyfuss vehicle, Mr Holland’s Opus. It’s a familiar story: an aspiring artist (a composer, in this case) takes a ‘temporary’ day job as a teacher, not realising that this side track from their artistic journey will end up defining his life.

It’s a kind of Forrest Gump-style march through the major American events of the second half of the twentieth century, but with an even stronger focus on music and the impact it has on people’s lives. There’s a powerful ending of the likes only Hollywood can achieve, as even Mr Holland’s most unmusical former students realise his pivotal influence – and how his long-held musical ambitions have transformed from individual genius to a love for a community.

Special mentions: Les Choristes (Christophe Barratier, 2004), Whiplash (Damien Chazelle, 2014), Music of the Heart (Wes Craven, 1999)

The Band: Brassed Off (Mark Herman, 1996)

There’s nothing like getting the band back together. Films about bands and musical groups are often the ultimate stories of David-versus-Goliath, of the triumph in adversity, of the collective above the individual.

There’s probably no better example than Brassed Off, a seemingly unassuming film about the Grimethorpe Colliery Band, a real-life Yorkshire brass band, and their fight against the Thatcherite union-busting and coal mine closures of the 1980s.

A star-making turn from a young Ewan McGregor, a classic underdog story, and outstanding brass band music – ‘Danny Boy’, the Concierto de Aranjuez, to name just a few – made Brassed Off the film of the moment in 1996. It’s all beautifully summed up by the monologue delivered by the late, great Pete Postlethwaite towards the film’s conclusion:

“Truth is, I thought it mattered. I thought that music mattered. But does it, bollocks! Not compared to how people matter.”

Special mentions: Quartet (Dustin Hoffman, 2012), Paradise Road (Bruce Beresford, 1997) 

Dan Golding presents Screen Sounds on ABC Classic (Saturday, 6pm–7pm.)