‘Echo of Everything’ movie review: meandering documentary about the origins of music
Music has been the subject of a great many films and, from concert footage to composers’ biographies to seminal documentary masterpieces, but few have delved as deeply into the purpose, origin, and meaning of music as Echo of Everything. Filmmaker Cam Christiansen’s latest production, which had its world premiere at Toronto’s Hot Docs festival, approaches music not only as an art form but as a biological phenomenon, a source of social cohesion and political change, and a scientific mystery. The unique, experimental film examines music through the lens of seemingly unrelated subjects such as physics, history, philosophy, and politics, searching for answers to substantial questions: What is music? Why do all humans respond to it? Do its existence and its universal appeal imply a greater meaning? The film opens with the intriguing introduction, “Music: a mysterious force that everyone feels, and no philosopher has explained.”
The documentary was inspired by the director’s own experiences with music. Christiansen explained, in a statement on the occasion of the film’s premiere, that he found himself turning to music during difficult times in his life and saw individuals achieve inner peace through music or strangers connect over a piece of music, and began to ask himself what is really going on. He looked into scientific explanations through books such as Oliver Sacks’ Musicophilia and Daniel Levin’s This Is Your Brain On Music. It was theoretical physicist, cosmologist, and musician Stephon Alexander who provided the director’s breakthrough inspiration. Alexander, the author of The Jazz of Physics, makes startling connections between music and physics which moved Christiansen to begin researching the subject, interviewing artists and scientists around the world to gather material for his film. “I discovered,” Christiansen comments, “that my relationship to music was very much connected to pain and trauma and that I used music often for cathartic release and liberation.” He devotes the first thirty minutes of the film to music’s place in his own life and its impact on his personal troubles, a slow introduction which gives way to more engrossing material.
Visually, the film is bold, inventive, and moving. Relatively few scenes depend on straightforward footage of musicians performing – although these are well-chosen and effective. Other scenes illustrate the subject matter at hand with re-enactments of historical events, animated images, archival footage, or enhanced telescopic views of the cosmos. A segment on a project that uses electronic devices to make music visible as geometric patterns through 3-D “harmonic structures” also makes excellent use of the visual. A peculiar portrayal recurs throughout the film: clips from a purposely antiquated-looking, surrealist-style silent film representing the filmmaker’s own life and struggles. This idea came from the director’s admiration of Spanish poet Garcia Lorca, who also delved into the meaning of music. The visuals are striking, often startling, and they both illustrate the themes being explored and provide an engrossing story of their own, even when the narration becomes a little dry.
The loose-knit, slightly disorganised storyline wanders freely from idea to idea. It begins with concepts of music in different cultures, pausing to study the idea in traditional Gypsy music of ‘duende,’ or being emotionally possessed by a song, accompanied by a wonderful performance in this style by singer Victoria Romero. The idea of being possessed by music leads to a discussion of the ancient Maenads, Dionysus worshippers who achieved states of “ecstatic frenzy” through music (along with a wild depiction of a dancing Maenad), the classical reference leading in turn to Plato’s thoughts on the human need for music. Footage from around the world shows music and dance being used for anything from celebration to exorcism, culminating in fascinating scenes of traditional African music- and dance-centred healing rituals filmed on location. The increasingly erratic discussion touches on psychiatric and medical theories on the benefits of music as therapy, as well as considering the need to balance the rational with the instinctive and emotional aspects of human nature and how music can be of help.
An interesting and lengthy sideline looks at music as a source of political and social change. Here, the film includes both musical performances and news footage to examine how music has been effectively used in civil rights movements or less happily used to promote and encourage acceptance of extreme or dangerous philosophies. An interesting comparison is offered between the openly defiant music of punk bands and the carefully secretive opposition hidden in traditional African-American music. Musician and writer Melvin Gibbs offers the opinion that all African-American music is “at its core subversive,” arguing that, as colonised, enslaved, or oppressed people, they have developed a culture and art forms “designed to oppose our dehumanisation.” The film offers an array of examples, from early country blues with hidden messages concealed in their lyrics to current hip-hop protest-themed recordings, to augment the discussion of “forbidden or despised songs,” protest songs, and what the director calls the “continuous process of shock, rejuvenation, and re-absorption into the status quo” of subversive music.
Finally, the film turns to science for a wider and stranger view of music’s importance in a discussion of the “music” of the universe. Scientists explain the discovery of a “microwave background” that exists throughout the universe, sometimes described as music or rhythm in space. This segment is filled with a combination of enhanced telescopic images from space, and abstract imagery, to represent this universal “music”, offering the vague suggestion that music may be loved and needed by human beings because it is an element in the very fabric of the universe, including ourselves.
Despite its meandering discussion, Echo of Everything is overall a fresh and interesting look at many aspects of music. It is visually beautiful and, despite its origin in grief and depression, is determinedly optimistic with a firmly positive view of mankind. For music lovers, it expands the subject beyond its usual definition in vague but thought-provoking ways. Christiansen sees it as a reminder of the power of music, “reconnecting us all to universal physical and emotional qualities that have been part of human history for thousands of years,” and if the documentary does not succeed in defining or explaining music, it does pay homage to its value. “In the end,” he noted, “the film is not just about music, but about the human condition and the resilience and adaptability of the human spirit.”
