What was that!?

Playtime, by Jacques Tati, is a film unlike any other I have ever seen, and likely unlike any other film, period. Some have likened the action onscreen to a dance, including Bruce Bennet, who said of Tati's work: "Choreographed, repetitive movement is very important in his films and the result here is almost an urban ballet" (Introduction to Playtime, 2013). In addition to its visual spectacle, Playtime can also be appreciated for its unconventional sound design. This can be especially appreciated when considering the time of the sound production, preferences towards small details, and the progression of sound throughout the film. 

The sound in Tati's fourth film were all produced after-the-fact. Although actors would say the lines during shooting, they were not recorded live. This results in some lines of dialogue being more or less in sync than others. The scene the beginning of the film in which a woman behind a counter is announcing the arrival of a flight from Germany, her mouth looks slightly out of sync to the words she is supposed to be saying. Rather than breaking the illusion of the film, this bending (not quite breaking) of the sync event serves to heighten the viewer's sense of sound. Tati's ability to capture the audiences aural attention was enhanced by the process of post-dubbing. 

Post-dubbing also gave Tati the ability to highlight our attention to small details. Originally shot on 70mm film, Playtime is essentially a "Where's Waldo" book on screen for two hours. The small details can help the viewer find "Waldo," or rather where the sound is coming from and thus where he or she should look. In his article, Bennet explains that rather than privileging dialogue "the sound effects are just as prominent on the soundtrack as speech and there is also very little scaling so that sounds coming from the background are often as loud on the soundtrack as sounds coming from action in the foreground" (2013). Examples of this include the main(-ish) character Monsieur Hulot as he walks across squeaky floors and hears a business man obsessively brushing off himself and his papers.

The isolated sounds, however, seem to give way to a more involved soundtrack as the film progresses. In the opening scene of the film we hear a hushed conversation accented by the sound of men walking along the floor and doors opening and closing, among other "small" sounds. Later, once we have passed the halfway point of the film, we are presented with a soundtrack of constant overlapping dialogue and what could be one of the longest free jazz jams of all time. This scene in the Royal Garden night club transitions through a small cafe to the conclusion of the film, which is accompanied by a carnival soundtrack and a visually represented merry-go-round. This grand crescendo of sound is subtle and made up of the subtle at first, yet it manages at its climax to be a raucous disarray.

The fact that the sound grew throughout Playtime is just one part of why the sound in this film is so fascinating. The post-dubbing process and emphasis on subtlety give the film an additional texture and depth. Tati's film is truly a marvelous spectacle to be seen and heard.

Also, it would not be fair (I don't think) to write about this film without at least mentioning that it is also a critical work taking on ultra-modern architecture, globalism, and perhaps the postmodern nomos that was developing in the director's time. It is actually so well done it's crazy.