Two followups
Sorry for the absence. The last month has been a bit crazy. On top of being sick and sustaining multiple back injuries, I had to embark on the first stage of my first comprehensive exams, which is a two week paper. (You draw a topic out of an envelope and are given exactly two weeks to research and write.) I have survived that, and must now study for the exam proper, which is sort of like a Music History 101 final exam, only more harrowing. So if any of you have any broad historical questions, such as, "What is baroque music?" or "What makes an opera an opera, as opposed to an oratorio, etc?" then this is an excellent time to ask! It will help me study.
I am going to return to the Byzantine chant issue I inflicted on myself, before getting to some of your Music 101 questions. Man, I remember now why "Byzantine" is a synonym for "labyrinthine." It's no wonder none of my professors know anything about Byzantine chant -- the topic is impossible to follow. So for now, two notes following up on previous posts.
First, a note on the post about the earliest known music. I found a few more specific and interesting nuggets about the earliest chant notation in the course of reading up on Byzantine chant.
One scholar thinks he has identified the first [surviving] chant to be associated with any kind of notation. This is the prosula Psalle modulamina, from the early 9th century (probably first quarter). The first unquestionably notated chants appear in the manuscript Musica disciplina, which is a treatise from the 840s. A bit later in the century, we start to get whole books of chant with notation. (In between are various manuscripts with examples of music here and there.) Levy, the scholar who identified Psalle modulamina, has argued that neumatic notation was common during the reign of Charlemagne, but it seems he’s in the minority. Most people seem to agree that the scarcity of notation in the 9th century reflects a true scarcity of practice.
Second, I realized something about the ending of the Tree of Life. I suppose I should issue a spoiler warning -- if I haven't already spoiled it -- but it really is a non-issue. It isn't a plot development, per se.
Ready? Ok. At the end of the film, Sean Penn's character appears in a salt plain, which gradually fills with people from his life. This scene, like the rest of the film, is wide open to interpretation, and something of it rings of the afterlife. I forget now why I assumed it was the afterlife (it just makes sense, given the film's continuum), but in the back of my mind, I constantly questioned this assumption. I think it remains a possible reading, but I'm not as convinced.
The first and biggest reason is, Penn's character, Jack, is not just there with friends and family, he's there with himself. He follows himself as a boy, and then there they are, in the plain together. Second, his parents appear as they did in the 50s. From a screen writing point of view, this is pragmatic, simply so we can immediately recognize the characters. (His parents are only shown in the 50s; we don't see them in the present day.) But, if it were supposed to be Heaven, why would Jack see everyone as they appeared in his childhood? (I guess there are many possible reasons, and I can find no compelling reason he wouldn't--it's just a bit odd.)
So, it is my new conclusion that this scene in the plains is simply a visual representation of his sea of thoughts. It's a reflection on all of the people in his life, including his own past. The entire film is a progression of memories. Even the depictions of the beginning of time, of dinosaurs, and so on, can be seen as only Jack's imagination; the voice overs are not artificial voice overs, but his thoughts to himself as he contemplates these images. In the end, he follows himself through a maze of cliffs, before passing through a door and arriving at the plains. This functions a kind of summary of the movie, his journey following himself back to the community of his youth, the connection of his past and present. Everyone standing together in the plains shows that all of the people of Jack's life are always with him, in thought. The past leads to the present and future, temporally speaking, but we can return to the past through memory and bring our experience to it. These reflections, in turn, contribute to our present/future, and so experience is not truly linear, but is in constant dialog.
Edited to add: The Hindu has a nice, succinct review of the film here.
I am going to return to the Byzantine chant issue I inflicted on myself, before getting to some of your Music 101 questions. Man, I remember now why "Byzantine" is a synonym for "labyrinthine." It's no wonder none of my professors know anything about Byzantine chant -- the topic is impossible to follow. So for now, two notes following up on previous posts.
First, a note on the post about the earliest known music. I found a few more specific and interesting nuggets about the earliest chant notation in the course of reading up on Byzantine chant.
One scholar thinks he has identified the first [surviving] chant to be associated with any kind of notation. This is the prosula Psalle modulamina, from the early 9th century (probably first quarter). The first unquestionably notated chants appear in the manuscript Musica disciplina, which is a treatise from the 840s. A bit later in the century, we start to get whole books of chant with notation. (In between are various manuscripts with examples of music here and there.) Levy, the scholar who identified Psalle modulamina, has argued that neumatic notation was common during the reign of Charlemagne, but it seems he’s in the minority. Most people seem to agree that the scarcity of notation in the 9th century reflects a true scarcity of practice.
Second, I realized something about the ending of the Tree of Life. I suppose I should issue a spoiler warning -- if I haven't already spoiled it -- but it really is a non-issue. It isn't a plot development, per se.
Ready? Ok. At the end of the film, Sean Penn's character appears in a salt plain, which gradually fills with people from his life. This scene, like the rest of the film, is wide open to interpretation, and something of it rings of the afterlife. I forget now why I assumed it was the afterlife (it just makes sense, given the film's continuum), but in the back of my mind, I constantly questioned this assumption. I think it remains a possible reading, but I'm not as convinced.
The first and biggest reason is, Penn's character, Jack, is not just there with friends and family, he's there with himself. He follows himself as a boy, and then there they are, in the plain together. Second, his parents appear as they did in the 50s. From a screen writing point of view, this is pragmatic, simply so we can immediately recognize the characters. (His parents are only shown in the 50s; we don't see them in the present day.) But, if it were supposed to be Heaven, why would Jack see everyone as they appeared in his childhood? (I guess there are many possible reasons, and I can find no compelling reason he wouldn't--it's just a bit odd.)
So, it is my new conclusion that this scene in the plains is simply a visual representation of his sea of thoughts. It's a reflection on all of the people in his life, including his own past. The entire film is a progression of memories. Even the depictions of the beginning of time, of dinosaurs, and so on, can be seen as only Jack's imagination; the voice overs are not artificial voice overs, but his thoughts to himself as he contemplates these images. In the end, he follows himself through a maze of cliffs, before passing through a door and arriving at the plains. This functions a kind of summary of the movie, his journey following himself back to the community of his youth, the connection of his past and present. Everyone standing together in the plains shows that all of the people of Jack's life are always with him, in thought. The past leads to the present and future, temporally speaking, but we can return to the past through memory and bring our experience to it. These reflections, in turn, contribute to our present/future, and so experience is not truly linear, but is in constant dialog.
Edited to add: The Hindu has a nice, succinct review of the film here.
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