Frau im Mond
(1929, score 2017)
Directed by: Fritz Lang
Writing credits: Thea von Harbou
Starring: Willy Fritsch, Gerda Maurus, Klaus Pohl, Fritz Rasp
Genre: Science-fiction
Country: Germany
Running Time: 168 mins
Instrumentation List
3 Flutes (3rd dbl. Picc.)
2 Oboes (2nd dbl. E. Horn)
3 Clarinets (3rd dbl. Bass-cl., Contrabass-cl.)
3 Bassoons (3rd plays Contrabassoon only)
6 Horns
3 Trumpets (in B-flat)
2 Trombones
Bass-Trombone
Tuba
Timpani
4 Percussion
Celesta
Harp
Strings: (min 12, 10, 8, 8, 6)
Music composed by Timothy Brock (2017). Commissioned by Elbphilharmonie, Wien Konzerthaus, Orchestre National de Lyon, Philharmonie de Luxembourg and was premiered by the composer conducting the Tonkunstler Orchestra at the Vienna Konzerthaus April 27th, 2017.
When Fritz Lang Shot the Moon – J. Hoberman- New York Times - June 27, 2019
Fritz Lang’s last silent film, “Frau im mond” (1929), known in English as “Woman in the Moon,” was also a first — the earliest movie to depict space travel as a realistic possibility. The film impressed even those familiar with newfangled talking pictures. The New York Times reported that Lang’s movie, titled “By Rocket to the Moon” on its United States release in 1931, gave audiences “a breathtaking jaunt into the mysteries of interstellar communication.” If Georges Méliès’s silent fantasy “A Trip to the Moon” was the “Star Wars” of 1902, it can be said that “Woman in the Moon” was the “2001: A Space Odyssey” of 1929. Lang’s movie was at once pedantically scientific and outlandishly speculative — a spectacle low on human interest and high on cutting-edge special effects, some developed by the avant-garde animator Oskar Fischinger. “Motion picture technology celebrates its triumph,” a German reviewer wrote.
Working from a novel by his wife, Thea von Harbou, Lang sought the imprimatur of Hermann Oberth, whose 1923 book, “The Rocket Into Interplanetary Space”, fueled a German craze for spaceflight. Oberth and his young disciple, the science writer Willy Ley, served as technical advisers, adding weight to von Harbou’s flimsy story about a privately funded rocket, with an unconventional crew, in search of gold on the moon. As a favor to Oberth, and as a publicity ploy, Lang helped finance a planned rocket launch to celebrate the movie’s premiere. (Although the proposal fizzled out, Oberth was later recruited by the Nazi missile program and contributed to the development of the V-2 rocket.)
“Woman in the Moon” begins as an energetic, if routine, reprise of Lang’s previous film, “Spies” (1928). The first half is largely devoted to criminal conspiracy. A gang of plutocrats, fronted by a master of disguise and suave thuggery named Turner (played by German cinema’s favorite villain, Fritz Rasp), plot to steal a rocket designed by an aging mad scientist from his earnest young protégé, the entrepreneurial astrophysicist Helius (the popular leading man Willy Fritsch).
As a counterpoint to the assorted burglaries and deceptions, the movie establishes a romantic triangle involving Helius and his two assistants, the cowardly Windegger (Gustav von Wangenheim, the hapless hero of “Nosferatu”) and the courageous Frieda (the Croatian actress Gerda Maurus). As resourceful as she is noble, Frieda had managed to produce close-up movies of the lunar surface, which resembles something grown in a petri dish. Amid much talk of trajectory, velocity and the “weightless zone,” a lunar expedition is organized that will involve all five of the principals and a young stowaway, first seen reading a science fiction pulp magazine.
“Woman in the Moon” reaches its emotional peak midway through with the rocket launch — a full-scale media event complete with search lights, a grandstand, a frenzied crowd held back by the police, and, as the full moon rises, the unveiling of a huge silver rocket, as godlike as a Kubrik Monolith. The hysteria, which some have said anticipates the Nazi propaganda film “Triumph of the Will,” was paralleled by the movie’s premiere (the first covered live on the radio), which had Albert Einstein among the invited guests. The facade of the Ufa Palast theater was redesigned as a monumental bas-relief to dramatize spaceflight. A sculpted rocket, launched from a three-dimensional skyscraper city, shuttled back and forth to the moon against a heavenly deep blue backdrop of a thousand twinkling light bulbs.
In the movie’s most suspenseful sequence, the countdown to blastoff (a convention Lang invented) gives way to agonizing pressure on the space travelers, followed by the requisite weightless scene. The lunar landing is also stressful. Fortunately, the moon turns out to be a giant sandbox. (Unfortunately, it also provides an arena for the travelers to play out all the conflicts they brought from Earth.) A desperate overlay of mawkish sentiment notwithstanding, the end of “Woman in the Moon” combines an overwhelming sense of desolation with an agoraphobic fear of the void. More than presaging Kubrick’s “Space Odyssey,” this horror vacui anticipates the terror of Alfonso Cuarón’s “Gravity...
This is the final silent film of the master director, Fritz Lang (Metropolis, M, Dr. Mabuse) and is the first truly authentic science-fiction epic in film history. A visually gripping spectacle that dramatizes the first lunar expedition in great visual detail. Lang had worked closely with a team of technical consultants, who, along with screenwriter Thea von Harbou, strives for scientific realism based on true astrophysics. The film is even cited as the original inventors of the “countdown to zero”, to which now all real-life rockets launch. A beautiful and masterful mix of romanticism, espionage and rocketry, all in the dark and indelible Lang style. As the 50th anniversary of the first moon landing approaches in 2019, this film promises to be a spectacular journey to a time when our imaginations ran vividly wild with futuristic possibilities, of life beyond our earth.
My score to Frau im Mond is my largest-in-scale to date. Something about human-beings building a gargantuan rocket to fly to the moon, and nearly killing themselves in the process, seems to me to begs for an overwhelming sound. And once landed on the lunar surface, the music develops a stranger characteristic while in the shadows of the moon's dark side. The film's characters deeply lose themselves and their inhibitions in the process, as does the music. It's quite a journey for all.
Pure musical symbolism is a hard thing to achieve in silent film score, for usually it does nothing to advance or enhance the story. If anything it is a distraction. However in the opening bars of Frau im mond I use a rather blatant specimen of symbolism in the opening chords. Two colossal forces (rising major triads, starting a half-step up from the root) working against each other until the persistently rising upper chord eventually pulls away from the anchoring pedal tone, ultimately freeing itself. This was, for me, a structure symbolically large enough to counter the force of 'gravity' in the 'D' pedal point in the low brass, contrabassoon, timpani and strings, until the orchestra finally pulls itself upward to a weightless conclusion. And since this occurs during the opening titles, there were no competing images or story to suspend. Just pure music, like an overture, and therefore I was free to utilize this musical symbolism without fear being confused by any associating imagery.
Other types symbolic gestures occur as well, especially in instrumentation. In the scene of the five industrial tycoons who take control of the expedition, I use predominantly a contrabass-clarinet and contrabass-bassoon in a grotesque one-step dance to exemplify the grotesque nature of these thieving fat cats. For the American spy, Walt Turner, I use a painfully slow and deliberate fox-trot pattern which, at the tempo I set it, gives him a cold and calculating manner, despite the traditionally upbeat musical form. The most obvious musical choice was the procession of the rocket to the launch pad from the hangar. This scene, which last nearly twenty minutes, has an assortment of percussion ostinanti and marches, which finally culminates in a chorale for the brass.
Lastly, this is probably the largest percussion part I've written for a silent film. I've written this score for 5 percussionists plus timpani in order to carry out the enormous task this score requires of them. They not only lead the orchestra in the procession of the rocket out of the hanger, but they also drive its engine at full speed to the to the moon itself, and provide the strangest ambiance after landing. The percussion section employs a wide variety of instruments, both common and uncommon. Besides the use of various bells, flexatones, car-suspension springs, chimes, whistles and sirens, my score also calls for a set of rare and unique instruments called 'spring drums' that delivers a very unearthly sound which I felt might capture what the atmosphere of the lunar surface (might) sound like. It is heard (subtlety) whenever the characters are outside the rocket, on the lunar surface.
I am honored to have been commissioned for this score by the four institutions involved in this project. My many thanks to the Vienna Konzerthaus, Orchestre National de Lyon, the Elbphilharmonie Hamburg and Philharmonie Luxembourg.
Vienna Konzerthaus commissions new score for Science-fiction epic, FRAU IM MOND
The Wien Konzerthaus commissions it's second score in as many years from composer Timothy Brock, the Fritz Lang three-hour Science-fiction epic, FRAU IM MOND (1929). The planned premiere is scheduled for two live performances in June 2017, with the Tonkünstler Orchester and Brock at the helm.
Legendary film director Fritz Lang's last silent film, FRAU IM MOND (1929) was made two years after debuting his ground-breaking film, METROPOLIS (1927), and is widely considered one of the first “serious” science-fiction films in history. A visually gripping spectacle that dramatizes the first lunar expedition in great visual detail. Lang had worked closely with a team of technical consultants, who, along with screenwriter Thea von Harbou, strives for scientific realism based on true astrophysics. The film is even cited as the first occurrence of the “countdown to zero”, to which now all real-life rockets launch.
The score, currently being written, is for large orchestra and should serve well the large scope of the 1929 production. In conversation with the composer, Brock says he is finding the project a new kind of challenge.
“This is my first score for a science-fiction film, and my first Lang film. Two rather new endeavors for me. Also the storyline is not so easy. There's a careful mix of romanticism, espionage and rocketry, and even individually they're not dramatically straightforward. I'm having a great time getting to know this film.”
The Tonkünstler Orchester makes it's home in Vienna, and are regular visitors to the Konzerthaus. Although Brock, too, is a frequent guest conductor at the Konzerthaus, FRAU IM MOND marks the first time they'll perform together in concert.
