It’s a subject I’ve contemplated writing about for ages, but never have. Perhaps it’s the fact that it is lightly raining out or the meditative music I’m listening to (that being Hans Zimmer’s score from The Thin Red Line) or a combination of both, but I’m suddenly in the mind frame to jot down some thoughts.
I was first aware of rain in film after viewing Spielberg’s Jurassic Park for the very first time. I don’t know if I was consciously aware of its artistic implications at the time, but I vividly remember feeling uneasy during one sequence especially. Because of the park power outage, the two-guided trucks had stopped in front of the T-Rex pen. It was, at first, a quiet low-key scene of the characters sitting around. Tim, the small boy, was looking through the back of the truck he was in, much against Donald’s wishes, and stumbled upon night vision binoculars. What’s a young child to do? Obviously put them on and scan the premises. What happens next is a frightening sequence we’re all familiar with: the ripples in the cup and the introduction to the T-Rex.
Why this works so well is not just because of Spielberg’s keen eye and his ability to engage the audience with little action, but it’s because of the attention to sound. Instead of a slowly creeping up musical score by John Williams, practical rain effects and sound design sway our mood. Literarily and cinematically speaking rain can represent many things: loss, sorrow, starting-a-new, growth, life, an impending disaster. It can also serve as a form of hypnosis, hearing the repetitive droplets hit the roof/and or window, and eventually relaxing one’s muscles and mind, sending one into a comfortable trance where all defenses are surrendered. The same droplets can even produce a kind of natural musical tension, depending on the situation in the cinematic world.
But does rain have to be seen as a distinct manipulation inserted into a scene for a purely dramatic effect? I would like to think it doesn't have to, as with my feature Nicotine, I included a sequence surrounded by rain and sound purely because I could. The sound of rain during particular quiet moments felt right. Being naïve, I thought I could get away with rain as just rain and prove that it could be an artistic decision without being a tool of manipulation. I then realized it did symbolize a change; a relaxation, followed by a sharp left turn in the thought process of the characters, and did represent all of the foreboding literary and cinematic definitions of water; wetting the ground, making for a murky situation to become murkier.
In my next feature film Tess, which won’t be photographed until fall of 2014, will too include a scene of weather representing change. It’s not something I want to use much of in the future, because it can be seen as a visual crutch if overused, but if it works well for the action, the story and develops organically, then that’s all that matters.
Now this has me thinking of rain in other films. The next director that utilizes this tool well, aside from Spielberg, is Sam Mendes, who used rain during character changes in American Beauty, Road to Perdition and Revolutionary Road. There is also the use of rain in Paul Thomas Anderson’s Magnolia, which ultimately brings all of the characters together. Michael Mann uses rain in The Insider, during a sequence when Al Pacino and Russell Crowe confront each-other, rather loudly, outside on a driveway. The sequence continues, as does the rain, as the two characters talk in a parked car that’s located near a river. At a particular moment, all the sound fades out, and we have a visual cue of a barge moving forward across the river, as the rain comes to an end; representing clarity, progress in what the two characters are trying to achieve.
The ultimate and most popular rain scene from any film has to be The Shawshank Redemption, where Andy Desfrense emerges from a particularly crappy situation and reaches towards the sky. The popular scene from The Notebook where Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams share a romantic wet embrace. Oh, well, of course we have Singing in the Rain, which didn’t even need to be stated, but I went ahead anyway. Unbreakable stands out as well, as does Fincher's Seven.
I’m sure there are countless perfect examples or rain in film that should stand out, like in film-noir films of the 40s and 50s, but they aren’t popping in my mind at this very moment. Do you have a favorite movie that includes a memorable rain sequence?
