Magic of the Music Editor: Ozark and Radiohead

A music editor is tasked with choosing all the music in a film or series. Pieces can range from already existing songs to the original music that will be created by the composer. They’re responsible for all the songs on the film’s soundtrack. They will sit in with the director to identify the musical cues. They’ll work with the editor to achieve the right pace of music for the film. These days, with so much more content available, never has the quality of original music and external songs used to enhance the emotional resonance of a film or series been more crucial. The right song used at the right time can transcend a scene and thus a movie or series to a higher level than previously imagined.
Here is the first example:
Ozark Season 1, Sugarwood:
Original Score into Radiohead-Decks Dark
Composers: Danny Bensi and Saunder Jurrians
Music Editor: Jayson Tregoe Newman and Bryant J. Fuhrmann
This first example represents a seamless transition from an original score to a licensed song that elevates the sequence into a transcendent moment. The opening scene begins with Marty (Jason Bateman) and his family driving down a winding Missouri road, packed into their Honda Odyssey with eight million dollars belonging to the Navarro Mexican drug cartel.

It is during this scene, in the wake of a chain of events that has upended the lives of Marty and his family, that we hear a minimal arrangement of woodwinds and strings comprising a snippet of the original score. Marty pulls the van over to the side of the road claiming the need to take a leak. Closing the door, he takes one step in the direction of the wooded area where he is headed to relieve himself. It is at this moment is when the original score transitions into Radiohead’s Decks Dark. The change from the original score into the song flows so nicely that, if unfamiliar with the track from A Moon Shaped Pool, you wouldn’t know the difference between the two.
The way Decks Dark works on a thematic level and how the synchronicity of the song’s message mirrors the emotive tone of the scene is incredible. We see this man of a calculating and very binary ‘I trust the numbers’ type of nature in Marty Byrde, who has had to negotiate with evil, merciless foe for the lives of his family and arrange for their safe passage. Through the course of the episode, he has left emotion at the door to accomplish many daunting tasks that only seem to be delaying the inevitably painful end for every person Marty holds dear to himself. As Marty leans against the tree far away from the view of his family, he finally breaks down, letting the emotion of the moment take hold. Slumping down, he whispers how sorry he is. That’s when we hear Thom Yorke’s voice. The terrifying, almost prophetic lyrics only surpasses the tonal flavour of the song’s as they exactly fit Marty Byrde’s exact situation in that exact moment; a man who has been t-boned by the Mack truck of life leaving him crumbled and hunched over in all kinds of pain. As he tries to pull himself together, something catches his eye. We see Marty walk out to the edge of a cliff overlooking the lake of the Ozarks. He stands there on the precipice of this new world faced with challenges both known and unknown to his family. On a critical level, the shot embodies the physical and symbolic spirit of Joseph Campbell’s Hero With a Thousand Faces.

Marty is joined by his family with Jonah (Skylar Gaertner) first appearing who, taking in the view, offers his dad an approving ‘all right, Dad.’ Charlotte (Sofia Hublitz) then enters the scene with a look of bewildering frustration followed eventually by Wendy (a customarily outstanding Laura Linney). The look between Wendy and Marty transitions with a continuity cut into a shot that carries us off the cliff and over the water. As the camera pulls away from Marty Byrde and his family, we hear Thom Yorke’s voice ‘But it was just a laugh, just a laugh (x3), even at this angle.’ There is such an emotional parallel between the song and the scene that it’s hard not at least to consider that the ratio of pace between the beat and the image is intentional. The emotive theme of the scene and the lyrics of the song mirror each other so well beat for beat, that it wouldn’t be unreasonable to wonder if the song was written specifically for this sequence. The answer is almost certainly no but the song was written specifically for this sequence. The answer is almost certainly no but the song’s resonance and how it compliments such a visually accomplished moment offers an appreciation not just for the scene but also a newfound appreciation for the song itself.
Recently, I am trying to pay more attention to that moment in the story, be it a film or series, when I am hooked. It’s almost as though I can feel that scene sequence or exchange in dialogue or when that moment non-verbal overture of kindness or malice offers from one character to the next that draws me in and gives me a reason to start caring about the protagonist and the members of his or her tribe. It’s not always the inciting event or the event that kicks off the story that finally hooks us. More frequently there is such a focus on exposition and set up, and a series can be as far as two or three episodes in before I establish a rooted connection to the characters and have a vested interest in their welfare.
It’s this concluding scene sequence, so emotively humbling and visually majestic, coupled with a song so hauntingly complimentary in arrangement and emotional resonance, that we witness a critical moment for our anti-hero. Setting the emotive timbre for a series indeed worth binge-watching, the brilliance of the music editing during this sequence is a massive reason.
