Talk Radio

Contemporary Traces of the Modern Soundtrack

Developed for RMIT Media Arts

Director: Oliver Stone

1986 SALVADOR 1986 – PLATOON
1988 – TALK RADIO
1989 – BORN ON THE FOURTH OF JULY
1991 – THE DOORS
1991 – JFK
1994 – NATURAL BORN KILLERS
1999 – ANY GIVEN SUNDAY

Composer: Stewart Copeland

1982 – RUMBLE FISH
1987 – WALL STREET
1988 – TALK RADIO
1994 – SILENT FALL
1997 – GRIDLOCK’D

Sound mixer: Todd A. Maitland

1988 – TALK RADIO
1989 – BORN ON THE FOURTH OF JULY
1990 – JACOB’S LADDER
1991 – THE DOORS
1991 – JFK
1995 – CLOCKERS
1995 – DEAD MAN WALKING
1997 – DONNIE BRASCO

Close Analysis

1. The Dallas cityscape from left to right is introduced not solely as a visual panorama, but as a sign of invisibility: it depicts what we cannot see – the listening audience to radio. As it approaches night, it symbolizes ‘night air’: the invisible/dark/shrouded ether sphere of airwave transmissions. As the city sleeps (figuratively and politically) late night talk radio (the show Night Talk) wakes them up.

2. George Thoroughgood’s electric-blues Bad To The Bone cuts in. It’s distinctive over-amped guitar synchs to the character of talk show radio agitator Barry Champlain (Eric Begonia). It is used as a phoneme to have audience’s aurally register the ‘identity’ of the Night Talk show, and it also comes to symbolize the grizzly garrulous character of ‘bad boy’ Barry.

3. Barry starts the show : we hear his voice over a series of close-ups: the red illuminated “ON AIR” sign; the red ‘recording’ bulb; an ignited cigarette tip being lit and unleashing swirls of smoke; multiple illuminated switches on the mixing console; faders being pushed up; VU meters cranking to the right; red time-code read-outs; tape reels spinning; black sleek studio monitors; analogue clock’s second arm turning; computer screen of incoming callers; tape cartridges of show IDs being pushed into place; incoming phone lights on a commander system; contraction arms of the microphone. During this montage we hear Barry’s voice in real-time, announcing, declaiming, arguing with callers. Occasional flashes of dialogue with other staff (Laura and Stu) are intercut – but the set-up sonically privileges the voice of Barry: he is king of this station’s airwaves.

4. Barry is introduced from behind; then finally his face is shown as he takes on a right wing militant nut. The caller says “this is not a dialogue – this is a monologue” – but that’s how Barry works: he talks, people listen.

5. Barry Champagne’s voice: deep, dry and breathless. His onscreen voice is like a voice-over narration, due to the close-miced radiophonic technique in contrast to standard boom-operated location dialogue recording. This is contrasted when he is heard off-mic, sometimes from other rooms/studios, or in hallways and corridors in the station. Often his ‘monologues’ on-air are matched with slow tracking shots throughout the station, sometimes as empty space, sometimes with other staff either listening or not listening. His voice accordingly shifts perspective, psycho-acoustic colouring the visible drama.

6. The psycho-acoustics and ‘architecsonics’ of the radio station broadcast studio: (a) an aural panopticon: most studios can see each other through glass booths – their shared vision equates the broadcast sound channelled throughout the spaces of the station; (b) sound-proofed environments: these spaces contain incoming sound and allow sound/voices produced within to be scrutinised with precision – the station’s ‘talk radio’ format is a clinical processing of the voices of society; (c) empty chairs: these items populate the spaces, symbolizing the invisible listening voices of the audience, as well as the station’s management keeping checks on Barry; (d) reflections: due to the multiple layers of soundproofed glass in the studio, the glass allows the ability to see through and to be seen – the cityscape outside symbolises the mass of listeners, while the listening staff is often reflected in images of Barry when he is on air talking.

7. When Barry is introduced to station manager Dan (Alec Baldwin) and Metro Waves advertising manager Chuck, their voices are softer, hushed, concealed. We often hear them talking so others don’t hear them: they symbolise the ‘behind closed doors’ approach of how corporations do deals – one of which will ultimately affect Barry and potentially change the show. Chuck is there to note how Barry operates – he’s “the eyes and ears of Metro Wave, so to speak”.

8. When Metro Wave picks up the show, Barry’s show will go national: “The Nation is listening!” Barry makes this announcement on air while the staff (including Barry and Chuck) nervously wait to see what he says. We see their reflection while seeing Barry. We hear Barry but do not hear them when they cheer Barry’s decision to accept the Metro Wave offer.

9. When druggy Kent rings up, Barry talks with him distractedly – his mind is all over the place as he is starting to get nervous from Chuck’s presence.

10. Barry to Dan: “I feel like I’m auditioning for my own job out there.”

11. Barry pleads with his ex-wife Ellen to come to the station. He is hesitant and lacks confidence; she is half-talking to her husband. The phone does not allow Barry to connect to her. Finally she consents.

12. Back on air, Barry is happier. His sarcasm is contrasted with the homespun dumb-happiness of a regular elderly caller. This scene demonstrates how Barry’s voice performs off or against other voices, undercutting their purpose to re-enforce his position – all evident to us watching what the radio listener’s cannot see, i.e. Barry’s disconnect from their contribution to the show.

13. When Barry talks to suicidal Debbie, he cuts between talking to her on air, to talking to Laura. Debbie continues, while we see/hear how Barry is controlling things during the show. We hear what the listeners cannot hear – the ‘behind the scenes’ which are in front of us in the studio’s panopticon environment.

14. While paranoid Denise continues babbling, Barry eyes the package sent by crank caller Charlie. Barry yells off-air to Dan not to call the bomb squad; Dan swears back at him unheard. He opens the box to see the dead rat; Denise keeps babbling about being afraid of everything in her daily life. Barry is afraid here, but tackles the package because he feels Chuck watching him to see what he’ll do. Denise finishes by describing the threat the everyday holds as “strange air”.

15. Barry unpacks the Nazi flag from the dead rat package. He drapes it over his shoulder like a toga. He wears it, covering himself with the scum of his listeners. The show finishes and the lights are extinguished: no more “verbal intercourse”. Barry’s show is over – silence and blackness takes over.

16. At the basketball match Barry is approached by the flaky blonde who hates him, but is completely not upset with her hatred of Barry. She just laughs at him, and Barry can’t get her to respond or engage. She is the indifferent listener who confronts him with the apathy he rails against.

17. The background atmosphere at the basketball stadium is the massed sound of the masses’ voices, not the silence of the broadcast studio. They boo him and throw paper cups. The scene fades down to silence, like a slowly receding wave of noise.

18. Barry hangs up on Dan – Dan is furious. Barry is often like a yapping bulldog; Dan is often left spitting after being cut-off and silenced by Barry.

19. Laura and ex-wife Ellen meet each other over the phone, neither knowing the other.

20. When Barry and Ellen meet in the park after she arrives in Dallas, their connection is the exception to most of Barry’s personal connections. They talk comfortably, each listening to the other, relaxed, and without interruption. They’re divorced, but still ‘in-synch’.

21. Flashback. Talk radio host Jeff Fisher – Barry recognises his voice. He says to Barry “You’ve got quite a voice. You ever do radio?”

22. Flashback. Barry’s first go on Jeff Fisher’s show. Barry gets high on taking a caller – the camera swirls around him. Barry’s voice is the centre of the whirlpool – it symbolizes a moment of consciousness, where Barry realises the power of his own voice. From this point on, he is a dynamo: a generator of energy through sound (his voice). The scene thus marks his birth into sound.

23. Flashback. Ellen pretends to be a caller ‘Cheryl-Anne’ and pretends to hate Barry. They watch each other through the glass booth, but a measure of truth is unleashed by her acting this out. Speaking out is an action which can activate hidden truth.

24. Flashback. After the ‘high’ of their exchange, Barry takes Ellen into the toilet. She thinks it’s to be romantic, but he is offering her the job for manage. He says “fuck out marriage” – the sign that they will eventually separate.

25. After Barry finds out that the show is not going national, he issues of proclamation to the listeners, that Night Talk is about “saying what’s gotta be said”. He asks them to “hit me with your best shot”. That evening’s show will be one which pushes things even further.

26. Cut to an extreme close-up of the red recording bulb illuminating, combined with an electrical buzz. The next session of callers are connecting to a fragile, addled Barry: he is on edge, and the audio-vision of these scenes seems to operate in slow-motion – showing us Barry from odd, tracking angles. He lights up a cigarette as a caller queries Barry about the authenticity of the Holocaust: a deep slo-mo rumble is heard. This replays the opening of 3.

27. Then hard-cut to Barry in real-time, but with the camera rotating around him, with Barry speaking very fast, almost sped-up. He is agitated, and the caller’s anti-Zionist diatribe gets Barry angrier. This scene inverts 22 – now, the sound world – the voices of his listenership – are a whirlpool of their making, within which Barry is being trapped. Again, the soundtrack is a fixed aural plane of a dialogue between Barry (full-frequencies) and the caller (treble only), while the visuals swirl and express conflict, confusion, anxiety, tension.

28. When Barry starts confirming to the caller that he knows the plot of William Pierce’s book The Turner Diaries and details it, the camera moves with Barry as he roves like a caged animal in the studio around his console. The sound of mob jeering fades up: Barry is being agitated by the mass of stupidity represented by the caller’s extreme right-wing hateful screed.

29. Kent returns on line – the red globe in close-up with a richer electronic sound. Barry calls his bluff as Kent sobs about his girlfriend OD-ing. Dan tells Stu to cut the call; Stu says it’s Barry’s show. Kent laughs; Barry laughs with him, he realises they’re alike. Barry agrees to let crazy Kent come down to the studio.

30. Argument between Barry and Dan – heard echoed from Stu’s studio. Intercut from that space and the other space – they shift around in the room, we get to hear the sound in each of the joined spaces. In each space, another character is there, observing the conflict (Stu, Ellen, Karen).

31. From this point on, Ellen is the only one that can truly see the pressure is affecting Barry: the film starts to reveal her point of view, matching her looking perspective with Barry’s voice. Barry’s voice always sounds full and maximal, controlling and bearing energy, but his darting eyes, blinks, head turns – invisible to the listeners but exposed to everyone at the station – imply his interior state of mind.

32. Joe’s call: the abusive father – this exchange Barry exaggerates the caller’s psyche. He holds a mirror back to the caller, voicing Joe’s dumb anger. The caller signs off “I know what you look like.”

33. John’s call: the serial rapist – this exchange takes the tone of a confessional. Barry lowers his voice and tries to soothe Joe through empathy. This is Barry going to a dark place within himself. Once there he attempts to talk John out of doing it. But John disconnects – dead air; Barry is forced by that silence to acknowledge his own powerlessness.

34. Pasty Rock Pesticide – the ad starts off with “Listen closely: the sound of cockroaches mating.”

35. Crazy Kent on air – he talks off mic, too loudly, too softly, laughs too much, etc. The presence of the masses on air. Barry has let his audience into the show. Kent asks if the mic is on; Barry says “Your sitting in front of a live mic. When you talk, thousands of people hear your voice. It penetrates their minds.” Then Kent screams into the mic. Through the conversation, Barry interrogates Kent, and realises that his listenership – like Kent – may not be engaging with Barry’s purpose of the show.

36. Julia rings up – Barry queries her. He is starting to doubt everything he does. He quizzes her while he looks at Kent. He looses it and yells at Julia.

37. The sexy female caller: “Are you as ugly-looking as you sound?” She does a psych-analysis on him. Cut to Barry’s eyes, and to Ellen watching him.

38. When Kent is ejected, he grabs a camera and takes a flash photo of Barry. It is set up to maybe be a gun. Barry shields his eyes in slo-mo; exaggerated flash is heard.

39. Ellen rings up as ‘Cheryl-Anne’. They speak from disconnected spaces, each hidden from the other, but each knowing who they are. The call becomes erotic, soft, hushed. Cut to Barry’s lips, as he says “You want to be close to him.” The staff all listen, knowing also what’s going on. Ellen starts to open up and declare a need to be back with Barry. She moves to a glass window and says directly to him “I love you, Barry.” Barry tells the dog with a bone story; light on her fades down. Barry then attacks her savagely. Close-up of Barry’s lips and spittle. Ellen hangs up and leaves the station.

40. Elisa calls up with prophetic doom. Barry leaves her talking on air, and exits the studio looking for Ellen. The doom-auguring voice reverberates through the space as if from a pulpit.

41. Barry returns, and actually agrees with her. He performs a confession on air about all his contradictions. Yet he remains unrepentant: “Who the hell are you anyway, you ‘audience’?” The camera slowly rotates around him while fixed on his front-on face. We see his face set against a moving panorama of the spaces and staff behind him. His monologue becomes hateful – of himself and everyone who listens to him: “I tell you what you are – I have to, I have no choice”. Throughout this speech he actually echoes many of the sentiments of his most psychotic and anti-social callers.

42. Barry pleads with his listeners to say if they understand him. Callers ring in, and through a series of jump-cuts, each one proves his fears. The sound of canned laughter is heard with each edit.

43. Suddenly Ralph calls in, and actually is there to help Barry. Ralph hangs up; call-tone is heard. Stu’s voice from the booth: “This is dead air Barry.” Barry allows the show to finish with that silence. This is his symbolic death. The lights fades down on him as the Bad To The Bone track plays.

44. Chuck and Dan approach Barry – it was a great show.

45. Barry and Stu pack up. Stu echoes the phrase everyone has said throughout the film: “It’s your show, Barry.”

46. Barry and Karen leave at the lift. The sound of the next show’s announcer is heard echoing: “… something I saw in the parking lot. There was a man standing there obviously mentally disturbed …” The forecast of Barry’s assassination.

47. That guy shoots Barry in the parking lot. Quick multiple edits / slo-mo shots / loud bangs of gun / music climaxes. Close-up of Barry’s blood-splattered face: the image turns extremely bright, then camera pans up as if flowing Barry’s invisible spirit. Barry has now become part of the ether sphere. The image reaches the broadcast tower. Barry has become the sound of radio – a voice in the air.

48. The sound of people calling in remembering him forms a sonic montage portrait. Telephone by Penguin Café Orchestra plays, based on melodic phrases atop a loop of multiple phones sounding their engaged signal. We see a repeat of the helicopter shot scanning Dallas, this time from right to left. We also hear the other characters’ voices (Karen, Ellen, Stu). It ends with a shot of the reel-to-reel machines stopping (such machines being at the time the means for archiving live broadcasts).


Text © Philip Brophy.