M — 1931
Director: Fritz Lang
One of the earliest demonstrations that sound could do far more than accompany pictures. Lang uses silence selectively and lets a simple whistled melody identify the murderer before we see him.
Sound for film
Sound is not applied at the mix stage; it is a parallel narrative written alongside the picture from the first draft.
Johnnie Burn
MASTERMINDMasterpieces podcast
Johnnie Burn is a film sound designer, supervising sound editor and re-recording mixer. He works with directors, ideally from script to final mix, developing sound as part of how a film tells its story. Johnnie has a dedicated workspace in London, Los Angeles and New York.
Johnnie dropped out of university to pursue an apprenticeship in sound. It led to his first film project, Weekender, WIZ’s short film for Flowered Up, which went on to become a cult classic.
He spent the first ten years of his career in advertising. A lifetime achievement award at 29 suggested it might be time to try something else. He co-founded Wave Studios in 1999.
His influences include Hitchcock, Bergman and Walter Murch, particularly their use of sound to carry something the image cannot: a character’s perception, an unseen world, or a feeling that arrives before its explanation. As Johnnie puts it, you can shut your eyes, but you cannot shut your ears.
His film work includes longstanding collaborations with Jonathan Glazer and Yorgos Lanthimos. Recent projects include Daniel Roher’s Tuner, Danny Boyle’s INK and Alejandro G. Iñárritu’s Digger. For The Zone of Interest, he and production sound mixer Tarn Willers received the Academy Award and BAFTA for Best Sound. Other recognition includes the Cannes Vulcan Award, the Georges Delerue Music and Sound Award and European Sound Designer of the Year.
His work combines field recording, sound editorial and mixing. Most of his core team have worked with him for over a decade. The approach changes with each film, but the starting question remains simple: what can sound tell us?
Earlier work includes collaborations with Madonna, David Bowie, the Spice Girls and Richard Ashcroft, as well as sounds for Skype. He also gives talks and masterclasses and is an ambassador for the Film and TV Charity.
Listen to a recent interview with Mastermind magazine’s Masterpieces podcast.
These are films Johnnie considers landmarks in film sound. He has studied them meticulously, exploring how their sound shapes story, perception and emotion. That listening has helped form his own ideas about what sound can do in cinema.
Explore a much larger map of films worth hearing at Printmaster.
Director: Fritz Lang
One of the earliest demonstrations that sound could do far more than accompany pictures. Lang uses silence selectively and lets a simple whistled melody identify the murderer before we see him.
Director: Akira Kurosawa
Kurosawa makes action intelligible through sound. Hooves, rain, mud, voices, movement and Fumio Hayasaka's music give different groups their own rhythmic identities, then collide during the extraordinary final battle.
Director: Robert Bresson
Bresson demonstrates how much of a world can exist outside the frame. We rarely receive a complete visual map of the prison, so Fontaine — and the audience — must build one by listening to keys, footsteps, doors, bells, trains and unseen guards.
Director: Alfred Hitchcock
Sound and music make Scottie’s obsession something we inhabit. Long passages with little dialogue give Bernard Herrmann’s circling phrases room to pull us into his fixation; the soundtrack turns watching and following into a dreamlike, subjective experience. Listen for how music carries desire, memory and dread before Scottie can put them into words.
Director: Ingmar Bergman
Here silence is not the absence of communication but an active force. Alma talks; Elisabet refuses to, and that refusal changes the weight and meaning of every word, breath and pause around her.
Director: Jacques Tati
Tati created a remarkably democratic soundtrack. There is rarely one obvious sound telling us what matters: footsteps, chairs, doors, glass, intercoms, machinery and fragments of speech constantly pull our attention around the huge frame.
Director: Stanley Kubrick
Kubrick understood the expressive power of not hearing what audiences expected to hear. Space itself is largely silent; breathing, voices and machinery belong to enclosed human environments, while classical music supplies scale and transcendence.
Director: Francis Ford Coppola
Few films have made the actual process of sound work so central to their drama. A fragmented surveillance recording is repeatedly filtered, edited and replayed until the same sentence appears to reveal something different.
Director: David Lynch
David Lynch and Alan Splet transformed ambience from background into dramatic material. Industrial hum, wind, mechanical vibration, breath and bodily noises form a nearly continuous pressure around the characters, so that apartment, factory, body and nightmare begin to sound like parts of the same machine.
Director: George Lucas
Ben Burtt's great achievement was to make an impossible universe sound as though it had already existed for years. Lightsabers, blasters, spacecraft, droids and creatures were given distinctive identities largely through imaginative manipulation of sounds gathered from the real world.
Director: Francis Ford Coppola
A landmark in both spatial sound and subjective sound. Helicopter blades turn into a ceiling fan, music becomes part of warfare, and the jungle moves continually between physical environment and Willard's damaged interior world.
Director: Andrei Tarkovsky
In Stalker, landscape seems to possess an acoustic consciousness of its own. Tarkovsky and Eduard Artemyev blur environmental sound and electronic music until water, metal, machinery, resonance and score can become almost impossible to distinguish.
Director: Brian De Palma
Blow Out makes sound recording and editing the machinery of a thriller. A sound recordist realises that what seemed to be a tyre blowout may contain a gunshot, then synchronises and reconstructs fragments of sound and image to discover what happened.
Director: Ridley Scott
The future of Blade Runner is heard as much as it is seen. Rain, distant machinery, vehicles, advertising, multilingual voices and Vangelis's electronics occupy layer upon layer of space, suggesting an enormous city continuing vertically and horizontally beyond the frame.
Director: Elem Klimov
Rather than offering the safe perspective of a spectator watching battle, Come and See repeatedly traps us inside damaged perception. After explosions, external detail collapses into ringing, pressure and distorted hearing.
Director: Spike Lee
Spike Lee turns a Brooklyn block into contested acoustic territory. People interrupt one another, radios compete, voices travel through public space, and Public Enemy's Fight the Power repeatedly crosses the boundary between song, character and political declaration.
Director: Steven Spielberg
Gary Rydstrom's creatures do not merely have sound effects — they have voices. Recordings of living animals were combined and reshaped to give imaginary animals anatomy, scale, intention, emotion and personality.
Director: Steven Spielberg
The Normandy landing reset expectations for cinematic battle sound. Weapons, water, sand, metal, impacts and human movement are rendered with extraordinary physical specificity, but the greater innovation is the repeated collapse from that overwhelming exterior world into Captain Miller's damaged hearing.
Director: Terrence Malick
Malick refuses to let war become the only important sound in the world. Whispered interior voices move between characters while birds, insects, water and wind continue around human violence, often apparently indifferent to it.
Director: David Lynch
Lynch uses sound to make apparently ordinary spaces unstable before the image explains why. Low tones and drones alter the emotional geometry of rooms, while Club Silencio delivers one of cinema's great explorations of playback: we are explicitly told that there is no band, yet a recorded performance remains emotionally overwhelming.
Directors: Joel Coen & Ethan Coen
With almost no conventional score, the smallest practical sounds acquire enormous dramatic weight. Footsteps, engines, weapons, room tone and the electronic pulse of a tracking device tell us who is approaching, how far away they are and whether a wall offers any protection.
Director: Andrew Stanton
Ben Burtt proves that a machine can become a fully expressive character through sound. Motors, servos, treads, electronic tones, tiny fragments of language and vocal inflection change according to WALL-E's curiosity, fear, excitement and physical effort.
Director: Tom Hooper
Instead of asking actors to reproduce performances previously fixed in a recording studio, Les Misérables recorded its principal singing live on set. That reversal allowed tempo to follow acting: pauses could lengthen, breath could become audible, voices could crack and musical timing could respond to emotion in the moment.
Director: Alfonso Cuarón
The absence of air in space becomes the organising principle of the soundtrack rather than an inconvenience to be ignored. Impacts are experienced through contact, vibration, suits and structures; transmitted voices and music carry information that conventional exterior effects cannot.
Director: László Nemes
The image deliberately refuses to show us most of Auschwitz, remaining close to Saul and often leaving the surrounding world blurred or outside the frame. Sound has to construct what vision withholds: commands, languages, machinery, doors, crowds and violence create a vast, horrifying geography around one restricted point of view.
Director: Edgar Wright
Here music is not something added after the action: it is the clock by which the action operates. Driving, footsteps, gunfire, physical gestures, editing and environmental details repeatedly lock into the rhythm of Baby's chosen tracks.
Director: Lucrecia Martel
Martel refuses to let human beings occupy the automatic centre of the soundtrack. Animals, insects, water and strange resonances repeatedly compete with speech, while natural recordings with almost electronic qualities make the eighteenth-century world feel oddly contemporary and unstable.
Director: Alfonso Cuarón
Rather than using music to continually tell us where to direct our emotions, Roma builds an extraordinary field of surrounding life. Traffic, aircraft, street vendors, voices, animals, water and distant activity approach and recede around Cuarón's long takes, often continuing far beyond the frame.
Director: Darius Marder
Many films use filtered sound briefly to represent deafness. Sound of Metal makes changing modes of hearing central to the entire film.
Director: Apichatpong Weerasethakul
An unexplained noise becomes the subject of an entire film. Jessica tries to describe it, reproduce it with a sound engineer and locate its origin, yet every increase in technical precision seems to deepen rather than solve the mystery.
Nearly three decades of collaboration on TV commercials and music videos.