When a Song Ignites the Screen

Music has always been an integral part of my viewing experiences. Often, when looking back at movies I enjoyed, I forget entire plot lines and character names, but never a moment with a well-executed needle drop. 

A needle drop leverages pre-existing, oftentimes already popular music to enhance a scene, requiring creators and music supervisors to reference outside of their art and use the work of musicians to help tell their stories. The first time I heard this phrase used was in reference to the masterful inclusion of “Bittersweet Symphony” by The Verve at the end of 1999’s Cruel Intentions.

Like that scene, the effect of a needle drop is often euphoric. Not only does it augment the scene, but it also serves to be an outlet for music discovery or to evoke a newfound appreciation for the songs already familiar to the audience. 

In celebration of these functions, I want to delve into some of my favorite needle drops in film and explore how this technique has been utilized to varying ends to create lasting impressions.

A Youthful Melancholy 

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (1986) – “Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want” (cover)

Despite having grander musical moments, including the famous parade sequence, this particular needle drop of The Dream Academy’s instrumental cover of The Smiths’ notable song enhances many of Ferris Bueller’s themes including, the temporality of youth, the need to appreciate life amidst chaos, and the desire for romantic and parental comfort. The song achieves this by providing an atmospheric, reflective mood, that is perfectly edited to the visuals to create a divine two-minute sequence that I revisit often. 

The scene takes place at the The Art Institute of Chicago during Ferris, Cameron, and Sloane’s adventure-filled day off from school. The song begins right as the scene does, featuring bright guitars that strum over a shot of the three main characters joining hands with an elementary school class. Meanwhile, a darker keyboard swells in the periphery, signifying a present tension–the liminal period of young adulthood. 

Moving between different works of art, a wind section takes over the main melody. The characters stand side by side examining the artwork and mimicking sculptures, the music steady, inviting a sense of calm. That is until the characters split off, Ferris and his girlfriend Sloane sharing an intimate moment, while his best friend Cameron stands alone, staring into the eyes of a painted child standing beside their mother. The music crescendos as the camera flits between Cameron’s gaze and the painting, zooming closer with each dynamic change in the song, and eventually fading as the painting is so close it becomes indiscernible. 

With such a popular melody, audiences are bound to hear “please, please, please let me get what I want,” as they listen to the instrumental. These unheard lyrics reinforce the deep longing depicted on screen. This feeling is only intensified by the song’s additional instrumentation and the strategic editing decisions that use the song precisely in service of the narrative.

A Call to Action

Party Girl (1995) – “If You Believe” (Believe in Steve’s Club Mix)

The soundtrack for Party Girl is an eclectic mix of dance music that works to chronicle the life of 24-year-old Mary, a party-thrower forcibly turned library clerk. The film’s integration and selection of music is incredible throughout, but the needle drop of Chantay Savage’s “If You Believe” (Believe in Steve’s Club Mix) that occurs at the midpoint of the film sticks out upon every rewatch. 

The song is introduced through a literal needle drop by Mary’s close friend Leo, an aspiring DJ. As the track begins, we cut back to the library, where Mary finally attempts to learn the Dewey Decimal System and redeem her past mistakes. The beat drops with the repeated cry “believe in me,” intercut with shots of towering bookshelves and a determined Mary slowly grasping the system, and gaining confidence and appreciation for the work. While Mary shelves, it is implied that the music eventually becomes diegetic as she dances and struts on the library tables to the hypnotic drum beat. 

This scene’s music selection here is vital to the development of Mary’s growing passion for librarian science, helping to reorient the library against the notion that it is an inherently mundane environment. The repetition that is often characteristic of dance music, is used here to imply Mary’s rhythmic, and natural grasp of the system when she applies herself. Ultimately, helping define a more realistic relationship to the library for a character who was once adverse to absorbing knowledge of the system. 

Beyond how well this integration works to fit library education into Mary’s worldview, this needle drop seamlessly delivers an exhilarating message of subversion, and the potentials of simply trying. 

A Final Dance

Aftersun (2022) – “Under Pressure”

In my viewing of more recent films, I cannot recall a needle drop as affecting and well-selected as the use of Queen and David Bowie’s “Under Pressure” in the final moments of Aftersun—a story detailing the vacation of an 11-year-old Sophie and her father, Calum, as Sophie processes her grief through the memory of the trip, 20 years later. 

In the scene, Sophie and Calum race back to the hotel, where the track plays. Calum immediately joins the other guests in dancing, to the initial embarrassment of Sophie. As he turns his back, we return to the rave motif between an older Sophie and Calum just as the iconic bassline comes in. 

For the next few moments, we flash between the rave and the hotel. The music intensifies through the chorus, as the rave depicts Sophie searching for her father in the glimpses of the strobe light—the lyrics directly illustrating the intense pain of knowing your loved one is suffering and you being unable to do anything about it. 

With the acapella bridge, the intensity builds as Sophie continues to hold on to her father in the past and the rave sequence. The song’s desperate “Why can’t we give love” pleads for love to be the answer to save ourselves and others. As the outro approaches, the tragedy of both the song and the narrative collide, Calum slips away from Sophie in the rave, and we cut back to the past. The refrain “this is our last dance” is repeated throughout their bittersweet last dance together, and Sophie is seen alone in the rave dream sequence.

The needle drop in this scene is exemplary. It captures the symbiotic relationship between picture and sound, showcasing how to integrate a massive track into a scene with nuance and intention. Everything from the dynamic restructuring of the original song to the editing decisions are exceptional. 

Modern films like Aftersun have found success by grounding their pivotal scenes in classic sounds from the past, and these great integrations continuously remind me of music's potential in film. As tv and film continue to not only gain critical praise, but also online buzz from these moments, it will be fascinating to see how digital reshare culture will inform the future use of the needle drop technique. It is my hope that needle drops continue to be as meaningful and substantive as the ones I have discussed–utilized not just to be noticed, but to truly resonate.