The tale of the world’s most famous Holland hiding place, and its metaphor of a larger extermination has been told no small amount of times on the big and small screen, perhaps no more famously than in George Stevens’ 1959 adaptation with its memorably symphonic Oscar-nominated score by Alfred Newman. But where the key in for audiences is identifying with the musings of a blooming young girl to the madness around her, as well as her improbable hope, what makes the National Geographic miniseries “A Small Light” as memorable as it is different is shining the focus on the Frank family’s hopeful savior Miep Gies (Bel Powley). Freshly depicted as a sprightly, sexual woman with no small amount of abandonment issues herself, “A Small Light” depicts the strongly independent woman’s path, along with her seemingly bookish husband, to defying the Nazi machine in the best way they can by taking in her former boss, his family and other Jews to what will become an iconic attic.
Definitely not your grandfather’s Anne Frank story, let alone a typical Holocaust project full of understandable misery from start to finish, “A Small Light” burns memorably with contemporarily relatable characters, as embodied by its uniquely unplugged score by Ariel Marx. Hailing from Marin County, Marx’s striking alt. sound has been steadily impressing from the mordant Jewish comedy stylings of “Shiva Baby” to any number of TV true crime series like “Ted Bundy” Falling for a Killer,” “Candy” and “A Friend of the Family.” But rarely has Marx’s talent for almost surreal history series come down to earth like “A S Small Light.”
Using Klezmer strings, heart-pounding electronics, jazz-inflected brass and atmospheric electronics, it’s an unusually hushed score that’s likely even more impactfully unique for not being a massive orchestral one. Conveying Holland as a melting pot of tango’ing popular styles from which unthinkable repression invades, it’s a score that has no surprisingly small amount of humor, or heart for the path it must inevitably take. Modernistic, while at the same time old world, the excellent show and Marx’s inventive take for it shines a light as to how a story as sadly old, and relevant as time can be made contemporarily affecting and musically striking.
Tell us about your background, and what led you to composing.
I grew up in a pretty musical household and was encouraged to play and compose from a young age. While I was always writing and playing music for fun throughout my life, it didn’t occur to me I could make a living doing it. The older I got, and the more musicians I surrounded myself with, I decided I owed it to myself to at least try to do it full time. I really loved the collaborative aspect of writing music for media, and decided to go to NYU Steinhardt and get my Masters in Music. I met a lot of filmmakers in New York, and collaborated with as many creators as I could.
You scored dozens of shorts. How do you think they helped you transition to features and television?
They were a wonderful way to meet my future collaborators! I did most of those while I was still a student at NYU, and the relationships I made with other filmmakers during that time have been invaluable. I can trace a direct line between the shorts I did then and the current projects I’m on now. To this day, some of my best friends are the collaborators I met back then.
You’ve certainly found a niche in true-crime television with “Ted Bundy,” “Friend of the Family” and “Candy.” How did you approach these projects, and what do you think made you so apt at them? And do you think they set you up for a season of “American Horror Story?”
For the true-crime series that I’ve been privileged to write the score for, the point of view and lensing of the story has been very clear and markedly different. It wasn’t just about the sensationalism, but they dug deeper. For “Ted Bundy: Falling for A Killer,” it was about foregrounding the victims rather than Ted himself, and how it coincided with misogyny and politics in the US at the time. The music was very much articulating compassion and historical importance, rather than horror. For “Candy,” it was very much about the consequences of societal norms and expectations of 70’s and 80’s housewives, and how this emotional repression could lead to such a horrible crime, and bizarre judicial outcome. The score held a mirror up to society, and poked holes in the promises of perfection and satisfaction of domestic bliss. “A Friend of the Family” was a really unique experience in that the Broberg family was actually involved in the production, and this led to a very nuanced, and sensitive depiction of this stranger-than-fiction story. The score lived very much in Jan’s POV of innocence, which then slowly decayed and transformed as she grew older and understood what happened to her. I think the similarity in each of these scores is that they didn’t only articulate the darkness and horror, but more about how to make sense of these events.
The film with a score of yours that critically broke through was the comedy “Shiva Baby.” What was the challenge of scoring a comedy of Jewish ritual mourning?
This score was a blast to write because it was largely improvisation. The writer-director Emma Seligman was so gracious and encouraging, and really let me have free reign. The score very much lived in a singular point of view — Danielle’s increasing claustrophobia and anxiety. The score lived inside the comedy, but certainly didn’t acknowledge this, and I think that’s what people responded to, that it was so in contrast.
Anne and Otto Frank
Before “A Small Light,” what were your impressions of Anne Frank, and how did this series perhaps change them?
I knew this story as much as I think most people do, in broad strokes, and I learned about Anne during WW2 curriculum. Miep’s name was familiar to me, but I personally didn’t remember much about her at all, so this was a totally new story to me. This series isn’t meant to paint Anne differently, but rather turn the lens on the helpers of the time, and all the people that kept them safe for two years. The executive producers Tony Phelan and Joan Rater have said this is the story about the other side of the bookcase — and I loved that. It was a different way into a story we all know, and they brilliantly found ways to make it modern, relatable, and accessible.
It’s more than well known what happened to Anne and her family. Did that make it challenging to create heartbeat-like suspense?
It’s been great to hear the cast talk about their experience making this, because there was a constant reminder to not play the ending. These people didn’t know they would become prominent historical figures — they just lived their lives as best they could. The score articulates a lot of this pre-war joy and effervescence, and also the persistence of this light even in the darkest of times. While everyone knows the ending, there are lots of events in between and leading up to it that are lesser known, or not known at all. There was still plenty of room to create this suspense. And, even when we do get to the part of the story we know, it’s done so uniquely by every department that it feels like a wholly new experience.
Tell us about your main themes.
There are three main palettes for this show — the first is the score for pre-war Amsterdam, levity in the annex, the friendship between Miep and Otto etc. This palette has a lot of warmth — plucked strings, playful melodies, embellished clarinet lines etc. (i.e., “The Bookcase,” “A Chicken More Like You,” “Miep and Jan,” “Before the War”).
The second palette is a bit more serious and consequential and reflects the increasing pressure Miep and Jan are under. This palette is much more in the classical/neoclassical world with strings, keys, and electronics. While there is a strong sense of melody in these themes, there is also an urgency, and tension. with an underbelly of darker acoustic and electronic elements. (i.e., “A Prayer for Peter,” “We’re Here,” “You Have to Live,” “Ransacked”).
The third palette is all about tension, in all its little and large forms throughout the series. This was probably the most contemporary of approaches, and it uses a lot of electronics, percussion, and harsh, extended techniques on acoustic instruments. (i.e., “The Raid of Opekta,”” A Bribe,” “What Can Be Saved”).
Was a violin-topped “Klezmer” approach obvious in playing the idea of sophisticated “old world” Holland falling to pieces?
While not overtly klezmer, it was certainly in the mix of influences. This palette was a fusion of Benny Goodman, Tom Waits, Andrew Bird, and Django Reinhardt, and many others
Talk about the classical tango jazz and classical elements to the score in evoking both the source music and musical heritage of Holland.
There were a number of popular music styles in Amsterdam at the time, including swing jazz, jazz manouche, klezmer, and of course classical music, among many others. All these influences can be heard in the score and source.
Given that most projects about The Holocaust are understandably deadly serious, what was the challenge of writing humorous cues?
It wasn’t a challenge at all, because the way humor is woven into the writing and performances is very natural, and just human. What Tony, Joan and executive producer Susanna Fogel have done so incredibly well is show the full spectrum of life during the war. Miep and the others weren’t sitting there solemnly experiencing what they knew would be a tragic historical event — they lived their lives, and that included sharing some laughs, even in the darkest times.
In that respect, we’ve never seen such a down to earth portrayal of the story about Anne Frank, complete with a sexual Miep and sometimes bratty children. How did a fresh, down to earth help your approach?
That contemporary, accessible feel is all throughout everyone’s craft — the writing, performances, costuming, cinematography etc. So, the score balanced that same tone — of showing these people as three-dimensional people living their lives in a moment in time that happened to be World War II. I steered away from a large orchestral palette because that just wasn’t Miep. She was charmingly imperfect, spontaneous, and delightfully rough around the edges. A smaller ensemble, and with lots of playfulness, improvisation, and virtuosity seemed to fit the tone of this story much better.
How did you want to reflect Miep’s progression from an aimless “party girl” to a heroic member of the resistance?
It’s interesting, because while trying to craft and answer I’m realizing that there isn’t some huge transformation — she always had this in her, she knew what was right and wrong, and when Otto asked, she didn’t hesitate for a moment. She was very matter of fact about it was just what she had to do. The music certainly progresses through the three palettes I mentioned above, but there wasn’t an effort to “mature” the score, nor to make it more heroic. Miep would say herself that she didn’t want to be called a hero, she just knew what was right. So, in that sense, the score didn’t transform really, it just became more and more Miep.
Does the fact that any sound for the hidden characters mean instant death make for the overall “quiet” subtlety of your score, especially in conveying the idea of living a hushed nightmare?
This is an interesting question, and to be honest, this wasn’t an aspect I intentionally addressed in the score. But my intention was in a similar vein — not so much as the looming threat outside, but the humility of these people and circumstances that informed the palette. Miep and the others lived a very bright, full, and humble life, and the music was equally so — it’s full of energy and playfulness, but it is not decadent, nor pristine. This show is very much about the rough-around-the-edges look at this story, and the accessibility and urgency of it. With an aim of dusting the cobwebs off, we didn’t want to make the same musical choices of previous depictions.
Tell us about scoring the inevitable scene of the hiding place’s discovery.
This was one of the most challenging and humbling sequences I have ever scored. Episode seven is actually a bit shorter than the others, but there’s the most music of any episode, and there are two 10-minute sequences. It was an intercontinental musical flight between hushed, subdued panic, to bombastic all-is-lost dread, to dirge-like laments, to determination and hope. “The Raid of Opekta” and “What Can Be Saved” are examples of this, and I got to use a great amount of techniques / palettes / approaches from electronic minimalism to atonalism, to classicism. It was a non-stop train, so I had to continually find new approaches to continue the adrenaline without inducing fatigue. I’m very proud of these sequences, and it was a tour de force of writing, acting, and directing from all parties.
How did you want to incorporate electronics into the score?
I mainly used them in the third palette I mentioned — for moments of adrenaline, tension, panic. This seemed like the most honest, accessible approach for these sequences, and really modernizes the stakes. It was especially important that in these moments that there is no sense of distance or time between the viewer and the characters, and that you really put yourself in their shoes.
What were the scoring sessions like?
They were all done remotely by my favorite musicians — Josh Plotner on woodwinds, Ro Rowan on cello, Jordan Martone on violin, Jonah Levy on percussion, and myself on violin, cello, percussion, guitars, and everything else you hear. Don’t be fooled — the ensemble was small, but the sound was at times enormous. It was very intentionally in the same ethos of the story — the ordinary doing the extraordinary.
Do you think there’s something more personal about your “unplugged” approach to “A Small Light” then there might have been had this been afforded a large orchestra? And in that respect, do you think this enchances composers who want to do more experimental approaches for historical drama?
That’s a great question and insight, and I absolutely do. And I think it depends on the purpose of the content. If it’s meant to be escapist and loyal to the time period, then perhaps a more traditional approach is warranted, but because of the mission of this show — to turn an old story into something contemporary, urgent, and relatable — it felt like the most effective and truthful approach.
Talk about your solo album “Luthier.”
I call that album my love letter to strings. I wrote that in a month in November of 2019 when I had just finished some projects and I wanted to write something just for me. It is inspired by the idea of the Luthier — the maker of stringed instruments, and the acoustic physics, and materials that go into making them.
What’s up ahead for you?
The score album for “A Small Light” will be out on May 19th via Hollywood Records, and I also have a film called “Sanctuary” (from Neon) with an upcoming theatrical release, and the soundtrack will be out on May 26th via Lakeshore Records. Other than that, I’m working on two series that will be out on Amazon and HBO in the coming year.
Does being Jewish woman, yourself make “A Small Light” a particularly important project to score, especially given a new wave of neo-Nazis and anti Semitism? And does this make this series particularly important in the way it appeals to younger viewers?
Absolutely. There are a terrifying amount of parallels between then and now. It’s heartbreaking. This show does a powerful job of showing you how similar things are, and how quickly and easily they could be as bad. I think an important point as well is that this story is not only one of Jewish persecution, but also one of allyship. Miep and Jan were not Jewish, but they stood up, and became resistance fighters, and they put everything on the line for their friends. We all need to be more like Miep and Jan.
Watch “A Small Light” on Hulu, and buy Ariel Marx’s soundtrack on Hollywood Records HERE
Visit Ariel Marx’s website HERE
Special thanks to Joanie Diener