The Lasting Impact with Some of the Best End Credit Songs

Music and songs have always played an important role in filmmaking since its inception of the silent era. Whether it is a moving soundtrack or a well-placed song, music adds not only to individual scenes but to the entire movie and even beyond. We often recognize, identify, and associate movies with their unforgettable soundtrack; be it the themes of the Godfather, Lawrence of Arabia, or Love Story, the soundtrack takes us right back to the movie itself and is often intimately connected with our feelings and sensations experienced while watching the said film.

As someone who has grown up with music videos having been part of the glorious MTV generation, I especially appreciate it when filmmakers make effective and full use of this. The film may at times come off as a music video or worse a perfume commercial but in the right and capable hands, all this will make us feel elated. Not that music is always necessary as the Dogme 95 movement has demonstrated, yet it paints a vivid picture and adds push, drive, and adrenaline as seen and experienced rather memorably in films like The Social Network or even Challengers (a shoutout to the talented duo of Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross).

Yet, I believe that end credit songs are equally important and relevant to the movie experience, and they may be somewhat underrated or downplayed in their overall effect and influence of the movie itself. This is rather a type of after effect or of coming together of sorts. It can also accentuate or emphasize certain emotions either experienced throughout the film or be intimately connected to a given protagonist. I will briefly discuss a handful of end credit songs that I found lasting and impactful and that have significantly enriched my movie experience. Here we go in no particular order:

 

Suicide in Civil War

No, not the Marvel movie. Sure, that one was quite good and impactful but not as heart-wrenching as Garland’s depiction of what a (second!) American civil war would look and feel like. To be honest, I hated the film at my initial viewing; when it was over I thought it was mediocre at best. The plot was nonexistent, it was random scenes connected to a misguided road trip, snapshots of a conflict that was never fleshed out alongside characters that were one-dimensional; the dialogue was not well-crafted and not really memorable, and the ending was just dark and pointless.

That may have been the point you might rightly point out as the characters, both new and seasoned reporters and journalists are just taking note and documenting events outside of their control via the medium of pictures. This is undertaken perhaps for posteriority, out of curiosity, or simply for themselves, a type of self-gratification. Yet, before we get to the final shot, not unpredictably another still, there is the intro of a song that feels out of place and yet at the same time precisely augments and elevates the feelings of despair expressed in the movie.

The song in question was by a band I had not heard of before but it has been rather influential. Their name is characteristically Suicide, and the lyrics are simple but effective in their simplicity: dream, baby, dream. There was devastation, death, and destruction throughout the film’s running time, and then the film ends on rhythms that may have come from a second-rate synthesizer with lyrics that could have been penned by a high school student. In other words, it was baffling and utterly brilliant.

In fact, I had to look up the song and got a Google alert due to the band’s name and then I put it on repeat, listening to it countless times. As I was doing so, the final scene from the movie started replaying in my mind and I began to appreciate its deliberate tone and overall message. It literally helped me change my mind and feelings towards the movie and I saw what Garland was trying to show us here. In fact, it turned out to be a movie that must be watched especially in the background and context of today’s world, politics, and polarization.

Although some have criticized the film for not taking sides, I believe those critics missed out on the whole point (yes, it did have a point after all!), namely, to show us and document the brutality, callousness, and evil of a civil war and that it would not be in any way or manner a glorified war or a glorious revolution. No, all we would get is mayhem, chaos, death, and destruction, and the end of a once beautiful and promising nation. But as the song points out, we should not lose our ability to dream, baby, dream of a better future and a better more peaceful world despite it all.

 

Sinnerman in Inland Empire

Now Lynch’s Inland Empire was a baffling movie and that is a serious understatement. It also means a lot especially considering that we often equate the word “mind-bending” with this filmmaker whose films have pushed envelopes, boundaries, and our imagination, and which often represent Kafka’s worst nightmares reimagined on the screen. Throughout, his movies have been scored by the outstanding composer Angelo Badalamenti, whether it is the sad melancholic opening piece for Blue Velvet or the jazzy but equally sad and yearning intro of Fire Walk With Me.

Yet nothing compared to the ending of Inland Empire. This may be a spoiler except first, there is nothing to spoil here, and second, nothing really happens and yet everything does. The driving song is “Sinnerman” by Nina Simone, and we see characters coming together not as characters but as actors portraying them.

It is dark but weirdly uplifting and, in a way, there is a sense of catharsis not in a clear and direct way but rather in a surreal unconscious way and form. Suddenly, everything comes together, the monkeys, though random, somehow make perfect sense, and we understand on a nonverbal level why there were talking bunnies, and the film feels complete as a result.

The counterpoint and statement of this well-chosen song brings it all home and ties up the different knots or rather unties them for us and give us a full picture. Perhaps any other ending would have made me feel that I had just wasted a good three hours of my life on a movie that was disjointed and all over the place. But that was not the feeling I left with, courtesy of the vibrant and memorable song of “Sinnerman.”

 

This House is…. The House

The House is yet another surreal experience woven around the concept of a… house. It is stop-motion animated and consists of three short films that are in no discernible way connected to each other and that each feel different as they take place in different time periods and more importantly in different houses made by different filmmakers.

The first one is more like a traditional goth horror story set in the 1800s; the second one, a bizarre real estate interaction set in the 2000s involving various rats, which goes horribly and devastatingly wrong as the place becomes infested with bugs and insects (don’t ask), and the third one set in a (more or less) distant future, which ranges from anthropomorphic cat renters from hell to renters from another spiritual realm during an upcoming end-of-world disaster.

Although each vignette was well-made, I was wondering what the point of this anthology was. Then I heard the final song. It was not only thematically linked to the house and delineated the difference between a house and a home, but it was in the voice (literally) of one of the characters.

It was the second film’s real estate developer played by Jarvis Cocker singing as an anthropomorphic rat musing about how a house was nothing but a building, just a number of bricks put together, whereas a home was where the heart was. And suddenly, the house transformed into an important symbol of both estrangement and feeling at home, and I could not help but to love and appreciate how the film somehow with the aid of this final song managed to connect three random stories into one.

 

Hoist that Rag in A Most Wanted Man

A Most Wanted Man was very good throughout, but the final scene played brilliantly by Philip Seymour Hoffman, such a huge and irreplaceable loss to the world of cinema, summed up despair, frustration, and desperation in palpable ways. The song by Tom Waits only underscores the feeling of helplessness of someone being played by higher forces or simply forces that are outside of one’s control.

In the film, we see how the protagonist tries hard to make things work and to gain credit and recognition only to have everything unexpectedly snatched away from him in the last minute. He steps out the car, drives along but you can sense his nervousness and anger, and then it all ends and culminates in the mesmerizing Tom Waits song. I think of this character whenever I hear this song; they are intricately linked together in my mind, and at the same time, I realize how much I miss this towering acting legend who left us much too soon!

 

Honorable Mentions

I would like to finish with three honorable mentions. First off, Tarantino’s rather mediocre Death Proof, arguably one of this worst and least interesting films (I did like Jackie Brown but had strong reservations when it came to The Hateful Eight), but this grindhouse film ends with a brilliant piece of filmmaking and a catchy punchy end song.

It feels quite liberating and feminist as the women joyfully and gleefully take revenge on the perpetrator played coolly by Kurt Russell with the Serge Gainsbourg song "Chick Habit" in the background (originally “Laisse tomber les filles”) that is a warning to better not mess with girls (in its original not to play with an innocent heart) as they could just like that come back and bite you and even kick you in the head before you know it. This ending elevated what was a rather bland and uninteresting film when viewed and considered by Tarantino’s standards.

Then there is a Dogville that not unlike Inland Empire made us think what the hell we had just watched until the pulsating tune of “Young Americans” by David Bowie appears with images from the civil rights movement, and we suddenly understand that the film was criticizing and commenting on various elements of American history, culture, and mentality. And just like that we find ourselves back at square one.