During the creation of a planetarium film, there is one particularly magical moment. I remember it best from the production of Cell! Cell! Cell! back in 2012. The film was produced by NSC Creative in a project managed by Winchester Science Centre.
We were near the end of the production process. We had seen the visuals on the dome. The voice tracks were in place. Adding the music made it all come together. It all looked great; I thought we were there. But in Frankensteinian terms, we had only laid the constructed flesh out on the table. I was soon to discover there was one small but vital step remaining: the moment the lightening hits the apparatus and brings the flesh to life.
This final step was the additional of the sound effects to the soundtrack. Those small sounds which you might not remember afterwards, nor even be aware of at the time. But oh - they make such a difference. Suddenly the film came to life - it felt more 3D, more immersive. More real. I was startled by the power of these small sounds. I found myself pulled into this other universe in a much more visceral way.
Thinking back after this revelation, I realised that one of the first really powerful experiences I ever had in a digital dome was due to a sound effect. It was in ‘Black Holes: The Other Side of Infinity’. There is a scene where a red supergiant rises from below the springline, accompanied by a deep rumble. That rumble communicates its incredible size, its unimaginable mass, in a way that visuals alone never could. The effect on me was such that I still remember it today, nearly fifteen years later.
All this makes sense with respect to my more-recent learning about how the mind works. These sounds provide us with sensory information (how hard is that object, what texture, what weight) which we actively construct into our virtual experience by calling upon our prior experiences. All of which surely also makes for a more memorable experience: episodic memory (that of experience rather than facts) thrives on rich sensory information.
So - when writing fulldome fllms, consider how sound effects can be used to bring the story to life.
But anyway. All of this came to mind today, of all days, because this morning I went for a walk. My usual walk, a five mile circuit along the waters at the edge of Winchester. It’s a lovely route, along crystal-clear chalk streams, passing a twelfth century ‘hospital’ and an iron-age hillfort.
Today was different.
It had been raining this morning, so the ground was muddy. The mud squelched and squeaked under my and other walkers’ boots. Dogs’ feet pattered along the chalk-and-flint path. A group of bullocks lazily munched, sucking, crunching, on the shoulder-height brambled overgrowth of the water meadows.
Winter is here. But I heard more birds than usual in the trees above. So many birds! Tiny peeps from all around me, near and far. A swan took off, running along the water, its wings hitting the surface with sharp claps that nearly made me jump. Another muttered quietly to itself as it followed me on my walk upstream.
The waters of the chalkstreams bubbled and burbled, with bright splashes where drips fell from the trees above. Water rushed through sluices and splashed down a small waterfall into the swimming hole. Above, the wind gently rustled those leaves that still held on in the trees, a counterpoint to the sharper crunch of the more abundant leaves underfoot.
Every one of these sounds pulled the scene into a more concrete reality. I was really present. Really there.
Back in town, there was chatter in the market along the high street. I went into a shop and asked the assistant for something. She answered and it was so easy to understand.
Because the only reason I had heard these things - all those sounds that made the meadows so real, my experience so rich - is that two days ago I was fitted with hearing aids.
It turns out that I have moderate hearing loss in the high frequency range. Something that I had been vaguely aware of, but I hadn’t realised how bad it was. I thought I was just getting older, but it’s a lot more than that.
Going to the British Association of Planetaria conference was my wake-up call. I struggled to hear the talks over the hum of the air handling unit, and to hold conversations over the hum of the pubs we visited. But the final straw? TWICE, friends gave me a naughty, conspiratorial look and whispered something to me. And I couldn’t hear a thing. Nothing. I will never know what juicy gossip I missed.
But! I now have hearing aids. Not the fancy £6,000 ones that the Hearing Centre tempted me with, but free ones from the NHS. And they are so small, so discreet, that when I came home my partner didn’t spot them. When I pointed one out, he looked at the other side and said ‘oh do you only have one?’. They are so light that they are difficult to put on because I can’t really feel where they are. Much less trouble than glasses. And although I was warned of sound distortion, it all sounds very natural to me.
So. If you suspect you might be in the same boat, please let me encourage you to get checked out. One of the reasons I did so was because a (younger) friend had written a Facebook post saying how happy he was with his hearing aids. So maybe this post will similarly help someone reimmerse themselves in the world.
Here are some warning signs I missed. Do any of these sound familiar?
My partner having extraordinarily good hearing.
My keyboard being so quiet that I could type without disturbing people (sorry everyone).
Difficulty hearing conversations during car journeys.
Missing bits of dialogue on TV shows, especially during whispery bits.
Having to concentrate to hear people over background noise.
To conclude, I am delighted to say I am now much more fully immersed in the world. I am available for all future conspiratorial whispers, and will be a much more attentive drinking companion.
And please - keep putting those small sounds into your films. I’ll be listening out for them.
