Media and Music: The Score of "Uncut Gems" Walks the Line Between Chaos and Clarity
The 2019 Safdie brothers film is crammed with huge personalities, bigger bets, and anxiety-spiking decisions — and it’s got a score to match.
In Media and Music, our writers take a deep dive into how movies use scores and songs to engage viewers, give new meaning and tone to some of our favorite scenes, and establish themes. It almost goes without saying, but there are spoilers abound.
Written by Kateri David
Photos courtesy of A24
Howard Ratner lives in pursuit of payoffs: the euphoric highs that can only follow the most severe risks. He’s a gambling addict, for one, and a jewelry salesman whose latest business plays gear toward repaying the towering debts he’s stacked across New York’s Diamond District instead of turning an actual profit. As collectors and prospective clients stream into Howard's showroom, where people loudly talk over one another and a screeching door buzzer always goes off, viewers feel what the better can’t: anxiety. He’s already in the eye of the hurricane,focusing on the next big win.
With Adam Sandler at the helm of this high-wire ship, "Uncut Gems" is a chaotic, albeit glitzy, ride complete with colorful lens flares, strange wide shots that convey a sense of omnipotent insight, and a harrowing score. Producer, sound engineer, and composer Daniel Lopatin effortlessly relays the film's themes of fear and personal unraveling by musically tuning in to its dialogue; spitting it back to viewers when they need a jolt and giving them room to breathe when they're starved of levity.
As far as big opening sequences go, "Uncut Gems"'s went nuclear. Against the cheekily named overture, “The Ballad of Howie Bling,” a tight shot of a rare black opal pans into a computer-generated galaxy. As the camera zooms deeper into the cosmos, walls of synths shimmer and break over humming blips. When the journey finally lands viewers square in Howard’s rectum (that’s right — the opening sequence ends in a colonoscopy), the blips and fractal melodies dissipate over a choral beat and distorted sax line. Underscored by a near-syllabic chant, Howard walks through Manhattan, his back to the chaos of his life.
The film doesn’t start in media res so much as it plunges viewers into the action. As the eight-minute opening track fades to silence, Howard chats up a barrage of customers, absorbs face-slaps from debt collectors, and shouts into his phone. Although no music plays in the opening scene, the sound design of "Uncut Gems" plays a significant role in conveying the film's chaos, blending together overlaps of dialogue. As Howard shows Boston Celtics forward Kevin Garnett the same opal from the opening sequence, Garnett’s entourage chatters around the pair, loudly enough for listeners to hear minced words, but never complete sentences. And, soon, the audience adjusts to the drone that surrounds Howard.
Then, the jeweler makes another deal: Garnett's 2008 NBA Championship ring in exchange for the basketball player, who's "really connecting" with the gem, to keep it until his next game. Howard swiftly pawns the ring under a buy-back promise, gaining enough cash to place yet another bet — a fiercely stupid decision given his mounting debts. Miraculously, Howard hits the bet as the aptly titled composition, "The Bet Hits," dissipates his silent surprise. Muted synths bloom into a shimmering wall of sound as Howard cradles his face and pants in disbelief. “The Bet Hits” perfectly mimics the feeling following a risky win: joy in the form of relief. But just like a wave, the notes taper off as quickly as they crescendoed, fluttering into deeper tones; a reminder of the troubles that await Howard after the passing of this high.
Not only does the "Uncut Gems" score sweeten moments of elation, it also heightens the movie’s entropy. One day after his big win, during which he tries and fails to reclaim his gem from Garnett, Howard attends his daughter’s school play. The nearly imperceptible synths of the next track simmer beneath hushed small talk between Howard's wife and another family. Drawing from an earlier dialogue sample about the Ratners' lack of summer plans, "No Vacation" blurs the line between the film's score and its conversations with grand, reverb-heavy synths that evoke feelings of dejection and determination. Lopatin uses this strange combination to relate the weary instrumentation to Howard's internal state and offer quiet commentary on self-made misery.
Moments before the play begins, Howard notices two loan sharks seated in the audience. (They're employed by his brother-in-law, Arnold ("Arno"), to whom he owes $100,000.) He jumps up from his seat in a panic, before enduring a brief brawl with the men in the school hallway. The ticking synths from "School Play" stoke the intensity of the scene, creating the impression of a countdown clock, as Howard races through the school parking lot, trying to flee his brother-in-law's henchmen. But it’s too late for Howard; Arno appears in an SUV and his men kidnap the jeweler before he can seek shelter in his sedan. A quiet buzzer-like sound tinges the track, signaling the end of Howard's gambling glory as his brother-in-law admits he stopped Howard's earlier bet from processing. At this, Howard loses it. “You f-cked ourselves outta money!” he screams, writhing as Arnold’s goons strip his clothes and toss him in the trunk of his own car. It’s a new low for the debtor, now stripped of his victory and dignity. As he scrambles to call his wife, the synths dissolve into ambient screeches — the sound of pure desolation.
At other points in the film, the score functions more like omniscient narration than emotional echo, revealing the absurdity at the center of Howard’s struggles. After the school play, Howard attends a Weeknd concert later that night with his girlfriend, Julia. At the show, he expects Demany to return his precious gem, but Howard's business partner doesn't show. Already devastated from the evening's earlier events, Howard's sanity takes a final blow when he finds his girlfriend and the Weeknd together in a grungy bathroom. This results in a breakup scene that could easily fit in a reality TV drama. The sorrowful piano notes of "F-ck You Howard" bleed into the sequence as Julia screams at Howard, tugging at the doors of his taxi until it speeds off. As she walks past lines of club-goers, the contrasting notes of a triumphant chorus peak over a single, lilting synth. In this track, there's a sense that the movie is laughing at its characters, making it clear the viewers are dealing with truly pitiful people.
The film careens into its final act, another hair-pulling scheme, after Howard fatefully recovers his opal from Garnett. Knowing Garnett will attend the auction for his gem, Howard cajoles a family member into jacking up the bids, which inevitably results in him “winning” the gem back, a complication that puts his relative $190,000 in debt. Back at his office, Howard breaks down completely, bloodied tissues hanging from his nose after a third violent run-in with collectors. “Everything I do is not going right,” he sobs to Julia. But through a truly "Uncut Gems" twist of fate, something finally does. Garnett arrives at the shop with $165,000 in cash; he wants to buy back the gem after regretfully letting go of the bid. Howard sees this as another gambling opportunity, not the life-saving bailout it could have been. As Howard shows Garnett the Las Vegas odds for the athlete's upcoming game, the score takes a panicked turn. "Windows” flaunts cycling, wooden percussion underscored by booming drum beats. A chanting chorus dominates the track, fast and ominous, as if spelling out Howard’s undoing. Then, as the sounds coalesce into a climax, he seals his fate: “Let’s bet on this,” the jeweler says. Chirping synths underline this phrase, hinting at the severity of his choice — the decision to throw away the cash that could evaporate his troubles. Even as he talks with Garnett, the camera cuts to the jewelry store’s front door security camera, where Arno and several loan sharks menacingly stand in wait.
"Uncut Gems"is sure to wear your teeth down an inch or two by the credits. But there aren’t any major plot holes or flat characters; the movie’s annoyance stems from Howard’s consistent refusal to change. As a gambler, he ironically surrenders himself to chance while making the bed he’ll ultimately lie on. Lopatin knows this, and tailors the film's instrumentation to stoke anxiety or reveal fated actions through spacey synths and choral huffs. When everything catches up to Howard in the film’s shocking final scene, one knows it couldn’t have happened any other way. Like the score, we may have our private opinions about the mess we’ve witnessed, but at the end of the day, all we can do is watch the chaos unfold before catching glimpses of clarity.