Q&A with Local Talents Cornelia Schöpf and Federico Campana

I would love to play mouse in the cutting room of Martin Scorsese and Thelma Schoonmaker as a silent admirer.

As a composer, I dream of working with directors who recognise the potential of music in film and put their trust in it. Who are fascinated by the magical moment like I am, when music and imagery combine to form this primordial artistic means of communication which calls to the viewer’s subconscious.

About five women who decide to start a punk band even though none of them know how to play a musical instrument, and who go on to conquer the world in their big fat tour bus.

People who refuse to wear the labels forced unto them by the masses; art by outsiders injecting some freshness into our rusty sensory cells. Nature that is not used as an outdoor gym, and my mother’s flower arrangements.

I am inspired by artists from periods when art and science were not yet separated as strictly as they are today. Art was understood to be a cognitive tool to help explore the secrets of the soul and the world. The works by Jan van Eyck and Piero della Francesca, the drawings of Leonardo da Vinci, so rife with secrets and a fascination for knowledge. And all the artists who played with the perception of shapes in painting – the impressionists, for example, who created shapes in a kind of optical illusion using brush strokes and light. It is there, on the “outer edges” of perception, where we find the deepest meaning of a work of art – also in film. The composer György Ligeti also worked with “appearing” shapes, which seem to be uniform from a distance but are actually made up of a multitude of small elements. Just like in a film, where individual excerpts or sounds have a different meaning than the film as a whole.

A bit too well-groomed. Some uncontrolled growth would be nice.

There is great potential, but people should be bolder in the way they use it.

Films that involve boxing in any way. From Raging Bull to Fight Club, Million Dollar Baby, Snatch, and Rocky.

I have a secret love for the Tatort series and a James Bond film or two.

Ronia, the Robber's Daughter. The “spring scream” is a must, even today.

2001: A Space Odyssey was on TV at Christmas every year. I remember the warm, dim lights in the living room. The relatives would gather together at the long table, talking in loud voices, completely uninterested in this film and its mysterious imagery on TV.

The scene in Strange Days, when Faith (Juliette Lewis) sings “I can hardly wait” while Lenny (Ralph Fiennes) watches her. Under Kathryn Bigelow’s masterful direction, each shot vibrates with longing, making our hearts soar every single time.

The finale of Federico Fellini’s Nights of Cabiria.

I’m not a big fan of soundtracks. That sounds like a paradox considering that I compose music for films, but it’s not. I love music in general, no matter the genre, the period, or the culture. Often, the images in the film itself remind me of a passage in a piece by Debussy or Aphex Twin. When I have an idea, I prefer to study the source rather than refer to soundtracks, which also only cite other works. That’s how I avoid copying the copies. A good composer is inspired by the musical solutions offered by the world, reinterprets them, and inserts them in his own language. But still: I love the western film soundtracks by Ennio Morricone, even though they have little to do with my own taste. The orchestration and musical simplicity are pure genius – the way they interact with the pictures is beyond all compare. I also really like some of the soundtracks by Hans Zimmer. The way he combines acoustic and orchestral elements or simple, almost-pop harmonies and full sound creates an immersive experience at the cinema.