BABYTEETH SOUNDTRACK REVIEW
PHOTO COURTESY OF NETFLIX
Babyteeth is at first an electric coming of age film that quickly spreads its wings and flies into a complex, confident exploration of pain and happiness. It is directed with a delicate strength, as though each scene is crafted for the actors to have a safe and defined structure in which to play. Shannon Murphy’s Babyteeth is equally heart warming and heart breaking.
(I’ll do my best not to take away the surprises of the film, but of course, there will be spoilers.)
Synopsis: The film follows sixteen-year-old Milla, who is finding her feet as a young woman all the while battling with an undefined terminal illness. Instead of through doctor appointments and crying spells, we see her sickness develop through her parents’ increasing protectiveness, or an excited school friend asking to try on her wig; it’s a part of her, but it is does not define her. Much to her parent’s chagrin, Milla befriends an older boy, Moses, after literally colliding with her at a train station. Charismatic and spontaneous, Mo is the drawing pin she craves to pop her bubblewrap life, even if he comes with the baggage of a drug addiction.
For a relatively short film, Babyteeth’s soundtrack is plentiful and rich. We journey through covers of rock classics to modern soul, with the running theme of strings. Each piece was selected so meticulously, it is as if we are being guided through the story by a hand shaped like a treble clef. Multi-instrumentalist, Amanda Brown, wrote the original score. Her previous work includes ‘Son of a Lion’, ‘Kairos’ and I’m a personal fan because one of her albums is called ‘Tallulah’! Music is embedded into the film like a character, provoking and working with the ensemble. It clings to Milla like another skin, and whether she’s begrudgingly practising violin with her fastidious pianist mother, or dancing with instinctive abandon, Milla not only understands it, but truly loves the language of music.
Before the film even begins, we are plunged into a forest of strings with Zephyr Quartet’s instrumental version of ‘Golden Brown.’ The tone of the film is set by the song’s oxymoronic new nostalgia. It sounds old and young, created by the hypnotic changing time signature and two distinctive melodies. This cover feels simultaneously satisfying and unsettling, as the absent lyrics allude to something once there, now gone. It reminds me of how even after someone passes, you can still hear their voice.
Smetana’s ‘Ma Vlast’ is slid into the soundtrack when Milla and her mother drive to school together. It is grandiose, vast, minor, sweeping over Czech castles and rambling landscapes, landing in Anna’s car. This contrast between the epic symphony and the rockiness of their relationship feels something close to whimsical, if not humorous. The over-dramatic comparison allows us to laugh along with Milla as she playfully honks the horn.
PHOTO COURTESY OF NETFLIX
We come quickly to the piece that plunged me deep into a rabbit hole of Spotify playlists (I’m pretty sure I’m responsible for at least 30% of the 6 million listens). With Sudan Archive’s ‘Come Meh Way’, we experience Milla’s natural affinity with music. When he sees her glowing with love, Milla’s music tutor slides on this LP, and we are flooded with violins running wild within a pulsating R&B beat. The whole album winds like an estuary between mountains of feverish strings and bold harmonies. Milla dances with the song, not to it; limbs on fire, eyes closed, grounded with wings.
Played by Essie Davis, Milla’s mother, Anna, uses every ounce of her stoicism to protect Milla. Her guilt-fuelled anxiety can only be placated by pills and it doesn’t help that her psychiatrist husband, Henry, tries to contain the emotional mayhem of having a sick daughter by thrusting Benzodiazepines her way; ‘you think you can fix things by handing out drugs’. This desperation to suppress is reflected in Mozart’s ‘Symphony No 25 in G Minor’. While Anna cleans their pool, zoned out by Xanax, we hear a young, angry, agitated violin, trying to escape the tempo of the symphony. Like Anna, the strings try to race ahead but end up being pulled back by the rules of the stave.
PHOTO COURTESY OF NETFLIX
Through Moses, Milla experiences her first taste of love; of someone holding your heart and not caring if they squeeze it too hard until it bursts like an orange. On the train to the city, we watch their hands play on the windows, feeling the anticipation that comes before a night out. Mallrat’s unambiguous lyrics and naïve melody in ‘For Real’ conjure the feeling of sand under fingernails, alcopops and hoodies that aren’t yours. Milla might as well be singing along: ‘I didn’t even want to die once this week.’ We willingly watch Milla fall for Mo’s contagious confidence.
Milla dances a lot. Everywhere and anywhere. Actor, Eliza Scanlen, made a private Instagram account for Milla, posting videos of herself dancing in order to explore the confidence that it gives her. Milla’s pure love for music is really what first attracts Mo. His bashful comment, ‘you look really pretty’, before entering the party is underscored by Amanda Brown’s ‘Romance Part 1’. The slightly hesitant piano over layers of ethereal voices conjure images of unspoken love under the sun. It’s calmly explorational, like how a river’s strong current forges a path, but at the same time gathers bubbles under its surface.
PHOTO COURTESY OF NETFLIX
At the party, Milla explores the dance floor to tUnE-yArDs’ ‘Bizness’; a fitting song of freedom and independence. Cyclical, it starts gently, rising to a majestic cacophony of Saxophone and the refrain, ‘don’t take my life away’, only to end with the beginning melody. Despite having gone on an adventure, it’s almost anti-climactic, which is the most accurate depiction of a party I’ve ever heard. Mo and Milla escape the party and find themselves in a sleepy karaoke bar. They exchange coy looks and dance together to Donnie and Charles Emerson’s ‘Baby’. Not just because of the karaoke setting, but the scene reminds me of ‘Lost in Translation’. We watch two people develop a unique, amorphous love against the vulnerable sound of a song sung live.
Milla and Mo are hanging out by the pool, sun reflecting shards of aquamarine onto her blue hair. Painfully short and beautifully visceral, ‘Diamond Day’ by Vashti Bunyan clutches to this scene like a hug. Even listening to it out of context makes me think of the sky; the vast safety of it. To me, Milla always feels safe and protected by the people around her; her own body is the only thing that’s a threat. Written in 1968 while travelling through Scotland on a horse, you can see the landscape slowly change in the plodding beat and flitting flutes. In the poignant refrain I can’t help but hearing ‘just another time and day’ as opposed to ‘diamond day’. It’s a perfect bucolic lullaby, but there is a subtle foreboding in Bunyan’s fragile voice, as if the horse is getting tired and there’s a rustle in the undergrowth.
Milla’s birthday party is entitled ‘Everyone Was Invited’ and it’s as if Milla had chosen a moment in her life in which she was truly happy. Although uplifting to watch, the moment feels ephemeral; too happy to last. Up until now, Anna had stopped playing piano as it reminded her of times she chose herself over her daughter. She needs convincing, but agrees to play a duet with Milla. Watching mother and daughter play Brown’s ‘Into the Sea’ together, is an undoubtedly moving scene. Through the performance no one speaks; the suspended cords and harmony of the two instruments say more about that moment than words ever could.
Brown’s melancholic ‘Elegy’ is the final song in Babyteeth. The family frolics on the beach under a canopy of violins that communicate using pining minors and lingering notes. The last shot is of Milla’s parents smiling into camera with the ocean as the backdrop. The sea rolls along to the long phrases of strings, reminding us that like the waves, the love of a parent never stops.
PHOTO COURTESY OF NETFLIX
Babyteeth is brave and tender, not just complimented but inspired by its soundtrack. It’s a truly absorbing story of life, love and limits.
Chronological Track List
Golden Brown – Zephyr Quartet
Ma Vlast (My Homeland): II: Vltava (The Moldau) – English Session Orchestra - Smetana
Come Meh Way – Sudan Archives
Into the Sea – Amanda Brown
Symphony No. 25 in G Minor – Mozart
For Real – Mallrat
Goldberg Variations: Aria – Jenő Jandó
Romance Part 1 – Amanda Brown
Bizzness – tUnE-yArDs
Mila Dance – Amanda Brown
Diamond Day – Vashti Bunyan
Santianna – Malabar Public School Choir
The Lost Song – The Cat Empire
Into the Sea – Amanda Brown
Elegy – Amanda Brown
Similar artists I came across on my Spotify scavenges:
Miami Horror, Skinshape, Solange, Greentea Peng, Moses Sumney, M.I.A., Maribou State, Khruangbin, Little Dragon, The Knife, Santigold, Charlotte Adigéry, Rhye, Blood Orange, Nai Palm, Sufjan Stevens, Anthony Reynolds, Sylvan Esso, Joy Crookes, The Fall, Peaches, Lorde, Animal Collective, Darondo, Arlo Parks, Kate Tempest.