8 Epic Movie Moments and the Music that Made Them Great

All right, I have a confession to make: one of my occasional hobbies is songwriting.

Think of me what you will, but I find the exercise extremely therapeutic. There are just a few caveats: I can’t play any musical instruments, I’ve never taken a class on musical theory, and I have the rhythm of a stoned baboon. Wasn’t born with that particular gene, I guess. Despite this lack of natural talent in the art form, however, it recently occurred to me that music is truly an essential part of my day-to-day; when I step out my apartment door and into the bustling metropolis, those earbuds are going in.

I’m also an aspiring cinephile. I could easily talk all day about the intricacies of my favorite movies—all night too if I take my prescriptions a bit late. What really gets me excited, however, is witnessing that perfect, beautiful storm between a movie and its respective musical score: that is, specific scenes that were already great, but achieved epicness thanks to directors and composers who exude more talent in their smallest knuckle hair than I have in…well, all of my knuckle hairs. I should mention that analogies aren’t really my thing either.

Now, I’m not just talking about movies with good soundtracks; lots of flicks have those. Drive? Pulp Fiction? The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou? Almost Famous? To quote a certain gangster from Home Alone 2, I could go on forever, baby.

No, I’m talking about those fleeting moments that send tingles down your spine and out to your fingertips. The ones that compel you to immediately Wikipedia the cast and crew when the credits roll. I’m talking about these moments.

(Oh, that reminds me. There are spoilers below. Big ones.)

#1 and #2: Sunshine (2007)

Composer: John Murphy

Director: Danny Boyle

“Capa’s Jump” – In the year 2057, we join Sunshine’s crew of Icarus II on a mission to launch a bomb—one mined from Earth’s last natural resources—into our dying sun. In short, these eight men and women are humanity’s “last, best hope” for avoiding extinction via ice planet. As articulated by Mace (Chris Evans), the ship’s engineer, there is “literally nothing more important than completing [their] mission.” This is a big deal, is what I’m getting at.

After a series of deadly mishaps along the way, our potential doom lies in the hands of Capa (Cillian Murphy), the resident physicist and only crew member left with a steady pulse. Despite all that stood in his way, Capa manages to manually activate his sun-bomb in the most fabulous kamikaze fashion imaginable. First, he detaches the bomb from the ship whilst both vehicles orbit the sun. Then…well, this happens:

The scene starts off with a slow build that echoes the weight of each breath, each movement, each decision Capa makes over the next 4 minutes. By 1:15, it sinks in for us—the audience. This is what he was born to do, and he knows it. Then at 1:20 we go back to the slow build, the rising crescendo that starts with a reminder of humanity’s fallibility (i.e., Capa’s fall) and ends with the most important leap for mankind in recorded history (i.e., hurtling ~100 feet between a spaceship and free-floating bomb). By the time Capa takes that jump—a 10-second window that determines the fate of an entire planet—the hairs on my forearms are on end. He’s going to do it. He’s going to goddamn do it, and the intensity of the entire situation is palpable. Enraptured, I’ll sometimes even join his silent scream.

In space, no one can hear you scream “I HAVE TO PEEEEEEEE!!!”

At 3:32, the tension lifts, though of course we know it’s only temporary (he’s still got to manually activate the bomb from the inside, silly!). Speaking of which…

“Capa Meets the Sun” – Bombs don’t set themselves off, and sun-igniting bombs are no exception. Once Capa finally makes it to the manual controls, he only has a matter of seconds to accomplish what I can’t emphasize enough to be the most important thing a human being has ever done in this tangent universe.

Yet while our redemption and continued existence costs Capa his life (as it did the rest of the ill-fated crew), he accepted the inevitability of his death long ago. He hadn’t necessarily expected to witness the sum of his species’ accomplishments: a literal explosion that may or may not save our only home. But he sure had imagined it, and that beautifully homogeneous chain reaction—a reaction born of pure science—gave him peace. As sparks “pop into existence” precisely as he’d described (in the second act?), the instrumental score echoes the same question I scream inside my head between 0:40 and 1:07: “But will it work??” Then, as in the scene above, the tension instantly dissipates as Capa’s answer to extinction defiantly meets the ancient glory of ionized elements on a battlefield he alone is privy to. But the difference here is in the tension’s replacement at 1:08: a peaceful air of grateful resignation and childlike wonder.

But seriously, this movie has much more to offer than a stoned-looking Cillan Murphy.

Capa not only accepts his fate, but he embraces it, welcomes it—he literally reaches out to take it. I’ve watched this visual summation of personal and collective triumph at least 20 times just to research how I personally feel about it, and I’m captivated every time.

Bonus scene!

After Mace and Capa get in a brief scuffle, the ship’s psychological officer prescribes two hours of Earth simulation time to Mace (the instigator). I can’t find an embed, but do yourself a favor and check out the 11-minute mark on the DVD; the waves make me feel peaceful, too.

#3: Antichrist (2009)

Composer: George Frederic Handel

Director: Lars von Trier

“Prologue” – You don’t need any context here; if you haven’t seen this scene yet, watch it now. I’ll wait. (NSFW)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0veaYKphLCU

If you’re looking for a more pristine juxtaposition between latent beauty and abject pain, I can assure you I don’t have a backup recommendation. In fact, I’m literally sitting here at a loss for describing the visceral reaction I have each time I watch this movie. A brief summary, that’s where I can start. OK.

This scene, which sets the pace for the subsequent plot, depicts a young boy accidentally falling out an open window whilst his oblivious parents (William Dafoe and Charlotte Gainsbourg) passionately make love in the background. Yes, despite the explicit nature of 0:50 (those are porn actors, by the by), this married couple was not having sex—they were making love. There is a huge difference between these two things.

In general, the scene speaks for itself. Handel’s “Lascia ch’io pianga” is a beautiful song, and it effortlessly highlights the passion between He and She. The slow-motion shots (1,000 frames per second, Wikipedia says) are breathtaking, and the performance bleeds authenticity.

. . . Because f*ck bottled water, that’s why.

As toddler Nick falls to his death, my inner monologue goes something like this:

“Whoa, this is super depressing. That kid is doomed.”

“True, but isn’t there also beauty in death? Isn’t there a grisly poetry that von Trier encapsulates in these suspended moments?”

“But dude, can you imagine the crippling regret his parents are about to experience? Obviously this is a preventable tragedy that will haunt them for the rest of their lives!”

“You were an English major. Since when are you not into irony?”

“Hmm, valid point.”

“Now shut up and appreciate those slow-motion water droplets.”

“OK.”

Did I mention von Trier was recovering from depression while making this movie? Well, to quote the late Calvin, nothing helps a bad mood like spreading it around.

#4: 28 Weeks Later (2007)

Composer: John Murphy

Director: Juan Carlos Fresnadillo

“Don Abandons Alice” – I know my bias for John Murphy is glaringly obvious, but that doesn’t change my opinions. 28 Days Later and 28 Weeks Later are arguably my favorite zombie movies to date (though for zombie purists, I’ll concede that the afflicted here are technically diseased as opposed to undead), and here’s why: I’m goddamned terrified of this proactive brand of zombie. They have the same hunger pangs as their Max Brooks–canon brethren, but none of the lazy drawbacks. They don’t lurch, walk, or even jog to get their dinner. They break into a dead sprint the second they smell food (i.e., you).

Here’s a little context for the sense of terror in this scene: a group of survivors have boarded up an English farmhouse to isolate themselves from “the infected.” When a desperate young boy suddenly appears begging for help, he leads the flesh-eating horde right to their cobblestoned doorstep. In the ensuing madness, Don, a middle-aged Brit, makes the painful decision of abandoning his wife in favor of living longer:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rd9PWvrkbO0

Huh, there’s that slow build again. At 0:15, Don’s awful choice is minimally interrupted by the haunting repetition of the background score, underlining the damning finality of his actions. But Murphy’s not done, not by a long shot. There’s a valid justification behind Don’s apparent selfishness: he has teenaged offspring to take care of, and one dead parent is better than two. But in order for his wife’s (involuntary) sacrifice to make a difference, Don literally must hit the ground running (see 0:35).

It’s sure not all cupcakes and roses after Don glances back at his terrified wife for the last (?) time. At 0:57, the softer ostinatos are appropriately overtaken by the frenzied riffs of an electric guitar. First a handful of zombies are chasing him. Now a dozen. Now two dozen, and nothing physically embodies the term “one-track mind” than a herd of these mindless cannibals chasing down the latest candidate for Most Desperate Man in the Country.

“Oh shit,” indeed.

At this point, it shouldn’t surprise you to learn I sometimes put this song on repeat when I’m on the treadmill. If you have a more motivating soundtrack for cardiovascular activity, let me know.

#5: Inception (2010)

Composer: Hans Zimmer

Director: Christopher Nolan

“Last Scene” – OK, I know this was an obvious choice. But if you weren’t blown away by Nolan’s Inception, you know someone who was. And while it’s possible that his narrative was inspired by Scrooge McDuck, one can’t really argue against the genius behind Nolan’s execution.

If you’re into melodies that easily get stuck in your head, this musical score is for you. The plot to Inception is ridiculously complex; just know that this narractive revolves around characters who hack into people’s dreams to extract information. A lot is on the line for Dom Cobb (Leonardo DiCaprio) and his assembled team as they perform their riskiest job to date: the nearly impossible act of “inception” (i.e., planting an idea into a person’s subconscious). As the convoluted story unfolds, they ultimately succeed in their mission, which culminates here:

Despite a variety of complications as Cobbs’ team traverses multiple “dreams within dreams,” they manage to plant a powerful subliminal message deep in the mind of an unconscious Robert Fischer (Cillian Murphy) without killing themselves in the process. At 0:58, Hans Zimmer’s “Time” begins to play. It’s very quiet at first, allowing viewers to process the gravity of what Cobb has just accomplished (I know, it’s not easy). But here’s the thing: we get to do this right alongside Cobb as he awakens on the plane, his eyes betraying an initial astonishment. As he makes the appropriate connections in his head, the score gathers and dispatches momentum like the flow of an ocean tide. (I’m deliberately using this simile because oceans are vast, and the pure depth of this piece feels staggeringly epic.)

“Ah, sir, nice to—” HOOOOOOOOORN “—have you back.”

Cobb’s personal tribulations are nearly as complex as the movie itself (well duh, I guess—he’s the main protagonist), and the intentionally ambiguous ending was a real point of contention when the film released. But whether you believe Cobb made it out of limbo or not, I don’t think it really matters. According to Nolan, “The real point of the scene . . . is that Cobb isn’t looking at the top [i.e., his totem]. He’s looking at his kids. He’s left it behind. That’s the emotional significance of the thing.”

This is already some heady stuff, to be sure, and Inception has a lot of awesome scenes to choose from, but what really elevated the ending for me was how effectively Nolan’s message was conveyed in the film’s last 3 minutes. By 2:40, dialogue is no longer necessary (all those background horns do enough talking as it is), and when Cobb’s totem starts to waver, I finally let myself blink.

#6: Requiem for a Dream (2000)

Composer: Clint Mansell

Director: Darren Aronofsky

“Last Scene” – Speaking of heady stuff, some of you must have guessed this was coming. Requiem for a Dream has been around for a while, sure, but this is the very first film that made me instantly fall in love with an instrumental piece (Bedknobs and Broomsticks notwithstanding). I’m talking, of course, about the razor-sharp strings in Mansell’s “Lux Aeterna,” as performed by Krono Quartet.

Requiem follows the story of four characters dealing with various forms of chemical addiction. It’s a brutally honest look at the complexities of drug abuse, and within the first 60 minutes you recognize that the odds of a happy ending are slim at best. By the movie’s (foregone?) conclusion, our protagonists have involuntarily hurled themselves into the abyss.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uuzNohk5cYw

It’s a laundry list of worst-case scenarios: Sara Goldfarb (Ellen Burstyn), a disillusioned widow, is driven to amphetamine psychosis and committed to a psych ward; her son Harry (Jared Leto) gets his arm amputated thanks to unsanitary heroin injections; Tyrone (Marlon Wayans) finds himself incarcerated at a racist South Carolinian jail.

And Marion (Jennifer Connelly). Oh, Marion. Abandoned by her beau, she’s forced to sell her body for drugs. Remember that one-liner from Half-Baked that your freshman roommate thought was clever to shout every time you brought a girl back from the bar? Sure you do—it’s delivered by the deplorable Bob Saget: “I used to suck dick for coke! Now that’s an addiction, man.” Few words could be more appropriate here, and there isn’t really anything funny about the situation when it’s played out in earnest.

“My voice is equal portions honey and date rape.”

I’m also a huge fan of circular narratives, and a variation of this “Lux Aeterna” is used in the opening scene, at which point each of these characters still had a chance at redemption. Before the credits roll, their respective worlds have completely spiraled out of control. Yet there is a fascinating type of beauty, as Aronofsky surely recognized, in this dismal chaos.

Lastly, here’s a suggestion: try blasting this song in the background while you’re doing laundry. Boom! The delicates cycle just got real.

#7 and #8 Boogie Nights (1997), Love Actually (2003)

Artist: The Beach Boys

Director: Paul Thomas Anderson (BN), Richard Curtis (LA)

OK, these picks are a little different. Both of these films’ closing montages feature the song “God Only Knows,” one of my personal favorites from the Beach Boys. But in truth, it only became a favorite because of these films (yes, regular straight dudes are allowed to enjoy Love Actually to some degree). The song works in both movies, but for mostly different reasons.

“Closing Montage” – In Boogie Nights, it’s been a long road for many well-developed protagonists (this cast is just mind-blowingly awesome). The common denominator between them is essentially the porn industry; some have moved on to more respectable career paths, some have not, yet most appear to stay involved in each other’s lives. The bouncy, whimsical nature of the song highlights the intentionally goofy parts (e.x., Don Cheadle’s stereo store commercial), while achieving a stark juxtaposition with some characters’ unhappy endings (e.x., Robert Ridgely’s new home in the slammer after getting arrested for possession of child pornography). It works exceedingly well as a reminder that sure, people can change, but it’s not always possible to escape from one’s past.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hew-PArnzXE

“Final Scene” – I know, I know, this is an over-commercialized snoozefest that our girlfriends could only talk us into with promises of on-screen boobage. Well-played, Brits. But when I first watched this scene, something very strange happened. I realized that I’d actually grown fond of some of these damn characters (you stole my heart, Bill Nighy). And as one bubbling couple after another gregariously embraced—save for Professor Snape, but I saw that coming a mile away—I felt that familiar tingling sensation on my arms, except it was somehow introverted. Was this a . . . a “warm fuzzy”?

Then I head-butted my ex-girlfriend’s cat, threw a Molotov cocktail into the front seat of her ’96 Jetta, and didn’t even glance back as I walked away from the explosion. Because I am a man.

Honorable Mention: Get Him to the Greek (2010)

Composer: Infant Sorrow (?)

Director: Nicholas Stoller

I assumed I would like this movie when I first heard about it, but I hadn’t anticipated how much. Deliberately raunchy as this comedy can be, there is a sprinkling of genuinely human moments throughout. My favorite starts at 1:38:30 on the DVD (sorry, no embed), when Russell Brand finally takes the Greek Theatre stage as famed rocker Aldous Snow. The two songs performed in this scene—“Going Up” and “Bangers, Beans, and Mash”—carry more weight and enthusiasm than I was expecting. But after all, as Snow confessed before dashing into the spotlight, it’s good to feel something.