Oscar-winning composer Hans Zimmer on his Australian tour, dumb questions and saying yes
Ahead of an Australian tour, the Oscar-winning film score composer reflects on the value of hanging out, why he loves people who say “yes”, and being bullied by celebrities into performing live. WATCH INTERVIEW
Hans Zimmer, 67, is an Academy Award-winning German film score composer best known for his work on soundtracks including The Lion King, Gladiator, The Dark Knight, Inception, Interstellar, Dune and Top Gun: Maverick, among many others. He will tour Australia with his 19-piece band and an orchestra across three dates in April.
Review: You’ve said that lion-taming and film composing are closely linked. Why is that?
Hans: It’s when you first stand in front of the orchestra, and they’re looking at you, and they’re basically waiting for you to make a mistake – and then they’re just going to rip your head off, or tear your arm off. Yeah, there’s a similarity. I think the same goes when you stand on stage with the audience (at a concert). I think I’m making it slightly worse, because I’ve never prepared anything I’m going to say. Whatever comes out of my mouth is not always poetry, put it this way; but a bit of danger makes it all a bit more fun, don’t you think? Spontaneity, insanity – whatever you want to call it.
In that metaphor, the lion is the orchestra – the musicians – and not the film director, as I might have assumed.
Oh no, by that point, he’s beaten, he’s worked … I mean, making a movie is really hard. It’s terrible hours. You’re forever fighting with executives; you’re forever fighting about time, and about money. So when it comes to recording the music, actually, I’m sort of the last person to join, and the musicians know what they’re doing, and we are the allies. So they can sit back, and martini hour comes earlier and earlier. (smiles)
Well, you’re not always the last person to join. There’s at least one example with (director) Christopher Nolan, where you were the first person to be involved, on Interstellar (2014), I believe.
Yeah, same with (director) Denis Villeneuve; with Dune (2021), I was the first person on that one. But that’s all right; that’s friends, and we’re having a friendly chat – and the next thing I know, I’m sitting behind a keyboard. The next thing I know, we’ve got something written – and the next thing I know, somebody carved out all this time I was going to take for a holiday, and that holiday doesn’t exist anymore, and we’re in some strange foreign country, and we’re recording something.
In your working life, what have you learned about the value of asking what could be considered “dumb questions”?
The best thing in the world is the dumb question. It’s always the same: when we’re stuck and we’re working as a team, it’s always the guy who goes, “Um, this might sound really dumb, but I just have this stupid idea…”, and he says something, and it’s an unformed idea. But it only sounds stupid or dumb or whatever because it’s so new; nobody’s tried it out. There he is; he says whatever he says, and it’s clumsy, and he puts it out into the room, and we start kicking it around. And suddenly, we realise, “If you just move this a bit, and you talk about this a bit…”, something really brilliant, original and new happens; something that has never been there before. So the dumb question is my favourite question. Make sense?
It does. It takes a kind of confidence, or perhaps naivety, to take that leap to admit you don’t know something, and to ask, right?
Yeah, but I like working with people, and I am the same person, as well. I like working with people who respect us enough that we can say what we feel, and that we can say, “I have no earthly idea how to do this”. Because that’s the job. You’re supposed to go at this thing and do something new.
And then you do something new – because everybody asks you to do something new – and the first thing that happens is, you play it to them, and they all go, “Well, it’s a bit too new. It’s not quite what I meant. I meant, can it be like the last thing that was a hit, but different?” And then you say to them, “Can you live with it for about a week, so it’s not quite as shiny anymore – and then maybe you’ll like it?” But oh my god, humanity is afraid of the new. It’s ridiculous.
What have you learned about the value of hanging out?
Hanging out at a party? Waste of time. Hanging out with directors and musicians? Great. Hanging out and creating an environment where people speak their mind, where people come up with ideas, where people hear things that you never would have thought of, and the important part is that you’re definitely not the smartest person in the room? That’s the greatest thing. I love it. I love hanging out with musicians, and you walk past somebody and he’s just, like, noodling around, and there’s a phrase. And you go, “That’s a great phrase. Do that again!” (laughs)
Am I correct in understanding that it’s the combination of those two things – hanging out, and asking dumb questions – that really helped you early in your career?
I think my whole career is absolutely a culmination of hanging out, asking dumb questions, and working with people who don’t say “no”. The world is full of executives, particularly, who hide behind the word “no”. It’s much easier to say, “No, let’s not try this,” because that’s safe. To say “yes” to a crazy idea, you’re actually committing to something. Saying “no” is the safer option, always – so I like hanging out with the people who go, “Yes, let’s do this.” We’ve done so many insane things.
We’re talking as you’ll be touring Australia in April. How has your relationship with performing live changed across the years?
Well, I didn’t want to go and perform live. I was bullied into it. I’d have to name-drop; well, I will name-drop.
Johnny Marr from (British rock band) The Smiths and Pharrell Williams, the man who wrote (2013 mega-hit single) Happy, had me in a sort of a clincher. They sat so close that I couldn’t get up, and they said, “There comes a time when you have to look the audience in the eye, and you can’t hide behind the screen anymore, and you have to do things in real time, and you’ve gotta go on the road…” I’m going, “No, no, I can’t do that,” and they said, “We’ll come with you”.
We did two shows in London, and they went really well. Then the two of them disappeared – it was like the training wheels came off – and (now) I absolutely love it. There’s this amazing experience that both sides get to have, of creating whatever the mood is together, and that is really fabulous and precious. You can’t do that on television or on the internet or any of that stuff; there’s something really great about being in the same room with a lot of people. It really helps. And it’s the truth: Australia has particularly great audiences. I mean, we have a scoreboard; you’re not No.1, but you’re a close second after Dublin! (laughs)
It sounds like you’re pleased that you said “yes”: allowed yourself to be bullied by Pharrell and Johnny into taking this new path.
No, I was horrified – and then I realised they were absolutely right. Being dead scared is not an excuse. Johnny has said the best shows he’s had were the ones where he threw up before he went on stage. And I’m going, “Oh, yes, I know what that feels like! I agree with you!”
Are there certain works of yours that you’ve found a new appreciation for, since presenting them in the live format?
Yeah: Pirates (of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl, 2003) seems to still be a lot of fun, you know? I mean, with Pirates, we’re not talking about a super intellectual piece of music here, but it’s a lot of fun to play. The Dark Knight (2008) is a good thing, and now – in the newer repertoire – Dune (2021), I’m loving that, because it’s so experimental, and there’s so much stuff going on, and it’s not that well behaved; it gets pretty noisy and it gets pretty out of control. The Lion King (1994) works; Gladiator (2000) still works, and it’s quite amazing when you have the queen of Australia singing for you; the redoubtable Lisa Gerrard, my little sister. It’s fabulous; I love that.
You’ve have a long and fruitful relationship with Lisa as a collaborator. What do you love about working with her?
She speaks the truth. She is really incredibly talented. She does really interesting things and really emotional things, and at the same time, she can turn around and say, “Hans, that is complete nonsense. Stop it. Sit down, have a think about it, and let’s do something serious.” She tells me off, in the best possible way, because she saves me from doing something really stupid.
You need those kind of people in your life, right?
Yeah, absolutely. I’ve got a few of those. (laughs)
You’re 67, and judging by the quality of your work in recent years, you’re nowhere near the peak of what you can achieve as a composer, and as a musician. What keeps you energised and inspired to create new work?
I keep forgetting I’m 67. I feel like I’m a teenager, most of the time; sometimes I feel like I’m 40. But 67? I don’t know where that came from. I think people are lying to me. I’m not 67 at all – I’m somewhere in my mid-40s. At heart, I’m still a punk who loves Beethoven and Bach; who likes to go on stage with all these other musicians and just enjoy hearing them play. I don’t have to play; I could just sit there and write something to give them the opportunity to be brilliant. That’s all I want to do. And I want to give the audience an experience, and for that, they give me an experience back.
That’s got nothing to do with being 67, other than: I’ve been having it for a long time. But I want to have it for a hell of a lot longer.
Hans Zimmer’s three-date Australian tour, with a 19-piece live band and full orchestra, will include shows in Brisbane (April 24), Sydney (April 26) and Melbourne (April 29).
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