Post-Grad Reflections: “The Graduate” and the Shift from Orchestral Scoring to Popular Music in American Film

May 16, 2025

Today, no one would be shocked to hear a familiar song used in a movie. Yet sixty years ago, this type of soundtrack would have been completely unexpected. It is no secret that the late 1960s and early 1970s represented a time of great change in the United States. This period saw massive cultural, social and political disruption that would forever alter the fabric of American society. Some changes, like the shift from orchestral scores to popular music in movie soundtracks, may have gone unnoticed amidst all of this upheaval. However, changes in the world of film music reflected larger societal shifts, and forever transformed the mediums of both cinema and music. This paper will use The Graduate (1967) as a case study to demonstrate the potency of popular music in film soundtracks, and how popular film music captured the cultural zeitgeist of the late 60s. 

In 1972, film composer Elmer Bernstein published an article in High-Fidelity titled “Whatever Happened to Great Movie Music?,” in which he lamented a shift in scoring that he had observed over the past few years. Bernstein reflected the concern that he and other well-respected film composers would not find their footing as popular music in soundtracks became the norm. While his concern was valid, he was quick to attack the use of popular music in cinema, period. He writes, “...I find it inconceivable that this sophisticated art has in such a short time degenerated into a bleakness of various electronic noises and generally futile attempts to “make the pop Top 40 charts.’” He viewed the use of popular music to be at odds with what he regards as more sophisticated orchestral compositions.

 Bernstein went on to pay tribute to the power of film music. He writes, “Sonic vibrations set part of the body in motion and touch the listener in an almost purely visceral manner.” To him, the film score wasn't merely working in service to the image, but is itself a filmic element capable of lending a story, a character, a moment, authenticity and emotional depth. This characterization of film music rings true, yet surely does not need to be limited to the orchestral score. Furthermore, critics of popular music like Elmer Bernstein contended that it was cheapened by its short-lived cultural minute, its brief stint on the top charts. However, I argue it is this very same quality that makes pop music interesting as a soundtrack. Popular songs can serve as a time capsule to a highly specific moment. The marriage of sound and image harnesses the ephemerality of popular songs, preserving them forever in cultural memory. 

To understand why this moment, in particular, represented a shift in film scoring, it is necessary to look at the organization of the film industry itself. Film composers, at the time, were quick to point out the financial motivation behind this shift; studio executives sought ‘synergy’ between film and music branches of large commercial enterprises. Unlike the film industry, the recorded music industry was growing at an unimaginable rate during the 1960s. Yet larger changes created a general disintegration of older cinematic conventions, and brought in the new. Crucially, the 1948 Paramount Decision broke up the classical studio system, as government legislation forced major studios to separate production and distribution from exhibition. Across the next two decades, this attempt to curb oligopolistic control of the American film industry would slowly bring changes to the medium itself. American commercial and independent systems collided with European Art Cinema and innovative New Wave aesthetics.  In the late 1960s, state censorship of films was replaced by the rating system, allowing a fresh array of subject matter on the big screen. Overall, a new Hollywood cinema was emerging, and this new cinema called for new music as well. 

In addition to commercial and artistic changes in the film and music industries, the sixties brought about massive cultural changes which were then reflected in the popular art of the period. From the ongoing Vietnam War to the Civil Rights Movement, “Events of… the 1960s had knocked loose certain longstanding foundations of American society and thought.” Young people rebelled against the principles and markers of success which had driven the previous generation. Youth struggled to assert individuality in a society that promoted social conformity. It was this sense of discontent that would drive many young people to San Francisco in 1967 for the Summer of Love, or to protest in the streets of Berkeley. This sense of “alienation” was reflected in all kinds of art forms from beat poetry, to rock music to film. 

It is in this milieu that the film The Graduate (1967) was produced. The epitome of these commercial and cultural changes, The Graduate was cheaply made, commercially successful, yet employed many inventive filmic and editing techniques. Thematically, the film fit the cultural moment, portraying a young man who was lost and isolated. The unique soundtrack featured four popular songs by Simon & Garfunkel (with several repeating throughout the film), as well as some sparse compositions by Dave Grusin. Gone was the solely orchestral score, the singer-songwriter soundtrack was born. The film follows Benjamin Braddock (Dustin Hoffman), a recent college graduate surrendering to an intense post-grad malaise as he begins an illicit affair with his parent’s friend, Mrs. Robinson (Anne Bancroft). Ultimately, he becomes infatuated with Mrs. Robinson’s daughter, Elaine (Katharine Ross), pursuing her to Berkeley and beyond. 

The opening title sequence shows Braddock on a moving walkway in the airport. We see him from the chest up as he is propelled forward by the unseen walkway. His neutral expression reveals next to nothing. Simon & Garfunkel’s, “The Sound of Silence” begins with the words “Hello darkness my old friend, I’ve come to talk with you again.” The words lend a melancholic tone to Hoffman’s subtle acting. At second glance, Ben is without purpose, without agency. He moves forward not by choice, but by necessity. The path forward remains unclear. At the same time, the catchy pop-y nature of the tune clashes with the words and the images, creating an element of humor that persists throughout the film as Ben lethargically moves from one scene to the next. 

“The Sound of Silence,” next appears as a sort of musical interlude later on in film. We fade in on a shot of sunlight glinting off the surface of Ben’s family pool, before dissolving to a shot of Ben laying on a pool float, gaze obscured by dark sunglasses. Ben walks out of the pool and seamlessly into a hotel room with Mrs Robinson, where he lies on the bed just like he was lying on the pool float. The film match cuts to Ben in his room at home, then again to Ben in bed as another, softer Simon & Garfunkel song, “April Come She Will,” begins. In this sequence, the music propels us through time in a way that apathetic Ben cannot. The music works in harmony with the visuals to communicate the passing of summer. 

Finally, the song repeats for a third time at the end of the film. In the final scene, Ben sneaks into the church where Elaine Robinson is about to get married to another man. Much to the chagrin of her parents, and everyone else in attendance, Elaine impulsively decides to run away with Ben. After using a cross to bar the doors, the pair flee the Church, Elaine’s white dress trailing behind her, broad grins on both of their faces. Ben and Elaine wave down a public bus and walk to the back, taking a seat and laughing, immune to the odd stares from the other passengers. We then see a close shot of the two of them, sitting side by side as the familiar notes of “The Sound of Silence” begin. The only sound we hear is the song as a rainbow of emotions crosses the young duo’s faces; first smug pride, then contemplative stillness, dread, nervous laughter. The two look at one another, but not at the same time. Finally, both stare ahead, both lost in their own world, their own thoughts. We cut to the final shot as the drums kick in: the yellow bus drives away into the distance, and credits roll. In this final scene, Ben and Elaine appear to have succeeded in running away from the expectations that their parents (i.e. the older generation) have for them. Yet those familiar notes, coupled with the wave of emotions conveyed by the actors, create a far more complex ending for the film. 

Rather than blending in with the action of the film in order to elicit an emotional reaction, the song makes itself known through repetition. The three repetitions of the song lend the film a cyclical nature, exacerbated by the first lyrics, “Hello darkness my old friend, I’ve come to talk with you again.” Hearing “The Sound of Silence” in the final scene ties the ending to the very first scene, where we hear the same song. Perhaps Ben has not truly escaped, he has not truly progressed past that moment in the beginning of the film on the moving walkway. Where he ended is the same as where he began. Ben and Elaine end the movie sitting next to each other, but still isolated. They are apart, alienated from their parents and those around them.  

The ending of The Graduate reflected the sense of youth alienation that was emblematic of the period. The counterculture was born out of youth no longer aligning with their parents’ aspirations and values. Ben's journey throughout the film mirrors this, capturing the cultural zeitgeist of the era. Overall, the sentiment of disillusionment which led to a disintegration of the social conventions of the previous generation were well reflected by the breakdown of cinematic conventions in The Graduate, and other films of the era.

 The Graduate ushered in a new era for the soundtrack, one which would grow popular in the early 70s with films such as McCabe & Mrs. Miller (1971) and Harold and Maude (1972). Much of the popular music of the period, like that of Simon & Garfunkel, was the music of the young. The rise of popular music in films during this period highlighted the increasing primacy of youth audiences in the late 60s and early 70s.  

In conclusion, popular music as a soundtrack is just as capable of adding emotion, narrative and meaning to the cinematic medium as an orchestral score. Furthermore, the addition of popular music to the cinematic repertoire did not, in fact, represent the death of orchestral scores, but rather an expansion of the musical toolbox. Orchestral scores continue to coexist alongside other musical forms. No doubt the soundtracks of today would be shocking to the composers of the past. Yet the diversity of sounds, from the popular rap of Spiderman: Into the SpiderVerse (2018) to the eerie sounds of Dune (2021) capture a certain aspect of the cultural moment in much the same way that The Graduate did in 1967. Overall, changes in film music that came about in the late 60s and early 70s continue to have an enduring impact on both music and cinema, pushing the artforms into new and exciting territory.