Daniel Dylan Wray explores foley’s unique contribution to the history – and evolution – of film

Noun, relating to or concerned with the addition of recorded sound effects after the shooting of a film

When sound artist Joan Rowe was on the hunt to capture the “liquidy and friendly” sound that director Stephen Spielberg was looking for to represent the body movements of his extra-terrestrial, E.T, she sought out an unusual source. Walking through supermarkets she listened to the movement of packaged liver, noting it had “a cheery sound.” Soon enough, her research trips became so frequent she became known as “the lady who listens to the liver.” Rowe ended up incorporating this sound, along with jelly in a wet towel and popcorn in a bag, into the finished film. Essentially, every time you see E.T – arguably cinema’s most famous extra-terrestrial – move on screen, you’re hearing something lifted right off supermarket shelves.

This process of recording a sound to replicate what is happening on screen – from footsteps to wind to a knock on the door – is known as foley, and the history of cinema is loaded with unique, innovative, and occasionally unbelievable, uses of it. Terminator 2: Judgement Day is a film rife with audacious experiments with foley. In the opening scene when we see the cold hard metal of a robot’s foot walking over a sea of human skulls, crushing them in the process, the sound recorded to capture that? Pistachio nuts. The sound of bullets hitting the T-1000 – a shape-shifting android assassin made of liquid metal – was captured by dropping an empty glass into a bucket full of yoghurt. And the sound of the T-1000 morphing itself around prison bars? That is dog food being slopped out of a can.

Foley’s unusual origins

Foley stems from Jack Foley who, during the era of silent film entering the talkies, was brought in by Universal to help turn the studio’s film Show Boat into a musical. Because microphones could only pick up on dialogue, Foley had to add in the other sounds later on a separate track. Many of his techniques still make up the basics of foley today, from having a suitcase filled with a variety of shoes to capture different walking sounds to using various fabrics to mirror clothing sounds. Other common tricks of the trade passed down via generations include using walnuts in glasses to replicate ice cubes (because they don’t melt), and a pair of gloves to capture bird wings flapping. Here, cellophane becomes the sound of crackling fire.

If you watch something like Stranger Things, the first series in particular, the foley was incredible. It really drew you in… It made you feel claustrophobic

The role of a foley artist is a varied one. Ruth Sullivan has been working as one for decades, having worked on everything from Stanley Kubrick’s final film Eyes Wide Shut to Danny Boyle’s 28 Days Later, as well as hit TV shows like Killing Eve and Peaky Blinders. “There will always be footsteps and clothing movements to record,” she says. “But then it will be project dependent. My work today involved capturing everything from pouring glasses of champagne to sharks and turtles swimming.”

With sound becoming an ever-more potent and visceral presence across film, TV, gaming and more, the role of foley has evolved with it. “Nowadays, the detail you can go into is infinite,” says Sullivan. “As an audience we expect to hear more. Times have changed and we want to hear all the different sounds that are happening on screen. Maybe it’s a sort of chicken and egg thing: the more we do, the more it’s expected.”

The role of a foley artist is a varied one. Ruth Sullivan has been working as one for decades, having worked on everything from Stanley Kubrick’s final film Eyes Wide Shut to Danny Boyle’s 28 Days Later, as well as hit TV shows like Killing Eve and Peaky Blinders. “There will always be footsteps and clothing movements to record,” she says. “But then it will be project dependent. My work today involved capturing everything from pouring glasses of champagne to sharks and turtles swimming.”

With sound becoming an ever-more potent and visceral presence across film, TV, gaming and more, the role of foley has evolved with it. “Nowadays, the detail you can go into is infinite,” says Sullivan. “As an audience we expect to hear more. Times have changed and we want to hear all the different sounds that are happening on screen. Maybe it’s a sort of chicken and egg thing: the more we do, the more it’s expected.”

The role of a foley artist is a varied one. Ruth Sullivan has been working as one for decades, having worked on everything from Stanley Kubrick’s final film Eyes Wide Shut to Danny Boyle’s 28 Days Later, as well as hit TV shows like Killing Eve and Peaky Blinders. “There will always be footsteps and clothing movements to record,” she says. “But then it will be project dependent. My work today involved capturing everything from pouring glasses of champagne to sharks and turtles swimming.”



With sound becoming an ever-more potent and visceral presence across film, TV, gaming and more, the role of foley has evolved with it. “Nowadays, the detail you can go into is infinite,” says Sullivan. “As an audience we expect to hear more. Times have changed and we want to hear all the different sounds that are happening on screen. Maybe it’s a sort of chicken and egg thing: the more we do, the more it’s expected.”

A device that continues to evolve

Inevitably, this produces some blurred lines when it comes to sound. As the art and creativity of sound design often overlaps with the role and function of the soundtrack, the performance of a foley artist in the final mix also often merges with sound design. “It’s changing, very much so,” says Sullivan. “With Killing Eve the sound was heightened and the detail we went into was extraordinary. Similarly, if you watch something like Stranger Things, the first series in particular, the foley was incredible. It really drew you in… It made you feel claustrophobic. That’s the sort of style that Killing Eve had as well, everything was so multi-layered and the detail… you were right in there, it’s quite sensual. Foley was absolutely used to enhance mood. We didn’t used to do that when I first started.”

Foley asks one to reassess their surroundings, taking wonder at everyday noises. You might also realise that feeding your dog never will never quite sound the same again

Perhaps the most arresting example of a film that places foley, sound design and soundtrack as one overlapping creative experiment is Peter Strickland’s 2012 film Berberian Sound Studio. The film features Toby Jones playing a sound artist for an Italian horror film, tasked with creating foley and sound design for the disturbing scenes. This, then, is real life foley work in action: fruit and veg stands in for human flesh with radishes snapped, cabbages hacked and stabbed, while the hiss of oil in a frying pan becomes a red-hot poker shoved somewhere unpleasant.

Perhaps the most arresting example of a film that places foley, sound design and soundtrack as one overlapping creative experiment is Peter Strickland’s 2012 film Berberian Sound Studio. The film features Toby Jones playing a sound artist for an Italian horror film, tasked with creating foley and sound design for the disturbing scenes. This, then, is real life foley work in action: fruit and veg stands in for human flesh with radishes snapped, cabbages hacked and stabbed, while the hiss of oil in a frying pan becomes a red-hot poker shoved somewhere unpleasant.

Perhaps the most arresting example of a film that places foley, sound design and soundtrack as one overlapping creative experiment is Peter Strickland’s 2012 film Berberian Sound Studio. The film features Toby Jones playing a sound artist for an Italian horror film, tasked with creating foley and sound design for the disturbing scenes. This, then, is real life foley work in action: fruit and veg stands in for human flesh with radishes snapped, cabbages hacked and stabbed, while the hiss of oil in a frying pan becomes a red-hot poker shoved somewhere unpleasant.

Perhaps the most arresting example of a film that places foley, sound design and soundtrack as one overlapping creative experiment is Peter Strickland’s 2012 film Berberian Sound Studio. The film features Toby Jones playing a sound artist for an Italian horror film, tasked with creating foley and sound design for the disturbing scenes. This, then, is real life foley work in action: fruit and veg stands in for human flesh with radishes snapped, cabbages hacked and stabbed, while the hiss of oil in a frying pan becomes a red-hot poker shoved somewhere unpleasant.

Foley artist and sound engineer working in studio

Perhaps the most arresting example of a film that places foley, sound design and soundtrack as one overlapping creative experiment is Peter Strickland’s 2012 film Berberian Sound Studio. The film features Toby Jones playing a sound artist for an Italian horror film, tasked with creating foley and sound design for the disturbing scenes. This, then, is real life foley work in action: fruit and veg stands in for human flesh with radishes snapped, cabbages hacked and stabbed, while the hiss of oil in a frying pan becomes a red-hot poker shoved somewhere unpleasant.

Perhaps the most arresting example of a film that places foley, sound design and soundtrack as one overlapping creative experiment is Peter Strickland’s 2012 film Berberian Sound Studio. The film features Toby Jones playing a sound artist for an Italian horror film, tasked with creating foley and sound design for the disturbing scenes. This, then, is real life foley work in action: fruit and veg stands in for human flesh with radishes snapped, cabbages hacked and stabbed, while the hiss of oil in a frying pan becomes a red-hot poker shoved somewhere unpleasant.

All of this is interwoven with a ghostly soundtrack from the experimental pop band Broadcast. Strickland himself said the aim was to “make a film where everything that is usually hidden in cinema are the mechanics of film itself.” The result not only shines a light on the often overlooked and underappreciated role of foley in cinema, but provided something of a template example for modern film of how foley, sound design and soundtrack can all work in glorious, unsettling harmony. Ironically, this film about foley even required foley itself. During a scene that shows a melon being smashed to depict a grizzly body injury, the sound itself wasn’t satisfying enough, so wet cloth and bits of wood were used to capture the crack, crunch and squelch. A similar meta instance of foley on film comes from a scene in Monty Python, in which perhaps the most famous foley sound of all time appears: coconut shells clapped together to echo horses’ hooves.


When fully experienced through a KEF home cinema sound system, the work of foley is a powerful one that awakens the senses to a deeper world to be found within film, TV, radio, and gaming. Foley asks one to reassess their surroundings, taking wonder at everyday noises. You might also realise that feeding your dog never will never quite sound the same again.

All of this is interwoven with a ghostly soundtrack from the experimental pop band Broadcast. Strickland himself said the aim was to “make a film where everything that is usually hidden in cinema are the mechanics of film itself.” The result not only shines a light on the often overlooked and underappreciated role of foley in cinema, but provided something of a template example for modern film of how foley, sound design and soundtrack can all work in glorious, unsettling harmony. Ironically, this film about foley even required foley itself. During a scene that shows a melon being smashed to depict a grizzly body injury, the sound itself wasn’t satisfying enough, so wet cloth and bits of wood were used to capture the crack, crunch and squelch. A similar meta instance of foley on film comes from a scene in Monty Python, in which perhaps the most famous foley sound of all time appears: coconut shells clapped together to echo horses’ hooves.

When fully experienced through a KEF home cinema sound system, the work of foley is a powerful one that awakens the senses to a deeper world to be found within film, TV, radio, and gaming. Foley asks one to reassess their surroundings, taking wonder at everyday noises. You might also realise that feeding your dog never will never quite sound the same again.

 

Daniel Dylan Wray is a freelance music and culture writer based in Sheffield.

He writes for publications such as The Guardian, VICE, Pitchfork, Uncut, Bandcamp, Huck, The Quietus, Loud & Quiet and several others.

Lexicon of Sound