Working symbolism into the Original Score (example: “Young Royals”)

This post is a little thank-you note for a lovely person who recently became a paid subscriber and surprised me with a generous donation that made it possible for me to buy some otherwise rather expensive Bach sheet music (you know who you are; thank you from the bottom of my heart!).

When I wrote my lengthy post about the Music Metaphor on ‘Young Royals’, I teased you all with a reference to a prelude and promised that this would make sense at a later time. I had originally planned to explain this in just a brief paragraph or so but have since decided to make it a separate (and more in-depth) post because there is actually some nice symbolism to go with it.

So, please treat this as an afterthought to the Music Metaphor article, a little musical encore if you will:

I’m sure a lot of people have noticed the excellent job the show ‘Young Royals’ has done in selecting suitable songs for its various storylines, ‘Revolution’ and ‘The Most Beautiful Boy’ probably being the two songs that stay with you the longest.

However, a lot of the music analysis I’ve seen so far is centered around the question of how the lyrics of the songs fit those various scenes and storylines, i.e. the music analysis is mostly focused on the words and not the music itself, making it a textual breakdown of the lyrics.

That is not to say that I don’t enjoy reading that; I do. It’s very informative, obviously. But seeing as this show has music (metaphorical and otherwise) at its very heart, I think it behooves us to also look at the actual music part of the music. This is, after all, a show that has its main protagonist pretty much fall in love at first sight within the first 10 minutes of episode one after listening to a certain someone’s beautiful voice, so paying close attention to the music on this show is a must.

And who he falls for is telling, as well: a boy called Simon, the name most likely having been chosen by the writers because it literally translates as “hear” or “listen”. So, listen we shall!

I have tried to provide you with some nose-to-the-grindstone music analysis in my blog post about the Music Metaphor when I discussed the little idea Simon tries out on the piano (playing by ear in the piano scene of episode three, season one) and described how its melody and harmonies are structured. I then contrasted that jazzy little idea of Simon’s with the core motif of the traditional Hillerska school song.

We also took a look at the way the show uses Ivar Widéen’s Christmas song ‘Gläns över sjö och strand’ (a song largely written in an E-minor key with a surprising E-Major chord at the end) to manipulate us, the viewers, emotionally by cutting off the E-Major ending and leaving us stranded in a perpetually sad E-minor state at the end of season one.

Let’s now take a closer look at Matti Bye’s original score for the show, that electronic beat-infused music I’m sure everyone instantly liked about ‘Young Royals’, because there’s actually a little gold nugget hidden in there, as well. And what’s even better: The gold nugget in question comes with a symbolic meaning.

So, here is your little amuse-bouche (or should I say amuse-oreille?):

There is one track of the original soundtrack by Matti Bye called ‘Recomposed’ that immediately struck me when I first watched the show.

And by struck, I mean, I sat there and thought, “Hello, good old friend. I know you, don’t I?”

It first appears when Simon asks Magister Englund for private tutoring, and then keeps appearing and reappearing…again…and again…and again…

What struck me about this particular piece of music is that it isn’t just a case of ‘inspired by’, it comes closer to a case of ‘quoted directly from’. 

So, who is Matti Bye quoting in his ‘Recomposed’ track? Who has he ‘recomposed’ there? Well, believe it or not, but despite its electronic sound and pulsating beat towards the end, this piece of music is quoting good old Johann Sebastian Bach.

It’s a direct quote from a rather well-known piece from the fundamental canon of Baroque piano literature: the Prelude in D-minor from Bach’s ‘Well-Tempered Clavier’. (See, I told you my quip about the prelude would pay off later on.)

If you want to listen to both things side by side, here they are:

1. Matti Bye’s original score for ‘Young Royals’ track ‘Recomposed’: here.

2. Bach’s ‘Well-Tempered Clavier’ Prelude D-minor BWV 851 (played brilliantly by the great András Schiff): here.

Neither Matti Bye’s ‘Recomposed’ nor Bach’s original Prelude are very long (each under 2 min.), so you won’t have to suffer through hours and hours of piano music if you’re not into that kind of thing. And I promise that, even if you’re an absolute classical music noob, you will instantly hear what Matti Bye has ‘recomposed’ and reworked there. It’s pretty hard to miss, to be honest.

Bach’s sequential broken chords in the right hand (D-minor, G-minor, etc.) appear almost in the exact same form in ‘Recomposed’; Matti Bye just changes the rhythm a tiny bit by syncopating them. Note that the steady repetitive bass beat is present in Bach’s original version already; it’s just that Matti Bye amplifies it into a pulsating electronic beat.

If you now re-watch the show with your ears wide open, you will quickly realize what type of scenes on ‘Young Royals’ make use of ‘Recomposed’ (Matti Bye’s little Bach Prelude remix):

Because, you see, Matti Bye’s ‘Recomposed’ appears a lot on this show.

Here’s some background info for you: Baroque music is often used on screen to denote something or someone old-fashioned, traditional, historical or conservative. It’s used on a whole variety of different shows and movies to underscore scenes at castles and palaces, for example, or scenes that include kings and queens. This is done even when the film or TV series is not set in the Baroque era (roughly 1600-1750). Hell, it doesn’t even have to be a period piece at all for Baroque music to appear in it with the above-mentioned connotation.

Once you start looking for it, you’ll see it everywhere, I promise: You can innocently watch a show or movie set in the 20th or even 21st century, but the moment there’s so much as the rooftop of an ancient castle in sight, the plucky old harpsichord starts strumming up a storm or some poor castrato begins to sing his heart and every other organ out that he hasn’t dispensed with so far.

In short, it’s a thing.

So, the question is: Is that all there is to it on this show, as well? Is the Baroque-ish piece ‘Recomposed’ just used whenever the plot moves to the castle? Is it only ever playing in the background when Queen Kristina appears on screen?

Well, no, actually. Because ‘Recomposed’ can also be heard in very different types of scenes and settings, scenes that have nothing to do with the castle or the Royal family as such, scenes such as the Simon/Magister-Englund conversation about the private tutoring or the scene on Parents’ Day when the parents and students are all mingling.

We can hear it when the Swedish flag is raised above the school right before the jubilee celebrations, a thousand helping hands of a thousand invisible staffers fulfilling a thousand menial tasks in preparation for the festivities, and it’s still playing when Wilhelm is rehearsing his speech with his flashcards in his room in the season finale of season two.

It is also playing in the background when Linda finds out about Simon’s private tutoring bills and immediately afterwards as we cut to August working out with his weights in the gym.

Granted, there are the kinds of typical castle scenes you would expect for a Bach-inspired Baroque-type piece, as well: one of them being the moment Wilhelm is getting ready to give his statement of denial at the castle in episode six of season one, putting on his clothes, tying his tie around his neck like a noose and then walking towards the room where the interviewer is waiting for him, all with an expression on his face as though he were walking over to the place of his own execution.

Another castle scene this applies to is the one in which August is being driven to the Queen in episode three of season two. ‘Recomposed’ is playing while August is on his way to the castle and as he’s walking through the vast building.

And then there’s a different kind of conversation with the Queen that is underscored by ‘Recomposed’, as well: When the Queen, sitting in her private jet, demands over the phone that Wilhelm stay closeted for another two years until he’s 18 years old.

Another notable instance of ‘Recomposed’ playing in our ear is the cold open of episode four (season two), when a visibly scared and shaken Wilhelm is texting Felice about his hope that Henry won’t gossip to the whole school about their kiss (a hope that is just that tiny bit misplaced, to put it mildly).

Interestingly, ‘Recomposed’ is also used in a scene in episode four of season two in which August has just been told by Jan-Olof that the Royal Court has planned his life for him for the next ten years (eg. military training) and is now telling Sara about his being Wilhelm’s ‘spare’. ‘Recomposed’ keeps playing even as we cut away from August and Sara and to the costumes for the Valentine’s Ball being delivered.

As you can see, all of these are very different scenes. So, can you guess what all of them have in common? Why are they all underscored by this particular piece of music?

Well, they are all about power, would be the answer. They are cases of ‘Power meets the Powerless’ to be more precise.

This piece of music can be heard whenever we are shown the power structure of the school (and the show’s upper-class society at large), the bare scaffolding of brazenly arrogant power that holds the system on this show together. It is playing when we’re shown people who are on top and thus hold power over other people. 

It’s no coincidence that it is playing when Simon first approaches Magister Englund to ask him for private tutoring. What Simon’s teacher is doing there, being more loyal to his paying students, is an outrageous act of despotism, after all, that the school apparently deems acceptable within its framework of power. A (presumably middle-class) man whose career choice alone should mark him out as someone who wants to help and support children is making a quick krona off a working-class boy. That’s an outrageous display of abuse of power.

Or go and rewatch the scene on Parent’s Day: 

‘Recomposed’ is playing the entire time the rich, privileged parents and students are mingling. You can see Simon’s mother weave her way through the crowd with her two kids, and then we find out that she wasn’t even invited to the luncheon. The imbalance of power here is striking, and Matti Bye’s Bach-remix ‘Recomposed’ can be heard the entire time. Eventually ‘saviour’ August jumps to the rescue and promises to sort things out. The music is still playing, translation: August, an 18-year old boy, wields an amount of power at this school that a parent with a working-class background couldn’t even dream of. And he goes and ‘repays’ Simon (a boy he owes money to) the only way he knows: by using his power to give Simon’s family a status upgrade…for a day.

The moment the Swedish flag is raised above the school in the season finale of season two is another case in point: There are poor working-class people making all of this possible. They’re rolling out the red carpet and raking the gravel for those who will celebrate themselves and their traditions later in the day. By having ‘Recomposed’ play in the background throughout those scenes and even after we cut to Wilhelm the show draws an interesting comparison between these staffers and the Crown Prince: Wilhelm, too, is powerless here. He’s standing there with his flashcards practising the speech he’s supposed to give. He’s not in charge of his own life. Interestingly, the music doesn’t stop playing there either. It continues into the Royal family’s photo session with the headmistress, during which August is explicitly asked to step back and stand at the back of the group. Translation: August, too, is just a pawn in this game. He might think he has power now, but he’s being used to manipulate Wilhelm into giving the speech and being the good lap dog his mother, the Queen, expects him to be. August, too, is being put in his place, and the music underscores that.

A particularly interesting instance of ‘Recomposed’ being used to flesh out the power pyramid this show has drawn for us is the moment Linda finds out about Simon’s private tutoring bills. The show cuts from Linda being angry with Simon to August working out with his weights at the gym. The music, you’ve guessed it, keeps playing. And no, the editing here is no coincidence: It’s interesting how we’re first shown the one who’s at the bottom of the power pyramid (Simon) and can’t pay the bill that shouldn’t exist in the first place and only ended up in his mailbox because of a teacher’s blatant abuse of power, and the editing and music choice then suggest that August, too, isn’t in charge here: August might occupy a higher step on the ladder, but we see him working out with his weights and worrying about his body image.

(I would like to mention here that a very clever tumblr person referenced the way ‘weights’ are often used as visual metaphors in cinematography. If you haven’t read his ‘Subtext and Culture’ series on ‘Young Royals’, I strongly encourage you to do so. He analyzed a different scene, but his interpretation of the ‘weights’ is spot on, I think.)

In short, on screen, weights are often metaphors for problems that are ‘weighing’ a character down. And boy, does August have a lot of those: His father killed himself. August is left with an estate he doesn’t want to lose, but can’t keep running either. He has a title and status he might lose, and he’s essentially bankrupt. Metaphorical ‘weights’ abound. The weight of the world is bearing down on him. And accordingly, you see him groaning and sweating at the gym as he tries to lift those ‘weights’ (read: issues) and not keel over.

Then comes an interesting shot that I have to elaborate on for a moment: In a close-up, we see August’s phone (with his selfie on it!) propped up against one of those weights:

(I know I said this post would be about the music and not about any visual metaphors, but I just had to sketch this out quickly. Just bear with me; I promise this particular visual metaphor is important for the music, as well…And no, I’m not going to draw August’s selfie in there. I feel I wouldn’t be able to do Malte Gårdinger’s abs justice, and wouldn’t that just be a shame.)

In the shot, we see August’s phone with his selfie on it being propped up (!) by a weight. We have also just been visually reminded of the fact that he suffers from body dysmorphia. So the selfie of someone with body dysmorphia is being propped up by a weight.

Translation: Metaphorically, this means that August’s warped and twisted self-image is reliant on those metaphorical ‘weights’ that make up his backstory. It’s because of his issues (weights) that he has an unhealthy image of himself – and by unhealthy I don’t just mean unhealthy in the physical sense: August’s power hunger, his fear of losing his status, his willingness to do literally anything to stop himself from hurting and hurt others in turn, all to keep his self-image intact…all of that is his metaphorical ‘selfie’ and that ‘selfie’ is reliant on his backstory, his issues, his metaphorical ‘weights’, so to speak. It’s these ‘weights’ that keep propping up his warped self-image.

And guess what, Matti Bye’s Bach remix ‘Recomposed’ keeps playing all throughout that scene: August is powerless and trapped in this system, in his very own way. Note that the music only stops playing once the Queen’s phone call rings out in the empty gym and they start talking. That’s the moment August can feel in charge again. That’s the moment he smells the sweet scent of power once more because he is being asked by the monarch personally to look out for the Crown Prince and knows he will get to play big boss at the ‘Society’. And it’s no coincidence that the music cuts out at that precise moment.

August is an interesting case, in general. He seems to wield so much power, and yet he is trapped in the system, as well. He is powerless, too. The music tells us this much.

Consider the scene (in season two) in which August is being driven to the castle, not knowing what it is that the Queen wants from him. As I mentioned above, it’s once again Matti Bye’s Bach-inspired ‘Recomposed’ piece that’s playing in the background, telling us how utterly powerless August must feel at that moment. And once again, the music stops when the Queen starts talking and tells him that he’s going to be Wilhelm’s ‘spare’. Now that August feels powerful again, there’s no need for that piece of music anymore.

The moment when August tells Sara about being Wilhelm’s ‘spare’ is even more suggestive. Outwardly, August displays confidence (he really seems to want to be the next King of Sweden), but inwardly he must be thrown off by Jan-Olof’s demand to submit entirely to the Royal Court’s agenda for the next ten years, to surrender all his passwords and every shred of privacy he’s had so far. Not only does he fish his drugs back out of the trash can, which tells us how anxious he is about the prospect. No, it’s more than just that: ‘Recomposed’ is playing in the background again, underscoring how powerless he must feel. Jan-Olof and the Royal Court now have the power to make or break August’s future. And the music reinforces that impression.

The music actually keeps playing even after we cut to the Valentine’s Ball costumes being delivered to the Hillerska courtyard, something that I think is particularly significant. We know that the students will dress up in costumes from Marie Antoinette’s time. 

In other words, the upper 0.1 percent of the population get to play ancien regime for a night at an actual ball of all places. I’m sure, you all know the historical era in French history we’re talking about was marked by enormous inequality, with the vast majority of people being poor peasants and only a tiny sliver of society at the very top enjoying the spoils of the rest of the population’s handiwork. In the scene, we see exactly that: Ordinary people doing their job, delivering costumes that the upper-crust students will wear during an event that should just be renamed ‘Utter-Lack-of-Self-Awareness’ Ball. 

The fact that the ‘Recomposed’ piece keeps playing as we cut to that costume delivery scene is telling, seeing as the music links August’s delusions of grandeur (and repressed anxiety) about becoming King with this baroque display of unashamed splendour as the costumes are delivered. And nowhere does Bach’s music fit better (historically speaking) than in that very scene.

I guess I don’t even need to elaborate on the scene in which Wilhelm prepares to make the statement of denial, tying his tie around his neck and walking up to the interviewer in episode six of season one. It’s painfully obvious that Wilhelm is not in charge here. It’s clear why this scene is underscored by ‘Recomposed’: Wilhelm doesn’t have any power. Nothing in his life is on his own terms, making the two moments in which Simon tells Wilhelm, “They can’t force you to make a statement,” (yes, they can!) and later “Everything is on your terms,” (no, nothing is!) even more poignant. It’s obvious why Simon would think that, but the music that keeps playing as Wilhelm walks up to the interviewer with a face as though he’s about to be tortured says otherwise.

And what are we supposed to make of the fact that, in that plane scene in episode two of season two, Queen Kristina pretends to be sympathetic and tells Wilhelm she wants him to come out ‘on his own terms’, only to then turn around and demand he wait for another two years until he’s 18 years old. Wilhelm seems to think he has scored some type of victory there. Later on, he tells Simon (in the locker room) that his parents were sympathetic and understood him. But the fact that it’s specifically ‘Recomposed’ that’s playing in the background as Wilhelm is negotiating with his mother over the phone seems to suggest that all he scored there was a Pyrrhic victory. At best. The music tells us there is a massive power imbalance between the Queen and her Crown Prince in that scene, and it’s not Wilhelm who’s in charge.

I mean, it’s painfully obvious from the way the scene is set up, to be honest: The Queen is on a plane (of all places). If the writers didn’t want us to read anything into that they could have had her phone him from virtually any other place in the world, but it’s specifically a plane (!). Translation: She is flying high, soaring high, high up above Wilhelm in the sky, while her son is literally shown sitting on the floor. He isn’t even sitting in a chair. Her on a plane, him on the floor – how is that for some neat symbolism? Nothing that’s happening there is ‘on his terms’. He might think he’s negotiating with her on equal footing, but she has the upper hand in their negotiations. There is a clear power imbalance here. And the music underscores all of that.

And then there’s the cold open of episode four (season two): Imagine how utterly powerless Wilhelm must feel when he is suddenly at the mercy of someone (Henry) who might or might not gossip about him and his best friend kissing!

In that scene, as Wilhelm is frantically texting Felice, it’s again (you’ve guessed it) ‘Recomposed’ that’s playing in our ear. Wilhelm must feel truly helpless here, knowing that, if Henry lets something slip, this news will inevitably get back to Simon. How awful must it feel when all you can do is hope for your classmate to keep his trap shut or else the love of your life will get hurt. And how strange must it be, indeed, when at the same time, you know that, if only you could feel for your best (female) friend what you feel for your ex-boyfriend, you would immediately get a lot of social validation from the whole student body of your school. The powerlessness could end in a second, if only you could conform to the norms. And the music emphasizes this dilemma in that scene.

Note that the music doesn’t stop when we cut to Felice attending the choir rehearsal where everyone and their mother is already gossiping about her and Wilhelm. (So much for Henry keeping his mouth shut.) I don’t think Felice feels very, uhm, empowered at that moment either, and consequently ‘Recomposed’ keeps playing until…

…they start rehearsing. And all of a sudden ‘Recomposed’ cuts out abruptly, being replaced by Simon’s song they’re all singing. Translation: To feel empowered, you need to turn to Simon’s music (read: love).

To emphasize this message the music teacher specifically says, “Okay, let’s make room for Simon!” at that precise moment. (The time for feeling disempowered by ‘Recomposed’ is over now.)

Then Simon proceeds to sing the line, “But no one can take from us what we were[...]” and ironically, at that moment, the music teacher says, “Contraltos, please stand up.”

Seeing as the show already referred to sopranos and tenors with a metaphorical subtext in mind in the piano scene in episode three of season one (we’ve discussed this at length), I see no reason to assume that this reference to the contraltos is any different.

It’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it joke: Presumably Felice is a contralto, the message here being clear: Well, if anyone can ‘take from you what you were’, it’s a contralto (i.e. a girl – like Felice), so watch out, Simon.

Towards the end of the scene, an unsuspecting Simon turns around to look at Felice with a smile and her smile looks, shall we say, somewhat guilty. (Obviously, we, the audience, know that no girl will ever take anything or, ahem, anyone from Simon, not Simon’s memories and certainly not Wilhelm himself, but the cheeky musical quip is still appreciated here when you look at it in the context of what everyone in the choir around them is gossiping about.)

But back to our Bach Prelude remix: So, we have established that wherever raw, brutal power meets someone who’s disempowered, the soundtrack switches on the Bach-inspired piece ‘Recomposed’.

Let me now finally tell you about the best example of this (because, of course, I kept the best for last):

Nowhere is the meaning of Matti Bye’s ‘Recomposed’ piece clearer than at the very end of season two during Wilhelm’s infamous speech.

Because, you see, as long as Wilhelm goes along with the script and reads the speech off his flashcards, ‘Recomposed’ is ominously playing in the background. Read: Wilhelm is not in power here. There are people who are much, much more powerful, and they have got him under their thumb. He has to do their bidding and read out this scripted, PR-approved drivel.

But what then truly makes your breath catch is the moment in which you see Wilhelm decide to go off script and finally seize power for himself: It’s at that precise moment that ‘Recomposed’ suddenly stops playing!

It’s a brilliant moment in which the soundtrack and the actor function as a unit on screen: Wilhelm puts his foot down, stops being powerless and ‘Recomposed’ stops playing. Just a few moments later the song ‘The Most Beautiful Boy’ can be heard. The time for a piece like ‘Recomposed’ is up because Wilhelm has just made the ultimate power move. 

It’s a powerful moment if you’ll allow the pun, a moment of self-empowerment, and it’s executed so very well on screen, with the music, the script and the actor all working hand in glove to achieve this incredibly rewarding feeling that, I’m sure, flooded every viewer in front of their TV screen upon watching it.

Now that we have looked at what scenes this piece of music actually makes an appearance in and discussed its meaning, let’s ask the ultimate question: 

Why?

Why do we think Matti Bye decided to use Bach’s D-minor Prelude for this? 

Here I can only speculate, of course.

Maybe Matti Bye was once made to feel powerless by a despotic piano teacher when he was practising that very piece as a kid. No, but seriously…I’m sure we can all agree that, at least in-universe, Wilhelm has most likely made that exact experience. Wilhelm knows how to play the piano; he probably had to endure endless piano lessons as a child, and Bach’s ‘Well-Tempered Clavier’ is a classic. I’m sure Wilhelm had to play a prelude or two from it every now and then.

As for Matti Bye, the most likely explanation is, of course, that he was asked by the showrunners to write something they could use in a couple of scenes in which powerful people would abuse the disempowered, and he instinctively decided to go with a Baroque piece because of this type of music’s association with anything old-fashioned, traditional and conservative.

It is, after all, not such a big leap from associating a type of music that, in film history, has already been used for castle and palace scenes a hundred times or more with something traditional to associating it with raw, naked power and the abuse thereof.

You can see how these two concepts are, in a sense, very similar. And maybe Matti Bye decided purely on instinct here and just broadened the typical association of that type of music from traditional, conservative and old-fashioned to ‘powerful meets powerless’.

Maybe it was a subconscious, purely instinctive decision on his part.

And yet I can’t help but speculate on whether this had something to do with the ‘sheet music’ metaphor we’ve discussed in my other big Music post.

We know that ‘sheet music’ is used as a metaphor for rules and tradition on this show. The question is: Did Matti Bye know this, as well?

Quick sidebar here:

One thing I forgot to mention in my Music Metaphor post and that we, as viewers, shouldn’t underestimate is the fact that sheet music (the literal, not the metaphorical kind) is quite expensive, especially if you’re interested in a good edition. 

Unless you have someone who’s close to you and already owns a lot of sheet music, have access to a Xerox machine and can just copy all of their sheet music, you’re literally screwed. This is something that affects working-class kids far more than it does middle- and upper-class children. I can absolutely see the inequality that arises purely out of the fact that Simon (the incredibly talented musician) doesn’t have anyone in his life he could simply copy sheet music from, which consequently makes learning how to read it nearly impossible for him. Wilhelm, for his part, most likely has access to stacks and stacks of old sheet music from his brother, parents, grandparents and so forth. Working-class children, on the other hand, often own neither a proper instrument nor the sheet music to go with it and don’t have any relatives or older friends who might hand over some of theirs.

Note the inherent metaphor in that, as well: The reason why Wilhelm knows how to read ‘sheet music’ (i.e. knows what the rules are) is because, in all likelihood, his brother, parents and grandparents handed down their ‘sheet music’ to him (read: he learned what code of conduct to follow from his traditionalist relatives).

‘Sheet music’ is a very important metaphor on the show. So, there’s more than just a literal difference between Wilhelm and Simon going on here. There is also a metaphorical one, namely that ‘sheet music’ symbolically represents the web of rules and traditions Wilhelm is trapped in.

One brilliant scene that highlights that and that I haven’t discussed so far is Wilhelm and Simon’s first fight as a couple in episode five of season one. I had pointed out that a lot of their fights happen in the music room for a metaphorical reason: Music (metaphorically: love) is what this show is all about at its very core.

So, did you notice how that very first fight ends once Simon has stormed off? 

It ends with Wilhelm hitting his forehead repeatedly with the heels of his hands in desperation and then sort of collapsing face down onto his elbows on top of a pile of sheet music (!).

Now, could that be a coincidence? Sure. 

But then, the showrunners could have just had him groan his soul out on top of an empty piano or any other horizontal surface available, and yet they didn’t. Knowing what we know about the meaning of ‘sheet music’ (read: rules and tradition) on this show, it’s kind of ironic to have him collapse right on top of a whole stack of it. The metaphor gets reinforced by turning it from a purely textual one into a visual one here: Look how exasperated Wilhelm is by all that metaphorical ‘sheet music’ that keeps ruining his life.

The shot itself is gorgeous, by the way. Go check it out. It’s one of those shots that you don’t want to just draw storyboard-style, but paint in oil: The way it focuses entirely on his bent back (what a great metaphor in and of itself!). It does so by placing an unobtrusive light source right behind him and slightly illuminating just the outline of his back. The rest of his body is shrouded in absolute darkness; you don’t see his face, and the main focus is both on his hands on top of his head and his back, which takes up most of the frame. Well, and then there’s the sheet music in the right bottom corner that contrasts somewhat more brightly with his dark body. Oh, that cursed metaphorical ‘sheet music’...

Ultimately, it’s probably irrelevant whether Matti Bye knew about this metaphor on the show or if he just chose the Bach Prelude on impulse (in art, impulses and instincts can be very, very right sometimes).

The link that connects this (intentional or unintentional) choice of Bach to our ‘sheet music’ metaphor is the fact that there’s probably nobody in classical music whose sheet music is more elaborate, more complex, more sophisticated and more artfully crafted and constructed than Bach’s! 

Bach is complex sheet music. And ‘sheet music’ on this show is tradition, is artificial rules, is internalized complex codes of conduct that make you unhappy.

So, choosing a Bach piece to underscore precisely the scenes on this show in which exactly the types of powerful people who establish these artificial, traditional rules (the metaphorical ‘sheet music’) wield power and oppress those who are powerless could be a lucky coincidence, a stroke of luck, an intuitive, instinctive decision on Matti Bye’s part or a deliberate choice. Either way, it’s brilliant.

I can’t pretend to know Matti Bye’s thought process here, but the choice of Bach for those ‘power scenes’ fits the metaphorical subtext of the show so well that I just have to applaud him.

Well, and then there’s one final little factoid that I just have to mention because it’s just too good to be true:

Do you know what the most brilliant thing about Bach’s ‘Well-Tempered Clavier’ is? 

It’s that the preludes in it are just the introductory pieces, of course.

For each and every prelude there’s a fugue succeeding it. And boy, do I think, has Wilhelm a Fugue in store for everyone in season three!

I don’t even need Matti Bye to put an actual fugue into the original score of the final season of ‘Young Royals’; the fact that he used just the Prelude in the two seasons which show Wilhelm’s struggle is brilliant enough.

The Prelude is the introductory piece, just as the first two seasons set Wilhelm up for his coming out. The metaphorical Fugue is yet to come. And you know what they say about fugues: They’re drama, they’re wild, they contain the true showmanship of Bach’s ‘Well-Tempered Clavier’.

‘Fugue’ literally means ‘flight’. Whether you think Wilhelm will flee his role as future monarch or think this will be more of a flight away from the way things were handled in the past, a flight an entire society will have to undertake to get away from the current state of things and arrive at something better, is entirely up to you, of course.

So, let’s wait and see what kind of Fugue comes after the introductory Prelude we have been listening to so far.

~fin~

A big thank you again to the subscriber who financed my sheet music obsession and is the reason this whole post exists.

And now, do yourselves a favour, hop on over to youtube and listen to some actual Bach. The Prelude in D-minor might be used with a negative connotation on this show, but it’s actually quite lovely. 

So, remember the message of this show, remember that Simon means ‘listen’…and go and do just that.

As you can probably imagine, writing these articles takes a lot of time and effort, so I’m grateful to anyone who supports me by becoming a free or paid subscriber.

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