By Mariah Jolie

Music in film and television is often seen merely as an accessory to storytelling, but it functions as one of its most powerful narrative tools. Sound shapes tone, builds emotional context, and communicates what dialogue and visuals alone cannot fully express. When used intentionally, music actively constructs how that scene is understood and remembered.

“If I Get High” by Nothing But Thieves in the opening of Invincible blew minds as one of the most resonant needle drops of the past spring. Rather than relying on a traditional high-energy score, the series opens with a subdued, emotionally charged track. This immediately reframes the viewing experience as Mark and the other heroes on earth fight these intense battles while Conor Mason blesses our ears. The contrast between the softness of the song and the intensity of the visuals creates an emotional dissonance that reflects Mark’s internal thoughts – how he truly feels during these fights and where he’s starting the season mentally. This song choice underscores that although he’s [INVINCIBLE], something is breaking within him, and everything is breaking around him. This intro is an emotional study of collapse and consequence that gets across you are not just watching a superhero story. 

That same psychological experience is shown in Perfect Blue. In Satoshi Kon’s film, the sound design and music are used to blur reality and identity in a way that feels intentionally disorienting. There are moments where the music feels almost intrusive, like it’s pulling the viewer between layers of perception. Instead of saying what is real, the film uses sound to make you question whether certainty is even possible. It’s not comfortable, but it’s not supposed to be. Masahiro Ikumi did a phenomenal job of creating a score that fills the atmosphere with horror. 

Then, of course, there’s Ryan Coogler’s Sinners. Sinners, Sinners, Sinners…. The music in this film should be studied and admired until the end of time. When it comes to atmospheric worldbuilding, Sinners is the heavyweight superpower in the conversation — the Viltrumite if you will. The soundtrack doesn’t sit in the background; it creates all the emotional texture. It deepens the moral weight of the story and helps the moment echo like a memory. “I Lied to You” is effective because it sits in that uncomfortable space between truth and performance. The title itself frames the film’s filial tension before the lyrics even settle in. When first watching the film, the instrumental hits you immediately. While distracted by the beautiful visuals, the imagery of the lyrics detail the dynamic between Sammie and his father. The song lives in both the present and past. As Sammie revisits the earlier conflict with his father, his world-bending performance invites in the true conflict of the story. That sequence famously captures how the music from both past and future exist in the present with the beautiful montage of Black art throughout the years. It loops, lingers and pulls the audience in, highlighting how there is only one moment – the now – and the art will forever live on, inspire, and shape the time beyond. The music in Sinners is a masterpiece with an identity of its own and ode to its lineage. Ludwig Goransson and Raphael Saadiq’s songwriting elevate Black storytelling at large as well as its many layers and rich emotional history, connecting to a spirit larger than the film itself.

Last but not least, I wanted to talk about an all time favorite of mine: Mid90’s. This film’s use of song stands out with its similarly diegetic music and distinguishes itself by tying music to the time period rather than relying on an original soundtrack. That feels like a given here, but the choice conveys the feeling of adolescence inside that world. The music belongs to the characters. It is not just something we hear, but rather something they are living. We see how much music is appreciated throughout the film. Stevie’s admiration for his brother’s CDs, how music is always playing when the boys skate, how it exists in the background of almost every social moment. It is everywhere, and because of that it becomes part of how they understand themselves. 

That is what makes Stevie’s connection to the group feel so authentic. He is not just entering a friend group. He is entering a culture that already has its own sound. As the film progresses, the music becomes tied to discovery. It reflects how each of the boys are still figuring themselves out, even if they are trying to act like they already have it figured out. 

“We’ll Let You Know” by Morrissey plays during a turning point in the film – the park scene with Stevie and Ray after their heart-to-heart. They are skating together without speaking, and that silence says everything. “We’ll Let You Know” is not a traditionally cinematic track. It sits in this reflective, liminal space, which is what makes it so effective here. It mirrors that teenage contradiction of wanting to seem cool while also being deeply vulnerable. It captures that feeling of not wanting to say too much, while still needing someone to understand you. That emotional tension runs through the entire film. It shows up in different ways across all the characters, even when they are not fully aware of it themselves.

Ruben’s abusive home life, Fourth Grade’s experience with poverty, Fuckshit’s avoidance of responsibility, and Ray dealing with the death of his brother all exist underneath the surface of their behavior. The film does not always state these things directly at first, but the emotional weight is always there. Each character is expressing something they do not have the language for yet, but it comes out in how they act, move, and relate to each other. Even after the car crash that almost kills Stevie, that emotional undercurrent does not disappear. Instead, it transforms into something quieter but more grounded. The group eventually comes together to watch a Fourth Grade film, and “Passin’ Me By” by The Pharcyde plays, anchoring the film’s close. It is a moment that does not try to overexplain anything. It just exists in shared experience and the small peace that comes from still being here together. 

That final use of music is the emotional thesis of the film. We do not get a clean resolution – just a sense of time rolling forward. The audience leaves understanding that they are in a good place with each other, even if life will continue to shift them apart. We probably will not see them again, because time has already started moving them onward, just as it has moved us.