When people ask me what it takes to curate films for a festival like Raindance, they often expect me to talk about cinematic trends, industry contacts, or narrative structure. And while all those matter, they’re not the first things I rely on for film selection.
What guides me — more instinctively than anything — is rhythm.
Not the kind you find in editing (though that helps), but the kind I learned as a musician, a singer, and a lifelong lover of melody. Before I was a film programmer, I was a performer. I’ve stood on stage, felt the swell of a live audience, chased the beat, and lost myself in harmonies. And that musical intuition — of pacing, emotion, tension, and release — is the very same instinct I bring to programming a film festival.
This is a story about how music shapes the way I make film selection.
Every Film Has a Rhythm
Just as a song has a tempo, key, and emotional arc, so too does a film. Some come in like a drum solo: wild, unapologetic, full of life. Others creep in like a cello: quiet, melancholic, patient. I listen for that rhythm the moment a film starts.
Sometimes it’s in the editing — jump cuts that pulse like triplets. Sometimes it’s in the dialogue — the breath between words, the silences that speak louder than monologues. But most often, it’s in the emotional cadence of the story.
If a film starts flat and stays flat, I tune out. Not because I’m impatient, but because even the slowest ballad must build to something. A change in tone. A tremor in the chord. I look for emotional phrasing — how tension builds, holds, releases — just like in a song.
The Soundtrack Is Not Background
One of the quickest ways to lose me as a programmer? Lazy use of music. A film that slaps a pop song over a montage to paper over weak storytelling doesn’t just feel disingenuous — it feels out of tune.
But when a filmmaker understands how music feels, when the score becomes a character in the film, something clicks. Suddenly, I’m not just watching — I’m immersed.
Think of Lynne Ramsay’s You Were Never Really Here (2017). That distorted, dissonant score by Jonny Greenwood doesn’t just accompany the film — it haunts it.
Or the way Chloé Zhao uses ambient music in Nomadland (2020), letting sound reflect landscape and loneliness in equal measure. These aren’t “music supervisors doing their job.”
These are filmmakers who understand music on a visceral level — and that understanding pulses through every frame.
Why Programmers Need a DJ’s Ear
A good programmer isn’t just picking strong films — they’re setting a mood. A DJ doesn’t just play bangers back to back. They craft a set. They know when to bring the energy up, when to cool it down, when to surprise the room with a left turn.
That’s exactly how I approach film selection when programming a festival lineup.
Too many bleak dramas back-to-back and you fatigue the audience. Too many quirky comedies in a row and they start to blur. I curate with dynamic range — just like a well-sequenced album. You need contrast. Then, you need pacing. You need space to breathe.
Sometimes, a gentle short can be the perfect lead-in to a brash feature. Sometimes I’ll pair films in the same block because their emotional tones harmonise — even if their plots have nothing in common. When you programme with a musical mindset, you start to see films not just as individual units, but as tracks in a larger composition.
Singing and Screenplays
I’ve always said that writing songs and writing scripts isn’t so different.
A song tells a story in three minutes. A good one has a hook, a shift, and a payoff. It uses repetition, rhythm, and silence as much as sound. That’s how I approach scripts when I read them — especially the ones submitted as part of the Raindance Screenwriters’ Foundation Certificate or our Screenplay Competition.
I ask:
- Where’s the beat?
- What’s the hook?
- Where’s the drop?
Many of the best scripts I’ve read — especially from first-time filmmakers — don’t just tell good stories. They flow. They have internal music. A tempo. A syncopation. A swing.
That’s what I look for in a film submission. Not perfection — but a sense of pulse. Something alive beneath the surface.
Films I’ve Programmed That “Sing”
Over the years, there have been Raindance films that stopped me in my tracks — not just because of what they said, but because of how they moved.
How to Write a Joe Sherman Song (2012)
Joe and his girlfriend Evey dream of hitting it big on Broadway. When Joe lands an opportunity to write for an Off-Broadway musical, he is forced to cast either the love of his life or Summer, his newly discovered muse. The realities of show business prove to Joe that writing is easy, living is hard.
It felt like a lo-fi love song set to black-and-white visuals and aching conversations.
A no-budget Irish film that was literally built on music, but never overplayed its hand. That film breathed like a duet. And the song, Falling Slowly, ended up winning the Oscar for best song.
These were all Raindance picks. All underdogs. All films that had a rhythm I couldn’t ignore.
Why This Matters to You, the Filmmaker
So here’s the big takeaway: if you want your film to stand out in a festival submission pile, think musically — even if it’s not a musical.
- Feel the pacing.
Would you want to sit through a song that never changes key or tempo? Your film needs variety and flow. - Use silence.
Some of the most powerful moments in cinema come in the quiet. Let scenes breathe. - Score intentionally.
Don’t use music as filler. Use it to elevate, subvert, or mirror emotion. - Build tension like a composer.
Introduce motifs. Play with rhythm. Surprise the audience — not just with story, but with structure.
If your film has pulse, has music in its bones — I will feel it. We all will. This will enhance your festival film selection.
Programming With Heart
I’ve often joked that I don’t “watch” films so much as “listen” to them. Maybe that’s what three decades in music and programming will do to you. Or maybe it’s just that cinema, at its best, is music by another name: it moves us, shifts us, transforms us.
At Raindance, we look for films that hit us in the chest. That rattle our senses. That leave an echo. And for me, that means curating films with tempo, tone, and heart.
Because when I find a film with rhythm, with soul — when it sings — I know I’ve found something truly worth sharing.
Ready to get your film in tune with a festival audience?
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Suzanne Ballantyne is the co-founder of Raindance (1993) and the British Independent Film Awards (1998). Since 1994 Suzanne has been watching movies in her role of Head of Programming of the Raindance Film Festival.
She has been a featured guest at four of the world’s premier film festivals: Rotterdam, Berlin, Toronto and Cannes. She has also served as a distinguished jury member on numerous festivals in Europe, America and Japan. As producer she has three award-winning feature films and has two projects with named cast in pre-production to her credit.
In 2017 she completed a Raindance MA in Filmmaking with Distinction.
