“Making People Uncomfortable is My Job” – Cristobal Tapia de Veer on Scoring Smile
Interview with Cristobal Tapia de Veer
Conducted by Michiel Marsman
Michiel Marsman (MM): Welcome, Cristobal!
I’m honored to have you as my very first guest in this series about scoring horror. After watching Smile 2, I was completely blown away by your score—unsettling, exhilarating, and incredibly powerful. Before we dive into your approach to this masterpiece, I’d love to start by talking about something we both share—a deep passion for horror. What is it about the genre that draws you in?
Cristobal Tapia de Veer (CTV): I don’t know exactly when it started. It feels like horror was always there. One of the first movies I remember watching was The Exorcist. I was probably eight or nine years old, living in Chile. Back then, movies on television were heavily censored, but I recall The Exorcist being scheduled for broadcast. My family warned me not to watch it, saying it was too violent and evil, but they never actually stopped me. So I watched it, and it became a kind of tradition—almost like Christmas. I would rewatch it every year.
Cristobal Tapia de Veer - Film composer
I've seen all the different versions, including the extended cuts, but I don’t like director’s cuts in general. They often slow down the movie and alter the original pacing. I respect William Friedkin, but I feel The Exorcist works best in its original form.
MM: That’s interesting. It reminds me of how jazz albums sometimes release multiple takes, but there’s always one definitive version chosen for a reason.
CTV: Exactly! The theatrical version is usually the strongest.
MM: I also remember seeing The Exorcist when I was around 14. My friends and I used to watch horror movies for fun, but this one was different. It was truly unsettling.
CTV: I wish I could have seen it in the theater when it first came out. People were fainting, and ambulances were called—it was a cultural phenomenon. Some might say the effects are dated, but I still find them more terrifying than most modern horror films. There was something unique about how films were made in the ‘70s. Directors were ruthless in their pursuit of realism. Friedkin, for example, put his actors through real physical hardship to capture genuine reactions. There are stories of injuries on set, freezing cold rooms, and long, grueling takes. That intensity comes through on screen.
MM: There’s definitely a rawness in older films that’s missing in today’s highly polished productions.
CTV: Yeah, films back then had this “rock and roll” spirit. They felt dangerous, like they were made by people who were a bit out of control. It wasn’t just about entertainment—it was an experimental, chaotic energy. That’s something I really appreciate.
MM: Let’s talk about Smile. How did you approach composing for that project? Did you get the script first? Did you have initial conversations with the director, or did you start experimenting on your own?
CTV: Paramount reached out to me about Smile and set up a meeting with the director, Parker Finn. They told me it was about a woman experiencing recurring nightmares. That immediately intrigued me because I also have recurring nightmares—it felt like the perfect project.
I watched Parker’s short film Laura Hasn’t Slept, which is connected to Smile. It was so intense, and I loved how he captured that intensity in a short format. After our meeting, I started experimenting. Early on, I discovered this unique instrument, the daxophone, which became the main voice of the score. It’s a bowed wooden instrument that creates these eerie, human-like sounds. I had to order it specially from a luthier, and while waiting for it to arrive, I watched YouTube videos and imagined how I would play it. When I finally got it, I started recording immediately. The very first recordings I made ended up in the film.
MM: That’s amazing. So was it more of a discovery process where you had a vague idea of what you were looking for, and then you found the daxophone and realized, “This is it”?
CTV: Exactly. That was the first demo I sent to Parker. The daxophone isn’t something you can just buy in a store, so it took time to find someone who could make one for me. Once I had it, I played around with different techniques—bending the wood, using a double bass bow—to create sounds that felt like laughter or crying. It was all instinctual.
MM: Did you start working with the film early on, or did they only send you material after the edit had progressed?
CTV: I didn’t have the film for a long time. Initially, I just sent Parker and the editors a bank of sounds inspired by the script. They started incorporating those into the edit. Later, when I finally saw the full film, I had a better idea of how to shape the music.
MM: I love how the score plays with unsettling, unexpected elements. For example, in Smile 2, you seem to know even more precisely how to approach things. There’s this one sound—kind of a signature motif—that comes back several times in the film. Was that something you consciously developed, or did it emerge naturally during the process?
CTV: That’s an interesting question. There’s a heavily distorted analog synth sound that I used. It was pushed to such extremes that I almost forgot what the original tone was. I played with layering distortion to the point where the notes felt like they were struggling to get through. The result was this raw, organic, almost animalistic quality. It wasn’t about playing a melody—it was about interacting with the distortion itself.
MM: That makes sense. The score feels very physical. It’s not just atmospheric—it has a visceral impact.
CTV: Yeah, a lot of it is instinctual. When I sent demos to Parker and the editor, we discovered this dynamic where layering distortion with animal sounds, trumpets, and unpredictable textures created something unique. It was all about experimenting and reacting to the results.
MM: Your background in contemporary music must have played a role in shaping this approach. How did your studies influence your scoring?
CTV: Absolutely. At the conservatory, I was exposed to a lot of contemporary classical music—Ligeti, Schoenberg, Messiaen. That music really opened my ears to atonal textures, microtonality, and extended techniques. In horror scoring, these elements translate well because they create unease and unpredictability. I also developed an appreciation for aleatoric composition, where randomness plays a role in shaping the final piece. That’s something I bring into my process—sometimes I let distortion, feedback, or unconventional techniques guide the music rather than forcing it into traditional structures.
MM: When you compose, do you mix as you go, or do you leave that for later?
CTV: In recent years, I’ve moved toward mixing while composing. I used to leave more dynamics in the music, thinking it would help in the final mix. But I realized that in film, music is often mixed at a lower volume to avoid clashing with dialogue. If the music isn’t compressed properly, it can lose intensity. Now, I make sure my mixes are already powerful so that even at lower volumes, they retain their presence.
MM: Are you involved in the final mix of the film?
CTV: Ideally, yes, but often I’m in a different country when the final mix happens. I send a reference mix, and then the sound team balances it with the dialogue and effects. Sometimes I wish I could be there to make sure the music is as impactful as intended.
MM: What’s next for you? Any dream projects or directors you’d love to work with?
CTV: There are so many! I’d love to work with Gaspar Noé or Ruben Östlund. I also admire Ari Aster—Midsommar was incredible. And there are some amazing Italian directors like Luca Guadagnino and Paolo Sorrentino.
MM: That would be amazing. Well, thank you so much for your time. If you’re ever in Amsterdam, let’s grab a drink!
CTV: That would be great! Thanks for the chat—it was a pleasure.
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