The plight of sound mixer Kevin O’Connell has become surprisingly well known. With the arguable exception of composers, crafts artists are rarely featured in the mainstream media. O’Connell’s 20 Academy Award nominations make him one of the most unlikely prolific individuals in the Academy’s history. His zero wins give him the dubious distinction of having the most accumulated nominations without a win. His longtime partner Greg P. Russell has shared 12 of those nominations with him, giving the duo a total of 32 tips of the hat without a win. But that is something that could very well change this year with a cult-TV-classic-turned-blockbuster-cinema-sensation.

I spoke with O’Connell last week to get his take on media exposure, the elusiveness of Oscar and, of course, the work.

O’Connell acknowledges this year has been a little different than every other year, saying that he’s actually nervous and hasn’t been nervous for a long time. “I don’t really see any clear frontrunner,” he says. “Maybe that’s why I’m nervous. I think we have a shot.”

That said, O’Connell is quick to say that all the films nominated this year are more than worthy of such acclaim. “This is a close community and I’m very close to all the nominees; I’m happy for anyone or everyone if they win,” he says. “I really do believe that everything happens for a reason.” The notion caters to the present as much as to the past:

“I haven’t won in the past but I haven’t begrudgingly lost. I believe films that won were worthy.”

O’Connell truly loved working on “Transformers” and says that he thinks the film is demonstrative of one of the secrets to his success – that he’s been surrounded by talented people his whole career.

“This was totally a team effort,” he says, crediting the recordings of production sound mixer Peter Devlin, on the very loud set, the foley team of John Roesch, Alison Moore and Mary Jo Lang and especially sound editors Ethan Van der Ryan and Mike Hopkins.

O’Connell says the main challenge to him on “Transformers” was trying to tell the story through use of sound without it becoming a “train wreck” but rather creating a voice for the film. He cites the personal challenges of trying to make robots sound “robotty” enough while also still capturing the sincerity of their dialogue. He says he worked extensively with sound editor Mike Hopkins on that issue.

O’Connell has worked on every film Michael Bay has directed and says he’s “seen him mature into one of the finest filmmakers that I’ve worked with," admitting that "I realize I sound like an 80-year old man saying this.” In all seriousness, however, O’Connell explains that Bay does not bark orders to his crew but figures out what is best for the movie.

O’Connell is well known for mixing large action films but does admit to some desire to diversify the sorts of films he works on. “I love the action films but they are taxing on you and a lot of hours are put in." He says that he particularly finds suspense, thriller, horror and comedy movies to be fun.

In spite of this, I was surprised how quickly O’Connell was able to pick out a favorite film from his repertoire: Tony Scott’s “Top Gun.”

“I was only 27 when I mixed it and Tony Scott was taking a chance on me,” he recalls. “To make the jet sounds today would be a lot easier,” he explains, “but the lack of automation back then made it a huge challenge and due to a combination of working with Don Mitchell and Rick Kline, not to mention great sound editors, we ended up being able to be very proud of how it came out.”

When I mention that he’s probably the most known sound mixer in the eyes of the general population, O’Connell gives a groan but says he understands why there’s usually an anonymity to his work.

“I think it’s there in most of the crafts because people don’t quite understand what goes into creating the soundtrack,” he says. He also says he does not think the movie-going public understands crafts like art direction, cinematography or film editing either. He says there are many individuals who get no attention whatsoever for what he considers invaluable work. Dan Sharp springs to his mind quickly, the recordist and mix technician at the Cary Grant Theatre on the Sony lot, with whom O’Connell has worked for his last 10-12 nominations.

“He arrives an hour or two before me and Greg [P. Russell] and would stay an hour or two after us,” he says. “That I have been given a large audience because of these nominations sheds more light on what we do. If I had to lose 19 times to bring that to light, I’m fine with that. I’m not at the point where I’m frustrated. I’m the front man for a team of very talented people.”

“Transformers” was O’Connell’s last collaboration with Greg P. Russell after a working relationship of nearly two decades, and a partnership of over a dozen years. The two decided it was time to move on earlier last year. He recalls the partnership.

“Greg and I have been as close as any two people can possibly be. I’ve probably spent more time with him over the past twelve years than any other person in my life.”

So what would a win be like at this point in his career?

“Generally, in the past, whenever I don’t hear my name, the first thing I feel is relief,” he says. “Perhaps because I don’t want to stand up in front of those people and talk!” He concedes that the pursuit of the little golden trophy is something he has thought about but adds that he and Russell have joked that they are “clappers, not walkers.”

“It would be nice to not clap this year,” he admits, “and there’s no one I’d rather see take that walk with me than Greg Russell, with Peter Devlin alongside us.”

It would be premature to say that the duo is destined to finally become walkers this year. But I’d nevertheless venture to say they have their best shot in a very long time, perhaps ever.

Film musicians have given the cinema some of its most memorable achievements. There are the booming themes of John Williams, which make the “Indiana Jones” and “Star Wars” series instantly recognizable. There’s the pitch-perfect suspense of Bernard Herrmann on Hitchcock efforts such as “Vertigo” and “Psycho.” And there are the haunting contributions of Nino Rota on classics such as “8½” and “The Godfather.” I could go on forever.

I recently had a chance to speak to two composers who have contributed greatly to the world of film music in 2007: Mark Isham and Dario Marianelli.

Marianelli received a somewhat surprising Oscar nomination two years ago for Joe Wright’s first feature film, “Pride & Prejudice.” This year, he re-teamed with the director on “Atonement,” offering a score which makes him the arguable frontrunner for the statuette this year.

Mark Isham, who was nominated 15 years ago in this category for “A River Runs Through It,” has had a very busy year on a number of high profile features: Terry George’s “Reservation Road,” Robert Redford’s “Lions for Lambs” and Paul Haggis’s “In the Valley of Elah.” His work is being heard in cinemas now more than ever, and I’d say that a return to the Kodak seems to be in his future sooner as opposed to later.

In addition to being the composer on “Atonement,” Marianelli is responsible for the music of “Goodbye Bafana,” “Far North” and “The Brave One.” He freely remarks that he feels he’s seen more of film directors this year than his own family.

Isham also admits to being struck by the variety of the films on which he’s worked. But he cites certain similarities between them.

“‘In the Valley of Elah’ and ‘Reservation Road’ are intimate films and very emotional,” he says. “But I strove to find the unique quality.”

Isham says “Reservation Road” is about the aftermath of a tragedy, unlike “Elah,” where tragic elements are only discovered at the resolution of the film. On the other hand, he says he was surprised – especially in light of the script – at what a large score “Lions for Lambs” ended up being. He says the work kept getting bigger as the philosophy of the film emerged and the points of view started to interact, ultimately growing into a 72-piece orchestra.

Both artists speak very fondly about the unique qualities that existed in their collaborations with their directors. Marianelli told me that Joe Wright is a very unusual director in that he likes the composer to be involved while he’s still working with the script.

“He asked me to write music straight away on ‘Pride and Prejudice,’” he recalls. He admits that was, to a certain extent, necessary, as there were scenes when the score was needed during filming. But he says Wright also wanted other themes, so that he could play them for the actors, giving them a better idea of the sort of music that would accompany their acting. The very same thing, Marianelli says, happened with the duo’s collaboration on “Atonement.”

Isham has worked with both Redford and Haggis before. He believes familiarity with a director can only improve the product. “It opens up more trust,” he says. “I can go out on a limb.”

Both composers recall particular moments on their films when they truly felt challenged. Marianelli cites Cecilia and Robbie’s second parting, when she gets on the bus in a busy London street, to be such a moment on his latest film. “It had to be the most heartbreaking moment,” he says. “That was when I knew the film needed a love melody.”

Marianelli also recalls the long steady cam beach walk shot as being particularly challenging as Wright originally did not want any music at all in that sequence. “But I just ignored him and wrote it anyway,” Marianelli says, with both laughter and pride in his voice. “It had to be detached, but very moving at the same time, and it was quite a challenge to marry the two together.”

But Marianelli stresses communication as the key to any collaboration: “The most enlightened directors I’ve been working with are the ones that engage in proper dialogue. There’s a process of discovery that goes on between a director and a composer, with an actively involved film editor often making it a triangle. Conversations can become very poetic and philosophical.”

“Each film usually has its spot in the score where you know whether you’ve got it or not,” Isham says. The composer also remembers the moment at the end of “Lions for Lambs,” when the film, which had been immersed in rich concepts and philosophy at its core, gets very personal: “The music had – up until then – had to take a backseat to the words. But at that moment, Bob said to let the music and image take over.”

“In the Valley of Elah” also had its special moments for Isham. “Paul had such success with ‘Crash’ and, in a way, I went out on a limb on the choice of score on that movie,” he says. Despite knowing that, if the film had cost more, the studio would have wanted a more “traditionally emotional” score, both Isham and Haggis really thought their choice for “Crash” was the right one.

But while describing “Elah” before the start of shooting, Haggis explained that he wanted a different sort of score, so Isham chose to make the score very organic with very few electronic elements. He and Haggis both proudly feel that the score had a very intimate tone, which they both felt was perfect for the film.

But with all the pride and personal feelings of professional success, the fact of the matter remains that it is a common complaint of composers that their work is lonesome.

“We spend long hours in little rooms in front of computers,” Marianelli says.

Isham notes the lack of other creative bodies in on the process at the time of scoring: “By the time I join, the picture is usually cut together in some sort of watchable form and a lot of people have left,” he says. “You don’t want to do anything that is going to throw a monkey wrench into the works.”

Marianelli is more terrified with a blank sheet of paper than screwing up work that’s already in place. He says that once something is on the page, even if it’s the wrong thing, it will trigger the chain of thoughts and bring you closer to the ultimate goals. And in “Atonement,” he says he tried to break down the barrier between being a spectator of a film’s soundscape and being a part of a film’s soundscape in a way that he had never done before with music.

At the end of the day, Isham says he has a tremendous amount of fun with his job, having worked in the industry for 25 years and still getting new projects all the time. He recalls “The Black Dahlia” as an example of a film in recent years where he both immensely enjoyed himself and did something he had never done before professionally.

Marianelli, meanwhile, is the first to admit that his career has developed considerably over the last few years in ways he never would have expected. After scoring Irish and British character dramas for a decade, with modest resources, his career took a significant turn in 2005 when he composed “The Brothers Grimm” for Terry Gilliam, who he describes as “the opposite of minimalism.” “V for Vendetta” soon followed, and he’s found himself far away from the European style of filmmaking he is used to. But he ultimately finds this to be indicative of a greater openness to European influence on scores for Hollywood movies.

“I realize I’m generalizing in a major way but by just looking at what’s happened to myself, Alberto Iglesias and Alexandre Desplat, I can see several European composers being asked to score studio movies.”

In my first Tech Support column 15 months ago, I opened by discussing Randy Thom’s acceptance speech of the 2004 sound editing award for “The Incredibles.” Thom remarked how awards like Best Sound Editing are often deemed by the media to be “technical awards” when, in fact, they are awarded for artistic decisions. Bringing to light this articulation has hopefully proven itself to be the purpose of the “Tech Support” column here at In Contention. (And on that note, I sometimes wonder whether this is the best name for the column.)

Last week, I had the chance to speak to Thom and another Hollywood sound editor, Ethan Van der Ryn, about the projects they have in play this season.

A giant in the world of Hollywood sound, Randy Thom won his first Oscar in 1983 for Philip Kaufman’s “The Right Stuff. He has racked up a career nomination total of twelve, and this year, he lends his talents to Brad Bird’s latest film, “Ratatouille,” as well as Robert Zemeckis’ “Beowulf.”

Ethan Van der Ryn is a two-time Oscar winner for “The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers” and “King Kong,” both from director Peter Jackson. This year, he served as supervising sound editor on Michael Bay’s “Transformers.”

Both craftsmen spoke to their discipline’s somewhat unfortunate “technical” label in the eyes of the public and the media.

“We don’t get hired because we know how to use a computer,” Thom says. “In the process of finding and processing sound, we literally have to make thousands of creative decisions before even putting something in front of a director.”

He suggests that this difference in perception arises from the fact that people think they know what actors and writers do but haven’t the slightest idea about the day-to-day work of other film artists, and because technology is used in certain categories more than others, it is easy to label the crafts categories together as “technical” categories. Yet he ultimately laments that of all the disciplines which the Academy awards, sound is probably the most vulnerable to be labeled as such.

Van der Ryn finds a similar situation, considering the “technical” label to be somewhat bothersome and indicative of a misunderstanding of the art.

“I honestly don’t see how what we do is any more technical than screenwriting,” he says. “There certainly are technical aspects, but I think of what we do as creative as opposed to technical.”

Regardless of semantics, both artists have been busy this year and are likely to find themselves in the hunt for Oscar yet again. Both artists recalled the creative process in which they were engaged on these films.

It is worth noting that, in addition to the aforementioned “Ratatouille” and “Beowulf,” Thom also worked on “The Simpsons Movie,” “Enchanted” and “The Great Debaters” this year. Having just finished 18 months of work on “Beowulf,” the film is still fresh in his mind. He particularly remembers the character of Grendel, which he describes as “the most grotesque humanoid creature you’ve ever seen,” and for which Crispin Glover was the stop-motion actor.

Grendel has a warped mouth, and Thom explains that Glover communicated with screams, growls and other sounds, occasionally blurting out a word in Old English. To capture the audio the sound team ultimately wanted, Thom played with sounds ranging from horses drinking to noises he made with his own mouth.

“Some of that is in the film,” he explains, “but it was one of the cases where we realized that the more we played with it, the more we took away from the wonderful performance that Crispin generated…so we brought him back and pinched his mouth in weird shapes!”

Thom used the dragons in “Beowulf” as an opportunity to expand on synthesis in his work, noting that so little work has been done in that field compared to the visual domain, where companies like Pixar and visual effects houses have made considerable advances.

“We are nowhere near able to do that in sound,” he says. “It is possible to get pretty close to a believable sound, but no one is able to synthesize a human voice in a way that will fool people. It’s much easier to start with real sounds and manipulate them than to start with sign waves.”

Thom predicts that the morphing of creature sounds will be the next real advancement in the field and states that the dragons in “Beowulf” are just an extension of the sound morphing direction he’s been going in.

“You can take a real vocalization of a human voice – say, a scream – and another of a big cat or a horse and run them through a program and have the molding of two sounds into a third sound,” he explains. “It can be pretty random what comes out, but a lot of it is luck and persistence. However, we were able to come up with some sounds for the dragon which I was very proud of.”

Ethan Van der Ryn, meanwhile, fondly remembers some of the more creative sound sources which came to be in “Transformers.” He recalls watching a CNN clip of a pogo stick, for instance, and thinking it looked like fun. So he bought one and later ended up using it as a sound source on the film’s soundtrack. He also managed to use his own defective iPod, which would reconfigure notes into a random mesh-up, such as alien talk. Meanwhile, one of his colleagues accidentally stepped on his garden hose walking home one night – the weird gurgling sound was also used in the movie.

Van der Ryn has worked with director Michael Bay now for the third time (following collaborations on “Armageddon” and “Pearl Harbor”). He says he and Bay “mesh pretty well” and that he was “welcomed into a filmmaking family” on the “Transformers” experience. He says Bay has a great ear for the process, showing an affinity for variety; over 90 percent of the sounds on “Transformers” were freshly recorded, rather than being pulled from sound libraries.

Thom, meanwhile, has worked with Robert Zemeckis since “Forrest Gump” and is very pleased with their continual, working relationship. Finding himself in both the Zemeckis and Pixar workshops in the very same year for the second time, he says that doing the sound for Pixar films is “remarkably similar” to working on sound for modern, computer graphics-heavy projects. He also expresses the need to remain sharp and refreshed as one of the reasons he enjoys working as both a sound editor and a sound mixer.

“That you’re not sitting at the same piece of equipment every day for 25 years keeps your creativity up,” he says. “This approach was fostered by Lucas and Coppola and Walter Murch and Ben Burtt. Doing things as fast as possible can be very helpful but it’s not the principal reason someone hires you.”

Van der Ryn, too, spoke of the real collaboration that exists between sound mixer and sound editor, feeling that, having worked on the sound for months and having an idea of what it should sound like, it is important to stay open to the “whole fresh perspective of possibilities” which the mixers bring to the table.

Ultimately, these audio engineers have more than shown their artistry this year and their commitment to working with their colleagues in the sound and filmmaking industries. Here’s hoping they will be acknowledged for what they are – artists. I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of their films as the awards process in the sound categories continues throughout the Fall.

As “Spider-Man 3” made headlines for its record-shattering box office intake opening weekend, the movie-going public received the first true blockbuster and spectacle film of the summer 2007 movie season. It was also a film that offered fantastic opportunities for the wizards of sound mixing and effects editing to chew on. I recently spoke to two members of the team about their experience with what was destined to become a new box office benchmark.

Supervising sound mixer Greg P. Russell has worked with director Sam Raimi on the entire “Spider-Man” trilogy, along with long-time partner Kevin O’Connell. Supervising sound editor Paul N.J. Ottosson joined the series for its second instalment. Both have received Oscar nominations for their efforts on the webhead soundtracks.

Ottosson is quick to admit that he found “Spider-Man 3” more challenging than the previous film in the franchise. He says that adding three new villains, as well as the evolution apparent in Spider-Man himself, resulted in the need to fashion several unique sounds to accompany thes characters.

Russell acknowledges the series’s third instalment had unique obstacles that had to be overcome. He notes the scene in which a crane crashes into a building as being especially challenging to pull off. In general, he spoke of the specific desire to have the audience hear what they’re seeing while also not overwhelming them and making the sound interesting.

But Russell also adds that many advantages came from having grown familiar with what Raimi liked and having developed a shorthand. “In that sense,” he explains, “the first two movies prepared us for the third.”

Russell and Ottosson spoke at length about their relationship with Raimi; both said he would at times have very specific ideas while still allowing them a great deal of freedom. In particular, Ottosson recalls his openness with respect to the “razor bats” of the Goblin which “could have sounded like anything.”

Villains were particularly important for the success of the film. In addition to the Goblin, both Russell and Ottosson recall the Sandman as being a character which was particularly memorable to aurally fashion.

Venom’s sounds were of particular concern to Raimi. Russell explains that the director wanted a very piercing, high-pitched sound but also one that didn’t hurt the ears of the audiences. Ottosson had to hunt for such a sound while also seeking to ensure it did not sound fake. As the task proved challenging, it was not included until the final mix. Russell describes the sound Ottosson eventually found as a “hideous sounding creature."

As it turns out, that “hideous sounding creature” was a Tasmanian Devil. The carnivorous marsupial is found only in Tasmania and is highly protected as it is endangered. (It goes without saying it bears no resemblance to the infamous Looney Toons character). It gets the “Devil” part of its name from the sounds it makes.

Ottosson had to find an Australian to record the animal’s shrieks due to their lack of being readily available to record. Describing the rare animal’s sounds as “hideous but with lots of emotion,” Ottosson found it a fit for the desired sounds of Venom, particularly when the character was in pain. Though very happy with the mix, Ottosson is the first one to admit that “from 9AM to midnight there are a lot more calm sounds I would prefer to listen to” than Venom’s shrieks combined with the bell sounds!

But ultimately both artists found their principal duty on the film to be making the film better. “Anyone can do loud,” Russell explains, “if we did our job right, we made it interesting yet not overwhelming.”

While the crafts of sound mixing and sound effects editing are certainly different, Russell and Ottosson had to work together at key points throughout the process. “Greg and Kevin would give us suggestions,” Ottosson recalls. “Sometimes, it turned out great; on other occasions, we’d already talked about it and decided against it. But when we went to them, we were always confident they’d take it to the next level.”

Russell also fondly remembers the role of the sound editor on the film, particularly being impressed by the sheer variety of sources Ottosson used to create particular sounds. But Ottosson also freely concedes his role as part of a group effort. “The most important part of any movie is trying to help the director,” he says. “I try to think not of the sound but how the sound can tell the story better.’

In thinking back, Russell noted that it is “rare you get to work with essentially the same team on three films. We’ve become almost a family unit. I’m proud to have been on board all three of them.” But fundamentally, he’s most impressed by the work of his director, who has now put years of his life into creating an extremely successful franchise. “You love to see a good guy win,” he says.

The film is certainly winning at the office. And for those with an ear for a film’s soundscape, it’s hard not to consider Ottosson and Russell winners as well.

One of the most dazzling technical achievements of the year has been, seemingly without question, Alfonso Cuarón’s “Children of Men.” Capturing a bleak and not so distant future through the spectrum of war-torn London, the film has been a towering achievement in pretty much every field we’ve outlined here at “Tech Support” throughout the season. And, as the Oscar ceremony rapidly approaches, one of the categories seems to have been long relegated to this, one of the most critically acclaimed films of the year.

Emmanuel Lubezki’s duties behind the camera on the film might immediately be described as harrowing if not monumental. Work that has already garnered him BAFTA, LAFCA and NSFC awards for Best Cinematography, some are quick to point out that “Children of Men”’s visual intensity will be taught in film schools for years to come. As such, the opportunity to talk with the man responsible for such a barrage of adjectives is one to relish indeed.

The mood of “Children of Men” seems to permeate the look at every turn: stark, gritty, immersing the audience in the on-screen action. But Lubezki insists his approach to creating the visual atmosphere does not necessarily change from project to project.

“Whenever I start a film, I make a set of rules,” he explains. “On this film, we stuck with ideas such as long takes, only one lens, strictly natural light and always being close to the action; you can’t actually feel like you’re in the action without having the camera close to it.”

He freely admits that shooting in the winter in England, where the temperature was always cool and the sunlight was very consistent, was ideal for his efforts. And he does concede and that he had to break away from the “no artificial lighting rule” twice when sets prevented the desired effect of the shot. But he ultimately felt that those early stand-bys helped in accomplishing what he set out to do.

Many of the shots in “Children of Men” are extraordinarily complex and have been reported ad nauseam. Lubezki mentions the infamous car chase sequence as well as the chase through the coastal city street as two particularly challenging feats to pull off. But he credits his crew and Clive Owen’s understanding of the camera for helping him with such accomplishments and he certainly does not overplay his role on the film as anything more than his job.

“When you’re on the set, you’re thinking about the audience,” he says. “You want them to feel what you feel and you always want to make sure they don’t catch your ‘magic camera tricks.’ If you pull that off, then you’ve succeeded as a cinematographer.”

It goes without saying the four-time Oscar nominee has an extremely close relationship to Alfonso Cuarón, whom he has known since they were teenagers. The two even attended film school together.

“Our similar background resulted in us looking for similar things when we started working together,” he says of his experiences working with Cuarón. Indeed, this is their fifth feature collaboration following “Y Tu Mama Tambien,” “Great Expectations,” “Love in the Time of Hysteria,” and “A Little Princess,” for which Lubezki earned his first notice from the AMPAS.

Lubezki was not, however, adopted as Cuarón’s director of photography on “Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.” As he was shooting Niels Mueller’s (EDITOR’S NOTE: underappreciated) “The Assassination of Richard Nixon,” Cuarón instead looked to New Zealand lenser Michael Serensin. But, as Lubezki explains it, when the duo came back together on “Children of Men” after three years of being apart, it was as if no time had passed.

Cuarón and Lubezki are just two of several nominees this year hailing from Mexico, a country which Lubezki credits with defining who he is by affecting his taste and his approach to work and worldview. It’s clear he’s thrilled with the credit his fellow countrymen have achieved this year on “Babel,” “Pan’s Labyrinth,” and, of course, “Children of Men.”

“I never would have dreamed this would happen at all, much less in a single year,” he tells me. “People forget that when you’re in the film business, you give up lots. We left our families, our friends and our country. That we’re all getting recognition from so many different branches is wonderful.”

As close as his relationship with Cuarón is, Lubezki has also worked with several high profile American filmmakers: Mike Nichols (“The Birdcage”), Michael Mann (“Ali”), Tim Burton (“Sleepy Hollow”) and Terrence Malick (“The New World”), just to name a few. Lubezki freely admits all are extremely different in their approach to filmmaking. But he also does not hesitate to call all of them “film authors,” the sort of filmmaker he truly admires because he finds it is so difficult to survive in Hollywood while staying true to one’s artistic vision.

As for the awards circuit, “Children of Men” has brought more attention Lubezki’s way than any other year, and certainly, more intensely than he could have ever imagined. He confesses a love-hate relationship with the dizzying derby that is an Oscar race.

“The achievements are all so different,” he says. “How can you pick a single best picture, a single best performance by an actor in a leading role or a single best cinematographic achievement? But it’s really great to see someone who’s given their life to a film be recognized.”

As mentioned, this will be Lubezki’s fourth trip to the Oscars, after having previously been nominated for “A Little Princess” in 1995, “Sleepy Hollow” in 1999 and “The New World” in 2005. But he admits this time it’s different. “All my friends are with me!” he exclaims, referring to his fellow Mexican nominees, “it’s been crazy!”

After such a degree of acclaim and success across multiple genres, where could a man who has seemingly done it all in a short amount of time go from here? He’s the first to admit there are too many ways to answer a question such as that. There are, of course, so many directors with whom he’d like to work, techniques with which he’d like to experiment and genres he’d like to participate in. He frankly doesn’t know what the future holds. It really seems that he doesn’t want to know, either. Regardless, “Children of Men” has already established another milestone for “Chivo,” and his is a career that might very well reach one of the industry’s highlights in a mere ten days.

Two of last week’s Academy Award nominees offered seemingly diametrically opposing examples of building theme and character: the understated and the overstated. Consolata Boyle’s subtle but particular work on Stephen Frears’s “The Queen” was singled out by the costume designers’ branch, while Philip Glass’s rolling, tension-inducing score for Richard Eyre’s “Notes on a Scandal” ultimately out-lasted his more classic work on Neil Burger’s “The Illusionist.” I recently had the opportunity to speak with both artists about their Oscar-nominated work.

It goes without saying that costume design and music composition are different disciplines entirely, but every element of a filmmaking experience serves the whole above and beyond the part. Both Ms. Boyle and Mr. Glass had the challenge of crafting their work to suit the very different sides of the characters in their films; both encountered situations unique to these particular projects; and both of their achievements were clearly respected by their peers, as they now find themselves in the thick of an Academy Awards race.

Philip Glass, whose enthusiasm and love for music permeated our discussion, has been through the nomination experience before. He was previously cited for Martin Scorsese’s “Kundun” in 1997 (a year during which he was destined to lose to James Horner’s compositions for “Titanic”) and Stephen Daldry’s “The Hours” in 2002 (the year Elliot Goldenthal took the award home for “Frida”).

However, his claim to fame is not his cinematic filmography, but rather the classical work he has composed for symphonies, concertos and operas. He ultimately downplays the differences between these media.

“Producers and studios definitely have a role in composing for film,” he acknowledges. But he insists that this does not affect his approach to the work, rather stating that “the inspiration for the music will come from the imagery and the story, whether it’s dance or film or opera.”

In “Notes on a Scandal,” things are not always what they seem. As much as the inter-play of the characters is about deception, Glass’s work on the soundtrack is about reflecting that deceit. Judi Dench’s Barbara, for instance, was of particular importance, as the music surrounding the character had to have many different emotions to it, depending on the particular time in the narrative.

“The film is very much a story of revelation,” Glass says. “What you find out at the end is not what you see in the beginning. I always had to have that at the forefront of my mind.”

In similar fashion, Consolata Boyle had to be aware that the characters she was outfitting in “The Queen” held some cards to their chest, while showing precious few. She was tasked with balancing the private and public lives of some of the most photographed people in the world.

“They were recorded to a frightening degree,” she notes. But while in some instances the attempt was made to emulate archive footage as closely as possible, this was not the case for scenes in the Royal Family’s Scottish retreat, Balmoral.

“There was a need to create a very private world, so it was an act of imagination,” Boyle recollects. “But it also had to be coherent and ring true, so I had to speak to a lot of people.”

Boyle also explains that she could use these private lives to fashion threads which afforded insight into the characters. “Charles, for example, dresses in quite a formal way,” she says, “almost inclined to overdress, even in the country. His mother, on the other hand, dresses for comfort and for ease.”

An unabashedly friendly and humble woman, Boyle has received the first nomination of her career for her work on Stephen Frears’s critically acclaimed film. Like Glass, she has the rare distinction (rare at least in this category) of being nominated for a contemporary film. But she does not fixate on such matters when tackling a given project. As she explains it, “I approach each era as if I was from outer space and research in the same way, whether it’s contemporary or in the deep, distant past.”

Both artists spoke of the challenges involved in fine-tuning their work and getting inside the characters they were creatively dressing, in their respective ways.

Glass, for example, remembers having to do a lot of rewriting, often insisting on three or four different versions of music for a particular scene. He also mentions that particular pieces of music, such as the opening credits, were especially difficult to write.

Of Barbara’s bathtub scene, he ponders, “How does one write music to express the loneliness of an old lady in a bathtub? I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to use that music again, but I felt I pulled it off; that moment was an accomplishment for me.”

Boyle, on the other hand, had to feel as though she knew some of the most famous, yet most elusive, people in the world. “There is a uniqueness and eccentricity to the world of the royals,” she says. Ultimately, however, she still feels she remained out of tough with the characters, even in spite of extensive research and script analysis.

Ironically, Glass seemed to share a similar experience. “I looked at these characters for months,” he says, “I knew everything about them, but they remain the creation of artists. So in a funny way, I never get to meet them. It’s such a strange situation.”

It is further clear that both Boyle and Glass are immensely appreciative of the praise their work has received.

Boyle considers it “an absolute thrill” that the Beaufort jacket worn by the queen in the film was in hot demand in New York, selling for $365. “The whole experience has been a joy,” she says. “Stephen, Helen and everyone else made everything so wonderful, yet I’d like to think that, in a small way, I was able to help them.”

Glass, meanwhile, confesses that he is “star struck whenever I come to Hollywood.” He notes a desire to meet colleagues such as Danny Elfman and co-nominee Thomas Newman, offering that being in their company is a “huge deal.”

The 26th of this month will undoubtedly be an exciting day for these two artists. But regardless of what occurs in their categories, it is clear that Ms. Boyle and Mr. Glass are quite grateful of the attention they have already received, each having greatly enjoyed the processes that led to their first and third respective Academy Award nominations in 2006.

Sound mixing and music composition may seem to be unrelated tasks when it comes to the creation of a film. But both tasks go to toward the betterment of a given film’s overall soundtrack, the audible experience that can add to the enjoyment of a film as much as the most beautiful of landscapes or the most dazzling of visual effects sequences. I recently had the opportunity to speak to a composer and sound mixer who are in the thick of this year’s award races in their respective categories.

Alexandre Desplat gave us the music for both Stephen Frears’s “The Queen” and John Curran’s “The Painted Veil” and is garnering kudos mentions for each, perhaps heading toward his first Academy Award nomination. Greg P. Russell, meanwhile, added healthily to the suspense of Mel Gibson’s “Apocalypto” and seems to once again be in the running for a nod, which would be his eleventh to date. Interestingly, Russell’s eleventh nomination would be the nineteenth for longtime collaborator Kevin O’Connell, who holds the unfortunate record of “most Oscar nominations without a win.”

The cinema is largely seen as the director’s medium. So it’s not altogether surprising that both of these craftsmen commented on the importance of the helmer in their work.

“It’s the director you spend the most time with in composing,” Desplat acknowledges. “Most of my best friends are directors. Artists such as Jacques Audiard (‘Read My Lips,’ ‘The Beat My Heart Skipped’) inspire me.”

“Establishing a relationship with a filmmaker builds trust,” Russell explains. “Jerry Bruckheimer and Tony Scott, who we’ve worked with many times, let us put our spin on our work. This is not to say they won’t pick it apart, but we get to assemble it as we think is best.”

Filmmakers also affected the creative directions taken by the two men as they went about work on their 2006 titles.

“Stephen didn’t guide me precisely on ‘The Queen,’ but it was a great collaboration,” Desplat reminisces. “We shared ideas of where and how to place music and what emotions to highlight at certain moments. I had a short time to write, so I appreciated it even more. Stephen is so quick to articulate his ideas.”

With respect to “The Painted Veil,” director John Curran knew Desplat’s work and was a considerable fan. The temp track for the film was already scattered with Desplat’s music, in fact. From there, the composer created a score that would eventually lead to his third Golden Globe nomination. His two films remain apparent as the awards race marches forward.

Russell, on the other hand, mixed the soundtracks of a diverse array of titles in 2006 – seven, to be exact.

“It’s been kind of a wild year,” he says. “It started with Barry Sonnefeld’s ‘RV’ and then ‘The Da Vinci Code,’ which I thoroughly enjoyed as I was looking forward to finally working with Ron Howard. He has a great crew he always works with.

“‘The Pursuit of Happyness’ was a pretty straightforward movie,” he continues. “Gabriele [Mucino] didn’t have many changes to make after we showed him what we constructed. But that’s the exception. A Tony Scott, who we worked with again on ‘Déjà Vu,’ or a Mel Gibson dissects everything, listening to aspects such as dialogue and music, wanting to understand everything and then be able to make their artistic choices.”

Russell also worked on James Gartner’s “Glory Road” and Adam McKay’s “Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby” in 2006.

In addition to the different filmmakers they work with, both Desplat and Russell commented specifically on the unique challenges of the projects they recently tackled.

“‘The Queen’ is not a movie where you can spread music everywhere,” Desplat begins. “It has to be sparse and delicate. You have to learn to respect what’s on the screen already. I always had to think that ‘less is more,’ from volume to strength to size of orchestra.”

But “The Painted Veil” proved to be a different experience for the composer. “It has the epic feel and takes place in different cultures,” he says. “But it also has the delicate romantic story. These all had to be balanced in the most appropriate ways possible.”

After gaining fame writing scores in the French film industry, Desplat has only recently, though quickly, made a name for himself in the States. He says that the differences between working in the two environments are certainly apparent, but those differences don’t necessarily affect his approach to the work. And his experiences on the more intimate and restrained films that come out of the French market have certainly buttressed his work on equally intimate recent affairs such as Jonathan Glazer’s “Birth” and Peter Webber’s “Girl with a Pearl Earring.”

A particular challenge Russell discusses with respect to sound mixing is that of authenticity.

“What does Spider-Man flying through New York sound like,” he ponders. “We don’t know, so we can choose. Yet this is not the same as ‘Pearl Harbor,’ which we knew veterans were going to watch and they would know if we were being inaccurate. We have to bear in mind the target audience for a film.”

Despite the challenges and continual differences in the films on which they work, it is clear that both of artists love what they do.

“There’s a magical thing in a movie,” Desplat says, “where so many artists are at work. Of course, as the art of the sound has improved, the way one works for cinema has changed.”

“It’s something I’m very passionate about,” Russell explains. “On ‘Apocalypto,’ we combined many types of sound. It’s like painting with different colors and it becomes unique and satisfying. I was so happy when Randy Thom, winning the sound editing Oscar for ‘The Incredibles,’ acknowledged the work consisted of artistic decisions.”

Yet in spite of the intrinsic love of what they do, both craftsmen acknowledge appreciation for any congratulations their work might receive.

“You’re in a studio in silence and you’re alone,” Desplat says. “It’s very lonely, lonely, lonely work. But I enjoy it and I love to go on the set, go to the premiere, meet the actors and cinematographer. You come at the end and you’re the cherry on the cake and you have to respect the work of people who came before you, but it’s great to hear that people like what you’ve written.”

Russell, meanwhile, hopes to see “Apocalypto” among the Best Sound Mixing nominees. But it’s also clear he feels no entitlement during the awards season. He applauds the work of Gregg Rudloff and company on “Flags of Our Fathers,” for instance. “But,” he adds, “we aren’t going to get away from the big musical.”