Inside the mind of Mark Orton: Scoring The Holdovers & On Swift Horses

Mark Orton isn’t your typical Hollywood composer. A classically trained multi-instrumentalist with roots in the avant-garde and Americana, (and a founding member of the experimental acoustic ensemble Tin Hat,) Orton brings a textured, intimate sensibility to his film scores – an approach that has earned him a distinctive place in contemporary cinema. Known for his heartfelt, off-kilter compositions in Alexander Payne’s Nebraska, Orton reunited with the acclaimed director on The Holdovers, crafting a subtly emotional score that mirrors the film’s warmth and wry humanity. That collaboration helped anchor a film now celebrated with Oscar, BAFTA, and Golden Globe wins, solidifying Orton’s place among the most emotionally attuned composers working today.

More recently, Orton also took a striking, creative turn with On Swift Horses, a sensual, brooding post-war romance set against the backdrop of 1950s America. Directed by Daniel Minahan, the film tells the story of a love triangle simmering beneath the surface of societal expectation, war trauma, and personal longing. 

Orton’s score vividly captures that tension, blending lush strings, soft-spoken piano, eerie vibraphone, and raw surf guitar that nods to Link Wray and other sonic rebels of the era. As the characters gamble with their futures and identities, Orton’s music mirrors their quiet rebellions – sometimes intimate and tender, sometimes full of danger and desire.

In this interview, Orton reflects on crafting the nostalgic yet emotionally grounded score for The Holdovers, designed to feel like it was made in 1970 – right down to its mono sound mix and vintage instrumentation – and more recent work on On Swift Horses, using soft pianos, bowed vibraphones, and early surf guitar textures to portray themes of forbidden relationships, internal longing, and post-war disillusionment.

When does inspiration strike for you when coming up with ideas for your scores?

I definitely try to leave that open. I grew up working on music in my head a lot, away from instruments, and I still really love that. 

I love dreaming the music and imagining it that way, rather than getting locked into an instrument, although I do like the performative aspect. I have a million embarrassing falsetto and strange percussion grooves on my iPhone because I want to be ready when inspiration strikes.

The Holdovers

You composed the score for The Holdovers, which was a must-see film of 2023. It was named one of the top 10 films of 2023 by the National Board of Review and the American Film Institute, and among many others, it was nominated for Best Picture at the Oscars. Did you have an inkling the film would resonate with people this well?

I'll be honest and say I really wasn’t. It’s the kind of film that’s getting made less and less these days. With so much stuff being recycled in Hollywood, or within these various superhero universes, it’s a different kind of movie. It has this brilliant, nostalgic feel to it. So that’s one thing, I knew it would stand out.

I’ve worked with Alexander Payne, the director, before. Coming into it, I expect a baseline for all of his work that’s quite high to begin with. But seeing the early iterations and early cuts of the film, the performances were so strong. 

The chemistry of the three leads was so remarkable. Dominic Sessa’s performance was so remarkable. He's a kid they literally found in a drama programme at a prep school that they used for some location stuff. He had never acted in a film before. It was so perfectly crafted. I’m a big Paul Giamatti fan too. The performances were so solid. It was truly a pleasure to work on.

The hardest thing for me was that I was wearing different hats in it, because of the arc of the story. It’s Alexander’s usual thing of walking that drama-comedy line; it’s not overt comedy, and he never wants to underline things that way either. It’s always going to be a more subtle hand, and there is some true drama in it as well.

Alexander has always been drawn to films of the ’70s and classic cinema more broadly. The intellectual idea behind this film wasn’t just that it was set in 1970, but that it felt like a film that had actually been released in 1970. 

We went to some pretty serious lengths to achieve that, even down to the sound. The soundtrack itself was actually in mono, and when you see the film in a theatre, it's in mono, because in 1970, that’s what the sound was. So now, in the days of Dolby Atmos, it was a very different set of marching orders for me.

Part of the job was also bringing myself into that 1970 world. As a musician and someone who’s been collecting amps and electric guitars from that era since I was in fourth grade, and with my older brothers and sisters growing up in that world, and idolising some of that sound, it was really fun to put that hat on.

The film is steeped in a 1970s New England winter atmosphere. It’s nostalgic yet emotionally raw. How did you use music to evoke that setting and period without falling into pastiche?

The soundtrack in that film has three different sides to it that, over time, coalesce into one. It's following the arc of the story, which starts off, in some ways, like a classic college or school drama-comedy, where it's more focused on the kids, and it’s Christmas time.

So part of the score was based around that Christmassy sound, though without getting too kitsch with it. I ended up with about a dozen different sleigh bells, each with slightly different pitches and resonances, that I used throughout. Some were quite fancy, like orchestral sleigh bells, and others were simpler, like a single little bell, the sort you’d hear from a sad Salvation Army person on the corner.

I was going after that kind of sound at the same time as the more dramatic part of the story started to unfold. That called for a different palette altogether. 

It’s not that I was trying to create some kind of museum piece; I didn’t want to replicate a 1970s score exactly, but I was making choices that at least wouldn’t betray that era. They were neutral enough, in terms of instrumentation, that they didn’t push against the time period.

Then there was other material where I had a full band in the studio – musicians who were really well-versed in the style of that era – and we went after those sounds. Rather than just using source cues, we created scores. They landed somewhere between source music and score.

Some of the montages and scenes were played by a band with a horn section in the mould of something like Carole King, or even Cat Stevens. So in that way, they blended with the rest of the soundtrack, the source songs and the score, and helped build a cohesive sound throughout the film.

On Swift Horses

On Swift Horses explores themes of desire, rebellion, and post-war America. Where did you start in terms of how you wanted the score to sound, and how did these themes influence your approach to composing the score?

With this one, Daniel Minahan, the director, and I got together early on. I was brought in early enough that I was working off a script at first. I wrote a suite of pieces to start getting the sound of the film out there and to start the conversation, even before I’m seeing any picture.

In this case, I actually wrote a couple of dozen pieces early on. I wanted to explore a few different aspects of what I’d been reading, because there is definite drama in it. It’s set in post-war America, and it includes themes around the American Dream – this idea of moving west, buying a home, getting married, and living that idealised 1950s life. But there’s also a lot pushing against that at the same time.

Two of the main characters are getting into gambling in different ways, risking money, and in some cases, themselves, with cheating scandals. And even bigger than that is the fact that they’re taking really significant sexual risks, because the two main characters are involved in same-sex relationships at a time when that was a jailable offence. It was illegal in most places. So there’s this strong mix of risk, excitement, and drama all wrapped together.

This is different from what I was talking about with The Holdovers, where we were going after a specific era sonically – we weren’t as concerned with that here. I’d say it was more important that the sound reflected the characters, the drama, and the unspoken tension that came with these kinds of risky, same-sex relationships. 

There was also just the sense of desire, the butterflies in the stomach. So much of it was based on feelings, the emotional undercurrents of the characters. That’s where I started, musically.

Let’s delve into those themes surrounding the complex love triangle and characters navigating forbidden relationships. Are there distinct musical themes or textures you used to differentiate their inner worlds, or to connect them?

I’ll give away the tiniest bit of the film, in that it starts off with what people now call a throuple. Essentially, there’s a young woman who’s engaged to a man who has just returned from the war, and then his brother is also on the scene, visiting the woman, Daisy Edgar-Jones’s character, Muriel.

She is really taken with Jacob Elordi’s character. There’s a mix of genuine physical attraction, but also a soulmate feeling between them. Even though they separate and are apart for much of the film, living their lives in different places, she’s still replicating a lot of what he’s doing. She has these phone calls with him, and he becomes something of a mentor to her, particularly in terms of gambling.

With that in mind, I wrote distinct themes for each of the characters, but they had a related quality. What I tried to do over time was have those themes gradually come together musically, just as the characters come together in terms of their arcs. 

There are shared textures and sounds that unify them. Likewise, with the romantic or love themes, they often work as mirrors, or musical reflections, of one another.

Your work often involves a range of instruments, including antique and unusual ones. Were there any particular instruments or sounds you found especially effective in conveying the film's narrative?

There are a few different sounds in it. I was using an old piano with very soft felts. In other words, the hammers are soft and spongy, not hard or percussive. That sound runs throughout the score.

I was also using a vibraphone – that large mallet instrument like a xylophone, but with a damper pedal so it can ring out. I used it in a slightly different way, too: I bowed it quite a bit, which creates a sustained tone, which is very different from the usual striking sound you get with mallets.

I brought in some of my more unusual percussion as well – some tuned block bells and things like that. I used strings, and by the end of the film, it does get more orchestral. The textures become much bigger. I worked with an orchestra, but also brought in solo string players here in the studio to explore extended techniques and more textural elements, which we layered with the full orchestra.

There's also a pre-surf guitar sound. That was part of the palette, especially for the more risky, gambling side of the story. It was built around a guitar-led trio, a bit like Link Wray as a starting point. That became a key part of the sound, too.

Were there any silent or nearly silent scenes where the score had to carry the full emotional weight? How did you approach scoring those moments?

Yes. I think, especially over the last 20 years, we’ve moved towards overscoring. I see so many films now that are just wall-to-wall music. 

Honestly, I think the biggest problem with that is that it becomes just another given element, something that loses its power. The more it’s used, the more it becomes a kind of background – just wallpaper, essentially.

So that’s definitely something I’m very conscious of. Especially in a film like this, where the characters have rich inner lives and there’s a lot of unspoken emotion happening. That stillness and reflection are a part of each of their journeys, narratively.

I actually thought a lot about that – about the balance between score and silence. And along with that, the balance of stillness within the music itself. 

So there are plenty of moments where the director was certainly drawn to the more thematic and lyrical side of my writing, which really resonated with him, but I also made sure there was plenty of space and room for the characters to breathe. That meant not just having rousing melodies running throughout, but instead making more textural and open scoring choices too.

Did you use recurring motifs throughout the film? If so, can you point to a moment where a previously introduced musical idea reappears with new meaning or impact?

I do have some main themes running through it, and they develop over time. As the characters interact with one another, the themes shift. I try to have them shift subtly, so they reflect the characters changing.

I’m most drawn – in all films, really, to themes that can take on the story in some way. I’m fascinated by how a theme can evolve with the narrative over time. 

How one theme, which might have been written for a particular character, can later be varied in such a way that it works for a different character. That really interests me. If you imagine the theme as a prism I’m holding in my hand, and I’m turning it to see how the light reflects off it in different ways. I love how a theme can behave like that. That's definitely something I explored here again.

The two main characters are connected, even though they’re living 1,000 miles apart, following similar trajectories. So I was figuring out ways for the music to mirror that – to have their stories echo one another in sound.

What was your favourite scene to score?

There is one, although I’ll say it has more to do with my overall journey through film in general. It’s a kind of music I always assumed I would write more of early on, but over time I haven’t had the chance to do so very much.

This film, in some ways, is a bit of a throwback to a Hollywood romantic drama, which, as you know, doesn’t get made very often these days. So, pursuing some of that musically was really fun for me. It references music that I love.

There’s a scene later in the film where the two main characters, who have been apart for most of the story, are reunited and share a kiss. I don’t want to give too much away, but that moment is accompanied by what I call a ‘dream kiss’ cue. I was really happy and proud of that cue because I feel I put my own stamp on it, while capturing a romantic palette that I don’t often get to work with.

I actually came into film music sideways. I had a performing trio that played in fine arts centres and similar venues, and that music was often licensed for films. I was getting tired of touring, honestly, after doing it for a long time.

I had the necessary skills – being an engineer and a composer – and while composers often come from conservatories, my dad was a conductor, so I grew up around that world. But it was really through this trio sound – a mix of violin, guitar, and accordion – that I found my way into film. There was an Americana element to that, as well as an avant-garde touch.

So much of the work I initially got in film was based around that sound, rather than the classic romantic Hollywood drama style with orchestra. It just wasn’t how I found my way in. Even though that kind of music has always been near and dear to me, it’s been fun working on films like this later in my career, where I can step out a bit and try different things I didn’t get to explore earlier on.

Without giving away any spoilers, can you talk about how you scored the closing scenes and what feelings you hoped to leave with the audience?

There are certainly resolutions, but there are also some open questions at the end of this film regarding where the characters are heading. 

On the one hand, I’d say they might be choosing not to pursue the traditional idea of the American Dream. Instead, they seem to be following their passions. In that sense, it’s quite liberating for the characters.

But at the same time, I think that choice also comes with significant risk, like much of what unfolds throughout the film, and I wanted that complexity to be reflected in the music. It’s definitely not musically tied up with a neat bow at the end. There’s a sense of openness.

So while there is a feeling of resolution and empowerment in the characters’ decisions, I also wanted the score to convey that the future remains uncertain. There’s a kind of openness to it and something that carries both a sense of promise and a hint of fear.

At Camp Watertown, your personal studio, you not only compose but also mix many of your scores on Genelec monitors. When did you first discover them?

I grew up on the East Coast, in New York, and my dad was a conductor. I went to conservatories, played in various ensembles, and was immersed in music from a young age. But after spending some time in the New York scene, I was pretty certain I wanted to move out west. 

I had two close friends who were planning to come with me – they were a bit behind me in school – so while I was waiting for them to graduate, in my early twenties, I took a job in New York as a sound engineer.

It was at the Knitting Factory, which at the time was a seminal venue for the avant-garde in New York. I ended up becoming one of the main engineers there, working with artists like John Zorn, Bill Frisell, the Kronos Quartet, Sonic Youth – really on the edgier side of the rock scene – and also with true avant-garde and experimental jazz musicians like Anthony Braxton and Sun Ra. 

I went on to tour with a number of those artists, doing live sound and recording sessions with groups like the Lounge Lizards and Mr. Bungle.

That whole chapter was, in a way, my first career, before I started my own composing career and formed the trio I became known for. But one of the great things about that experience, particularly in relation to film, is that I really developed my skills as an engineer. 

Film scoring is a very tech-heavy field; it’s just not something you can realistically do these days without a solid grasp of technology, unless you’ve got the resources to hire an entire team to handle that side of things.

So, I always had this love for the production side of music, whether it was for film or otherwise. I eventually put together my own studio. At the time, I was still working at the Knitting Factory’s studio, which had Genelec monitors in the early ‘90s, so we’re going back a bit.

Later on, when I moved to the West Coast and started my own thing in San Francisco, one of my first major investments was a pair of Genelec 1030s. I couldn’t afford them at first, but once I could, I got those and eventually added a subwoofer and built up from there. I still have them to this day. They've held up incredibly well all these years – decades! They’ve been fantastic.

They were the most natural-sounding monitors I’d heard, particularly for acoustic and orchestral instrumentation, which are central to my work. 

The level of detail they provide is exceptional. Now, years later, I’ve expanded to a much larger system. I’ve got the 8351s, a big sub, the whole setup. But still, the way my mixes translate to the outside world when I work on Genelecs, there’s really nothing that compares for me. For the kind of music I do, I haven’t found anything else that comes close.

On Swift Horses images via Sony Pictures