Music That Fills Space: An Interview with Hania Rani About Her Film Score for ‘Sentimental Value’

hania_rani_forum-0436552033.jpg, default, Hania Rani, photo: Andrzej Hulimka / Forum

Joachim Trier’s latest film received nine Academy Award nominations, winning Best International Feature, after earlier taking home six European Film Awards, including one for its score. The music was composed by Polish artist Hania Rani, with whom we discuss sonic space, as well as the emotional and biographical tensions that underpin ‘Sentimental Value’.

Łukasz Mańkowski: Was there a particular ‘sentimental value’ that accompanied you while working on the soundtrack to Joachim Trier’s film?

Hania Rani: The most significant part of the story for me was the house itself. My parents live in Gdańsk, in an old house with quite a difficult history. It probably belonged to a German officer in the early 20th century; then the war came, borders shifted, people were displaced. My parents weren’t born there, but they’ve lived there for many years, and the house has almost become a separate character in our family. It was in poor condition, so during renovations we kept uncovering traces of its past. In Sentimental Value, there’s also this layer of war, loss, past tragedies, but also love and separation. It all felt very familiar.

When I travelled to Oslo for research and to see the location, I felt this wasn’t a distant world. The architecture of northern Poland and Scandinavia is similar – even the light and weather feel related. I realised this ‘language’ was close to me; I didn’t need to translate it into my own terms, I understood it intuitively. I’m not sure if this story will resonate in the same way with an American audience.

The ‘sentimental value’ wasn’t only about walls, but also about objects. There’s an important scene in the film where the sisters sort through their mother’s belongings. One wants to get rid of them quickly, the other sees their value and isn’t afraid to engage with them. It’s a very human situation. When we first encounter the house in the film, it’s already empty, filled with packed objects – almost like a ghost. It was moving to see how a sense of ‘home’ is constructed: through books, small items, sometimes completely unnecessary trinkets. These are what give a place its personal dimension.

ŁM: You mentioned visiting the filming location. From interviews with Trier, it seems he had never worked with a composer in this way before – your research became an integral part of the score. Where did this need to capture the house sonically come from?

HR: It felt obvious after reading the script. If you have the chance to see a place that is so central to the story, it’s hard not to take it. In fact, the house is even more present in the script than in the film – because the script relies on words, while the film lets many things happen between them.

The second aspect was their method of working. I didn’t have much information. It was closer to theatre – working with text and imagination. Being able to add another layer – a real, physical space – was incredibly valuable.

I also think I have a natural need to be close to the place I’m working with. I approached documentaries in a similar way. While working on a project about Venice (Venice: Infinitely Avant-garde) we spent a lot of time there. During a film about [Alberto] Giacometti (On Giacometti), I visited his family home – in fact, I return there every year. With Sentimental Value, I knew this might be my only chance to see the house, as it is normally lived in. When I arrived there with my sound engineer Agata Dankowska, life was going on as usual – there was constant movement, something always happening.

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Still from the film 'Sentimental Value', directed by Joachim Trier, photo: M2 Films

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ŁM: I’m curious how the presence of the house influenced your compositional process. Were there specific elements you wanted to reflect? In the film, the house is almost an agent, with its own perspective – how did you approach telling its story through music?

HR: Paradoxically, I feel the musical themes don’t describe the house itself. If you look at the track titles on the soundtrack, most of them refer to the characters. The music doesn’t so much portray the space as fill it. Of course, there are moments where a kind of vibrating, underlying energy appears – something that could be read as the house’s presence. But fundamentally, the motifs follow the characters. That also felt like the director’s intention: each character has their own subtle theme.

There is also a main motif that accompanies Nora’s encounters with her father – especially those moments when they barely speak. Paradoxically, these are their closest interactions. There’s an understanding between them beyond words, and that’s where the music carries the emotional weight. The house itself is very stable, very present – it acts as a kind of container for the story, its frame. Perhaps it doesn’t need to be explained further. It’s the characters who fill it. And in a way, the music does that alongside them.

ŁM: You describe the house as a kind of container – in my notes I wrote: a box of experiences and emotions. Did you draw on any film references while building this sonic narrative?

HR: I referred less to specific films and more to Joachim Trier’s own body of work. There are several films now, and you can clearly see an evolution – both in themes and in storytelling. It’s a very rich, but also very distinct micro-world. In general, that’s how I approach projects: each film, each score is a separate world. I often feel that references can be misleading, because they come from the outside. Of course, everything we listen to stays with us. Sometimes later I recognise something and think, ‘I must have been listening to that at the time’. That’s inevitable. But during the process, I try to limit external stimuli.

Penderecki used to say he didn’t listen to music at all – and I understand that. There is so much sound today. When you work with music intensively, every day, it’s easy to become overwhelmed. What matters most then is focus – narrowing your perspective to one specific world. In film, that world isn’t mine. It belongs to the director. My main task is to understand their language and intentions. Joachim is very verbal, very articulate, he talks a lot – which helps. But there are also things he leaves unsaid, emotions he expresses primarily through film. Each of his projects has a different tone. There’s a clear shift between The Worst Person in the World and Sentimental Value. The latter is more subtle, more restrained, in a sense more mature.

That’s why I didn’t feel the need to look for film references. Understanding the director was enough. If the director knows what they want to say – not necessarily what kind of music they need, but what kind of world they are building – it brings great clarity. In my work, I have many tools at my disposal: piano, acoustic instruments, synthesisers, voice, sometimes instruments I don’t even play myself. It’s a vast palette. The key is choosing the sounds that best serve a particular project – and express its world most fully.

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Still from the film 'Sentimental Value', directed by Joachim Trier, photo: M2 Films

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ŁM: Trier often speaks about his films as part of an interconnected universe, so your approach fits neatly into that framework. How do you look back on this collaboration? I understand the music was composed solely on the basis of the script, without the image.

HR: I really like working this way. In my case, it works – I feel I compose better when I don’t see the image. Arthouse cinema, which I find more subtle or experimental, feels close to me; it’s a sensitivity I naturally inhabit. That said, the filmmaking process itself is uneven. There are intense periods, and others where you simply have to wait. The first edit is always a shock. For a long time, everyone works with the script as the only point of reference. When the image finally appears, it turns out to be different. There’s a moment of disappointment – also for the director – but then a new stage begins: building the film from what actually exists.

It’s similar in music. First there is an idea, a structure on paper, something abstract. Then comes recording and listening – often accompanied by doubt. And only later comes the realisation that it’s not worse than the original vision, just different. For specific scenes, several versions of the same musical background were created to find the right tone. Still, I believe working without the image brings out something more intuitive in me. When I see the image, my aesthetic preferences take over and I start following what I like; without it, better things seem to emerge – what comes from under my fingers seems to be more natural. In a more abstract mode, I write music that enters into dialogue with atmosphere, with something unspoken. I feel that this brings me closer to the essence of music – its fundamental function: expressing what cannot be named in words or shown explicitly.

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till from the film 'Sentimental Value', directed by Joachim Trier, photo: M2 Films

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ŁM: You mentioned earlier that the script of ‘Sentimental Value’ originally contained more than what made it into the final film. Were there particular motifs that inspired your music?

HR: I didn’t rely on references in that sense. I read the script in my own way. In my interpretation, it felt much more nostalgic, even more serious. Nora seemed almost like a tragic figure – someone carrying a weight that’s difficult to bear. Perhaps that was also the film’s initial tone. But when the story was translated into images, it became clear that such a singular seriousness didn’t work. Joachim introduced movement, energy, and counterpoints. Alongside deeply moving scenes, there is also lightness. I think he wanted the protagonist to be, in a way, an extension of the character from The Worst Person in the World – complex, contradictory, with some darkness in her, but also full of vitality and charm. Much of this resonates with Renate Reinsve’s personality. It seems to me that Joachim is drawn to precisely this kind of character – one that contains both shadow and light.

Balance was very important to him. The film wasn’t meant to overwhelm. It was about leaving space for the viewer’s own interpretation. This is, after all, a strong tradition in European cinema – not closing everything off, not explaining everything completely. In Hollywood cinema, emotions are often more explicitly guided, even ‘squeezed out’. That has its own value, but here it feels more natural to leave things unresolved. I think Polish audiences, in particular, have a strong sensitivity for this kind of storytelling.

After screenings, people often ask: ‘Why did she behave like that?’, ‘Did they really reconcile?’ And that’s precisely the point – the film should continue to resonate in the viewer. I’ve watched Sentimental Value many times with different people, and each time it was received differently – sometimes radically so. Different characters would evoke sympathy or resistance. That surprised me, because initially I thought the film was more straightforward. It turned out that for each viewer, it becomes about something slightly different – and that’s what makes it most compelling.

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Hania Rani poses with the European Composer award for 'Sentimental Value' during the 2026 European Film Awards gala in Berlin, Germany, on January 17, 2026; photo: Nadja Wohlleben/Reuters/Forum.

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ŁM: How does the ‘Sentimental Value’ soundtrack fit into the broader continuum of your work?

HR: If I look at what I’m doing now, this soundtrack isn’t exactly a step forward towards my most recent explorations. I wouldn’t call it a step back either, but it’s closer to a more ‘recognisable’ version of Hania Rani. The past year – especially around projects like Non Fiction and Chilling Bambino – has marked a new direction for me. My interests have shifted, and so have the kinds of proposals I receive. In that sense, this soundtrack feels like a return to an earlier sensitivity – to a language closer to my first albums. I think some listeners who felt surprised, or even disappointed, by my recent changes might rediscover that earlier sensibility here.

At the same time, it’s natural that the deeper we go into working with sound, the more we become interested in its very nature. The longer I am investing my time in music, I start to feel a greater sense of freedom. It’s similar to visual art or literature – things that once felt unfamiliar gradually become more accessible. We begin to read more demanding books, watch more complex films. It’s a process. For me personally, this music is a return to a certain stage, but I also know that I’m moving forward – towards more experimental territories.

^{Interview originally conducted in Polish, March 2026}

Language English

film music

polish composers