Qualitative Content Analysis
Non-Diegetic Character Growth
Analyzing Someday, as narrative film and music video
In Apple’s 2025 advertisement Someday, director Spike Jonze uses a breadth of cinematographic language to promote the AirPods 4. The film spotlights a new product feature: active noise cancellation, which reduces environmental sounds when enabled. On the product webpage, it is positioned as a tool to tune out the “noise” and be immersed in the music of your choosing. (Apple, n.d.)
Jonze employs a “show don’t tell” method of storytelling, where camera edits imply silent conversations, set and costume details reveal key context, and audio effects anchor the point of view. He constructs meaning through the language of both narrative cinema and music video.
While a casual viewer may not consciously recognize that narrative film and music video use audiovisual elements differently, Carol Vernallis breaks down these differences in Experiencing music video: Aesthetics and cultural context. The big-picture difference is in genre title; narrative film is oriented around narrative, and music video is oriented around music. Someday, begins distinctly narrative, with careful attention to continuity and character interaction. However, when a daydream turns into an extended dance number, the focus on the star, rhythm, and lyrics are more characteristic of a music video (Vernallis, 2004). Jonze carefully bridges the two genres with techniques from musical film, where sequences transition in and out of musical fantasy.
Over the course of the film, the genre-bending style supports the overall emotional immersion but limits the narrative immersion.
The film opens on a medium shot of the lead, Pedro Pascal. The color palette is drenched in dour greys and browns. The shallow depth of field attracts the eye to the figure. As he walks toward the camera his gait sways him back and forth within the frame, creating a sense of instability. We see the creases in his face and clothing in high fidelity, while the background of the cafe is soft and out of focus. Natural light from the side leaves half his face in shadow, which often represents inner conflict. He seems deep in thought.
The opening audio is recognizable as the ambient clinking of dishware within a large room and droning traffic outside. Car horns honk faintly in the distance. This diegetic audio immediately places us in the same sensory environment.
Diagetic VS Non-Diegetic
In narrative film, sound can be characterized as diegetic or non-diegetic. Diegetic sound, like foley and dialogue, can be heard by the characters in the film, whereas non-diegetic sound, like underscoring, cannot. Diegesis is about placing sound inside or outside the “story world”
(Buhler & Neumeyer, 2016).
While the visual and audio aesthetic is more polished than “real life,” it feels true to life.
After a moment Pascal pauses, his lips moving like he’s preparing to speak. The camera cuts as he begins to turn around, settling at a new angle to catch him finishing the movement. (00:06)
The timing adds a greater sense of movement to his backtracking. This new angle keeps the other person off-screen, drawing out the anticipation. He looks at someone, his mouth open. Cut to a woman, seated at a cafe table and looking down with a blank expression. She is further from the camera with her body angled away, indicating emotional distance. The way information unfolds through the cinematography invites us to try to understand Pascal’s perspective, slowly revealing information.
The camera cuts back and forth between them in a shot-reverse-shot sequence, a traditional way to shoot a conversation. Rather than words, nonverbal cues are placed in action and reaction. The woman looks down and turns away in dismissal. Pascal deflates, and turns away, beginning to move toward the door. The specific circumstances are ambiguous, but he seems heartbroken.
Details in the scenic design reveal key context. The woman is sitting at a two-person table. The other seat is vacant, but with food and outerwear, like the other occupant stepped away for a moment. Since Pascal is already wearing a jacket and makes no move to grab the items, we can assume she is there with someone else.
A close-up on Pascal’s face transitions us into the next sequence. Pascal is now outside, looking like his mind is miles away. (00:30)
In the brief moment before Pascal puts on his headphones, we get a baseline for the realistic setting of the city sidewalk in winter. The background noise includes more obnoxious signs of city life (honking, sirens, and jackhammering) in addition to more mundane sounds of traffic and conversation. The color palette is still desaturated.
As he puts in the headphones, we hear the sound effect of his headphones connecting via Bluetooth. (00:36) Shortly after, the music starts, but the background noise remains. These are diegetic sounds only Pascal could hear, also known as point of view sound (Buhler & Neumeyer, 2016). The viewer is not only observing Pascal’s external presentation, but now has direct insight into how he perceives the world.
With a tap on his headphones, he enables noise cancellation and the background sound cuts. (00:46) At the same time, the scenic design becomes an exaggerated doppelganger of the city street. The coordination of the audio and visual cues is a key sync point, linking the world transformation to the noise cancellation. (Buhler & Neumeyer, 2016)
This gradual transition from reality to fantasy is reminiscent of musical film. In his book The American film musical, Rick Altman coined the term audio dissolve to describe this technique. A production number would begin in reality with diegetic activity of a character speaking, playing a lone piano, or walking. The expression would cross the boundary into non-diegetic performance where all other diegetic sounds would disappear. Speaking would become singing, a piano would become a full orchestra, or walking would become dancing. In reality, character behavior is based in their psyche, but in the musical fantasy they move in time with non-diegetic music. (Altman, 1989)
Altman also notes how music specifically facilitates this change in world logic:
In one case sound is produced by activity; in the other, movement obeys the rhythm of the music. In between, diegetic music provides a bridge, for it obeys the laws of both natural causality (moving the mouth produces sounds) and of rhythmical causality (music produces rhythmical movement).
(Altman, 1989, p. 65)
We see this in how Pascal’s gait begins naturalistic and becomes measured and rhythmic. Soon after, the background characters transition from walking normally to punctuating the instrumentation in the music. The dancers stumble on slow, echoing beats. They sink to the ground as guitar strumming moves from a major to a minor chord. The movements and the musical motifs highlighted are sad in nature. The movements also reveal palette-swapped versions of the background characters’ costumes, reinforcing the reality/fantasy divide.
Amid a pause in the conversation, Pascal looks up, eyes focusing off-screen. When the camera cuts to his point of view, it’s revealed to be a surreal vision: perhaps on the same street but during a different point in time. Warm light, green leaves, and a conspicuous lack of snow indicate late spring. A doppelganger of Pascal is having a conversation with two people on the sidewalk, laughing and smiling. There is a distorting effect on the images with curved warping, blurs, and chromatic aberration on objects in the foreground.
A shot-reverse-shot sequence alternates between Winter Pascal and Spring Pascal. Each shot of Spring Pascal is closer with a reduced lens effect until we transition into this dream world.
There are two pieces of evidence that place Spring Pascal in the near future. In the conversation with his friends, there is subtext that he’s been emotionally and physically absent from their friendship. His friends hint at past flaking on plans and one says, “Glad to have you back.” (02:03) Then in the dance sequence his mood is momentarily brought down by seeing a happy couple, but he recovers, dancing even more joyfully than before (02:47).
Comparing the costume design for Winter and Spring Pascal reveals his emotional state. In winter, he wears a canvas jacket and beanie, but no gloves or scarf. He looks under-dressed for the freezing weather but unaware, like he is distracted or depressed. In spring, the costume can be read as his baseline appearance. He’s dressed casually in a clean white shirt — not dressed up for an occasion, but put-together. We can read that in the winter he is neglecting his appearance due to emotional distress. This puts his sadness as an ongoing state he’s been dealing with, rather than an acute reaction to whatever happened in the cafe.
There is another audio dissolve as we enter the second dance sequence, this one joyful. The production design brings in saturated reds, yellows, and oranges, with floral textures covering the buildings. This time, Pascal dances, too. He punctuates the song with dance moves, in particular highlighting energetic musical flourishes. His joyous expression builds until he’s leading a group of strangers in coordinated choreography in the middle of the street. This is the point where it feels unabashedly like a music video.
Vernallis identifies the genre dichotomy as so:
In cinema, the shot progression builds a base of knowledge about the setting, characters, and plot. In a music video, the progression may be more free and unpredictable, oriented more toward the music than story knowledge.
(Vernallis, 2004, p. 110)
Earlier, Jonze used mostly static shots focused on the main character or from his perspective. The progression of the first scene in particular follow his subtle actions and reactions. Here, the camera floats in and out and up, never settling for long. The edit shifts focus between the group choreography and Pascal’s emotive face, weaving the focus between different elements of the performance and instrumentation.
Vernallis also recognizes a flattering depiction of the star lipsyncing as “the strictest and most pervasive of music video’s conventions” (Vernallis, 2004, p. xii). In the most aesthetically potent moment of the film, Pascal beckons the camera into a close up, building tension as the camera follows him through the lines of dancers. The instrumentation quiets in anticipation, bringing the full focus onto Pascal as he stares into the camera and lip syncs.
Our attention is drawn to the lyrics: You’re perfect / Now work it / You’re perfect. The earnest performance of the lyrics to the viewer feels incongruent, directed to someone outside the world as established. This moment is featured in the video thumbnail and is indicated as the most replayed section. It’s a key moment of the video, but also undermines the narrative immersion.
Shortly after, the dance sequence wraps up.
Plot Analysis
The three musical sequences divide the film neatly into Pascal’s three character beats. First, he is heartbroken, stuck on what he can’t have. Then, he imagines himself able to enjoy the moment and pursue self-fulfillment. Finally, he accepts that he is still healing, but can be hopeful for the future.
However, if we attempt to understand this character change through narrative, there is little substance. In 20 Master plots (And how to build them), Ronald B Tobias notes “One of the tests of character plots in general is the change the main character makes in her personality as a result of the action… Given a situation, how will this person react?” (Tobias, 1993, p. 154). The mechanism through which Pascal undergoes change is a daydream; it shifts him outside his base state, and he returns to reality changed.
If we break it down using Freytag’s dramatic structure (Bicontini, 2022), we see the change in passive thoughts occurring in his head.
- Exposition: A heartbroken man walks down the street.
- Inciting incident: During an exchange with a stranger, he daydreams about his future self.
- Rising action: He imagines himself overcoming emotional challenges.
- Climax: He reconciles that healing is far away, but possible.
- Dénouement: He continues his walk, more hopeful.
It’s clear that the character changes, but the specifics are tied up in ambiguity and passivity. This isn’t inherently negative, but it limits what we can read into the narrative meaning. The story itself could be phrased as the platitude: someday his broken heart will heal.
However, if we reframe the film itself as a platitude toward the viewer (someday your broken heart will heal), the construction of the film makes more sense. The spectacle doesn’t just depicting the character’s emotions but strips away the distractions of reality to immerse the viewer. From this perspective, the ambiguity of the character opens Pascal for viewer projection, whether it’s their positive feelings toward the celebrity or their personal experiences of heartbreak. The moment Pascal addresses the viewer directly doesn’t just disrupt the narrative; it is more impactful outside the narrative. Instead of a character, the handsome paternal figure is making intense eye contact and complimenting you — yes, you! — the viewer. This aligns with the genre of music video in two ways. Firstly, candor and direct address is not just acceptable, but prioritized. Secondly, narrative is not a stable center, but an element like any other that can be pulled to the front. (Venallis, 2004)
While it uses the techniques of narrative film, the ultimate message isn’t communicated through an emotionally gratifying story. Instead, the emotional gratification is reaches the viewer indirectly through the language of narrative cinema and directly through music video.
Bibliography
Altman, R. (1989). The American film musical. Indiana University Press.
Apple. (2025, March 18). Someday, by Spike Jonze | AirPods 4 with active noise cancellation [Video]. Youtube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=urTfEEsGHds
Apple. (n.d.). AirPods 4. Retrieved October 3, 2025, from https://www.apple.com/airpods-4/
Biscontini, T. (2022). Dramatic structure. Salem Press Encyclopedia of Literature. Salem Press. https://www.ebsco.com/research-starters/drama-and-theater-arts/dramatic-structure
Buhler, J. & Neumeyer, D. (2016). Hearing the movies: Music and sound in film history (2nd ed.). Oxford University Press.
Tobias, R.B. (1993). 20 Master plots (and how to build them). Writer’s Digest Books.
Vernallis, C. (2004). Experiencing music video: Aesthetics and cultural context. Columbia University Press.