It’s an unfortunate coincidence that I happened to finish this book on the anniversary of Olivia de Havilland’s death. De Havilland was one of the dozens of subjects interviewed or researched for this authoritative biography of Max Steiner, unbelievably the first full-length treatment of one of the movies’ most celebrated composers.

Steiner might be said to have had one foot in Vienna and one on the Great White Way. His grandfather, for whom he was named, was a formative influence on the development of Viennese operetta, and his father, also very much involved with the theater, built an entertainment city within the city, which included among its wonders the Riesenrad, the giant Ferris wheel used so memorably in “The Third Man.” In the New World, Steiner worked as music director for the Gershwins, Jerome Kern, and others. But it was in Hollywood, at the dawn of talking pictures, that he was to make his greatest mark.

Steiner pioneered the concept of the Wagnerian-Straussian underscore, in films such as “Bird of Paradise,” “King Kong,” and “She,” an approach that would set the industry standard for decades. Indeed, many of Steiner’s technical, if not musical, innovations are still employed in the process of adding music to film.

You’d think that, for being such a powerful and lucrative asset to RKO, Warner Brothers, and David O. Selznick (for whom he scored “Gone with the Wind”), Steiner would have been better appreciated, even seen as indispensable – and to an extent he was, whenever a prestige picture needed a little added luster, or a middling one some emergency TLC.

Sadly, the studio system began to crumble sooner than one might think. Already in the late ‘40s, contracts were not being renewed, and Steiner, in common with many of the legendary actors and directors he had worked with, all at once found himself a free agent. This meant that he had to scramble for much of his later work.

Also, despite being well paid – or well enough, by the day’s standards – he had all sorts of drains on his income. An appreciation for the good life, several alimonies, the support of his parents, unchecked generosity, and a profligate child left him scrambling. In fact, he was nearly always saddled with enormous debt and literally working around the clock to meet impossible deadlines. This continued until a late-in-life miracle, the theme to “A Summer Place” becoming an unexpectedly popular hit, brought him financial security.

But life is strife, and Steiner still had his share of personal miseries. He struggled with failing eyesight for his entire adulthood (he scored at least one of his films while legally blind, though thankfully cataract surgery brought him back to the point where he could at least see), and a rocky relationship with his son led the kind of heartbreak that is every parent’s nightmare.

Music remained a refuge. Steiner was a man who clearly took joy in the act of composing, and he was a master at solving the puzzle of how to match just the right kind of music to a particular kind of film. His home life could be volatile, the hours were certainly terrible, but he kept up a playful, almost child-like disposition. His scores are peppered with outrageous puns and side-notes to his orchestrators, many of them of an astonishingly bawdy nature.

While some of his music may seem a little old fashioned today, at times mawkish and even a little cartoon-like (“Mickey Mousing,” or matching music too closely to an onscreen action, was one of Steiner’s weaknesses), he was undeniably a force to be reckoned with. Personally, I still find his idiom highly attractive. There would be no “Star Wars” or “The Lord of the Rings” without Max Steiner.

Steven C. Smith’s “Music by Max Steiner: The Epic Life of Hollywood’s Most Influential Composer” is published by Oxford University Press. The study is generously annotated, with a bibliography, for those of a scholarly bent, but also compellingly written, so as to satisfy the more casual reader. If you’re at all curious about the art of film scoring, or simply a classic movie buff – Steiner knew everyone from Johann Strauss II to Frank Sinatra – this book is for you.

Smith is also the author of “A Heart at Fire’s Center: The Life and Music of Bernard Herrmann” (1991). Let’s hope it’s not another 30 years before he tackles Franz Waxman, Alfred Newman, or someone equally worthy!

Oxford Academic (Oxford University Press)