What I love about good film music is the use of silence and space. The medium allows for that. When you're writing to accompany an image you can stretch a piece in ways that wouldn't work in stand alone music; maybe leaving gaps of twenty or thirty seconds between phrases, using background sounds, or bits of dialogue as connectors.
So what can we get from a Wardwesân reading? It either sounds good, or it doesn't; without the expert guidance of Frédéric Werst, the sense of the sounds is a closed book. It's an anti-intentionalist's nightmare. It's also, perhaps, in one reading - and whether you find this liberating or disturbing will depend on a number of criteria - a logical extension of what we do as writers when we put together sounds into words, and those words into poems.