You always hope that the first listen to a score goes well.
But halfway though listening to this score, I was resigned to relegating this
to the middle tier of Giacchino’s impressive oeuvre. The themes were OK, the
action was more simplistic than usual for the composer, and “Star-Dust” was
perhaps one dip too many into the Lost well. As I listened to the lengthy
“Confrontation on Eadu” lurch around in fits and starts, I was fully prepared
to tell the score the bad news: It may be called Rogue One, but it wasn’t “the
One.” Not for me. But then, the end of that cue happened, and I started to
listen to this score with new ears, paying closer attention to its point of
view, its thoughts and feelings. The use of the Imperial theme from A New Hope
earned my respect, as did the “Shark Cage Fugue” tribute in the score’s
eponymous track. Had I been taking this score for granted, ignoring its
strengths all along? As the music for the film’s climatic action arrived, I
underwent a climax of my own. And as “Hope” and the suites formed the score’s
peroration, infatuation had turned into true adoration. Philia had become Eros.
As the final soft, tender notes of the “Guardians of the Whills Suite” faded out, I
gazed upon the score lovingly and whispered, my voice husky with emotion, “Let’s
do it again.”
Soundtrack Mantis
Sunday, January 8, 2017
Tuesday, January 5, 2016
Overview of 2015 Scores Part 3 of 3
Read Part 1 here.
Read Part 2 here.
Gregson-Williams’s finest score to feature both orchestra
and electronics in prominent roles, The Martian perfectly portrays Mark
Watney’s perseverance and ever-aspirational attitude. In fact, with Damon’s
performance focusing on witty, slightly glib one-liners, Gregson-Williams’s
score actually does much of the heavy lifting to emphasize both Watney’s dire
situation and the unquenchable spark that keeps him going. The simple, sanguine
main theme plays well on both electric guitar (“Mars”) and full orchestra
(“Emergency Launch”). “Hexadecimals” is the best of the “science montage” cues,
propelling Watney’s spirit of innovation with video game-like synths and an
energizing build-up. “See You in a Few” and “Fly Like Iron Man” add female and
male choir to the mix, joining the orchestra in celebrating the near-miraculous
achievements of the film’s characters. In “Crossing Mars,” Gregson-Williams
takes the dramatic swells he used in his Narnia scores’ battle cues and
stretches them even further, encapsulating the intrepid essence of the score in
three-and-a-half minutes. I’ve always liked HGW’s music more than many others
do, but I admit that he still surprised me with his spot-on evocation of the
film’s spirit through his dexterous blend of synths and symphs.
9. Cinderella
(Patrick Doyle)
Lush, opulent, sweeping romantic—such adjectives befit
Patrick Doyle’s best scores, and his score for Disney’s live-action remake is
certainly one of his best. It suffers a bit from thematic anonymity; in fact,
the big moment when Prince Kit sees Cinderella on the dance floor (“Who Is
She”) is underscored not by Doyle’s own theme but by his arrangement of the
traditional “Lavender Blue” song. To be sure, Doyle does write several themes
of his own, but I find their attributions rather fuzzy. A playful theme on
tuned mallet percussion (bells or glockenspiel, maybe; I can’t tell) and piano
at the end of “A Golden Childhood” forms the basis of “La Polka Militaire;”
another theme, richly harmonized and tinged with melancholy, first appears in
“The Great Secret” when Agent Peggy Carter dies and again in the final score
cue, “Courage and Kindness.”
The one theme of the score that I really like (I think it’s
supposed to be the love theme) heralds its brassy arrival in “The Stag,” recurs
in flowing, full strings in “You Shall Go,” adds glorious choir in “Who Is
She,” and concludes the score amidst regal trumpets and wedding bells in
“Courage and Kindness.” It’s a full-blooded, passionate theme in the best Doyle
tradition, and I only wish he had used and developed it more. And speaking of
tradition, what’s a Doyle score without a waltz (“La Valse de L'Amour” is the
best) and rapid-fire ascending and descending arpeggios (“Pumpkin Pursuit”)?
Despite the relative paucity of great themes, this score mostly makes up for it
with its sumptuous orchestrations and irresistibly idyllic mood.
8. Texas Rising (John
Debney and Bruce Broughton)
Two composers—one who’s given more silly comedies than the
dramas and epic adventures he’s so clearly suited for, and one who’s underused
period—unite their forces for a rollicking, throwback Western score. The
galloping, spirited main theme (which sounds just a bit like “She’ll Be Coming
Around the Mountain”) starts the “Texas Rising Suite” off with a bang, whistle
leading to unabashed brass and thrilling punctuations from the full orchestra. The
suite, like the score as a whole, explores a wide range of moods—martial,
tender, lighthearted, lyrical, reflective, and triumphant. “Anderson Wakes
Rangers” evokes the classic, lively “cowboy riding into town” feel, “Rangers Run Into Mexican Army” runs the theme
through classic Western treatment with gleeful abandon, and “Gettin’ a
Whippin’,” as you might guess from the title and genre, delivers banjos and
fiddle-like violin intonations.
The ingeniously titled “Santa Ana and Emily Sex in the Bath”
(it’s not just any sex—it’s Santa Ana and Emily sex) features romantic
explorations from acoustic guitar. (So does “Deaf’s Goodbye to Lupe,” but the
name of that cue just doesn’t have the same ring to it.) The two “Battle of San
Jacinto” cues charge ahead with brawny action, brimming with complex rhythms,
blaring brass fanfares, and judicious use of the main theme. “Emily Rescue” is
almost like a modern country instrumental, complete with drum kit and fiddle
(or fiddle-ish playing from a violin). Both Debney and Broughton make the most
out of the expansive canvas afforded them, penning a score that, if not quite a
modern classic, can still stand unashamedly amongst the best of its Western
brethren.
7. The Avengers: Age
of Ultron (Brian Tyler and Danny Elfman)
I was thoroughly thrilled by Brian Tyler’s scores to Iron
Man 3 and Thor: The Dark World, so I was eagerly anticipating this score—at
last, some musical continuity in the Marvel Cinematic Universe! Danny Elfman’s
sudden entrance caught me by surprise, but he’s one of my favorite composers,
so I wasn’t miffed. While I love Tyler’s incorporation of his burly Iron Man
theme in “Hulkbuster” and Thor’s majestic theme in “The Battle,” I dearly wish
he had done more than just token references. Tyler’s Hulk/Black Widow theme
captures the fragile, tentative nature of the two relationships, but his action
cues, with the exception of the galvanizing “Rise Together,” fall below the
standards of his other Marvel scores.
Thankfully, Elfman more than picks up the slack with some gentle
cues for the farm scenes as well as his trademark frenetic yet melodic action—Elfman’s
“Inevitability-One Good Eye” even ties Tyler’s Iron Man theme seamlessly into
the intensity. Elfman charges Scarlet Witch’s theme with minor-key heroism,
never more so than in its impassioned rendition in “Can You Stop This Thing?”
But the real superheroic feat of the score is Elfman’s main theme, an utterly
monumental tune that incorporates Alan Silvestri’s theme from the first
Avengers and inflates it to mammoth proportions. Given a concert treatment in
“Heroes” and “New Avengers—Avengers Age of Ultron” (the latter adding chorus),
the theme climbs to near-intoxicating levels in the epic “Avengers Unite,”
matching the most thrilling, comic book-y shot I’ve seen in a mainstream
superhero film. The score is, by its nature, a work of two halves, but they
mesh together remarkably well, with Elfman's contributions soaring to empyrean heights. I’m extremely grateful for the improved musical
continuity (Silvestri’s Captain America theme gets a couple subtle nods as
well), but with one composer with a singular musical vision, this score could
have been even better.
(I admit that I didn’t know quite where to rank this score;
the Tyler portions probably wouldn’t make my top ten, but the Elfman cues are
so outrageously outsized and entertaining that I might rank them as high as #3
or #4.)
6. Inside Out
(Michael Giacchino)
Giacchino has established such high standards in his Pixar
scores that his superb score for this sublimely moving film still ranks below
his other scores for the studio save Cars 2. The score revolves around two primary
themes. The first, heard in the opening “Bundle of Joy,” (representing, well,
Joy) is a wispy little tune that repeats each of its phrases with minor
variations; as Joy is the primary character of the film, this is the theme that
recurs most often. It’s pleasant enough but not as emotionally deep as
Giacchino’s themes usually are. Joy’s
theme remains upbeat and lightweight through its various iterations, whether
played on solo piano in the opening cue or with more colorful instrumentation,
as in “Team Building” (though it does receive an action variant in “Rainbow
Flyer”).
Fortunately, the theme for Riley’s core memories proves more
intriguing, more appealing, and, ultimately, more malleable. It’s introduced in
a breezy, almost “travelogue” mode in the title sequence (“Nomanisone
Island/National Movers”) before plumbing the depths of poignancy in “Tears of
Joy” and the sweeping confidence of the full orchestra in “Joy Turns to
Sadness/A Growing Personality.” Giacchino saves this wonderful theme for significant
moments in the film so that when we do hear it, it’s all the more cathartic.
But Joy’s theme, Sadness’s melodically related motif, Bing Bong’s circus-like
theme, a third-act action motif, and an awe-inspiring one-off melody in
“Rainbow Flyer” (reprised with celestial organ in “The Joy of Credits”) provide
plenty of rich, melodic goodies besides the core memories theme. Giacchino
scores the two most touching moments of the film with sparse chords, deciding
to stay out of the way; a more dramatic musical approach possibly would have
driven the already emotional film dangerously close to cornball territory. Because
of this, Inside Out is not as gratifying a listen as The Incredibles,
Ratatouille, or Up, but it supports and even augments the film flawlessly.
Pan is a score of moments—that is, individual cues burst
with Powell’s signature high-octane, heady electricity, but the score as a
whole doesn’t quite hang together. But I enjoy those moments so much that I can
partially forgive the lack of cohesion. Many of the early tracks drive me mad
because of their abrupt tone shifts; just as they’re getting good, they
suddenly stop and make an about-face with a comic musical pratfall—“Mine
Escape” and “Nerverbirds” are especially guilty of this crime. Even though the
main theme resembles the flying theme from How to Traiin Your Dragon, I still
find that particular chord progression invigorating and even inspiring. Peter’s
theme is nice—when we actually get to hear the whole thing, which is maybe
twice in the whole score (“Floating/Neverland Ahoy!” and “Transfiguration”).
However, the captivating, rhythmic energy of
“Kidnapped/Galleon Dog Fight,” the elation of “Inverted Galleon,” and the
emotional release of “Transfiguration” provide the “moments” that make this
score so addicting. Nowhere in the score is Powell’s energy on more
rambunctious display than in “Flying Ship Fight” and “A Boy Who Could Fly.”
Rollicking percussion, swashbuckling fanfares, magnificently kinetic renditions
of the themes, and near-apocalyptic choir pump the thrills to prodigious
levels. Even if these cues pale in comparison to Powell’s work on X-Men: The
Last Stand and the How to Train Your Dragon franchise, I’ll take “epic” Powell
over cartoony, schizophrenic/ADHD Powell any day. For me, the former outweighs
the latter in this score; I’m content to let my mind and ears soar along with
the handful of spectacular cues from this score, even if the whole package
doesn’t gel together.
4. Kingsman: The
Secret Service (Henry Jackman and Matthew Margeson)
I make no apologies for declaring this my fourth favorite
score of 2015, just as I make no apologies for declaring the film as my
favorite action film of the year. Two ballsy, vigorous themes propel this
enthralling score. The primary theme consists of two pairs of three notes each,
often followed by a concluding pair of notes. Introduced (on the CD, at least)
in “Manners Maketh Man,” the theme works equally well as a vibrant fanfare and
as a relentless action ostinato. In fact, in “The Medallion” (actually the
first score cue in the film) the theme starts in ostinato form on delicate
harp, and then gains energy in strings, which transition the theme to fanfare
mode with French horns joining in as the main title appears on screen. The
villainous, lisping Valentine’s theme starts out as an electronic tone (like a
crappy dial-up connection, to paraphrase the composers), but the actual melody
is an audacious, Bond-like melody in which pairs of ascending notes create an
overall descending shape—creating a dramatic tension fit for a character full
of contradictions. In fact, Valentine’s theme sounds a bit like Jackman’s
rejected theme for Magneto from X-Men First Class (before director Matthew
Vaughn told him to keep the bass line and chuck the rest).
Anyway, the main theme serves as the nearly omnipresent
spine of the tremendously exhilarating action cues, especially in the
edge-of-your-seat “Skydiving,” in which electronic beats, churning strings, and
whooping brass steadily build momentum, continuously modulating and increasing
tempo all the way up to the breathtaking conclusion. Equally impressive is the
16-minute climax, comprising the cues “Calculated Infiltration,” “Out of
Options,” “Hand on the Machine,” and “Finale.” As the stakes increase, the
music intensifies relentlessly; highlights include a near-elegiac orchestral
anthem in “Out of Options” reprised even more dramatically in “Finale” over
electric guitar phrases similar to Jackman and Margeson’s work in Kick-Ass 2. The
latter track also features a fateful statement of the main theme augmented by
wondrous choir. (Can you tell that I really like choir?) And, of course,
there’s the cheeky use of Edward Elgar’s Pomp and Circumstance to underline a
colorfully violent yet tongue-in-cheek scene. There’s nothing particularly
complex about this score on a technical level, but there’s just something about
Jackman’s better works that captivates me--certainly much more than the music of just
about every other Hans Zimmer ex-apprentice save for Mark Mancina, Harry
Gregson-Williams, and John Powell.
3. Jupiter Ascending*
(Michael Giacchino)
It’s a bit of a shame that the themes in this gargantuan
score aren’t utterly splendid, for that’s really the only notable flaw in this
work—if the themes had been as good as the ones in, say, Tomorrowland, this
would’ve been an outright masterpiece. As it is, we still get an impressive, complex
score in which we hear Giacchino’s musical voice at its most unadulterated. Giacchino
builds the score around three major themes, though he doesn’t consistently use
them all the way through the score. “Jupiter Ascending—1st Movement”
blasts the listener with an assertive, three-note brass motif that crops up in
several action cues, most notably “Shadow Chase” and “Commitment.” The serpentine
Abrasax theme rears its sinuous head in “The House of Abrasax” before
slithering its way though numerous orchestral and choral developments in “The
House of Abrasax.” Best and most malleable of all is what I’ll call the main theme,
first heard on halting piano in “Jupiter Ascending—3rd Movement;” in
that cue alone the theme burgeons into a sensational variation, complete with
raging choir.
The serene cue “The Titus Clipper” patiently develops its
almost pastoral melody with limpid orchestrations, but the bulk of the score’s
marvels stem from its relentless action music. Before Jupiter Ascending,
Giacchino’s best non-jazz action music was in his Medal of Honor scores; here,
unfettered by John Williams’s influence, he concocts complicated, intense,
full-bore kinetic energy in his own style. Among the shifting rhythms,
fanfares, and instrumental pyrotechnics, Giacchino injects shots of choral
splendor. A raw boy soprano also features in cues such as “Jupiter Ascending—4th
Movement” and “I Hate My Life,” his unpolished voice adding a ragged, eerie
edge to the compositions. “The Shadow Chase” and the climactic “Commitment” are
the best of the action cues, incorporating the three major themes amidst the
tumultuous action; Giacchino has the choir enter at judicious moments to escalate
the spectacle at choice moments rather than just slathering them liberally over
everything. The other action cues also boast rousing action, but these two rise
above the rest with their thematic strength, allowing the melodies to
accentuate the dramatic arc of the music. Although the themes aren’t top-tier
Giacchino, a more consistent application of them would have pushed this score
over Tomorrowland; the themes inexplicably disappear for long sections in the
middle of the score. Giacchino has always been superb at fun, snazzy scores, but
he has now fully come into his own in regards to straightforward dramatic
action—and it’s an intricate, rip-roaring style that I can’t wait to hear more
of.
2. Tomorrowland*
(Michael Giacchino)
While this score isn’t as ambitious as Jupiter Ascending,
the themes are so bright, so infectious, and so unabashedly optimistic that
they would make me grin if I weren’t so outwardly phlegmatic. It’s a little
hard to determine what each theme represents; with the exception of the
delicate yet emotionally sincere theme for the robot “girl” Athena, each melody
serves as a different puzzle piece of the film’s central conceit: the fantastic
dimension of Tomorrowland. Such an approach is fitting for a film in which the
main characters are trying to locate this utopian realm, putting together various
clues in their attempt to reach Tomorrowland (though the film, much like the
score’s application of its themes, isn’t that intellectual).
“A Story of the Future” presents snippets of all but one of
the major themes: Athena’s theme opens the score followed by a French horn
statement of a theme (vaguely reminiscent of the Grail Knight theme from
“Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade”) often associated with George Clooney’s
character Frank Walker. The track closes with what I call the Tomorrowland
motif, melodically related to Athena’s theme, its chugging, rhythmic brass
underpinning evocative of the scientific wizardry behind Tomorrowland. A longer
Tomorrowland theme enters tentatively in “You’ve Piqued My Pin-trist,” an
exotic sounding tune that receives its best workout in “Pin-Ultimate
Expereince” over an exhilaratingly peppy piano ostinato. The Frank/Indy theme
soars with declamatory trumpet fanfares in “Edge of Tomorrowland” and ascends
to more formal but no less impressive heights in “What an Eiffel!” (exclamation
point not mine). “Electric Dreams” features Athena’s theme stripped away to its
poignant essence before the Tomorrowland theme blossoms in its choral
apotheosis. The last couple minutes of “Pins of a Feather” contain the most
electrifying film music I’ve heard this year, Giacchino using the Frank/Indy
theme and the intensifying orchestration to increase the almost unbridled
momentum until the cue reaches its final peroration. The action music isn’t as melodic or rich as
it could have been, but this irresistibly buoyant score is yet another feather
(or at least the pin of one) in Giacchino’s already extravagantly plumed cap.
1. Star Wars: The
Force Awakens* (John Williams)
I wouldn’t call Williams’s new themes instant classics; they
certainly took a few listens to grow on me. But right from the “Attack on the
Jakku Village,” we know we’re back in that warm, familiar Star Wars universe, even
if it would sound more at home in the prequels than in the original trilogy.
Rapid-fire brass proclamations, rich strings, and woodwind filigree welcome
listeners back to a faraway galaxy. The themes for Finn and Kylo Ren come
across as undeveloped—rather befitting the characters, but I doubt Williams
could make concert arrangements out of them without considerable embellishment.
The “March of the Resistance” isn’t as direct and robust as the Rebel fanfare,
but it inspires a sense of punch-the-air heroism, particularly when the
Resistance first arrives on Takodana and when they prepare for the assault on
the Starkiller base. Williams’s fugal arrangement adds a touch of class to the
march; unlike the scrappier Rebel alliance, the Resistance is backed by a
Republic that’s been around for a while. Even more stirring in Poe’s underused
theme; rippling with brazen valor, this wonderful theme made me perk up my ears
and take notice when I first heard the score. Best used in the one-shot scene
when Finn watches Poe’s aerial calisthenics, this theme deserves further
development and greater prominence in future installments.
Rey’s multilayered theme accentuates the complexity of the
character, a depth only hinted at in the rapid-fire-paced film itself. Starting
off with a pair of wistful, distinct, and catchy ostinatos, the theme expresses
an almost ineffable yearning along with a healthy dose of nascent heroism and
just a dash of melancholy. This last emotion is a particular point of interest;
we get glimpses in the film of a traumatic event in Rey’s past, but in the
present, she forbears from outwardly evincing much sorrow—a complicated trait
elegantly expressed in Williams’s graceful theme. I also get a kick out of how Williams’s
molds two of the classic themes—he mostly plays the Force theme, Leia’s theme,
and the Han/Leia love theme straight, but he tinkers with the Rebel fanfare’s
intervals in “The Falcon” and fashions the main theme into an exuberant scherzo
in “Scherzo for X-Wings.” And as for “The Jedi Steps and Finale,” I’ll
plagiarize a Facebook comment I made: The first 90 seconds are absolutely
spine-tingling, “further proof of John Williams’s adroit dramaturgical
expertise.” I’d still rank the score below all the other Star Wars scores
except Attack of the Clones (Across the Stars and the Coruscant chase are all
that score has going for it, honestly, though without those, it would still be
a mid-tier Williams score), but that’s only because the others are nearly
peerless. I don’t know if this score will make somebody fall in love with film
music, but for those who are already film score fans, it offers a luxuriant
bounty of riches to savor.
Friday, January 1, 2016
Overview of 2015 Scores Part 2 of 3
Although the Danna Brothers’ Pixar score ranks behind those
from Michael Giacchino and Thomas Newman as well as Randy Newman’s better
efforts, it still aptly accentuates the breathtaking landscapes and
straightforward relationships of the film. While the quantity of themes is
impressive—the score features tunes for Arlo, Arlo’s home, Arlo’s family, Spot,
and the T-Rexes—many of them sound just a little too similar. The family theme, first heard in “Make Your
Mark,” imparts nobility with its reverent chords, while “Run with the Herd”
features galloping statements of the T-Rex-theme, the home theme, and Arlo’s
theme. The Dannas’ characteristic use of exotic instrumental colors adds zest
to the harmonically pleasing tunes, even if the effect fails to reach the
admittedly lofty heights that Thomas Newman periodically reaches using similar
musical ingredients. Perhaps the score’s only crime is not being as spectacular
or memorable as other similar scores; it’s certainly pleasant with a
well-structured dramatic arc.
(The Good Dinosaur Film Review)
(The Good Dinosaur Film Review)
Gregson-Williams in electronic thriller mode is hit (Spy
Game) or miss (The Number 23), but his orchestral scores almost always evince
the composer’s command of melody and color. Exotic, ethereal voices and frisky,
frolicsome rhythms abound in this score—sometimes in the same cue (“A Magical
Kingdom”). “Maya” introduces a winsome little tune on pan flute—amidst all of
the Tony Scott scores, one can forget that HGW is so good at writing these
softer, appealing themes. “Top of the Trees” starts a pleasant groove—the
delicate flute flourishes are a particularly nice touch. There’s an unexpected
but lovely waltz in “The Lily Pond,” while “Termites” and “Retaking the Rock”
boast lush strings fit for long shots of some natural vista. The latter cue
features a touch of action as well, though it’s not top-tier Gregson-Williams
material. As the adjectives in this long-winded paragraph reveal, this is a
feel-good score, but it doesn’t have any truly spectacular moments or strong
melodies.
Faced with the unenviable position of filling in for John
Williams, Thomas Newman more than acquitted himself with his dignified music
for this lauded Spielberg film. While Newman doesn’t abandon most of the
elements that constitute his musical voice—the vivid instrumentation, prickly
rhythmic ostinatos, and passages of tranquil harmonic bliss—he molds these
elements into a more classically dramatic approach in the best Williams
tradition. Resonant Russian choral tunes and a sincere, almost ballad-like main
theme form the staunch foundation for the score, culminating in the impressive
trifecta of “Glienicke Bridge,” “Homecoming,” and “End Credits” (which also
make up more than half of the score’s running time). The first cue in this trio
offers a master class on how to steadily build suspense without relying on dull
drones or humdrum percussion patterns, the second explores heartfelt Americana,
and the end credits showcase Newman’s invigorating choral writing. The first
half of the score remains rather restrained, but I suppose that’s only
reflecting the nature of the film itself.
Although I wasn’t the biggest fan or Price’s Gravity, he did
establish a distinct voice. The Hunt takes the most appealing aspects of
Price’s musical style and spreads them out over 2.5 hours of mostly standalone
cues, each one aurally portraying different species or aspects of the natural
kingdom. Price starts the album with the best cue right off the bat—“A Game of
Strategy” features an energizing anthem at once lyrical and heroic, reminiscent
of Gravity’s penultimate cue. Price’s signature electronic manipulations of the
orchestra don’t grate as they did in Gravity, but instead galvanize the theme,
the sounds meshing with the counters of the melody organically. “The Blue
Whale” is another highlight, orchestra and choir moving from ethereal wonder to
almost transcendent majesty; string patterns play off each other, adding to the
music’s kinetic energy. However, aside from five or six other cues, much of the
rest of the lengthy score, while competent, fails to approach the stirring vibrancy
of these two highlights.
Given the movie’s sensationally lurid subject matter, Elfman
wisely decided not to get too kinky with the music and risk camping up the
images. (Or maybe they were still campy; I’m certainly not about to watch the
film to find out.) A more lush variation on his recent documentary scores, the
score relies on patterns, textures, and motifs rather than on overt, hummable
themes. “Shades of Grey” sets the tone with bubbling electronics, sighing
flute, and Elfman’s characteristically skittering strings. “The Red Room” finds
Elfman getting a little funky with the electronics, recalling his music for
Dead Presidents and the main titles for To Die For. Electric guitar creates an
atmosphere of slowly simmering preparation and release in “Ana and Christian”
(similar to the finale of The Kingdom), while voices denote sensual ecstasy in
“Counting to Six” (and reaching ironically angelic heights in the non-Elfman
composed “Bliss”). Elfman threads the conclusive “Variations on a Shade” (the
best track) with an almost pop-ish beat on drum kit and electronics, orchestra
churning under aspiring parallel notes from violins and bass guitar. The lack
of a strong melody is a bit of a shame, but Elfman, as is his wont, still
creates appealing music with just a touch (in this case) of cheekiness.
Although this score shows that Giacchino isn’t quite John
Williams’s successor, it does offer further proof that he is one of the most
talented composers working today. After a welcome arrangement of Williams’s fantastic
Jurassic Park theme (“Welcome to Jurassic World”), Giacchino mostly sticks to
his own material, with snatches of Williams’s “island” fanfare and even the
Lost World theme adding a kick to the proceedings. Giacchino shrewdly writes
his new themes so they reflect the tone of Williams’s themes. The Indominus Rex
theme’s low horns echo the ominous cast of the Velociraptor theme; the delicate
family theme recalls the sparkling, childlike lullaby of “Remembering Petticoat
Lane;” and the resplendent Jurassic World melody effortlessly flows into
Williams’s Jurassic Park theme in “Nine to Survival Job.” However, it’s best
not to compare the score to Williams’s near-peerless original as you’ll
admittedly come away disappointed. Giacchino’s action material isn’t quite up
to his usual standards, relying more on staid repetition of short musical
fragments. Despite this minor reservation, choice moments, such as the brutal
choral chanting in “Our Rex Is Bigger Than Yours” inject ample thrills, while
Giacchino applies and develops his new themes—the arrogant, militaristic melody
for InGen is particularly admirable—with remarkable aplomb.
From the first to the third entry in Cookie Monster’s
favorite franchise, James Newton Howard’s scores have gotten better, even if
they haven’t quite reached the apex of his capabilities. The final entry
continues the trend by being slightly better than its immediate predecessor,
featuring the most sustained, thrilling, and rich action cues in the series. It’s
not all blood and thunder, with “Your Favorite Color Is Green” developing a
folk melody into a liturgical hymn and a spoiler-titled track pushing a solo
female vocal into near-operatic peaks. The two “Attack” cues (Sewer and Rebels)
surge with dynamic syncopated ostinatos, sumptuous fanfares worthy of the
composer’s Disney scores, and staccato choir outbursts—a far cry from the
stripped down action cues in the first Hunger Games. To cap off the series,
Howard sends off Rue’s heartbreaking theme with a gorgeous threnody followed by
cascading waves of strings joined by triumphant brass and choir. The score is
still far from Howard’s best, but he did manage to gradually introduce the lush
compositional mannerisms that made so many (like me) fall in love with his
music.
While not as John Williams-esque as Jackman proclaimed in
various interviews, Pixels still mostly eschews the 8-bit video arcade palette
the composer had so adroitly employed in Wreck-It Ralph in favor of florid
orchestral and choral gestures. The score’s primary weakness is its relatively
anonymous theme. First heard in “The Arcaders,” the melody’s ascending shape, strumming
electric guitar backing, and triumphant, brassy orchestration—all reminiscent
of the superior Big Hero 6 theme—do mark it as an unmistakably Jackman
composition. The score is all about the action cues, and the composer provides
all the bells and whistles (though there aren’t many actual bells and whistles,
if any). “Call to Cavalry” marches ahead with forthright determination towards
a descending rendition of the main theme amidst swirling strings, while
portentous choir threads its way through “Centipede,” “Shoot ‘Em Up,” and
“Mothership.” In the climactic “Roll Out the Barrels,” Jackman deftly weaves
various harmonic variations of the theme throughout the action, ending with a
noble brass version that sounds like the song “City of Lights” from The Brave
Little Toaster. Finally, Jackman concedes to the film’s video game villains
with the addictive, all too brief “Arcaders ’82,” even if does contain a
healthy dose of modern electronics alongside the retro samples. With a longer,
more sophisticated them and a better dramatic arc, this could have been one of
the scores of the year; as it is, it’s still a lively, energetic composition.
Beck’s swaggering, animated music deftly combines tropes
from superhero scores and heist scores to pleasing effect. The odd-metered
rhythm of the main theme provides the jazzy heist element (even more pronounced
in the surf-guitar cue “Tales to Astonish!”) while the actual melody furnishes
the requisite brassy heroism. “Scott Surfs on Ants, “Into the Hornet’s Nest,”
“Flight of the Bumblebee,” and “Ants on a Train” offer the best moments of
snazzy action while “Small Sacrifice” plays the main theme in a warmhearted
guise. The similarly warm theme for the Wasp balances all the stylish licks,
though it too plays in action mode in “Your Mom Died a Hero.” “First Mission”
features a grin-inducing cameo of Alan Silvestri’s Avengers theme and even more
pleasantly surprising statements of Henry Jackman’s Falcon motif from Captain
America: The Winter Soldier. Such respectful references to other Marvel scores
alongside the lively heist elements make for an attractive score, even if it
ultimately fails to reach the raw entertainment value of Alan Silvestri, Brain Tyler,
and Patrick Doyle’s contributions to the Marvel Cinematic Universe.
Jack Wall’s scores for Myst III and IV were the first game
scores I loved, so I always look forward to any new work of his. Wall’s
electronics-heavy, high-octane music here is, on the surface, the polar
opposite of his lush, lyrical work on the Myst games. Indeed, cues such as
“Chasing Secrets,” “Cloud Mountain,” and “P.A.W.W.S” bristle with synthesized
momentum and power anthems; “Ramses Station” almost sounds like something you’d
hear on a dance floor. (No, not a ballroom one, though someone should try it
and see what happens). However, “Prologue/Black Ops” and “I Live (Orchestral
Version)” feature the explosive, dramatic mixed choir writing that were a
staple of his Myst scores, with “Ego Vivo” showcasing the voices in a more
liturgical mode. “Liberty Road” surges with triumphant orchestral action,
complete with flute and brass flourishes, excited strings, and a stirring
melody that Basil Poledouris would be proud to call his own. Several
tongue-in-cheek jazz, blues, country, swing, and Caribbean songs (for the
game’s zombie mode) are delightful bonuses. More entertaining to Wall’s work
for Black Ops 2, this score impresses with its mix of propulsive action and robust
melody.
Read Part 3 here.
Read Part 3 here.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)