Intrada Soundtrack Forum

March 07, 2000

Anna And The King Of Siam
Composed And Conducted By Bernard Herrmann
Varese Sarabande 302 066 091 2
51 Tracks
Total Time 64:38

This album is hard to resist. One of those famous movie, famous composer, famous score things. I shouldn’t need to coax you much.

Herrmann is neat because he’s one composer who excites listeners in all movie music eras. There’s the "golden age", the "silver age" and the current age, whatever it’s called. Examine all three and there’s Herrmann. There’s the early Orson Welles stuff, the later Hitchcocks, then Truffaut, De Palma, Scorsese. His fan base crosses all those gaps. There’s Herrmann in collections next to Steiner and Rozsa, there’s Herrmann in collections next to Bernstein and North, there’s Herrmann in collections next to Zimmer and Elfman. That’s impressive.

Few composers have musical styles named after them. Say "Herrmannesque" however and they’ll know what you mean.

Anna And The King Of Siam has some neat things. First on my mind is orchestration. Full orchestra, some highlighted percussion. But notice the brass, especially trumpets. They’re muted a lot. For background passages, for leading sections. Like other Herrmann music there’s a heavy dose of woodwinds. But here Herrmann gets his brass into the spirit, mutes them, makes them blend and vibrate with the reeds. It’s a great color.

It’s heard right from the start. Muted trumpets color the Prelude, playing fortissimo, yet restrained by straight mutes. They’ve a thin, pinched, unique color, especially in the upper register. Also vibrant are high woodwind flurries, emphasizing flute. Add xylophone, chimes, tam-tam, gong and you’ve got a vibrant, metallic sound.

Another neat effect is the emphasis on octaves, often an absence of harmony. Again listen to the Prelude. The entire main "king’s theme" is heard immediately, in octaves by all players, in all registers, without harmony. It’s a device used numerous times in the score.

And there’s more. There’s harmony, but not cliché. Avoiding usual Hollywood "east meets west" stuff (parallel fourths and fifths) Herrmann digs deeper. When he goes for a traditional idea there’s contrary motion rather than parallel, lots of seconds, tritones, etc. Whether you pick up on this or not matters little. What you’ll notice easily enough are powerful shifts between consonant sounds (octaves, fifths) and dissonant ones (seconds, tritones). The big moment in that durable Prelude tells all.

This language is familiar to anyone who likes 7th Voyage Of Sinbad, an uncle to Anna And The King. Brother or sister, actually.

Balancing the bright sonorities are dark woodwind passages, such as during "The King". Siam, of course, is a country still very much in the dark. Further contrast comes from an agitated rapid figure for flutes, touched on during the Prelude, elaborated through "The Street", given melodic shape during "The Harem".

New melodic interest comes with "Siam" and "First Lesson", and with variants as in "The Children".

Another impressive device comes with the theme for "Tuptim", a tragic figure deeply wrapped in the king’s dilemma of old and new. Featuring oboe, it’s a skillful variant of the king’s theme, mirroring the line but elaborating on it with additional twists and turns.

There are dramatic outbursts, as with "The Stake", also featuring muted trumpets, this time in an agitated, fierce fashion.

A favorite moment comes late in the score, during track 43, titled "Montage". In a marriage of eastern/western thought, the score bursts forth momentarily with tried and true major chords in the brass. It’s a brief and splendid celebration.

Continuing down this path Herrmann creates a lengthy "Elegy" for the final sequence with Anna and the King. Warm strings, bathed in rich harmony, weave a gentle bed for this tender scene to play over. Heard under dialog in the movie, it shows Herrmann had a gift for coloring a mood without intruding on any specific line or visual.

With the final "Coronation" Herrmann lets the major chords take over completely. Gone are the strident sonorities of the opening. In their place are triumphant, passioned colors. The king leaves an impressive legacy. The world is changing and so is Siam.

It’s a score begging for a big major chord finish, and Herrmann’s on top of it.

An editorial note here. Several bonus tracks follow, various chants and what not. Fun for a listen, food for the purists, they do rob some power of the score moving from darkness to light, so to speak. Try stopping after "The Coronation" finale.

The magnificent quality seems another labor of love for tireless producer Nick Redman. Also present are familiar, trustworthy producers Bruce Kimmel and Rick Victor. Most of the material is in stereo, crisply detailed, remarkably quiet - and brightly vibrant. This is particularly evident (and welcome) in those many sections of high muted brass and agitated flute/xylophone figures. Another plus is the sequencing, leaving the cues to speak for themselves. Not so fragmented as it may seem, these particular cues work as tiny, yet complete musical ideas. It’s a "divertimento" of sorts, an array of little pieces linked by numerous devices that actually go somewhere.

Just what you’d want from a composer so comfortably sandwiched between Steiner and Zimmer.

March 14, 2000

Nailing The Moment
Composed And Conducted By A Lot Of People

When Anthony Perkins (playing Jimmy Piersall) starts throwing tantrums on the baseball diamond Elmer Bernstein builds his music dramatically in French horns. The scene shifts to a powerful montage of hits, runs, tantrums, and Bernstein’s main theme slams in full force. So goes Fear Strikes Out, a commanding 1957 movie, and so goes a great moment in film scoring. Elmer Bernstein is literally "nailing the moment".

Watch the anchor raise upwards, pirate Geena Davis hanging on, all to a rousing flourish from John Debney. That’s Cutthroat Island. That’s "nailing the moment".

The "moment" needn’t be from one of the great film scores of all time. Nor from a legendary composer. Not even a great movie. Anything and anyone qualifies.

What is it?

That moment when the composer supports a scene, adds to it, carries it even, where no other piece of music would be better. No matter what the picture is, what the efforts of the composer, when a scored scene is playing in a manner no other music can improve on, the composer is "nailing the moment".

Not all composers have hit that spot. Many an important, world-class masterpiece film score, rich in stirring, influential writing, is nonetheless lacking the "moment". The criteria is simply a single scene made to perfection, scored no-matter-how by no-matter-who.

It’s one time seasoned veterans and greenhorns alike have equal opportunity. It’s literally Korngold, Zimmer and Pray For Rain all together on a level playing field.

Anyway, some examples I like. And feel free to toss me some of yours. I love discoveries like these.

When a large bomber and a small helicopter hurl towards each other, capping an exciting chase, Dustin Hoffman screams "we’re not moving!" from the endangered chopper. His scream is overtaken by a furious orchestral outburst courtesy James Newton Howard. Witness Outbreak and "nailing the moment".

Harrison Ford and his team are under siege by rooftop soldiers. Rocket-propelled- grenades, explosions, mayhem. Overmatched, Ford and crew struggle to shelter, people fall, slow motion cameras and explosive sound effects working overtime. And suddenly Ford gives a heroic push, elevated by powerful leaping brass over descending chords. James Horner has given Clear And Present Danger one of those "moments".

Liam Neeson may be losing this final sword fight. Tim Roth looks confident. Suddenly Neeson grips the blade, strength from hell, and Carter Burwell takes command with a surge of brass. This time it’s Rob Roy.

The launch is happening. Apollo 13 is a go. Music’s playing, sound effects rattle, visuals are carrying us towards the final countdown. Then out from his car steps observer Gary Sinise, not on board. There’s no big crescendo, no punctuation saying he’s being left behind. Only a warm shift from major to minor and back in a wordless chorus. Wow. Guess the composer, guess the movie.

Rock Hudson checks out his new SAC facilities. He’s down in the silo. So’s a titan missile, close-up. As eyes and camera reach upward in chunks, so goes Jerry Goldsmith’s music. Not just an ascending figure, Jerry’s horns angle upwards in intervals, pieces. He hits his peak as the camera hits the missile top. Good enough reason to check out A Gathering Of Eagles.

"They took the little boy" states Danny Glover. It pushes Scott Glenn to his limit. There’s gonna be a gunfight, and Bruce Broughton accents every weapon loaded and every shadow on the cave wall as our cowboys buckle up. No background suspense music here, Broughton builds layers of fourths, fifths, fragments of his main Silverado theme, crescendos them into that climactic "This Oughta Do!" with his own vengeance.

It’s mealtime and young Roddy McDowall awaits with mother for his father to arrive. It won’t happen. Catholics are despised in this part of town and walking home alone in such dress is dangerous. Sometimes fatal. As blows rain Alfred Newman pounds not just dissonant but powerful major chords across the soundtrack. A good man has been slain. It all happens early in Keys Of The Kingdom.

Steve McQueen finally stops joking. The smile’s gone. So’s his beloved dog. When Jackie Gleason begs him share the sorrow he utters his angry "dammit Maxwell!" line. Gleason exits and a powerful scene is underway. What kicks it into gear musically? A surge in the orchestra? A shout from the chorus? Try a single low note on piano. That’s it. As low strings grow from it Henry Mancini pulls even the most cynical moviegoer into despair. McQueen becomes a Soldier In The Rain.

"Moments" just pop into my head. For no particular reason (other than time, space, energy, reader interest and personal memory lapse) I’ll try to save a few for next week.

March 21, 2000

Nailing The Moment - Part 2
Composed And Conducted By A Lot Of People

Someone asked me if I thought any lesser-known composer had ever "nailed the moment". Did I only notice the heavyweights? Didn’t Frank Skinner ever - even once - really nail a scene? Leith Stevens? Any of the Europeans?

Yea, you bet your duff. So here goes.

With half his family dead, James Stewart’s returning from a futile search for his youngest boy. He’s tired, he’s giving up. There’s a rustle of horses, a Confederate soldier awakens, a rifle shot cracks. As another family member falls, Frank Skinner captures the horror on Stewart’s face, not with dissonance, nor slashing strings, but with low trombones in unison. Anger and hurt in one simple figure, far more powerful than any standard horror cliché. What a great moment in Shenandoah.

Anyone who’s seen War Of The Worlds knows what effect Leith Stevens had on the moment when the Pastor walks towards the Martians, bible in hand. No deal. Bam! Stevens paints the grim sequence not with suspense, nor impending horror, but with a gentle chorale in woodwinds, swelling in brass. He was on top of it. He "nailed" the scene.

Pay attention to what happens before that last bullfight for The Moment Of Truth. Piero Piccioni does. Not just a matador facing the bull, but a hero now fallen from grace. More than just flamenco, the music searches, unusually haunting, then drives forward. Like the bull.

Watch the camera path leading to a most gruesome bathtub discovery in True Confessions. Georges Delerue knew the focus was on two main characters (a priest and a cop) as much as the crime scene being revealed. Hear dark strings, low chorus take over. We’ve a revelation in store for De Niro and Duvall.

The game is underway one last time. Swinging, higher and higher. Touching the sky! Paul Glass combines his nursery rhyme sensibilities with crescendos of aggressive power and chaos. An incredible wedding of visuals with music. Bunny Lake Is Missing no more.

On a similar note. The camera showed us a cleaver. It was right there. Now we’re seeing that counter again. The cleaver’s gone! Frank DeVol hits that nail right on the head. A leaping interval in French horns. That’s it. That’s his cue. Bruce Dern’s gonna go down already and we haven’t even had the titles yet to Hush... Hush Sweet Charlotte.

Everything’s quiet. There’s fog. Arthur’s knights creep about, searching. An arrow splits the silence and a knight is impaled. Ron Goodwin shoves this particular battle scene into gear not with any flurry of notes nor regal fanfares. Just an incredible, brilliant low major chord in trombones. Perhaps on paper a strange way to kick off a battle cue, but in Lancelot And Guinevere (a.k.a. Sword Of Lancelot) it works wonders.

Some random others.

Ralph Macchio and Tamlyn Tomita sit together for tea in Okinawa. The Karate Kid II takes a break. Romance is in the air, the youngsters sit across from each other in silence. Many a composer would boost the romance, tug at the heart. A time for strings. Not Bill Conti. He watches the ceremony, the cups, tea. Tentative woodwinds work, long descending lines linger. There’s no dialog. Just music gently reaching, touching, like a pair of virgin lovers. Music commenting on the locale at the same time. It’s definitely an example of a composer "nailing the moment".

George Segal’s had it. Bullets flying everywhere. The Germans everywhere. The span of Remagen bridge strewn with casualties. He just ups and advances, alone. Captures the enemy out of sheer guts. Elmer Bernstein avoids nerve-wracking battle music, hits the right note with a triumphant near-endless series of major chords, a brilliantly disguised version of his main theme, actually. It’s the highlight of The Bridge At Remagen.

Roy Scheider’s had enough too. Time to "follow my leader" and settle the dogfight once and for all. Arthur B. Rubinstein lets loose a flourish of brass in octaves. In every register. It’s helicopter heaven. Playtime’s over and someone’s going down for good this time in Blue Thunder.

The story comes full circle. Al Pacino lays hit, his world goes upside down. We saw this coming at the beginning, now we finally see why and how. Patrick Doyle hits no stingers, no brutal murder music. Just an incredibly rich and passionate elegy for strings. Carlito’s Way has many musical moments but this one just nails home.

Speaking of Doyle, when the big secret’s revealed in Donnie Brasco (another Pacino movie) the music does all the talking. Emotionally direct, hitting strong, Doyle had a big handful to deal with in a climactic (and powerhouse) sequence. And he hits with a wallop.

This can just keep going. Maybe I’ll think of some more later.

March 28, 2000

Mission To Mars
Composed And Conducted By Ennio Morricone
Hollywood Records HR-62257
11 Tracks
Total Time 62:18

Ennio Morricone doing science fiction. Not his home stomping ground. A couple others, notably The Thing, but mostly a genre he’s been absent from.

Viewers have not been kind to the movie. Not a thriller, it goes for awe-inspiring. Perhaps too sluggish. Non-eventful.

Morricone brings to the table a big orchestra and chorus. Solo instruments too, particularly soprano trumpet. And a neat device of "heartbeats" that pulse into the fabric on occasion.

"A Heart Beats In Space" is a lengthy exposition of material. In a manner not distant from his Sergio Leone music Morricone draws long lines and colors them with fragmented solo ideas that dart in and about. Continuing with "A Martian" the music works in deliberate manner. When the material broadens one senses that Morricone is going for rapture, exultation. Morricone keeps his harmonic palette clean and free of dissonance. Sheer beauty and nothing but.

During "A World Which Searches" the listener notices that a fragile descending motif, noodling ever-present throughout the entire score, has become a major device. And still that rich, rhapsodic feeling.

It’s when "And Afterwards" that Morricone introduces his tension. Taking strings, woodwinds and voices into unexplored regions, the music becomes dissonant, clustered. An agitated electronic motif participates too, interrupting at will as the piece winds down.

"A Wife Lost" moves inward, wistful, spotlighting delicate bassoon solos and a warm major key throughout.

But Morricone has other ideas too. "Towards The Unknown" opens with a simple rhythmic pulse, electronics alone. For over eight minutes the mood tightens, increasing tension through density. Jabs of strings and muted brass later add color. Only when the noose is tightened does Morricone let go. And then only momentarily. Dense material has final say.

"Sacrifice Of A Hero" is a highlight. Strong chords for brass, swelling strings and chorus, finally a moving elegy. From there Morricone develops aggressive material, brings the elegiac mood back, goes sideways with dissonance again, then builds everything to a passionate trumpet solo over rich major chords. Morricone doing Americana. Rare indeed.

In a double whammy Morricone follows with a spectacular sequence replete with brass fanfares and energetic statements from the entire orchestra. Called "Where?" this music becomes the climax of the entire score. A brief episode of drama follows, and a concluding piece built from the more rapturous music concludes everything on a quiet note.

For a fun experiment try reversing that last piece with the aforementioned "Where?" track. The effect is stunning. Melody still gets spotlighted but everything swells into a majestic, powerhouse finale.

Both endings work but after a lengthy musical journey it’s pretty neat to have such a spectacular finish.

This package has everything. Stunning sound. Generous playing time. Long cues. Neat cover art.

Perhaps the movie has ambitions it can not fulfill. But Morricone is off in his own world. You’ll be glad to go on this mission with him.