Category: Best Song

Audio/Visual: A Decade of Music in Film

the illusionist

Here we are, at the end of 2009. I’m recalling my top ten favorite film scores of the past decade and we’re down to the last two. Some of you may be under the impression that I prefer certain picks on my list more than others. This is not the case. I had a hard enough time picking out a slim ten so I didn’t even bother trying to prioritize them. I consider them all equally important and enjoyable. However, these next two are my last presented because they, out of the ten, are the most personal. By this I mean that I feel my own tastes are most strongly represented by these two soundtracks. Listen to them both and you will have the gist of what I love about music in film.
Let’s start with WE ARE THE STRANGE. If you’ve never seen this film (and likely you haven’t) I recommend you google/youtube it. However, truth be told, I don’t much expect many people will “get” the film right away. Much like KILL BILL, this film is a love letter to the creator’s influences. Like him, if you grew up on video games and Japanese animation, you’ll be delighted by its presentation of themes and imagery common to such fair. However, watch the film on a deeper and you’ll see that there’s more too it than just a love letter to the 8-bit era. There’s hints of Akira Kurosawa, Terry Gilliam, The Brothers Quay, and a powerful brooding that brings to mind the eerie atmosphere of Dario Argento’s films.
And that’s just the film. The wonder of the soundtrack (created by a collective including the creator M Dot Strange, a Japanese violinist and several famous chiptune musicians. You can tell right away that there’s several spectrums of talent involved, as the score bounces from deathly string wailing to gleeful Nintendo carnage metamorphing into sheer electronic terror. This is one of the few films I chose whose soundtrack is immediately gripping; if you don’t notice it, you must be brain dead. That’s not to say that it overpowers the film; that’s impossible. Instead, it succeeds at being easily as powerful and innovative.
And there’s the core of why this is such an important soundtrack for me. The challenge of meeting the demands of the visual component must have been daunting. Variety describes the film as “a Freudian/spiritual/psycho-dramatic and high-tech catalog of visual imagery through the ages, as well as a plummet into the bramble patch of Strange’s soul.” That’s a very apt description. It’s impossible to imagine the sounds that should accompany such an insane head trip but imagine they did, and bring it to life with nary a flaw. To describe how striking, how fascinating the music is… like the film, it must be heard to be believed.
At the opposite end the spectrum is the music of THE ILLUSIONIST as composed by Philip Glass. When you think of a film score, this is what you think of; symphonic, sweeping, lush. In a word, cinematic. But it’s also a very subversive soundtrack that has the most rewarding repeat experience I’ve ever had with a soundtrack. And to me, that’s just as important as originality. It takes imagination to come up with something innovative and fresh but it takes talent to make people come back to it again and again. And Philip Glass does this with a godly omnipotence.
Glass is not known for his subtlety. Many describe his music a jokey cliche; Philip Glass walks into a bar Philip Glass walks into a bar Philip Glass walks into a bar. But that’s the beauty of the Glass style; unless you’re actually paying attention, it’s nothing but repetition. It doesn’t take much effort, but you actually do have to put away your thoughts and toys for a moment to capture the utter joy of Philip Glass’ work by absorbing the nuances within. And, like the best works of art, the more you immerse yourself in it, the more you’ll enjoy it. Like nature and life, it’s a cycle.
Now that you are prepared to comprehend and enjoy the music of THE ILLUSIONIST, let me tell you why you’ll enjoy it. The score to THE ILLUSIONIST is pure magic. By “magic”, I’m referring to the kind a magician, an illusionist would conjure. A mystery. It is a cat and mouse game played out in symphonic form. It’s noir, but it does away with the distracting features of traditional noir and distills it to the essentials. There’s wonder here and there, but it’s not a childlike, innocent wonder; it’s more awe and giddiness that prefaces the inevitable climbing spiral of spine-tingling suspense.
And really, that’s what enraptures me the most about this score; pure suspense. Build up. Each song is a small kind of lifeform; some begin as broad strokes, whirling and excited that inevitably pounce with brilliant majesty and glory. Others sway and shimmer seductively, gradually evolving into a gleaming, intense panorama replete with swelling banks of string, keening flutes, booming cellos, a whole ecosystem of grandiose sound. It’s an entirely different species of music whose appeal lies entirely outside of its manifestation; imagine a massive, aged, monolithic structure that towers above you darkly in the night, looming and great with dozens of stunning features that catch the eye and yet, as a whole, overwhelm the senses.
And that closes out my review of the top ten soundtracks of the past decade. I regret that I haven’t yet heard the music of what could be my favorite film of all time: THE IMAGINARIUM OF DR PARNASSUS. It could easily surpass any of these on my list, but I’m unwilling to experience it outside the film’s climes; to do so would seem cheating. So we’ll make do with this for now. I hope my blathering didn’t spoil your appetite for music in film too much, and here’s to another ten years of greatness.
Audio/Visual: A Decade of Music in Film is dedicated to the memory of my grandfather, Lawrence Poleski.

Audio/Visual: A Decade of Music in Film

a scanner darkly

It’s time to get the real party started. I’ve whittled down what I prefer to think of as the “critical darlings” of my top ten best scores of the past decade. From this point on, it’s all subjective. The next three scores are personal favorites that I feel are real standouts from the hordes of disappointingly functional soundtracks I’ve witnessed. Before I continue, let me clarify a few things. I chose these scores (and this is so for the previous picks) not just because they suited their respective films; this they did well. I am highlighting them because they are also, standalone, great music that isn’t content to merely assist the visual action. At times, these soundtracks may even overwhelm the film itself, though this is a rarity. I love them because it’s not until you hear them outside their natural habitat that you realize how phenomenal they are.
The score for Dave McKean’s MIRRORMASK is a great example of this. The first time I heard this score, I was mildly intrigued but I couldn’t figure out why it stood out, because so much of the film fought with it visually. If you’ve never seen MIRRORMASK, it’s a starkly rendered treat that isn’t quite CG but not at all an animated film so it’s no surprise that I had to sample the score on its own to grasp its appeal.
Like the movie, the soundtrack is a dark carnival of eccentric textures, though one particular facet is notable. Iain Ballamy, a close friend the director and cooperator of their shared record label, was brought on to compose, having worked in the past with David Bowie on a musical film. Much like LOST IN TRANSLATION, this is again an example of a director working closely with the composer, adding his own ideas to the mix and enhancing the accuracy of what is portrayed through the music.
What you get really is very unique. Ballamy, an immensely talented saxophone player, keeps traditional instruments in the forefront, bringing to bear only a few layers of sound and the occasional electronic trimmings. Consequently, the music is hauntingly minimalist; even the lighter pieces feel unsettled and spectral. What Ballamy wasn’t afraid to do is to really explore; the score traverses just about every landscape imaginable, from twisted whimsy to psychedelic ambiance transforming into a frenetic, percussion-driven rush. It must’ve been difficult to keep up with the film itself in terms of creativity and spectacle, and yet he churned out a distinctly brilliant gem that glitters darkly alongside the film itself, hidden but vivacious and keen.
To this day, I still don’t know what to make of the score for A SCANNER DARKLY. I’m not familiar at all with the composer, Graham Reynolds, or his Golden Arm Trio. They’re really about as enigmatic as it gets. Which is a crying shame, because this is a sucker punch of a score. While the MIRRORMASK music was subtle like a tight rope performer, A SCANNER DARKLY has a capably menacing atmosphere that never quite lets up. Much like Jonny Greenwood’s work with THERE WILL BE BLOOD, Reynolds utilizes a subtle blend of electronics and strings, but rather than screech with discordant dread, A SCANNER DARKLY chooses to shimmer with a glossy noir gloom that is really tantalizing.
What really sticks in my head about this score is how chilling it is. The blend of deep, bluesy noir, percussive electronics, and dramatic strings is dosed perfectly. They could’ve erred on the side of computerization and come out too inhuman, or they could’ve bent too far into the noir realm and risked undermining the warped, frantic transformations the film throws at the audience. Instead, there’s a perfect balance in place, resulting in a body of sound that I would describe as a late night stroll down the dark, rain-soaked memory lane of hacked and scrambled supercomputer. In other words, perfect future noir.
TAXIDERMIA is a film I’ve never seen. But I’ve listened to the score hundreds of times. I feel this score is one of the strongest of the entire set for that reason alone. I will admit that, having heard these soundtracks alongside their visual components influenced my take on them. That I have no doubt of. That I am so enamored of Amon Tobin’s work on TAXIDERMIA should indicate just how strongly I feel about this music. The fact is, out of all three of these, this score stands out the most, and while many fans of traditional film scores will scoff at it, I love it to death.
To begin with, its produced and composed by one Amon Tobin. Unlike the two other artists mentioned in this article, I am a fan of Amon Tobin. I discovered him via his excellent soundtrack for the Splinter Cell: Chaos Theory videogame, then became enamored of his whole discography. To discover that he scored a film was exciting enough. The fact that it’s a hypersurreal Hungarian body-horror flick that could make Cronenberg blink is a fact I find amusing at least.
What matters here is how very unique Amon Tobin’s style of scoring is. Tobin is the master of sampled percussion and he does not temper his taste for razor sharp beats here. What he does do is to take his eclecticism to a whole new level. Utilizing the expensive and precise studio setup he made his “Foley Room” album with, he drives a thousand microcosmic samples through a computer and produces a dark spectrum of murky, lurching, hallucinatory tunes throbbing with a rhythmic backbone of his flawless beat manipulation. The soundtrack includes one of the best songs of all time: “Here Comes The Moon Man”, a piece of music that is as alien as it gets.
And that wraps up the penultimate chapter of the top ten scores of the past decade. There’s only two more soundtracks to go. I won’t give away what they are just yet but I will hint for amusements sake. One of them is composed by a popular and critically praised composer yet is still a score often overlooked, one you likely have heard or have heard of. The other is the work of a single man producing his debut film by himself that premiered as Sundance to critical mockery despite being wholly original and stunningly rendered. Join me later today, just prior to the end of the year, as I announce the last two of the best film scores of 2000-2009.

Audio/Visual: A Decade of Music in Film

I chose my previous two film scores based on both their distinctiveness in both context and content, but also because they had certain weaknesses that, while important to their character, still kept them from being the kind of landmark works that are universally acknowledged as ground-breaking and important. The three scores I’m highlighting this week were chosen specifically for both their widespread popularity and critical success.
Let’s begin with Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. This is a score that many, many people who are even remotely familiar with the film are aware of in terms of importance. Like the other films I’m focusing on here, the music of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon goes hand in hand with the other elements of the movie, but it could be said that, out of the three, this score is the most potent accompaniment. This is mostly because of the movie’s setting; feudal China. The score for CTHD was composed by Tan Dun, a Chinese composer who moved to New York City to study modern classical composition, and later worked on the score for the film “Don’t Cry, Nanking”. Unlike the other composers in this group, Dun came from a classical background, and it’s immediately apparent. But what is surprising is how much emphasis Dun placed on his collaborator, world-renowned cellist Yo-Yo Ma.
In fact, Yo-Yo Ma’s performance is the most prominent element of most of the score. Occasionally, for some of the martial arts sequences, Dun utilizes powerful and exhilarating percussion, but more often than not, the score of CTHD is a work of beauty and inestimable grace. Yo-Yo Ma produces one of the most vocal and emotional ranges in the work of a solo string musician I’ve ever heard. To say that his playing is affecting would be understatement. In versa Jon Tavener’s work in Children of Men, it is not a light comment to compare the power of both as equal, when Tavener drew from a massive and versatile arsenal of symphonic tropes. Dun and Ma almost never resort to heavy-handed drama, and when they do it’s strictly in the service of the on-screen action. The key appeal of this soundtrack is the virtuoso skill of Ma drawing together all the breath-taking beauty and emotion of the film (no easy feat) into a few mere strings, at the behest of Tan Dun.
The score for There Will Be Blood is the polar opposite of the former. A film that sticks its fingers into the open wounds of a man bound to self destruction, only a score as unsettling as this could possibly be worthy of the Coen Brothers’ most ambitious work. And with a fortuitous moment of serendipity, the Coen Brothers managed to wrangle Radiohead’s guitarist and composer, Jonny Greenwood. Greenwood did score a film prior to There Will Be Blood but it was a little known documentary that gave Greenwood free reign to experiment without any real format. Creating music for There Will Be Blood was an entirely different beast; this was a period piece based loosely off a novel, and Greenwood would have to meet not only the expectations of the Coen Bros. fanbase but that of his own, not to mention make it a relevant and appropriate work of music.
He succeeded with flying colors. The strength of his score for There Will Be Blood lies in Greenwood’s purposeful malevolence in rendering the colors and tones of the various pieces comprising the body of the soundtrack. He intended, out and out, to unsettle and violate the conceived expectation of what the period music would sound like. He did use traditional strings and maintained the proper elements through the whole film, but he subverted more often than not, seeking purposefully to disturb the listener with dissonant electronics and tense moods that underlined every scene of the film with a powerful dread or creeping anxiety. It could’ve easily been the score to a powerhouse horror film but instead, it became a great example of how a score can unwrap a film’s true life; one of bleak misanthropy and gritty fatalism.
Last, but not least, is Kevin Shield’s “score” for Lost In Translation, Sofia Coppola’s second film after The Virgin Suicides. Unlike the soundtrack for The Virgin Suicides, which consisted entirely of songs written by various artists, Lost In Translation’s score was composed by Kevin Shields, he of the critically adored My Bloody Valentine. Much of the music in the film was chosen together by Coppola and Shields, but the pieces Shields wrote for the soundtrack are as appealing and wonderful as any song that appears during the film’s narrative. What’s vital to the sweet taste of the score’s placement alongside the film is how very intimate their relationship is; Sofia is as much to be credited for the music as Shields, and that’s disappointingly rare in the world of film.
What a breath of fresh air it is to hear a whole collection of music that is as much a part of the beating heart of a film as the visuals are; the songs and pieces are probably, out of the entire spectrum of scores presented, the most appealing outside of their original context. It has been said, and it holds true, that the Kevin Shields-created tracks from this soundtrack are the My Bloody Valentine songs that never existed, but that’s not entirely accurate. These are far more enjoyable and accessible than the noise-pop of My Bloody Valentine and, by necessity, they ring a far more potent range of emotion than his former band could marshal (if anything, it echoes the synth wonder of Air, the French band who assembled the music for Virgin Suicides). Of particular note is the end piece, simply titled “Goodbye”. Paired with what I personally consider the most effective and moving endings I’ve seen from a romance film, it struck a powerful broadcast that most of the film’s fans will enthusiastically endorse.

there will be blood

I chose my previous two film scores based on both their distinctiveness in both context and content, but also because they had certain weaknesses that, while important to their character, still kept them from being the kind of landmark works that are universally acknowledged as ground-breaking and important. The three scores I’m highlighting this week were chosen specifically for both their widespread popularity and critical success.

Let’s begin with CROUCHING TIGER, HIDDEN DRAGON. This is a score that many, many people who are even remotely familiar with the film are aware of in terms of importance. Like the other films I’m focusing on here, the music of Crouching Tiger, HIDDEN DRAGON goes hand in hand with the other elements of the movie, but it could be said that, out of the three, this score is the most potent accompaniment. This is mostly because of the movie’s setting; feudal China. The score for CROUCHING TIGER, HIDDEN DRAGON was composed by Tan Dun, a Chinese composer who moved to New York City to study modern classical composition, and later worked on the score for the film “DON’T CRY, NANKING”. Unlike the other composers in this group, Dun came from a classical background, and it’s immediately apparent. But what is surprising is how much emphasis Dun placed on his collaborator, world-renowned cellist Yo-Yo Ma.

In fact, Yo-Yo Ma’s performance is the most prominent element of most of the score. Occasionally, for some of the martial arts sequences, Dun utilizes powerful and exhilarating percussion, but more often than not, the score of CROUCHING TIGER, HIDDEN DRAGON is a work of beauty and inestimable grace. Yo-Yo Ma produces one of the most vocal and emotional ranges in the work of a solo string musician I’ve ever heard. To say that his playing is affecting would be understatement. In versa Jon Tavener’s work in Children of Men, it is not a light comment to compare the power of both as equal, when Tavener drew from a massive and versatile arsenal of symphonic tropes. Dun and Ma almost never resort to heavy-handed drama, and when they do it’s strictly in the service of the on-screen action. The key appeal of this soundtrack is the virtuoso skill of Ma drawing together all the breath-taking beauty and emotion of the film (no easy feat) into a few mere strings, at the behest of Tan Dun.

The score for THERE WILL BE BLOOD is the polar opposite of the former. A film that sticks its fingers into the open wounds of a man bound to self destruction, only a score as unsettling as this could possibly be worthy of Paul Thomas Anderson’s most ambitious work. And with a fortuitous moment of serendipity, PT Anderson managed to wrangle Radiohead’s guitarist and composer, Jonny Greenwood. Greenwood did score a film prior to THERE WILL BE BLOOD but it was a little known documentary that gave Greenwood free reign to experiment without any real format. Creating music for THERE WILL BE BLOOD was an entirely different beast; this was a period piece based loosely off a novel, and Greenwood would have to meet not only the expectations of the PTA fanbase but that of his own, not to mention make it a relevant and appropriate work of music.

He succeeded with flying colors. The strength of his score for THERE WILL BE BLOOD lies in Greenwood’s purposeful malevolence in rendering the colors and tones of the various pieces comprising the body of the soundtrack. He intended, out and out, to unsettle and violate the conceived expectation of what the period music would sound like. He did use traditional strings and maintained the proper elements through the whole film, but he subverted more often than not, seeking purposefully to disturb the listener with dissonant electronics and tense moods that underlined every scene of the film with a powerful dread or creeping anxiety. It could’ve easily been the score to a powerhouse horror film but instead, it became a great example of how a score can unwrap a film’s true life; one of bleak misanthropy and gritty fatalism.

Last, but not least, is Kevin Shield’s “score” for LOST IN TRANSLATION, Sofia Coppola’s second film after THE VIRGIN SUICIDES. Unlike the soundtrack for THE VIRGIN SUICIDES, which consisted entirely of songs written by various artists, LOST IN TRANSLATION’s score was composed by Kevin Shields, he of the critically adored My Bloody Valentine. Much of the music in the film was chosen together by Coppola and Shields, but the pieces Shields wrote for the soundtrack are as appealing and wonderful as any song that appears during the film’s narrative. What’s vital to the sweet taste of the score’s placement alongside the film is how very intimate their relationship is; Sofia is as much to be credited for the music as Shields, and that’s disappointingly rare in the world of film.

What a breath of fresh air it is to hear a whole collection of music that is as much a part of the beating heart of a film as the visuals are; the songs and pieces are probably, out of the entire spectrum of scores presented, the most appealing outside of their original context. It has been said, and it holds true, that the Kevin Shields-created tracks from this soundtrack are the My Bloody Valentine songs that never existed, but that’s not entirely accurate. These are far more enjoyable and accessible than the noise-pop of My Bloody Valentine and, by necessity, they ring a far more potent range of emotion than his former band could marshal (if anything, it echoes the synth wonder of Air, the French band who assembled the music for THE VIRGIN SUICIDES). Of particular note is the end piece, simply titled “Goodbye”. Paired with what I personally consider the most effective and moving endings I’ve seen from a romance film (even succeeding BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN’s heartbreaking tragedy), it struck a powerful broadcast that most of the film’s fans will enthusiastically endorse.

These three scores are what I personally would label as objectively possible as “The Best Of The Decade”, but that’s keeping in mind my own slight bias. With that, I’m ending my reign of attempted objectivity. I love and appreciate all three of the aforementioned soundtracks, but they are not as personally meaningful as the next five, and the fact is that I’m simply not talented or patient enough to craft an entire list of ten films I could objectively rate and be satisfied with. Instead, I’ll be highlighting my personal favorites and explaining why they, above all, make my five favorite film scores of the past decade. Still, a reminder; these past five films are what I focus on as being, objectively, the best films scores of the past decade. The next five are my own personal picks.

Audio/Visual: A Decade of Music in Film

This week marks the beginning of a series of columns in which I’m putting forth what I personally consider to be the best film scores of the past decade (2000-2009). It was not an easy task; I locked myself away for the better part of November and listened to all the film scores I felt were worthy, and many I didn’t. I fielded suggestions from random strangers, close friends, and many people in between. The list I ended up with was pared down via some necessary filters. I disqualified musicals and soundtracks that consisted of songs from various artists. This brought up an interesting nuance; if a film score consisted of many songs written by a single artist, did it qualify? I chose to consider it only if those songs were composed specifically for the film because while we don’t traditionally think of film scores this way, that is really what they consist of; individual themes that could still be thought of as individual songs.
In this way I ended up with a manageable list which I then considered first by my familiarity with the score, then by merit, and finally by personal taste (a deciding factor for two of the picks). I chose not to create a list of numerical value since I felt all the scores I’d left were incomparable to each other. Some of them of which I have never seen the film itself and several scores that I feel may possibly seem more impacting because of the film in which they existed. I did not take this into account because of the synergic effect of music in film; when a film is particularly good and enhances the music, the music seems to be better as a consequence, and it becomes difficult to identify whether either elements are weaker. So forgive me if you feel some of my choices are influenced by my experience with the films themselves. I’d like to think it’s an understandable error.
Let’s begin with Children of Men. I’m listening to it now. I’ve never seen the film, just trailers. I purchased the soundtrack after hearing “Song of the Angel” on Last.fm and being impressed by the heavy, evocative, and spiritual mood it evoked. The whole soundtrack is similarly intense. A warning; many of the pieces are operatic and, if you’ve never developed a taste for opera and the accompanying singing, you’ll want to steer clear. But if you’re adventurous, this is where to start. A brooding and epic tone rings throughout, thanks to the beautiful and virtually unbeatable talent of composer Sir John Tavener. But, more than anything, this is a classical, symphonic soundtrack with tasteful opera passages. Like the film itself, it is both bleak and inspiring. When I say this, I am evaluating it among the many dozens of other symphonic scores it competed with but nothing compares to the power of Sir Tavener’s tragic summoning of a powerful performance.
Here’s a bit of trivial but interesting information about the score; it was composed not to the film itself but to the screenplay. I don’t know how it translates to the screen but the score stands as a fantastic set of music to simply listen to, and I feel that may be a consequence of Tavener’s methods. A triptych that is the core of the soundtrack consists of existing opera pieces recorded by Sir Tavener and he handles them with grace and power, adding them to the film’s arsenal of haunting melancholia. The standout is “Mother and Child”, a choral piece that is heartbreaking in its vast sound until the song’s climax, which I won’t ruin by trying to describe in words.
Again, I warn anyone who chooses to listen to this after reading my presentation; it is not a film score for the average listener. Tavener is a spiritually broad musician who chose to reflect his Orthodox Christian roots in this soundtrack, so it is perhaps a bit reverential; the tempo is achingly slow and there is almost no percussion. But when I listen to the music, it brings only the grandest of images to mind.
I’m genuinely wondering how many of you have seen Brokeback Mountain. I imagine it’s a disappointingly small number.The film’s plot did focus on a homosexual relationship and its consequences but if you think that’s what the movie was about, then you should sit down and watch it. The music is a great way to represent the film; it’s composed by an Argentinian named Gustavo Santaolalla. Gustavo had work in films prior via 21 Grams and the wonderful Motorcycle Diaries but it wasn’t until his work with Brokeback Mountain that he was recognized for his contributions. The strains of his homeland constantly woven into everything he wrote, his music for Brokeback echoed if not amplified the natural beauty of the film’s setting. The film was a romance and Gustavo’s score did not dwell on the unfortunate circumstance of this romance but wholeheartedly embraced the love on screen and, to my surprise, was more hopeful than woeful. Many of the songs on the soundtrack featuring vocalists from different arenas of music but Santaolalla’s artistry never faltered, producing some of the most memorable tunes of the era.
Of course, this is a film set in a rustic country, and it reflects this. Consequently, I have a hard time persuading anyone to listen to it, but the folk and country tones are potent rather than opportunistic; without them, the music would be absent of the underlying, muted yearning that aches with every note. It’s not necessarily happy and the music can be just as soothing for a bad mood, but it never dwells entirely on sappiness or angst. Much of the soundtrack available for purchase consists of other musicians either presenting their own works intended for the film or performing music with Santaolalla. I’d like to see an actual score and if any film suffers from the lack of interest that should be given to the score itself (versus music played by other artists), it’s this one. I would love to experience the score alone as it is presented in the film, in extended format.
I chose to begin the countdown with these two film scores because, even though I love them just as much as the rest of my selections, I also feel that they are the most conventional and possibly the most difficult for the average listener to immediately appreciate (some will be turned off by the operatic nature of Children of Men and others repulsed by the countrified leanings of Brokeback Mountain). But I’m giving them the above paragraphs not just because I personally enjoy listening to them but because, from a somewhat objective view, I feel they are quality scores that stand out among the droves of similar soundtracks composed in the past ten years.

children of men

This week marks the beginning of a series of columns in which I’m putting forth what I personally consider to be the best film scores of the past decade (2000-2009). It was not an easy task; I locked myself away for the better part of November and listened to all the film scores I felt were worthy, and many I didn’t. I fielded suggestions from random strangers, close friends, and many people in between. The list I ended up with was pared down via some necessary filters. I disqualified musicals and soundtracks that consisted of songs from various artists. This brought up an interesting nuance; if a film score consisted of many songs written by a single artist, did it qualify? I chose to consider it only if those songs were composed specifically for the film because while we don’t traditionally think of film scores this way, that is really what they consist of; individual themes that could still be thought of as individual songs.

In this way I ended up with a manageable list which I then considered first by my familiarity with the score, then by merit, and finally by personal taste (a deciding factor for two of the picks). I chose not to create a list of numerical value since I felt all the scores I’d left were incomparable to each other. Some of them of which I have never seen the film itself and several scores that I feel may possibly seem more impacting because of the film in which they existed. I did not take this into account because of the synergistic effect of music in film; when a film is particularly good and enhances the music, the music seems to be better as a consequence, and it becomes difficult to identify whether either elements are weaker. So forgive me if you feel some of my choices are influenced by my experience with the films themselves. I’d like to think it’s an understandable error.

Let’s begin with CHILDREN OF MEN. I’m listening to it now. I’ve never seen the film, just trailers. I purchased the soundtrack after hearing “Song of the Angel” on Last.fm and being impressed by the heavy, evocative, and spiritual mood it evoked. The whole soundtrack is similarly intense. A warning; many of the pieces are operatic and, if you’ve never developed a taste for opera and the accompanying singing, you’ll want to steer clear. But if you’re adventurous, this is where to start. A brooding and epic tone rings throughout, thanks to the beautiful and virtually unbeatable talent of composer Sir John Tavener. But, more than anything, this is a classical, symphonic soundtrack with tasteful opera passages. Like the film itself, it is both bleak and inspiring. When I say this, I am evaluating it among the many dozens of other symphonic scores it competed with but nothing compares to the power of Sir Tavener’s tragic summoning of a powerful performance.

Here’s a bit of trivial but interesting information about the score; it was composed not to the film itself but to the screenplay. I don’t know how it translates to the screen but the score stands as a fantastic set of music to simply listen to, and I feel that may be a consequence of Tavener’s methods. A triptych that is the core of the soundtrack consists of existing opera pieces recorded by Sir Tavener and he handles them with grace and power, adding them to the film’s arsenal of haunting melancholia. The standout is “Mother and Child”, a choral piece that is heartbreaking in its vast sound until the song’s climax, which I won’t ruin by trying to describe in words.

Again, I warn anyone who chooses to listen to this after reading my presentation; it is not a film score for the average listener. Tavener is a spiritually broad musician who chose to reflect his Orthodox Christian roots in this soundtrack, so it is perhaps a bit reverential; the tempo is achingly slow and there is almost no percussion. But when I listen to the music, it brings only the grandest of images to mind.

I’m genuinely wondering how many of you have seen BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN. I imagine it’s a disappointingly small number.The film’s plot did focus on a homosexual relationship and its consequences but if you think that’s what the movie was about, then you should sit down and watch it. The music is a great way to represent the film; it’s composed by an Argentinian named Gustavo Santaolalla. Gustavo had work in films prior via 21 Grams and the wonderful Motorcycle Diaries but it wasn’t until his work with Brokeback Mountain that he was recognized for his contributions. The strains of his homeland constantly woven into everything he wrote, his music for Brokeback echoed if not amplified the natural beauty of the film’s setting. The film was a romance and Gustavo’s score did not dwell on the unfortunate circumstance of this romance but wholeheartedly embraced the love on screen and, to my surprise, was more hopeful than woeful. Many of the songs on the soundtrack featuring vocalists from different arenas of music but Santaolalla’s artistry never faltered, producing some of the most memorable tunes of the era.

Of course, this is a film set in a rustic country, and it reflects this. Consequently, I have a hard time persuading anyone to listen to it, but the folk and country tones are potent rather than opportunistic; without them, the music would be absent of the underlying, muted yearning that aches with every note. It’s not necessarily happy and the music can be just as soothing for a bad mood, but it never dwells entirely on sappiness or angst. Much of the soundtrack available for purchase consists of other musicians either presenting their own works intended for the film or performing music with Santaolalla. I’d like to see an actual score and if any film suffers from the lack of interest that should be given to the score itself (versus music played by other artists), it’s this one. I would love to experience the score alone as it is presented in the film, in extended format.

I chose to begin the countdown with these two film scores because, even though I love them just as much as the rest of my selections, I also feel that they are the most conventional and possibly the most difficult for the average listener to immediately appreciate (some will be turned off by the operatic nature of CHILDREN OF MEN and others repulsed by the countrified leanings of BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN). But I’m giving them the above paragraphs not just because I personally enjoy listening to them but because, from a somewhat objective view, I feel they are quality scores that stand out among the droves of similar soundtracks composed in the past ten years.

82nd Oscars – Things Are A-Changin’

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AMPAS is at it again with more new rules and changes.

A  significant change was made in the Music – Original Song category.

The governors approved the Music Branch Executive Committee recommendation that if no song achieves a minimum average score of 8.25 in the nominations voting, there be no original song nominees and thus no Oscar presented for the category. If only one song achieves the required minimum, it and the song with the next highest score will be deemed the nominees. If two or more songs achieve the minimum score, they will be the nominees though no more than five nominees can be selected. Previously, the rules dictated that there be no more than five but no fewer than three nominees in the category.

In addition and as previously announced, the Best Picture category will have ten nominees instead of five.

Other modifications of the rules include normal date changes and minor “housekeeping” changes.

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