Category Archives: film scores

Some Brief Questions About the Movies

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One of the best things about films–both good and bad–is that they inspire us to inquire. We ask while watching them: Did it really have to happen that way? Or maybe: What’s with the lighting in that scene? How does so-and-so get out of that scrape? We’re always exploring this universe. There always are questions that come up during the course of a picture.

Recently, I began to wonder if the ones I’m asking while watching certain flicks are the same as those being posed by other viewers. Perhaps we’re all thinking similarly … or perhaps not. In that interrogative light, here are my latest musings, as unattached to each other as they may be:

Does anybody really like the character George Berger in Milos Forman’s film version of Hair?

Which is more disturbing: The discovery in David Lean’s Lawrence of Arabia that Gasim, the man T.E. Lawrence saved from death in the desert, has murdered another man, or Michael Corleone’s lie to his wife Kay in Francis Ford Coppola’s The Godfather about killing his sister’s husband?

Would Stanley Kubrick’s Spartacus be a heckuva lot better without Alex North’s excruciatingly bombastic score?

What would have happened in Kenji Mizoguchi’s The Life of Oharu if the eponymous character had rejected the advances of her suitor at the beginning of the film?

Where did Antoine Doinel go at the end of Francois Truffaut’s The 400 Blows? How about Kevin at the end of Terry Gilliam’s Time Bandits?

Couldn’t Louis Mazzini just have gone back into the prison to retrieve his memoirs at the conclusion of Robert Hamer’s Kind Hearts and Coronets?

I’m just wondering. How about you?

 

 

Setter’s ‘Spectives: The Time Has Come to Speak of ‘The Wicker Man’

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Setter Drawing for Blog 082613Halloween’s a-comin’ … and you know what that means.

Quality horror movies should be watched. Including Robin Hardy’s 1973 creepy-fest The Wicker Man.

There’s something really satisfying about this eerie film, about a policeman’s encounters with paganism on a remote Scottish isle. It’s not pure horror – there’s very little blood or gore – yet there’s plenty of atmosphere, as well as a disturbing subtext that may lead viewers to ask questions about belief and the acceptance of others’ religions. The picture features terrific performances, including that of Edward Woodward as the cop aghast at the islanders’ practices and rituals, and offers a fine, wistful musical score by Paul Giovanni. Plus, there’s a great script by Anthony Shaffer that transcends the usually ghoulish genre with insightful dialogue and vivid characterizations.

This is a cult film that spawned the awful remake of the same name with Nicholas Cage, but it’s the original that should be seen. I like to watch it every now and then when it’s on, and Halloween seems like a good time to do so … though it’s by no means the only time that’s appropriate. I’ll be looking for it with particular interest this month, however, owing to the festivities of the season, and, of course, because I haven’t seen it in a while. It definitely merits watching multiple times; if you haven’t seen it yet, I recommend it. Be prepared for some unsettling scenes that may have more impact than the graphically violent sequences that seem so prevalent in horror today, as it’s a well-crafted picture that doesn’t rely on blood to keep itself going.

All the more reason to enjoy it, right? That’s my opinion, anyway.

Setter’s ‘Spectives: Altman’s ‘3 Women’ Plus Busby, Too

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Setter Drawing for Blog 082613I’m not a huge fan of Robert Altman’s movies, so I admit I went with trepidation to see his film 3 Women at The New York Public Library for the Performing Arts last night. Fortunately, the evening was bolstered by the presence of composer Gerald Busby, who wrote the score to the picture and was slated to speak about it after the showing.

It was a good thing he did, because the film was very peculiar and not all that successful. The tale of a California nursing-home worker (Sissy Spacek) obsessed with her quirky colleague (Shelley Duvall), 3 Women at times was like watching the most intriguing, bizarrely colored paint dry. It had an off-the-cuff feeling that gave the impression it was made up as the shooting went along, and the characters’ motivations weren’t always believable. Busby’s score was the best thing about it: a dissonant, modern chamber piece replete with mournful, dread-filled horns and winds. Following the screening, he took the podium to talk a little about the movie, and it was quite a treat to listen to this dapper, elderly gentleman.

Busby spoke about Altman being “a Gershwin man” yet wanting something different and abstract for his film, as well as the process of showcasing his music to a room full of Altman staff and regulars stoned on marijuana. (According to Busby, he was one of a few composers to be considered for the film, and as part of the process, the compositions were played in the room to see how long people could go without speaking about them; people listened to his work the longest without saying something, which helped solidify the choice.)

All in all, it was quite a lovely evening, and I got to meet Busby as well, who lived in the same building as a good friend of ours. Plus, it was free, so that made watching the film all the more palatable. A not-so-typical New York night out, but a memorable one, nonetheless.

Skip’s Quips: Assorted Ramblings on ‘Watership Down’

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Blog Sketch 082813Why I don’t have certain classic movies on DVD at home is beyond me.

Watership Down is one of those missing from my rather lackluster collection. Why? This great, un-Disney-esque cartoon about the (often-scary) trials and tribulations of a migrating rabbit colony is one of my favorite animated features, yet for some reason, I don’t have it at home for my viewing pleasure. And sometimes I get a hankering for it – the atmospheric mythology of the bunnies, the expert vocal performances of actors ranging from John Hurt to Zero Mostel, the evocative score by Angela Morley. It’s a unique film, the type of thing that they don’t make anymore … in part because it’s sometimes very bloody (strange for a cartoon of that era) and certainly not for children. But it’s tremendously moving, and it’s got a lot to offer viewers open to something new and different.

I only read part of the novel by Richard Adams on which the movie was based, so I’m not sure how true to the book it was. A great film, however, stands on its own, in my opinion, and Watership Down does exactly that. At some point, I do expect to buy the DVD for myself. But first I must catch it.

Sorry. A bit of ill-chosen rabbity humor, there. I’ll stop now while I’m behind.

Skip’s Quips: Having Another Go at ‘Conan the Barbarian’

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Blog Sketch 082813Why, I asked myself last night, am I watching the original 1982 version of Conan the Barbarian again?

Isn’t once enough for this film? It doesn’t have great cinematography. Much of the acting – except for stalwarts such as James Earl Jones and Max von Sydow – is atrocious. And the special effects are pretty poor by today’s or even yesteryear’s standards.

Oh, yeah: And the blood squibs are gloppy. Really gloppy.

Well, parts of it are watchable, for some reason. I’ve read one of the original Robert E. Howard Conan stories, “The People of the Black Circle,” and the film stays true to the tale’s sensibilities. You know: blood, gore, lust and all that. Plus, there’s the much-lauded score by Basil Poledouris, which is somewhat bombastic but definitely works.

Then there’s the script, courtesy of director John Milius and Oliver Stone. Pretty simple stuff, but at least it’s not verbose and pretentious. I was grateful for that.

There were also a number of seemingly derivative moments that may have been “inspired” by classic films such as Kwaidan (the scene in which the wizard writes runes on Conan’s body to protect him from demons) and The Seven Samurai (the stake-adorned defense against Thulsa Doom’s cohorts). Surprisingly erudite stuff for a film such as this. I did see part of an interview a long time ago in which Milius lauded Kwaidan as being “dreamlike,” so perhaps he was mining that movie for Conan. Nevertheless, it made for strong viewing.

So all in all: kind of a sloppy film, with dull moments and some very good ones. I may end up watching it again in the future and asking myself, once more, why I’m doing so. Hopefully, I’ll be able to answer myself the same way.

Setter’s ‘Spectives: Just Say ‘Ewww’ to ‘The V.I.P.s’

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Setter Drawing for Blog 082613Normally, I don’t care for movies with Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor. So I wasn’t surprised to find that The V.I.P.s, their 1963 film under Anthony Asquith’s direction, was awful. And I mean awful.

Soapy, too. In a bad way, not in an I, Claudius fun way. This was soap without a lot of bubbles. Deadly dull, unperfumed, lather-free soap.

And trashy. The tale of a group of high-end passengers who get stuck in a London airport due to fog, The V.I.P.s went from one dreary relationship to another, from Burton and Taylor’s married-couple-on-the-outs to Rod Taylor’s nice-guy businessman whose secretary, played by Maggie Smith, has fallen in love with him. I didn’t find any of these situations credible, and they just got more tedious as the film rolled along. Plus, the cinematography didn’t help, either. Strange compositions seemed to include lamps or some kind of bizarre light fixture in many shots, leading them to be jarring. And the score by the normally reliable Miklós Rózsa was awfully syrupy. Not good, Miklós. Not good.

So what are the takeaways from this? Well, I still don’t like Burton-Taylor movies. I also don’t like bad movies. And I love I, Claudius.

If you can find meaning in that, you’re a better man (or woman) than I.

Setter’s ‘Spectives: Musical Lines, Non-Parallel

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Setter Drawing for Blog 082613We’re allowed to like great scores to mediocre movies, right?

I’m thinking about this as I ruminate on The Red Pony, Lewis Milestone’s 1949 film of John Steinbeck’s sad tale concerning a boy and his steed. The music, by Aaron Copland, is one of the American composer’s greatest compositions, yet it accompanies a picture that’s unfortunately just so-so.

I wish it were better.

Usually, it seems that the quality of a score reflects that of its film, but in The Red Pony‘s case, it doesn’t hold true. Frankly, I have no desire to see the film again … yet I often find myself humming the glorious, playful melodies and mulling the vibrant orchestration. Am I allowed to do this? I ask myself, half-serious. Am I able to like only one component of a full movie?

I have to answer yes, though I’m hesitant to do so. The cinema runs alongside music, and they’re often inextricable. Great directors generally know how to apply great scores by composers to celluloid, and many great composers have written for the screen. So what happened with The Red Pony? With a cast including Robert Mitchum and Myrna Loy, as well as Steinbeck’s writing chops, plus Copland’s lovely tunes, it should be a masterpiece.

It’s plodding, however, and the music is basically what saves it. Maybe this is one of the exceptions in the world of film: a picture that isn’t very good when all of the parts are added, despite one component being transcendent. At any rate, I’m glad we have this anomaly. I just hope I don’t encounter too many more.

Setter’s ‘Spectives: Integrity? Don’t Make Me Hum

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Setter Drawing for Blog 082613So I’m watching Frances Ha. All of a sudden, this lilting music tickles the soundtrack.

“Hey,” I say. “That sounds like something from King of Hearts.”

Sure enough, it was. Snatched directly from the Philippe de Broca movie. In fact, the film’s main melody popped up numerous times during the proceedings.

Needless to say, it didn’t help me enjoy this rather tiresome Noah Baumbach flick any more than I already did. But there was another issue: It was distracting. I kept thinking about Hearts and how good it was. How much I wanted to see it.

Is this what Baumbach wanted when he was making Frances?

Unfortunately, this problem isn’t relegated to one movie. The Artist used a passage from Bernard Herrmann’s score for Vertigo, and I was confused about that, too. Started thinking about the latter flick as I was watching the former.

Bad, bad strategy for any filmmaker.

This goes past un hommage. It’s irrelevant. It’s sampling music from scores past and using it in other contexts. When a great score is applied to a film, it’s associated with it. You can’t pull the two apart. If you try, you bring up connotations that shouldn’t be there. Do directors want to do that?

I’d think they wouldn’t. Would Wagner want you thinking about Mozart’s Le Nozze di Figaro while you were watching Parsifal at Bayreuth? If you admitted that to him, he’d probably get all 19th century on you. (He was mean enough as it was.)

Unless it’s parody, a film should focus on itself. Otherwise, a movie loses its credibility. It breaks that fourth wall of sound, and the audience becomes aware of it. Directors shouldn’t want that. It’s jarring, not immersing.

I say unto filmmakers: Let’s keep-eth old scores where they are-eth. And commission new ones for your movies … or use tunes by a great composer that lack cinematic context. Something borrowed just makes me blue. Something different, however, may well be music to my ears.

From Skip and Setter’s Creator: New Year’s Movie Resolutions

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Blog Sketch of Me 092213Hi, everyone. Just want to wish all of my followers and anyone else who has checked out my blog a happy and healthy New Year. I have a number of cinematic resolutions that I mean to adhere to for 2014, and though that’s easier said than done, I believe they’re basic enough so as to preclude any straying. Here they are:

Resolution #1: to refrain from counting aloud the inordinate number of previews shown before movie viewings at any theater

Resolution #2: to keep guffaws to a minimum while watching trailers for any feudal-Japan-set film with an American protagonist who has been enslaved or recruited by samurai who need him to fight some sort of ludicrous supernatural enemy

Resolution #3: to smirk only briefly at every ad touting a new stage musical based on a flick that wasn’t so good to begin with

Resolution #4: to continue to praise unsung motion pictures and criticize overrated ones

Resolution #5: to avoid any concert films starring bands or “artists” who raise their hands while they sing

Resolution #6: to run far, far away from 3-D flicks about flash mobs, dance contests or zombies

Resolution #7: to eschew the butter-flavored topping on my popcorn during at least one trip to the cinema

Resolution #8: to lament the dearth of $2 second-run movie theaters in my area

Resolution #9: to shun animated films about polar bears, talking birds or prehistoric hominids

Resolution #10: to watch as many good movies as I can

Skip’s Quips: Whatever Happened to Tyranny of the Majority?

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Blog Sketch 082813I deserve props. Last night, I sat through Now, Voyager without rolling my eyes … more than three times.

Do I get a prize? The Max Steiner Schmaltz Award for Tear-jerker Toleration?

More likely, this feat will fly under the radar. Especially since Voyager seems to be lauded by every film buff in the world but me.

I’m missing something, right? The charm of a story in which a damaged, fearsomely eyebrowed (and mothered) woman, played by Bette Davis, becomes the talk of the town and the blatant object of desire for every gainfully employed blue blood in Massachusetts, as well as the lover of an uncatchable architect taking the form of Paul Henreid. The irony surrounding her care of said architect’s melancholy daughter. The romance of Steiner’s repetitious, Oscar-winning score.

I tell you, I felt like blasting a bit of the old Ludwig van on the stereo after hearing Voyager‘s main musical motif for the thousandth time yesterday evening. Please, Max—for the love of all that is viscous, stop the melody; I want to get off!

The fact is, I found the movie horrid. Ludicrous situations abound—such as the scene in which Claude Rains’ doctor OKs Davis, a former patient, being nurse to her married beau’s daughter. And the script is like an exercise in manipulation, with every stop in the book pulled out to draw tears down the most reptilian of cheeks.

Well, I must be a crocodile, because it didn’t work for me.

Ms. Davis was a talented actress, and I’m partial to a number of her films, including The Man Who Came to Dinner. Voyager, however, didn’t float my boat. Perhaps someday I’ll discover why this much-venerated movie impresses so many fans. For now, though, I’m happy to praise the moon over the stars.