Movie Music U.K. As Heard In The Film 2004

Movie Music U.K. As Heard In The Film 2004

CHAOS

KENJI KAWAI

Review by Peter Simons. Five years after it was made, Japanese crime thriller Chaos (Kaosu) has finally been released in the UK as the final film in the Asia Extreme series, which mostly consisted of Asian horror films. Unlike the other movies released under this banner, such as Phone, the original Grudge or A Tale Of Two Sisters, Chaos is not a scary movie and is not intended as one. The trailer suggests yet another Ring-type movie with a dead woman wreaking havoc from beyond the grave. However, despite it being helmed by Ringu and Dark Water director Hideo Nakata, Chaos instead plays more like a crime thriller, telling a tale which contains multiple levels of intrigue and mystery. For the sake of not ruining the movie for those who have yet to see it, I will not venture beyond the plot summary that is usually attached to this film: Aided by handyman Goro Kuroda (Masato Hagiwara), a woman named Saori Komiyama (Miki Nakatani, also of Ring-fame) stages her own kidnapping in order to extort money from her husband Takayuka (Ken Mitshuishi), a wealthy bank director. However, when Goro comes back from a job at night, he finds his “hostage” dead on the floor. Panicking, he dumps her body in the woods. However, the following day, much to his shock, he sees Saori walking in town, very much alive again. After that event, the plot takes several interesting turns, none of which seem at all implausible, all of which reveal layers of intrigue in a manner reminiscent of John McNaughton’s Wild Things or Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo. This is a film where nothing is as it seems. Unsurprisingly, an American remake of Chaos is already in production with Jonathan Glazer (Birth) at the helm and Robert De Niro in a lead role. Despite several technical goofs – it’s raining on clearly sunny days; footsteps are out of sync with the picture – the film is a pleasure to watch due to its clever plot, amiable characters and strong cast. For the soundtrack Nakata once again teamed up with Kenji Kawai, who also scored Ringu, Dark Water as well as several others of Nakata’s movies. The music consists mainly of ominous percussion with a theme for a synthesized violin sound. As Chaos is not a horror film, the music is much more about melody and harmony than it is about sound design, though it does have a little bit of that as well. The score is reasonably effective in creating a tense atmosphere, perhaps because it is used quite sparsely, but its synthesized sounds do sound dated. The pop beat that emerges in several cues would have sounded old-fashioned even five years ago. Having said that, the main theme is actually surprisingly memorable, odd though it is. A sound clip can be heard on Kawai’s official website, which also states that a soundtrack album has been released in 2000, though it will likely be hard to find.

THE POLAR EXPRESS

ALAN SILVESTRI

Review by Peter Simons. Robert Zemeckis is making Christmas this year with his computer animated adaptation of Chris van Allburg’s book The Polar Express, telling the simple story of a nameless hero boy who discovers that Santa Claus does indeed exist. Unable to sleep on Christmas Eve, our boy hero finds a massive train pulling up in front of his house. Dressed in only his pyjamas, he is invited by the conductor to come aboard where he find a dozen other excited kids. Destination? Why, the North Pole of course, for this is The Polar Express! What starts off as a fairly uneventful round trip to the North Pole, with the train making one more stop to pick up a very shy lad, quickly turns into quite a rollercoaster of a ride. Once the kids arrive in Christmas town – well, in a way this movie is the flipside of Nightmare Before Christmas – the pace doesn’t let down with adventures just waiting around the corner. Where The Polar Express as a movie fails is in its character animation. The conductor, Santa Claus, most of the elves and most of the children simply don’t look very friendly. All the facial expressions – amazement, excitements and disappointment – are all wonderfully well done, but at the basis of it all lay a bunch of grumpy faces. The fact that Tom Hanks does five voices, doesn’t help the film either as he is too recognisable; subsequently creating confusion about who’s doing the narration. Finally, the story itself is too simplistic and is too thinly spread over the course of 90 minutes. Where the movie succeeds is in its scenery animation. The design, the colour schemes and the details of the landscapes and Santa’s home town are simply breathtaking, even if some scenes do tend to run long, showing off the film’s digital wizardry, rather than actually helping the narrative along. In true Zemeckis fashion, we also get some cleverly designed scenes with mirrored shots or extremely low – i.e.: below the floor – camera angles. The icing on the cake, however, is the train itself. Brilliantly designed and wonderfully shot from all sorts of funky angles, The Polar Express itself is alive much more than any of its passengers. It seems obvious that Zemeckis has wanted to do this film ever since Back To The Future III; and everyone who loved the train and locomotive sequences in that movie, is going to have a blast here. As is to be expected composer Alan Silvestri saves his best work for Zemeckis, delivering an awe inspiring, vibrant score that is pleasantly reminiscent of the Back To The Future series; and that is augmented by a handful of equally enchanting songs. Given the on screen time to develop his melodic ideas, Silvestri manages to deliver a score that is ultimately much more enjoyable than his Van Helsing from earlier this year, which suffered from its on-demand block-by-block style of composition. While the opening scene and its music are a tad too reminiscent of Edward Scissorhands, the movie that follows quickly puts all thought of Tim Burton’s classic out of our minds – at least for the time being. There is a lot more score music in this film than the current soundtrack album suggests, with the songs actually being less prominently present than one might expect. If the Suite on the currently released CD has wetted your appetite, rest assured that there is a lot more where that came from. Luckily, plans to release a score only album do exist… if you only believe! Click here for a full review of The Polar Express.

FINDING NEVERLAND

JAN A.P. KACZMAREK

Review by Peter Simons. One of this year’s hidden gems is undoubtedly Finding Neverland, a film which had gone somewhat unnoticed amidst the year’s thunderous blockbusters. Set at the beginning of the twentieth century, before two world wars made the world a more sinister place to live, the film focuses on the life of author J. M. Barrie (Johnny Depp) as he is working on his masterpiece Peter Pan. Much to the annoyance of Barrie’s wife Mary (Radha Mitchell) he befriends a widowed mother of four children, who provides him with the inspiration to write his classic tale. The children are going through a rough time - their father died of cancer and their mother (Kate Winslet) is not well either, though she’s reluctant to admit it – and while most of the family have put dad’s death behind them and are enjoying life again, Peter (Freddie Highmore) is still grieving the loss. It is primarily for him that Barrie writes the adventures of Peter Pan. Comedy and drama go hand in hand in this truly heart-warming film, which has a wonderful plot, great set design and dazzling cinematography as well as a superb cast that also features Dustin Hoffman as the producer of Barrie’s stage plays. Johnny Depp and young Freddie Highmore (who was also great in Two Brothers) are particularly on top form. The score from Jan A.P. Kaczmarek sizzles with lush melodies and is colourfully orchestrated. The main theme, most prominently performed on the piano, is slightly reminiscent of James Horner’s Glory. The opening cue is a cleverly varied piece with the orchestrations changing every few bars to perfectly fit the fast paced opening scene of the movie. Throughout the film, the score beautifully underplays the scenes, lending them the appropriate emotional touch and lifting the film up to “that next level”, yet without ever drawing too much attention to itself. A worthy contender for the Oscar, should it get nominated.

EXORCIST: THE BEGINNING

TREVOR RABIN

Review by Peter Simons and Jonathan Broxton. Set some twenty-odd years prior to the original Exorcist film, Exorcist: The Beginning tells the story of Dutch archaeologist Lancaster Merrin (Stellan Skarsgaard) encountering – and subsequently fighting – the devil in East Africa. A former priest whose traumatic memories of World War II resulted in him losing his faith, Merrin travels to Africa where he is approached by two representatives of the Church asking him to investigate an archaeological dig in Kenya where an ancient Christian church is being unearthed from beneath the desert sands. For reasons unknown, it seems that the church – an evil-looking, ominous place - was buried immediately after it was built, and it’s up to Merrin to discover the history of this place, like some kind of religious Indiana Jones. In the meantime, bizarre things are happening in the nearby village: accidents occur, people die mysterious deaths; and a small boy is displaying worrying symptoms which seem to point to demonic possession. Having seen too many children get shot during the war, and despite the work of kindly doctor Sarah (Izabella Scorupco), Merrin is reluctant to get involved with the boy – but before long it becomes apparent that he will have no choice in the matter. Exorcist: The Beginning has a tortuous history. Originally intended to be directed by John Frankenheimer (who died just days into the production), Paul Schrader took over the reins, with Liam Neeson in the lead role. However, the executives at Warner Brothers got cold feet when Schrader’s original cut wasn’t “horrific” enough. Schrader was fired, as was his original choice of composer, Christopher Young, and in came Finnish director Renny Harlin to complete the job. To be fair, Exorcist: The Beginning will do little for Harlin’s already shaky career. His previous film Mindhunters has yet to be released in theatres (though in some countries it has gone straight to video); before that was Driven, which wasn’t exactly a masterpiece, nor was Deep Blue Sea before that. Still, Harlin’s addition to the Exorcist series is surprisingly enjoyable if not all that scary. The exotic locations are a lust for the eye, and the technical credits are all pretty good, even if some of the acting is a little stiff. Deep Blue Sea composer Trevor Rabin teams up with Harlin again (at the expense of Finnish talent Tuomas Kantelinen who scored Mindhunters), and the resulting music is actually surprisingly good. Fortunately, there are no big power anthems this time, but subtle electronic and ethnic sound design with emphasis on drums and vocals, and a great deal of traditional orchestral horror composing which accentuates the film’s more tense scenes. Certain sequences set inside the church see the addition of a religious choral element, and the soundtrack also contains some traditional African music (best used during the frightening scene of the witch doctors using shamanistic magic on the little boy). Surprisingly there is no sign of Mike Oldfield’s famous Tubular Bells theme from original 1973 film (probably due to licensing issues), athough Rabin does introduce a similar, fast-paced motif during the end credits. Unfortunately, no CD release of this film exists at the moment – a shame, as this would one Rabin score I would go out and buy.

BACK TO GAYA

MICHAEL KAMEN

The late, great Michael Kamen was working on a score for the German animated movie Back to Gaya at the time of his death in November 2003, and had completed a number of draft themes and demos. The film’s directors, Leonard Krahwinkel and Holger Tappe, were so in love with Kamen’s music that, after his death, they were determined to hold on to his score. Orchestrators Robert Elhai and Blake Neely completed the sketches Kamen left behind, composer Ilan Eshkeri filled in the blanks, and this is the result: a soaring, beautiful, majestic work that unfortunately happens to accompany a rather disappointing movie. For the record, Back to Gaya (which has been released in the UK with the needlessly juvenile title “Boo, Zino and the Snurks”) tells the story of Boo and Zino, two loveable characters from an animated children’s TV series, who find themselves plucked from their home world of Gaya and deposited into the “real world”. In order to return home, Boo and Zino must team up with the lovely Alanta, and three mischievous Snurks who were also transported out of Gaya, to recover an energy source from a mad scientist, who seems to have a long-standing grudge against Albert Drollinger, creator of Boo and Zino… There are many problems with Back to Gaya as a film. The animation is, at times, quite shockingly amateurish, barely exceeding the standards of Saturday morning shows. The vocal performances, by unknown actors such as Glenn Wrage and Alan Marlot, are bland and uninspiring, as is the screenplay (quite how the producers managed to convince Emily Watson and Patrick Stewart to lend their vocal talents to this project is amazing!) Even the film’s central message (something to do with free will and individual thinking) seems lost in the mess. On the other hand, the animation is occasionally quite wonderful, especially when it comes to scenery and backgrounds. The Gayan landscape is a delight to behold – a dazzling world of waterfalls, vast mountain ranges and verdant forests – while the “real world” has a terrific film-noirish quality, all shadows and rain-slicked streets, with architecture that could have been designed by Tim Burton. Kamen’s sweeping score provides wonderful accompaniment to these majestic visuals – the opening ten minutes of the film are simply spectacular. As the camera flew over the Gayan landscape, with Kamen’s stirring central theme receiving the full orchestral treatment in the background, I don’t mind admitting that I shed real tears, because of the beauty of the music, and because of the knowledge that we will never again hear music like this from the pen of Kamen. Despite being a close relative to the theme from Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, Back to Gaya has a more expansive, epic quality to it that simply takes the breath away. Several other cues – notably the Gayan car chase, the appearance of the vortex, and several action sequences involving sewer rats and giant robots - illustrate just how versatile Kamen was. When you add a love theme, a menacing theme for the mad scientist Professor Icely, and a few other set pieces, you have what could have been one of Kamen’s truly great works. Instead, Back to Gaya is his epitaph, and merely reminds the world how we lost a truly great composer far too young. Surprisingly, there is no CD of any kind for Back to Gaya, but I for one will be on the lookout for a score promo. [Note: readers can see footage of the scoring session, with excerpts from Kamen’s score, on the Back to Gaya website at http://www.backtogaya.de - click on the fireplace in the bottom right hand corner, and then “musik”].

TOUCHING THE VOID

ALEX HEFFES

An astonishing true-life adventure - part documentary, part action movie – Touching the Void tells the story of Joe Simpson and Simon Yates, two amateur mountain climbers from England who endured a harrowing experience in the Peruvian Andes in 1985. Having successfully completed the ascent of difficult Siula Grande peak, Joe and Simon carefully began their descent down the tricky slope, and were making steady progress until Joe suffered a horrific leg injury (he broke his leg so badly he drove his tibia up through his knee joint). After making several futile attempts to drag Joe down the mountain, Simon is eventually forced to make a devastating decision: either keep trying to get Joe down the mountain, and risk both of them losing their lives, or cut the rope which is tethering them together, saving his own life, but costing Joe his. Eventually, he chooses the latter, sending Joe plummeting into an icy crevasse. But, quite incredibly, Joe didn’t die - we know this because director Kevin Macdonald shows him on-screen, talking about his ordeal fifteen years after it happened - and the story of how he gets himself off the mountain is truly remarkable. The talking heads style, coupled with footage re-created by actors Brendan Mackey and Nicholas Aaron, gives Touching the Void a gripping immediacy and sense of drama: everyone survived, it’s just a question of how. The one thought which keeps springing to mind is “could I have done the same thing as him in those circumstances?”, and the answer for most of us would be no. Trapped in a 200 foot deep cave, in almost total darkness, with no food or water, in blisteringly cold temperatures, and with a leg injured so badly that putting any pressure on it would cause him to faint with the excruciating pain, Joe somehow survived. It’s a remarkable testament to the human spirit which Macdonald captures with breathtaking effectiveness. The score for Touching the Void is by British composer Alex Heffes, who with his other 2004 score Trauma is beginning to make an international name for himself, and who scored Macdonald’s previous major feature, the documentary One Day In September. His music is generally orchestral – big, sweeping themes (and occasionally a choir) for mountain vistas; slightly more introspective material for Joe’s moments of self-doubt and despair; big drums for action packed moments of mountain climbing; and so on and so forth. It occasionally sounds a little Hornery – one cue sounds especially sounds like Horner’s score for Star Trek II – but despite occasional similarities, it nevertheless remains an interesting and varied score. In addition to Heffes’ work there is additional electronic music by composer Bevan Smith, and deliciously twisted reworking of the classic Bony M song “Brown Girl in the Ring”, for a scene in which Joe slips in and out of pain-induced hallucinations. The soundtrack, on the independent British label Harkit features 14 tracks of Heffes’s score.

SAW

CHARLIE CLOUSER

A high-concept, fiendishly-plotted, relentlessly gory thriller, Saw is the debut film of director James Wan. The premise is simple: Lawrence (Cary Elwes) and Adam (Leigh Whannell, who also wrote the screenplay) wake up in a disgusting disused bathroom, chained to the pipes by their ankles, with very little memory of how they got there. Lying on the floor between them is a bloody corpse, a gun, and a tape recorder. Because of their chains, neither man can reach each other, the body, or the items on the floor. Gradually the two men realise that they are being held captive by a serial killer nicknamed Jigsaw, who places his victims in elaborate booby traps which effectively make them kill themselves – but the question is why? What connection do Lawrence and Adam have with each other in their past? Will they make sense of the clues Jigsaw has left for them? And will police detective Tapp (Danny Glover) find them before time runs out… To reveal more would spoil the rest of Saw for those who are brave enough to venture out to see it… suffice to say that the rest of the film is an ingenious labyrinth of plot twists and surprise, moments of stomach-churning gore, and a finale which is quite literally stunning in its unexpectedness. Cary Elwes, in what is probably his first major leading role since The Princess Bride, is a revelation: overweight and arrogant, his calm demeanour is gradually stripped away as the film progresses, leaving him a terrified shell of a man. It’s an unusual role for the actor with matinee idol good looks, but his performance is the one which leaves the greatest impression. Whannell is good; Glover is occasionally awful; and the supporting cast (Monica Potter, Ken Leung, Dina Meyer, Michael Emerson) are all adequate in what are little more than roles intended to occasionally break the tension. The problem with the film is actually Wan’s visual style: the whole thing smacks of a debut filmmaker trying too hard to impress with overly-flashy camera moves, occasionally unnecessary visual trickery, and a relentless sound design which could makes a viewer even more nauseous, considering some of the make-up and special effects. Adding another layer to the sense of auditory confusion and chaos is the thundering rock score by Charlie Clouser, best known for his work with the groundbreaking industrial rock band Nine Inch Nails. Clouser’s score, as one would expect, is full of vicious energy and power. Danny Lohner’s electric guitar work pounds relentlessly throughout, and Clouser’s oppressive sound design adds volumes to the sense of murky claustrophobia. Several scenes – notably the car chase through the city, Amanda’s desperate attempts to free herself from the metal head cage, the shocking finale – are scored with a great deal of urgency, and although I don’t particularly like this kind of industrial rock as pure music, it’s impossibly to overlook its effectiveness in this context. The soundtrack features nine cues of Clouser’s score, along with songs by Fear Factory, Psycho Pumps, Caliban and others.

WIMBLEDON

EDWARD SHEARMUR

For tennis fans, Wimbledon offers the ultimate wish-fulfilment fantasy: an Englishman winning the world’s most prestigious tournament. For romantic comedy fans, Wimbledon offers an undemanding 2 hours of light entertainment with some nice performances, and several laugh-out-loud moments. Paul Bettany stars as Peter Colt, a 31-year old English tennis player who, having seen his ranking drop to #119 in the world, has decided to have one more shot at Wimbledon before hanging up his racket for good. Meanwhile, up-and-coming American tennis star Lizzie Bradbury (Kirsten Dunst) is enthusiastic, focused, ruthless, and playing in her first Wimbledon – and is expected to do well. When the two pros accidentally bump into each other in her hotel room, their chance encounter begins to turn into a whirlwind romance – much to the displeasure of Lizzie’s ambitious father Dennis (Sam Neill). For Peter, his new relationship proves to be the tonic he needs for his game – all of a sudden he’s winning matches he was expected to lose, and winning the hearts of the British public. For Lizzie, however, the opposite is true – her game is faltering, her concentration is slipping, and worst of all she is coming under increasing pressure from Daddy to call the whole thing off… Wimbledon is undemanding, entertaining fluff, which unashamedly adheres to every genre cliché – you know from the first frame that the underdog is going to win the game, get the girl and live happily ever after (but, then again, Wimbledon is made by the team who brought us Notting hill, Bridget Jones and Love Actually). What makes the film most appealing are the performances of Bettany and Dunst, who share an engaging on-screen chemistry. Bettany succeeds in playing the amiable everyman for whom everyone wants to root, while Dunst has surely acquired a whole new legion of male fans with her perky, spunky performance as the American superstar. It’s hard to believe it’s been ten years since she first appeared in Interview with the Vampire. Director Richard Loncraine keeps things moving at a brisk pace, and coaxes some memorable supporting performances out of Bernard Hill (as Peter’s father), Nicolaj Coster-Waldau (as Peter’s best friend), James McAvoy (as Peter’s brother), and Austin Nichols as Peter’s rival both on the court and off it. There are also memorable cameos from real-life tennis legends John McEnroe and Chris Evert. Composer Edward Shearmur was a late replacement for original choice Klaus Badelt, who was unable to score Wimbledon due to a schedule clash with his other 2004 movie, Catwoman. Considering the short timescale he had to complete the assignment, Shearmur’s score is quite delightful: a modern romantic comedy score with a hint of orchestral “lushness”. Much of the music makes liberal use of guitars and percussion, accompanying the hustle and bustle of the life of a tennis professional. In the more romantic interludes, Shearmur gets out his piano and string section, and scores the blossoming relationship between Peter and Lizzie with a series of warm, attractive love themes (the night-time scene on the disused tennis court is especially endearing). Craig Armstrong also makes a guest appearance, with one of his cues underscoring the finale to an important tennis match, and there are one or two nice songs on the soundtrack, but unfortunately no album is available at this time.

DE-LOVELY

COLE PORTER and STEPHEN ENDELMAN

Review by Peter Simons. Anything goes in Irwin Winkler's latest film De-Lovely, which tells the life story of legendary song writer Cole Porter. Kevin Kline stars – and shines – as the American composer of such classics as Begin The Beguine, Let's Misbehave, Every Time We Say Goodbye, Let's Do It (Let's Fall In Love) and, of course, It's De-Lovely. While blessed with a rare musical gift and the critical and public acclaim to go with it, Porter's private life was a troubled one. Though married to Linda (Ashley Judd), a woman so understanding and forgiving it's unbelievable, the composer was actually gay, which, for fear of ruining his career, he had to keep secret to the public. This is, after all, the beginning of the 20th century we're talking about. While at the top of his game, his wife has a miscarriage; their best friends lose their son to tuberculosis; and Cole himself badly injures his legs in a horse riding accident. On top of all this, the Porter's never found a place they could honestly call their home, despite having owned houses in Paris, New York and Hollywood. Recalling Shakespeare’s classic quote ‘all life’s a stage’, Porter’s life is, partly, presented as a stage play performed uniquely for the leading man himself. It is somewhat suggested that the director of this play (Jonathan Pryce) is arch angel Gabriel who, as a ghost of the past, shows Porter what a wonderful, colourful, though sometimes tragic, life he has led. Despite this set up and despite the numerous musical moments, to us, the movie going audience, De-Lovely definitely is presented as a motion picture, not a stage musical. Director Winkler delivers a heart warming film in a visually superb style with dazzling cinematography and very clever editing. Performing Porter’s classic songs on screen is a wide range of world class singers. From Robbie Williams (It’s De-Lovely) to Alanis Morissette (Let’s Do It); from Simply Red’s Mick Hucknall (I Love You) to Sheryl Crow (Begin The Beguine) and Elvis Costello (Let’s Misbehave). Not to mention that Kevin Kline performs many a song himself – and quite nicely too. Arranging and producing all these songs is British composer Stephen Endelman who must have had a blast working with the world’s leading artists. Best known for romantic comedies such as Evelyn and The Englishman Who Went Up A Hill But Came Down A Mountain, Endelman isn’t actually contributing any original compositions of his own to this film. His style is therefore impossible to pinpoint. What matters in this case, however, is that the songs sound fabulous and vibrant; and that they are performed by beautiful men and women. It would have pleased Cole Porter undoubtedly. A soundtrack album with 18 tracks is available from Sony and comes highly recommended to anyone with a longing for nostalgia.

THE LIFE AND DEATH OF PETER SELLERS

RICHARD HARTLEY

British cinema icon Peter Sellers, who died at the age of 54 in 1980, had a quite extraordinary career, encompassing performances in such legendary films as The Mouse That Roared, I’m All Right Jack, The Millionairess The Pink Panther, Dr Strangelove and Being There. What not many people know – and which the film The Life and Death of Peter Sellers tries to show – is the man behind the screen façade, the man whose intensely troubled private life was masked by his public success. Geoffrey Rush stars as Sellers, and we follow his life in chronological order: from his early years in England with his domineering mother Peg (Miriam Margolyes) and ineffectual father Bill (Peter Vaughan), his marriage to the wholesome Anne (Emily Watson) and the birth of his first two children, and his first taste of fame on the radio-based Goon Show with Spike Milligan (Edward Tudor-Pole) and Harry Secombe (Steve Pemberton); to his first screen outings, and his tragic failure to woo Sophia Loren (Sonia Aquino), the break-up of his marriage which ironically coincides with his greatest screen successes working with directors Blake Edwards (John Lithgow) and Stanley Kubrick (Stanley Tucci), his second marriage to Swedish starlet Britt Ekland (Charlize Theron), and his eventual decline into alcoholism, depression and ill-health. What Rush and director Stephen Hopkins attempt to convey is that Sellers was a self-proclaimed blank canvas. He often said that “If you ask me to play myself, I will not know what to do. I do not know who or what I am. There used to be a me behind the mask, but I had it surgically removed”. To this end, Rush often plays Sellers peripheral characters as reflections of himself – his mother, his father, Edwards, Kubrick. The people who had most influence on Sellers often tell his story. The standard bio-pic format is interspersed with faithful recreations of famous scenes from Sellers’ career, as well as several flamboyant “dream sequences” in which Sellers indulges his flights of fancy for women, high living, and latterly drugs and alcohol. Rush totally inhabits the role, portraying Sellers with a brutal honesty seldom seen when discussing a man held in such high esteem. However (and this is the film’s main problem) is that Sellers was quite obviously such a total bastard to everyone around him, it’s difficult to experience the film with anything more than a notion of “hmm, that’s interesting”. You don’t like the man, and you don’t feel for him, and focus instead on the people around him whose lives he ruined. Nevertheless, Rush is great, as are Theron and Watson as his wives. The screenplay, based on Roger Lewis’s book, is intelligent and articulate, and director Hopkins shows there is more to his talent than Lost In Space and Predator 2. Composer Richard Hartley has a blast working from the musical influences of Henry Mancini and Burt Bacharach, and rewards audiences with a score rich in 60s nostalgia. The jazzy tones of Mancini accompany Sellers’ misadventures as Inspector Clouseau, while the upbeat easy listening vibe of Bacharach effortlessly conveys the notion of an archetypal British 60s man-about-town. Sellers’ off-screen life sees Hartley writing in understated dramatic mode, mainly for strings and pianos, with occasional orchestral swells to accompany the more romantic moments, especially between Sellers and Ekland. There are also a number of “period standard” songs worked into the soundtrack, including a splendid performance of “What’s New Pussycat?” by Tom Jones. Unfortunately, The Life and Death of Peter Sellers is not being shown in cinemas in the USA, premiering instead on the cable channel HBO in November 2004 (and thereby making the film ineligible for Oscar consideration). Similarly, Hartley’s score has not seen the light of day, as no soundtrack album exists at this time.

SKY CAPTAIN AND THE WORLD OF TOMORROW

EDWARD SHEARMUR

Review by Peter Simons. The first film ever to have its cast act in computer generated environments for the entire duration of the film, Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow is an 'old school' adventure flick with the world at risk of annihilation and with only one man who can save it. Set in a stylized futuristic version of 1930s New York, Gwyneth Paltrow stars as Polly Perkins, a thrill-seeking journalist who discovers that several of the world's greatest scientists have been kidnapped by a mad professor called Totenkopf. The rest of the population discovers that all is not well when giant flying robots invade the Big Apple. Heroic adventurer Joe Sullivan, better known as Sky Captain (Jude Law) manages to shoot down one of the robots so that his team of experts, lead by Dex (Giovanni Ribisi), can hopefully find some clues as to the whereabouts of doctor Totenkopf. As it turns out, he has his office in Nepal and it's up to Joe and Polly to travel to the other side of the world in order to find the wicked doctor and put a stop to his evil plans. They are aided, thankfully, by Franky Cook (Angelina Jolie) and her fleet of flying airbases. Shot entirely in front of blue and green screens, all scenery is created using CGI. Director Kerry Conran presents a visually astonishing film that never means to look fully realistic, but instead tries to bring to life a wonderfully old fashioned comic book look as we've come to know it from, for example, the classic Superman comics. Filmed mostly in shades of grey and faded hues of brown and yellow, Conran succeeds in creating the nostalgic atmosphere he's after. The screenplay, while most critics weren't at all impressed with it, harkens back to those ridiculous, but oh so fun matinee movies of the 1950s. What Conran is trying to do, is not so much different from what Spielberg tried to do with Jaws; or what George Lucas wanted to do with Star Wars. Why the critics are bashing Conran for his film - which is obviously a product of love and the result of years of long and hard labour, which is much more than can be said about the majority of Hollywood's output - is beyond me. Jude Law perfectly embodies the boyish charms of Sky Captain; Angelina Jolie performs more than adequate as a seasoned British officer, while Gywneth Paltrow, unfortunately, overemphasizes the annoying habits of her character. Further enhancing the film's nostalgic atmosphere, is young British composer Edward Shearmur's rousing orchestral score. Dedicated to his 'mentor' Michael Kamen, Sky Captain is surely a score that would've made Kamen very proud of his former assistant. Shearmur’s score brings to mind the swashbucklers of yesteryear and, perhaps more than anything, is reminiscent of John Williams’ style from the late 70s and early 80s. The score boasts a handful of seemingly simple and memorable themes, while at the same time the orchestrations are phenomenally complex. Being scored virtually wall-to-wall Sky Captain actually could have done with a little less music; but with a soundtrack of this quality that is only a petty complaint. Over the last few years Shearmur has written a handful of scores that are on opposite ends of the musical spectrum - and yet he excelled on each and every one of them. From the electronic ambient score for K-Pax, the funky Bond-spoofs of Johnny English to the Goldenthalian fury of Reign Of Fire – and now Sky Captain And The World Of Tomorrow – Shearmur has proven to be one of the most talented and promising composers working in movies today. 2004 may, sadly, go down in history as the year in which we said our farewells to Jerry Goldsmith and Elmer Bernstein; but with the likes of Shearmur, the future of film music is in safe hands. Click here for a full review of Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow.

AE FOND KISS

GEORGE FENTON

Review by Peter Simons. A seemingly unusual choice of genre for director Ken Loach, Ae Fond Kiss is a romantic drama with a touch of humour set in modern day Glasgow, telling the love story of Irish Catholic teacher Roison Hanlon (Eva Birthistle) and Pakistani Muslim Casim Khan (newcomer Atta Yaqub). Loach, however, wouldn't be Loach if he wouldn't infuse his story with thought-provoking social themes. Casim's parents have arranged for him to marry his first cousin, but, unwilling to give up his love for Roison, he refuses to get married. In breaking with Muslim tradition he brings a great shame to his family which affects every member's life. For Roison it is no easier: if she wants to continue her teaching job at a Catholic school, she must get approval from her parish priest (Gerrald Kelly), but he fiercely scolds Roison for having sex outside of marriage – and with non-Catholic no less! In a time in which we preach tolerance and understanding, Ae Fond Kiss shows in a painfully clear manner that prejudice is still very much a part of our daily lives. Loach avoids shoving a moral down the audience's throat and instead respectfully shows both sides of the relationship. The naked truth – no more, no less. Yaqub and Birthistle both perform excellently and manage to portray their difficult relationship believably. Gerrald Kelly delivers a superb, though brief performance as a fearsome parish priest who threatens to destroy Roison's career if she doesn't give up on Casim. The rest of the cast is mediocre at best, but sympathetic at least. With Indian pop music filling up the bulk of the soundtrack, there is little room for George Fenton's score to break through. In all fairness, as Loach's style of filmmaking at times resembles a documentary, the absence of score further enhances the sense of realism he is trying to achieve. When Fenton's music is heard, it is minimalistic in composition as well as orchestration. Performed by three musicians only, it focuses on piano and cello. Though known for his ability to write sweeping themes, Fenton avoids any overly melodic material and creates subtle yet effective moods through simple motifs. Casim and Roison's first love scene, for example, is scored with a thee-note ascending motif signalling the lovers’ anticipation or expectations rather than their love or lust. As of yet, there is no word on any soundtrack release for Ae Fond Kiss; and the limited amount of score music, pleasant as it may be, honestly doesn't warrant a release.

INSIDE I’M DANCING

DAVID JULYAN

The latest effort from the talented British director Damien O’Donnell, Inside I’m Dancing is a film which tackles the prejudices and hardships faced by people suffering from motor disabilities such as multiple sclerosis and cerebral palsy. Where it succeeds is in the way it uses humour and realism to put its point across – it avoids the maudlin, clichéd disease-of-the-week pitfalls which can easily ensnare a project such as this, and ultimately becomes a warm, moving, and thoroughly enjoyable look at the lives of people with problems such as these. Newcomer Steven Robertson stars as Michael, a young man with cerebral palsy who lives in a care home in Dublin run by the kind but stern Eileen (Brenda Fricker). Having spent virtually his whole life in institutions, and barely able to speak due to his disability, Steven has resigned himself to remaining in care for the duration – until the arrival of 20-year-old Rory (James McAvoy). Rory is loud, vulgar, cocky, opinionated, fiercely independent, and paralysed from the neck down, able only to move two fingers on his right hand. As one of the few people able to understand Steven’s slurred speech, Rory has an immediate effect on Steven’s previously ordered young life, and the two quickly become firm friends. With his live-life-to-the-fullest attitude and open disdain for authority, Rory inspires Steven to break out of the shackles of institutionalisation, and begin truly *living*. With a profanity-laden but hugely funny screenplay, well-judged performances, and a warmth and humanity which stops the whole thing falling into the realms of over-sentimentality, Inside I’m Dancing is a winner all the way – although I do have worries about whether this film will find an audience. Robertson and McAvoy, neither of whom are disabled in real life, are wonderful in the leads roles, effectively showing the real people behind the wheelchairs. Robertson in particular manages to transcend his speech impediment in the same way Daniel Day Lewis did in My Left Foot, and makes Steven a character you can sympathise with, laugh with, and feel for. The music for Inside I’m Dancing is by British composer David Julyan, best known to date for his moody scores for Christopher Nolan’s films Memento and Insomnia, and for recently being passed over for the fifth Batman movie. Contrary to the subdued, minimalist, synth-driven scores for his most famous works, Inside I’m Dancing is a real departure, being much more orchestrally rich and thematically rewarding. With recurring themes for string orchestra and piano, and a delicious Irish lilt running through it, Julyan brings musical life and lightness to a film which could have been monumentally depressing in other circumstances. Although the film is a small one, it’s a major step forward for Julyan in that he finally shows what some of us have known for a while – that there is much more to him as a composer than simply well-programmed synths. There are moments of great beauty in Inside I’m Dancing – the musical swell as the camera pans up and over the centre of Dublin at the finale is of special note - and having now heard this score it saddens me more that we will never hear his take on Batman.

PHONE

SANG HO LEE

The latest film in the “Asia Extreme” series of films to hit Britain in 2004 is the Korean horror thriller Phone, directed by Byong-Ki Ahn, heralded as the Korean Alfred Hitchcock. Taking its inspiration from international hits such as the Ring trilogy and The Eye, Phone is another combination of modern technology and ancient horror, visceral terror in a contemporary world. Ji-Won Ha stars as Ji-Won, a journalist who, following the publication of an expose of a sex scandal, begins receiving threatening e-mail and unusual messages on her cellphone. As time passes, the messages on her phone become more and more disturbing, to the point when her little niece Young-Ju (Eun Su-Woo) becomes traumatised after hearing one of the calls. Investigating further, Ji-Won discovers that the previous owners of her number were killed in mysterious circumstances, and worse still little Young-Ju’s behaviour is becoming increasingly irrational, as though she is possessed by some supernatural force…To reveal more about Phone’s plot would be a disservice, because as much as it adheres to the newly-formed conventions of Oriental horror, it is also a whodunit-cum-detective story with a twist in its tail. The usual assortment of scary plot devises – girls with long hair, ill-lit corridors with shadowy corners, terrors lurking within innocuous gadgetry – are there such force that anyone with any experience of the modern Asian Horror genre will know what to expect. Where Phone is different from, say, The Grudge or A Tale of Two Sisters, is in the way in which the plot strands unfold more like a detective mystery than a conventional horror story. The whys and wherefores of what happened are equally important as the thrills and chills. The whole film is anchored by the utterly sensational performance by six-year-old Eun Su-Woo, whose performance as the tortured Young-Ju is nothing short of startling: by having to convincingly convey the schizophrenia of both childlike innocence and murderous intent, the success of the movie rests on her performance being credible to audiences. She succeeds admirably, and puts in arguably the best female child performance in a horror movie since Heather O’Rourke in Poltergeist. The music for Phone is by Korean composer Sang-Ho Lee and, unlike his contemporaries in the Asia Extreme market, his score is significantly more western-sounding in tone. Building from a piano motif (parts of which are seemingly derived from Jerry Goldsmith’s Omen scores), Lee creates a musical atmosphere which fluctuates between tonal calm and dissonant chaos, as the movie dictates. Family life and the lighter scenes feature a series of quite lovely piano and string themes; the more eerie scenes, and the shocks and scares, feature the usual amount of scraping and groaning, ear-splitting stingers, and the Asian tendency to use sound effects as score. There are also several generous renditions of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, which acts both as a plot point in the movie and a basis for some of the underscore. What’s most surprising are a number of quite excellent action cues, all blasting brasses and thunderous percussion, which accompany Ji-Won’s encounters with her stalker. However, the one thing which mars the score is the somewhat vulgar and occasionally insensitive music editing, which tends to cut cues off in mid-flow as scenes abruptly end; it’s almost as though Lee’s original cues (or Ahn’s original scenes) were longer in the first cut of the movie, and instead of asking his composer to prune down his music, they simply snipped it off half way. It’s a slightly annoying effect which mars an otherwise enjoyable score.

TRAUMA

ALEX HEFFES

A would-be psychological thriller from British director Marc Evans, Trauma is a film which promises much but fails to deliver a finished product which sustains interest. Colin Firth stars as Ben Slater, an artist who wakes from a coma to discover that his wife Elisa (Naomie Harris) has been killed in a car crash. However, as time goes on and Ben tries to cope with his grief, he finds his reality being distorted to such an extent that it begins to affect his sanity. Is Elisa really dead? Who is the mysterious Charlotte (Mena Suvari)? What is going on in the basement of the converted hospital where he now lives? And, most importantly, what has he got to do with the brutal murder of pop singer Lauren Parris? Trauma wants to be a truly disturbing film about the devastating effects of loss and grief but, unfortunately, director Evans’ efforts are undermined by an uninteresting screenplay (credited to Richard Smith), bland performances, perfunctory supporting characters, and a story arc which doesn’t really go anywhere. Firth tries his hardest to shed his clean-cut Mr Darcy image by growing some stubble and affecting a few nervous tics, but he’s never really convincing as a potential killer with a mysterious past. Similarly, Mena Suvari is given very little to do in her “supportive female character” role, while great character actors like Kenneth Cranham, Brenda Fricker and Tommy Flanagan are barely given enough time to register their presence. Visually the film is often impressive, especially in some of the more surreal sequences, and the use of slightly squalid London locations add to the oppressive atmosphere. Overall, though, Trauma is too much style over too little substance, and considering how refreshing Evans’ first feature My Little Eye was, it more than disappoints. Trauma’s score is by up-and-coming British composer Alex Heffes, a former assistant to Simon Boswell, and who achieved a degree of international success scoring the critically acclaimed documentary Touching the Void earlier in 2004. As befits the film, Heffes’s music is dark and unnerving, relying on tense string sustains and mournful piano melodies to carry the tortured story forwards. There’s also a fair bit of angry dissonance, notably during the rather unsettling scenes of Ben’s tortured dreams, but this is tempered by a subtly romantic theme that hints at the relationship between Ben and Charlotte, but is never fully realised. In addition to Heffes’s score, there are a number of original songs (produced by Ben Wolf and Andy Dean, who receive an additional music credit as “The Boilerhouse Boys”), and performed by R&B artist Alison David as the movie’s fictional pop star Lauren Parris. No CD soundtrack exists at this time.

A TALE OF TWO SISTERS (JANGHWA HONGRYEON)

BYUNG WOO LEE

Review by Peter Simons. The latest film to ride the increasingly popular wave of Asian Horror, as the genre has been dubbed, is the wickedly clever Korean production A Tale Of Two Sisters, in which we see siblings Su-Mi (Im Soo-Juong) and Su-Yeong (Moon Geun-Young) return to their father’s home – after having spent some time in a mental institution – only to find that things go bump in the night. Exactly who or what is lurking in the darkness ahead remains uncertain for the better part of the movie. Is it the two sisters themselves who have a strong and undoubtedly powerful emotional bond? Or is it Eun-Joo (Yeom Jeong-Ah), the evil stepmother? While bearing a resemblance to western fairytales of wicked stepmothers and terrorized daughters, A Tale Of Two Sisters is actually based on the Asian folktale of Janghwa & Hongryun, which has been filmed several times already. Before plunging into pure horror, director Kim Jee-Woon effectively introduces the characters and portrays their relationships. The hysterical stepmom is definitely up-to-no-good, while father Mu-Hyun (Kim Kab-Su) is a visibly weary man who is absent most of the time. During beautifully lit and photographed scenes at a lake nearby the house, it becomes evident that the protective Su-Mi and the shy Su-Yeong have a very special relationship and that they will stick together what ever wickedness comes their way. When the story reveals its dark side it does so at a frightfully slow pace, ever-building the tension to create a fear for fear rather than for anything else. As the tale unfolds it turns out that all is not what it seemed with the plot quite cleverly twisting and turning with a every new scene. A second viewing is recommended. DreamWorks has already reserved the rights for an American remake, but whether it will be as intriguing as the original remains to be seen. Heightening the scares is Korean classical guitarist/composer Byung-Woo Lee’s effective but schizophrenic score. Daytime-scenes of the siblings are accompanied by lovely waltzes for piano, guitar and string ensemble, which sound as if they were taken straight out of a French drama. As the film gets creepier, so does the music with the lyrical melodies making way for deafening sound design. Sudden bursts on the piano, screeches and an industrial hum slowly but inevitably unnerve the audience. Unlike American horror movies, where the music prepares you for the shock to come and is hardly ever really scary on its own, the sound and music for Asian productions is sheer terror in and by itself. It’s by no means pleasant, but then… isn’t that the very reason why we see scary movies in the first place?

LOVE ME IF YOU DARE (JEUX D’ENFANTS)

PHILIPPE ROMBI

Review by Peter Simons. A game of ‘dare’ becomes a game of life and death in the French film Jeux d’Enfants – or Love Me If You Dare as it’s known outside of France. First-time director Yann Samuell vividly portrays the story of Julien (Guillaume Canet) and Sophie (Marion Cotillard) who, as eight year old children, start playing a game of dare. It’s a seemingly endless game, which the two kids themselves find incredibly amusing, as they share a unique sense of humor, but which the rest of the world cannot approve of. They push each other to their limits and far, far beyond, spraying a teacher with ink, peeing in the headmaster’s office and singing childishly at a funeral. But, one could say, they are only children. As they grow older, however, their game turns ever more aggressive and abusive resulting in personal dramas you normally wouldn’t even wish your worst enemy. Sophie especially seems to take great pleasure in virtually ruining Julien’s life. The irony here is, however, that both are truly, very madly and quite deeply in love with each other, but seeing as they never could have a serious conversation with each other without turning it into a game of dare, they miss opportunity upon opportunity to show their true feelings, blatantly obvious though they are. The film’s synopsis is an interesting one, and Samuell brings the story to life with colorful art design and dazzling cinematography. Yet, Love Me If You Dare isn’t quite as rewarding as it could have been. Seeing Julien and Sophie ruin each other’s and other people’s lives is quite disturbing, and not nearly as enchanting and romantic as the director wants us to believe. A major plus, however, is Phillipe Rombi’s romantic score, parts of which have already been heard in the film’s trailer. Best known internationally for his scores for director François Ozon’s dark thrillers Under the Sand and Swimming Pool, Rombi cleverly incorporates the classic Edith Piaf song ‘La Vie En Rose’, into the fabric of his score, and mixes it with a series of colorfully orchestrated cues centered around a truly gorgeous love theme, which is mostly performed wistfully on the piano, but does get the full orchestral treatment on several occasions, Several key scenes – notably the opening montage in the building site, young Julien’s dreams of flying with his mother, adult Julien’s mad dash after Sophie on the bus, and the finale – leaves the audience with goosebumps. At the moment the score seems only to be available via Universal in France. Hopefully it will get an international release soon.

STAGE BEAUTY

GEORGE FENTON

A renaissance romp that follows in the footsteps of Shakespeare in Love, Stage Beauty is a tale of love, politics and sexual identity in late-17th century London, when all actors were male, and a large number of men enjoyed successful careers playing females on stage. Directed by Richard Eyre and based on Jeffrey Hatcher’s acclaimed play, it stars Billy Crudup as Edward Kynaston, one such actor who specialises in playing women, and who receives standing ovations every night for his performance as Desdemona in Othello. However, when Charles II (Rupert Everett), in a fit or boredom, decrees that women shall henceforth be allowed to act on stage, his career is ruined almost overnight – a problem made worse due to the fact his former dresser, the pretty young Mary Hughes (Clare Danes), is now playing his roles on stage. Boasting an amazing supporting cast that includes Tom Wilkinson, Ben Chaplin, Edward Fox, Hugh Bonneville as Samuel Pepys and newcomer Zoe Tapper as Charles’ headstrong mistress Nell Gwynne – all of whom eat up the barbed, occasionally hilariously bitchy screenplay - Stage Beauty is a superb film that mixes the period look with a decidedly modern outlook on gender politics. Crudup and Danes, Americans with English accents, are both on good form in the lead roles, with Crudup especially shining in a part which is both brave and very different from his familiar screen persona as a would-be matinee idol. Technically, the film is superb, from Jim Clay’s authentic production design, to Tim Hatley’s sumptuous Oscar-nominatable costumes (although, oddly, a couple of frames did look as though the cinematography was a little unfinished…) The score for Stage Beauty is by George Fenton, who absolutely revels in this musical time period. Ornate and baroque, and with the fingerprints of Bach all over the place, Fenton’s music is an old-fashioned delight, alluding to works from his own past such as Dangerous Beauty and The Madness of King George, as well as James Newton Howard’s similarly-themed Restoration. Interestingly, he also makes great use of what seems to be an Irish musical ensemble featuring pipes and fiddles to musically illustrate the hustle-and-bustle of restoration era London – while this may be incorrect geographically, it brings a great deal of energy and sense of life to the scene. A carriage chase through St. James’s Park offers the intriguing possibility of what Handel might have written if asked to do action music, while the love/hate relationship between Ned and Mary plays out to the strains of one of Fenton’s familiar lovely romantic themes for “big strings”. Oddly, no score album for Stage Beauty exists at this time, not can I find evidence of one planned for a future release… watch this space.

DODGEBALL: A TRUE UNDERDOG STORY

THEODORE SHAPIRO

One of the most raucous comedies to be released in 2004, Dodgeball is a delicious mix of clever satire, verbal wit and knockabout slapstick violence that makes for a wonderful final project. Directed by newcomer Rawson Marshall Thurber, it stars Vince Vaughan as Peter LaFleur, an everyday guy who runs Average Joe’s Gym, a spiritual home for all manner of social misfits, geeks and losers. Unfortunately, Average Joe’s happens to be across the street from GloboGym, a soulless multi-million dollar fitness enterprise owned by the slimy White Goodman (Ben Stiller), Pete’s rival and arch-nemesis. When GloboGym announces plans to take over Average Joe’s and turn it into a parking lot, a financial audit reveals that the guys have to raise $50,000, or face permanent closure. Their solution? To enter and win a Las Vegas Dodgeball tournament, during the course of which they will have to overcome both their own demons, AND a team from GloboGym… Dodgeball is certainly one of the funniest mainstream films to come out of Hollywood in a while, boasting a charismatically laid back performance from Vaughan in the lead role, a set of priceless cameos (William Shatner, David Hasselhoff, Lance Armstrong, Chuck Norris, Gary Cole), and a supporting cast more than willing to make asses of themselves in the name of art: Stiller is utterly wonderful as the egomaniacal fitness guru, character actor Rip Torn is brilliant as the grizzled, eccentric former Dodgeball pro Patches O’Houlihan, while the Average Joe’s misfits (Justin Long, Stephen Root, Alan Tudyk, the lovely Christine Taylor) all push themselves through the pain barrier dodging balls, wrenches and traffic. Writer/director Thurber’s script is tight and smart, and has great fun with wordplay, most notably through Stiller’s character’s constant mangling of sentences when trying to make himself sound more intelligent than he actually is, and during the precious love triangle scenes between Vaughan, Stiller and Taylor. And the game itself – in which two teams of six people hurl basketballs at each other as hard as possible - is a fertile ground for slapstick comedy, as balls connect with body parts with varying degrees of pressure and accuracy. Ouch!! In what it his fourth major score of the year, young Theodore Shapiro impresses once again. His score for Dodgeball is a combination of traditional romantic comedy scoring and the heroic sporting anthems, with a bit of modern rock thrown in for good measure. The main theme is blues/rock combo with a prominent electric guitar, but where the score really comes into its own is during the Dodgeball sequences – on ESPN 8 (The Ocho!) – where Shapiro’s orchestra rises to monumental proportions and blasts out a series of American sporting heroism cues that would rival anything from The Right Stuff to Rocky and beyond. Oddly, there is no soundtrack of ANY kind for Dodgeball – not even a song compilation – and so for the umpteenth film in a row, Shapiro’s excellent contribution to film music is completely ignored. Someone needs to redress this balance, immediately.

13 GOING ON 30

THEODORE SHAPIRO

A delightfully nostalgic throwback to the 1980s, 13 Going on 30 is a charming fantasy-comedy that plays like the female version of the classic Tom Hanks movie Big. Teenager Jenna Rink (Christa Allen) wants nothing more than to be popular and date one of the cutest boys in school, but when her birthday party turns into a disaster, and she had an argument with her friend Matt (Jack Salvatore Jr.), she retreats to a closet. Wishing she could be 30 years old, Jenna knocks over “pixie dust” from the dolls house Matt makes for her… and awakens the next morning in the year 2004, looking like Jennifer Garner. She's has a power-house job as an editor for Poise magazine, and is friends with Lucy (Judy Greer), the girl for whose companionship she craved all those years ago. However, Jenna’s mind is still stuck in 1987: not knowing what to do, and adrift in a world she doesn't know or understand, she tracks down the only one she believes she can trust: 30-year old Matt, now a hip New York photographer who looks like Mark Ruffalo. Director Gary Winick helms the proceedings with a deft touch, screenwriters Josh Goldsmith and Cathy Yuspa get the delicate balance of broad comedy and affecting romance perfectly right; and Jennifer Garner brings the right mix of innocence and sense of adventure to a role which could not be more far removed from her persona in the hit TV show “Alias”. Special mention should also go to some splendid performances in the supporting case, notably Andy Serkis shaking off the shackles of Gollum as Jenna’s British boss, and Samuel Ball in a dim-witted, cringe-inducing but well-judged performance as Jenna’s ice hockey jock boyfriend. Composer Teddy Shapiro continues his excellent run of successes in 2004, following on from Along Came Polly, Starsky and Hutch and Dodgeball. 13 Going On 30 is as fluffy a romantic comedy a score as you could imagine; it adheres to every genre cliché invented, but does it with such effortless warmth you can’t help but enjoy it. A lush string orchestra combined with an expressive solo guitar to highlight the blossoming adult relationship between Jenna and Matt; light chimes add that touch of magic to the “pixie dust” that grants Jenna’s childhood wish, and there are even some wonderfully retro rock instrumentals to underscore the establishing scenes of Jenna in her 1980s high school. Speaking of retro, the song score is also a winner all the way: Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” is danced-to on screen in one of the film’s most buoyant scenes, Pat Benatar’s “Love is a Battlefield” plays an important role in establishing the ethos of the screenplay, and the accompanying soundtrack features additional songs by Rick Springfield (“Jessie’s Girl”), Madonna (“Crazy For You”), Whitney Houston (“I Wanna Dance With Somebody”, Vanilla Ice (“Ice Ice Baby”), Soft Cell (“Tainted Love”), and several other classic artists from the period. HIGHLY recommended.

NATHALIE

MICHAEL NYMAN

As is often the case with French films, Nathalie is a slow-moving, slow-burning film about desire, infidelity and repressed emotion. Gérard Depardieu and Fanny Ardant star as Bernard and Catherine, a successful middle-aged French couple living in an inconceivably chic apartment in a swish Parisian neighbourhood. When Bernard casually admits to having an affair, passing it off as nothing more than a meaningless, but inevitable development of a long marriage, Catherine is stunned: it is obvious that Bernard still loves her dearly, but is becoming more emotionally distant and detached. Wandering into a local strip club one night, Catherine encounters Marlène (Emmanuelle Béart), one of the in-house prostitutes, whom she hires for an unusual assignment. Under the pseudonym “Nathalie”, Marlène is to seduce Bernard, and then report back to Catherine with all the details of their encounters – regardless of how sordid or sexually explicit the details may be – in the hope that the information she receives will give her the foothold she needs to revitalise her marriage. Without wanting to adhere to clichéd stereotypes, Nathalie is French film in ever way. The laissez-fair attitudes to sex and sexuality, the acceptance of marital infidelity as nothing more than an occupational hazard – the entire movie can be summed up as a bit of a Gallic shrug. Bubbling underneath the surface of Anne Fontaine’s film is an intriguing drama about the nature of relationships, but unfortunately the director misses a number of opportunities to make Nathalie a more interesting film than it is. The dynamic between Catherine and Marléne is electric – without giving anything away, it’s obvious that the prostitute’s re-tellings of her erotic encounters with Bernard are doing more for Catherine’s libido than Bernard has done in years. In many ways, Marléne becomes the “other woman” in the relationship through Catherine. But, as is often the case with these slow-moving French dramas, all interest is lost through the snail-like pace and emotionless performances of the leads. Ardant, a goddess of French cinema, spends far too much time smoking thoughtfully and gazing into middle-distance; Béart oozes sensuality in the strip-club but acts too much like a spoiled brat outside of it to be truly sympathetic; worst of all Depardieu, one of the best actors of his generation, is reduced to playing little more than a bumbling bit-part. The score for Nathalie is by Michael Nyman, who yet again has written the same music regardless of the type of film he is scoring. The music isn’t bad in anyway – it’s just that it’s a typical, overly-familiar Nyman score, a mass of 8-note chord clusters, hooting saxophones, and clinical precision. There’s no deference to the French setting, no comment on the emotional content of a given scene. It’s just The End of the Affair, or Wonderland, all over again. Much more interesting are some of the song choices Fontaine chooses to use: the songs by the gravely-voiced Leonard Cohen do much more to illustrate the inherent sexuality in the story than Nyman’s sterile strings. As pure music, Nyman’s work is always good; it’s just wrong for this film.

SPARTAN

MARK ISHAM

A twisted political thriller from the pen of David Mamet, Spartan derives its title from the actions of Leonidas, the ancient king of Sparta who, when asked to provide military support to a neighbour, would send just one man – a soldier so well trained that he was capable making the difference. Val Kilmer stars as that one man: US Secret Service Special Agent Scott, who is called into action when Laura Newton (Kristen Bell), the daughter of the President of the United States, is kidnapped from her Harvard campus. Teamed with eager rookie Curtis (Derek Luke), Scott gradually uncovers something much more sinister than a simple kidnapping: it seems that Laura has been unknowingly sold into a white sex slavery ring, and that she was snatched while the President was sleeping with prostitutes during a supposed “visit” to see his daughter. As Presidential aides Stoddard (William H. Macy) and Burch (Ed O’Neill) weigh up the pros and cons of rescuing the missing girl in terms of the upcoming election campaign, Scott finds himself increasingly isolated in his desperate attempts to bring the girl home. David Mamet is both a master of words and a master of suspenseful trickery, as previous efforts such as House of Games and The Spanish Prisoner attest. However, the name Spartan could apply to the nature of his screenplay as much as it could the references to long-dead kings. Much of the dialogue is made up of abbreviated techno-speak, half-barked orders which fly around the mission controls as the efficient service men try to figure out a way of unravelling the mystery. Gone are Mamet’s verbose conversations and snatches of purple prose, and although the initial effect of the lack of exposition is frustrating, the film is all the more effective because of it – Mamet makes his audience think. Kilmer, who is always good in whatever film he’s in, is moody and enigmatic in the lead role, while the various anonymous military-types in the supporting roles (Stephen Culp, Clark Gregg, Johnny Messner) become the faceless hard men Mamet intended. Even the wonderful William H. Macy is reduced to a virtually monosyllabic role as a presidential aide with a disturbing way of ensuring the polls stay in his boss’s favour. Mark Isham, working with Mamet for the first time, has crafted a low-key but highly effective score for Spartan, another part of the film’s make up which could act as a mirror for its frugal nature. Working with an eclectic ensemble of instruments that includes piano, synths, solo cello, metal percussion, and an unusual exotic instrument that could be anything from a hurdy-gurdy to a variation on an oboe, Isham’s score adds a level of sophisticated moodiness to the finished product. Several scenes feature Isham’s peculiar cocktail of instruments high in the sound mix; a couple of chase sequences where the metallic percussion throbs along with the rhythms of the action; a piano/cello theme which appears at regular intervals (but most effectively in the end credits), and some ethnic woodwinds for when the action shifts from North America to the middle east. The whole thing reminded me of a cross between his own scores for The Gingerbread Man or Kiss the Girls, and James Horner’s work on the Jack Ryan movies. Sadly, Spartan has not been released on CD.

TWO BROTHERS

STEPHEN WARBECK

Review by Peter Simons. Roughly 15 years after The Bear, director Jean-Jacques Annaud returns to the animal kingdom with his latest film Two Brothers, which tells the tale of two baby tigers, one shy (Sangha) and one bold (Kumal), who are separated from each other and from their parents after treasure hunters disturb their habitat. An old-fashioned romantic adventurer, Aidan McRory (Guy Pearce), leads an expedition deep into the Southeast Asian jungle to collect ancient statues to sell on the European market. The search for more treasures leads the party to the temple ruins where the tigers hide out and - through a series of unfortunate events - the baby tigers are captured and split up. Kumal ends up in a circus where life in a cage awaits him; homesickness and lack of freedom get the better of him and deprive him of his spirit. The circus's failing business forces the owner Zerbino (Vincent Scarito) to try his luck elsewhere - a fighting arena. The gentle Sangha ends up as the local governor’s lonely son's pet but, after a small accident and a major misunderstanding, is given away to the local Prince (Oanh Nguyen) who plans to break Sangha's friendly spirit in an attempt to turn him into a fighting tiger. While McRory may show little respect for the local cultural or history, he does greatly admire the tigers and develops a special relationship with Kumal. The explorer tries everything that is within his power to keep the felines from harm, but unfortunately there is little he can do. One year after their separation, fate reunites the two brothers in the arena where they are forced to fight each other. The score for Two Brothers was composed by British composer Stephen Warbeck, who replaced Annaud's original first choice composer Gabriel Yared (who, ironically, had to drop out due to his prior scoring commitments to Troy). While Yared wrote the score of his life for the epic blockbuster only to see it rejected at the last minute, Warbeck was giving the opportunity to write one of his most lavish and richly textured scores to date. Warbeck relies on a large orchestra supplemented by numerous exotic instruments to musically accompany the tiger's adventures. For the most part, the music is bold and bombastic featuring a lush main theme for strings similar - perhaps a tad too similar - to Warbeck's own Oscar-winning score for Shakespeare In Love. As the two tigers are reunited Warbeck throws in a new theme that is not only one of the most staggeringly beautiful melodies he has ever written, but is also amongst this year's most emotional cues (entitled “Recognition” on the CD). More so than ever before the composer heavily utilizes both the brass and percussion sections (after all, this is the summer of big drums!) to create an adventurous soundscape. Two Brothers is possibly the most varied and epic score Warbeck has yet written and it would come as no surprise should he end up getting several award nominations for his work. The only real drawback is that the music tends to mickey-mouse the action on screen, resulting in a somewhat awkwardly cartoonish sounding score that sometimes over-dramatises the whole film. Depending on your musical tastes you may even find the score to be lacking unity as Warbeck employs a wide canvas of sounds and styles. However, the sheer power, creativity and inspiration of Warbeck's work cannot be denied. It is a true gem.

BLUEBERRY

JEAN-JACQUES HERTZ and FRANÇOIS ROY

I had the unique experience of being alternately intrigued, confused, bored to death, and totally stupefied by Blueberry, an “existential western” directed by Dutchman Jan Kounen. It’s difficult to say what Blueberry is actually about but, when it comes down to it, it’s basically about the healing power of hallucinogenic drugs. Vincent Cassel stars as the titular character, a Cajun-born marshal in an Arizona dustbowl town in the late 1880s. Blueberry has a mysterious past, and a link with the local Chiricahuan Indians, who practice an ancient Shamanistic religion, and with whom he spent much of his adolescence. When a murderous drifter named Wally (Michael Madsen) arrives in town, claiming to be searching for gold in the nearby mountains, Blueberry is suspicious. It seems that Wally has secretly discovered the source of the shaman’s power, and is using local businessman Sullivan (Geoffrey Lewis) as a means to locate the map which will guide him to a Chiricahuan temple deep within the Sacred Mountains. Blueberry, however, is tortured by his past encounters with Wally, and will stop at nothing to ensure that his old enemy does not achieve his goals. Guided by his childhood friend Runi (Temuera Morrison), and inspired by his secret love for Sullivan’s daughter Maria (Juliette Lewis), Blueberry must expand his mind in the Chiricahuan way in the hope that he will come to terms with his past. If all this sounds quite interesting and compelling, let me assure you that, sadly, it is not. Blueberry is possibly the most unnecessarily complicated and confusing film I have ever watched; a bizarre mish-mash of Sergio Leone-style Western clichés (including seemingly endless shots of Blueberry puffing moodily on a battered cigarette), shamanistic mumbo-jumbo, and kaleidoscopic psychedelic special effects sequences, all wrapped up neatly in a hackneyed revenge plot. Apparently, it’s based on a popular comic book series by Moebius Giraud and Jean-Michel Charlier, but Kounen’s direction – while technically assured – leaves the viewer in a state of bemused limbo, unsure of what’s happening to whom, or why. The pacing is deathly slow, and the entire ending sequence is mind-bending visual overkill, comprising a pretentious and ultimately pointless CGI acid trip, the a result of Blueberry ingesting a Chiricahuan peyote cocktail as he attempts to “make contact” with his inner self… it goes on forever, and makes no sense, much like the rest of the film. The performances range from pretty good (Cassel, Morrison) to shaky (Lewis, Madsen), while the supporting roles are performed by one of the most eclectic groups of thespians every put together – when was the last time you saw Ernest Borgnine, Djimon Hounsou, Colm Meaney and Eddie Izzard in the same film? On the plus side, the cinematography is at times quite sensational, while the score by Jean-Jacques Hertz and François Roy casts the net wide, encompassing traditional western scoring techniques with a whole host of unique ethnic instruments and vocals. Hertz and Roy scored Kounen’s debut film Dobermann in 1997, and continue their collaboration here. Bernstein-inspired rhythms, guitar riffs and orchestral interludes combine with solo performances by didgeridoos, pan flutes and tribal drums to create a soundscape which is both familiar and alien, as if commenting on the clash of cultures that Blueberry experiences throughout his life. Harsh Indian vocals intone over the “dreamscape” sequences (in a manner not too dissimilar to James Horner’s Thunderheart), while shots of a golden eagle soaring across the vast plains, or horses galloping across the unforgiving desert enjoy a rich orchestral accompaniment that makes good use of the orchestral/ethnic mix. Roy and Hertz’s score is available on an album release by BMG, which also includes several Native American chants, and Juliette Lewis’s unique rendition of the Irish standard “Danny Boy”.

GARFIELD: THE MOVIE

CHRISTOPHE BECK

Review by Peter Simons. That fat, lazy bum had finally made it to the big screen. Yes, I do mean Garfield, Jim Davis' beloved red-furred cat who has been entertaining audiences for more than 25 years. In the early 1990s an animated TV series was made, featuring Lorenzo Music as the voice of Garfield (Music also did the voice of Peter Venkman in the Ghostbusters animated TV-series after Bill Murray pulled out). In a somewhat ironic twist of fate, Murray now succeeds Music as the voice of Garfield – and his voice is about as good as this movie gets. Having always had a knack for sarcasm, Murray is a perfect casting choice for the ginger cat. The feline itself looks cute enough in and by itself - although he's no match for Shrek 2's Puss In Boots - but being a CGI animation, Garfield sticks out like a sore thumb in this otherwise live action movie. Even the other cats and dogs are real live animals. Had this movie been entirely computer-animated, like Shrek for example, it would have at least looked more coherent. Then again, without a decent plot and character development you are nowhere to begin with - and Garfield is painfully lacking both. The story revolves around Garfield reluctantly leaving his cul-de-sac to rescue Odie, Jon's new pet dog, who has run away and subsequently been captured by evil TV presenter Happy Chapman (Stephen Tobolowsky), who hopes the dog's tricks will boost his career. Armed to the teeth with sarcastic one-liners, the fat cat ventures into the big city. The rest of the cast looks nice, but is redundant. Breckin Meyer, whose recent credits include Rat Race, Josie and the Pussycats and Roadtrip (now there's an actor with a promising career if I ever saw one...) stars as Jon, but only after Jim Carrey wisely turned down the role. The ever-lovely Jennifer Love Hewitt stars as Liz, Jon's love interest, but she doesn't have to do much more than look pretty and smile, which she pulls off quite well, so no complaints there. The film is directed by Peter Hewitt who has been responsible for The Borrowers, Whatever Happened To Harold Smith, and (God help us) Thunderpants. The first two had musical scores by Harry Gregson-Williams; Thunderpants had a score by Harry's brother Rupert; and it was in fact Rupert who was originally hired to score Garfield. However, as so often happens with bad movies, Rupert’s the score was rejected, in a desperate attempt by the studio execs to stop the film turning into cat litter. So, in came composer Christophe Beck of Buffy the Vampire Slayer-fame to try to save the day. His score is exactly the light-hearted fluff you'd expect from a movie like this. Or is it? There is no memorable - or even recognisable - main theme. There is no sign of invention or inspiration in the orchestrations. It sounds like filler music from any other romantic comedy score, sans a catchy hook. Technically it's well done, I suppose, but it's utterly unremarkable. Only the scene where Garfield catches a bus ride into town seems to provide the composer with an opportunity to let the orchestra roar, if ever so briefly and still without a melody that is to be remembered. I cannot - and will not - blame Beck for this though. Seeing the movie he had to score I'm surprised he even embarked on the project. He probably had some bills that needed paying badly. No, the blame entirely lies with the writers Joel Cohen and Alec Sokolow and director Peter Hewitt, who - even after 25 years! – have failed to capture the essence of Garfield. If you want to see some good pussy-action, Shrek 2 is your night out.

THUNDERBIRDS

HANS ZIMMER and RAMIN DJAWADI

Review by Peter Simons. Without a doubt, the adventures of the Tracy family - a.k.a. International Rescue or the Thunderbirds - and their incredible flying machines, would make for a spectacular film. The Thunderbirds have been mesmerizing audiences all over the world since the 1960s when, every week, the rescue organisation would spring into action to prevent major catastrophies across the globe. Their fantastic machinery included a massive digger, several flying machines and a space station. When it was announced that Star Trekker Jonathan Frakes was going to direct a feature film based on Gerry Anderson’s "supermarionation" TV-series, the possibilities seemed endless. At some point it was even rumoured that the Baldwin brothers would all feature as the Tracy family. It all seemed like a dream come true. So, what went wrong? In a word - everything. The film's story - which features Ben Kingsley as super soft villain The Hood stealing one of the Thunderbirds to rob the bank of England – is weak. He manages to trap all the Tracy's in their space station, so they won't be able to stop him. All the Tracy's, but one - teenager Alan (Brady Corbet) who's been left out of International Rescue in order to grow up. Now it is up to him and his nerd friends to save his family and stop The Hood. Jonathan Frakes manages to somehow turn the originally ultra-cool Thunderbirds into a bad version of Spy Kids. The acting is horrible, even from Ben Kingsley and Bill Paxton, who stars as Jeff, the father and leader of the Tracy family. Character development, which made the original show so popular, is practically non-existent. What little exists is clichéd; when puppets on clearly visible strings look more alive than a cast of real flesh and blood people, you know something is very wrong. The score was written by Hans Zimmer and Ramin Djawadi, who receives a prominent credit for "additional music" during the end titles. In keeping with the rest of the movie, even the soundtrack is appalling. Barry Gray's original Thunderbirds theme features prominently throughout the score, but shockingly, this doesn't make things better at all. The opening title, a somewhat funny and retro-looking animation of the Thunderbirds in action, features a laughably bad drum 'n bass-version of Gray's theme. At this point you know this film is going to bomb, but there's still a faint hope since the opening animation is actually quite enjoyable in all its badness. However, as soon as the actual film begins, all hope fades. The score features a second, much more generic, heroic theme for the Thunderbirds, and it's not quite clear what the difference in purpose is between the two themes. The space between these two themes is filled with insignificant chord progressions and electronic beats lacking excitement, a sense of urgency and, quite simply, quality. The guys from Media Ventures have always been able to churn out a fun score, even if the writing and orchestrations aren't always all that great, providing us with a guilty pleasure at least. Thunderbirds is not even that. This movie and it's music is one disaster International Rescue couldn't avert.

SPIDER-MAN 2

DANNY ELFMAN

After the first Spider-Man movie broke every box office record imaginable, a sequel was inevitable. So, with Sam Raimi back behind the lens, and Tobey Maguire once more donning the red spandex suit, Spider-Man 2 bursts on the cinema screens of summer 2004. This time around, Spider-Man finds himself fighting a battle on two levels: primarily with the megalomaniacal Dr. Octopus (Alfred Molina), a brilliant scientist who is transformed into a super-human villain after a science experiment goes wrong and grafts mechanical arms onto his body; but also with himself, as Spiderman’s alter-ego Peter Parker suffers a crisis of conscience over whether or not to continue his life of fighting crime, or to give it all up in order to be with his true love, Mary Jane Watson (Kirsten Dunst). One respected critic called Danny Elfman’s score “film music after too much coffee”, and one may be inclined to agree. Like it or not, we are now a long way from the dark and Gothic sounds of Batman and the like. This is the Elfman of the new millennium: fast, loud, intricate and aggressive. As such, Spider-Man 2 bombards viewers with the musical equivalent of an adrenaline rush, presenting cue after cue of thunderous action and relentless energy as Bill Pope’s hyper-kinetic camera follows the webbed wonder across the rooftops of New York city. If you liked the score for Spider-Man, chances are you’ll like the sequel too: the percussive main theme is prominent again, as are the tender interludes for Peter and MJ’s faltering relationship. This time around, Elfman works a short new motif for Doc Ock into the mix, but for the most part this score is about noise, volume and movement. Interestingly, as on the previous Spidey flick, Elfman needed help completing the music in time to meet the punishing post-production schedules, and drafted in John Debney and Christopher Young to fill in some gaps. Most notably, Young blatantly re-worked his own music for Hellbound: Hellraiser 2 into a barely-disguised temp-track Xerox for the scene in which Octavius’s energy experiment goes horribly wrong. The score album features 14 Elfman tracks; the popular song album contains two Elfman cues (“Spidey Suite” and “Doc Ock Suite”) tagged on the end as an afterthought to the likes of Dashboard Confessional, Train and Hoobastank.

FAHRENHEIT 9/11

JEFF GIBBS

With everything else that’s been written about the politics of Fahrenheit 9/11 , it’s quite difficult to say anything about the music. The film, of course, is the highest-grossing documentary feature in the history of cinema. Hot on the heels of Moore’s equally incendiary Bowling for Columbine, Fahrenheit 9/11 is an unashamed attack on the administration of American President George W. Bush, and looks at the events leading up to the attacks on New York by Al Qaeda terrorists on 9 September 2001, the business links between the Bush family and those of the Saudi aristocracy (including Osama Bin Laden), and the events which led to the “War on Terrorism”, and the removal of power of Iraqi dictator Saddam Hussein by (mainly) American troops. Most movingly, Moore returns to his home town of Flint, Michigan, to talk to Lila Lipscomb, a war supporter whose world is turned upside down when, during the course of making the movie, her son is killed in action in Karbala. In not going into the politics espoused in Fahrenheit 9/11 here. Anyone who wants to discuss this with me can do so in person, but I will say this: after watching Moore’s film, I am less inclined to trust Bush’s republican administration than I was, and although I fully agree that Saddam was a dangerous man, it was undoubtedly a decision inspired by money rather than “world safety” that sent troops into Iraq in 2003. Michael Moore is a spinner of truths, a manipulator, and a very clever editor who makes tenuous links look like solid hard evidence – but as they say, there’s no smoke without fire. In addition, Moore is a master of the well-placed pop song, and uses seemingly innocuous lyrics to comment on the given situation like the true satirist he is. Songs by Neil Young, The Bloodhound Gang, The Go-Go’s, REM, and many others provide a wonderfully ironic counterpoint to the on-screen imagery – as well as a great deal of light heartedness to counterbalance the accusations of malpractice and corruption, and the terrible scenes of war. Even Elmer Bernstein’s theme from The Magnificent Seven crops up to illustrate the “coalition” between Bush, Dick Cheney and Tony Blair. And then there’s “Let The Eagle Soar”, an original composition by US Attorney General Senator John Ashcroft… The original score, by Jeff Gibbs, is swamped by everything around it and – less than two weeks after seeing the film – none of his work is coming to mind. Gibbs, an old friend of Moore’s from back home in Michigan, is also the film’s co-producer, having acted as a field researcher on Bowling for Columbine, and having been press-ganged to write an original score for than movie at the last minute. To be homest, original score music is probably the least important element of a film like this, which is far more to do with stimulating intellects and inciting mutinous thoughts than stirring emotions.

GODSEND

BRIAN TYLER

A horror/thriller which plays on the current de-rigueur fears that surround the scientific advances in human cloning, Godsend stars Greg Kinnear and Rebecca Romijn-Stamos as husband and wife Paul and Jessie Duncan, an ordinary couple in modern-day America, whose perfect life includes a perfect 10-year-old son, Adam (Cameron Bright). However, when Adam is killed in a freak car accident, their world begins to fall apart: that is, until Dr Richard Wells (Robert De Niro) enters their life. A former mentor of Jessie’s, Wells offers the family a chance to start again by creating a genetic duplication – a clone – of Adam using the dead boy’s DNA. However, things do not go as planned for the Duncan family, and when Adam II passes his tenth birthday – the age at which the first Adam died – things take a terrible, murderous, turn. Despite having a somewhat ludicrous storyline, Godsend is actually a neat little movie, boasting an especially solid performance by Greg Kinnear, and a potentially star-making turn from young Cameron Bright (who played a similar role in The Butterfly Effect). British director Nick Hamm is somewhat over-reliant on jump cuts and stingers to keep the audience on the edge of its seat, and there are one too many red-herring endings for the denouement to be totally convincing, but Mark Bomback’s screenplay raises some interesting questions, and it’s always fun watching Robert De Niro whatever the project. Brian Tyler, one of Hollywood’s hot young composers, turns in a solid little thriller score for Godsend which further underlines his talent as someone to watch in future. There’s a touch of John Williams in the delicately menacing piano theme that anchors the score, and a touch of Jerry Goldsmith in the way an increasingly desperate and frightening situation is underscored by subtlety and, at times, beauty. All this is counterbalanced by a great deal of crashing and banging in the more horrific scenes, especially Adam’s increasingly terrifying dream sequences. There’s also one stand-out ‘travelling montage’ for the sequence where Paul is desperately searching the city for clues into the mysterious “Zachary”. A CD of Tyler’s score is available on Varése.

JU-ON: THE GRUDGE

SHIRO SATO

The cult of the Japanese horror movie continues unabated. Following the massive international success of Hideo Nakata’s Ringu in 1998, and its subsequent American remake, the latest Oriental chiller to follow in its footsteps is Ju-On: The Grudge, directed by Takashi Shimizu. Reworking a number of plot elements and images from Ringu and others, The Grudge tells the simple story of a haunted house, and the terrible legacy it imparts upon any unfortunate souls who darken its doorway. Following the murder of a mother and son at the hands of their husband/father, a seemingly innocuous house in suburban Tokyo curses anyone who enters. Years later, care worker Rika (Megumi Okina) visits the Tokunaga family, who now live there, only to find the house in disarray, and the old matriarch of the family in a catatonic state. Venturing upstairs, Rika encounters a pallid, fish-eyed little boy named Toshio (Yuya Ozeki), who is virtually silent except when meows like a cat, but worse is to come… a ghastly, shadowy spectre is hovering over the prone body of the old woman, and despite Rika fleeing the Tokunaga house, both Toshio and the shadow begin to appear in the lives of everyone Rika comes into contact with. Eerie children, women with long black hair appearing out of nowhere, slow-burning scares with shocking payoffs, creaks and groans on the soundtrack.. the conventions of Japanese horror movies are quickly becoming established. For all its technical excellence, genuine creepiness and sense of unease, The Grudge lacks the kind of sensible narrative which would allow it to truly be held in the same esteem as Ringu and its sequels. It is needlessly repetitive (how many times are people going to cautiously venture up those stairs?) and, at times, quite confusing, but it is very effective at giving its audience the chills, and several of the set –pieces (the public bathroom!!) are genuinely unnerving. As was the case with Ringu and, to a lesser extent, Zatôichi, The Grudge builds upon the Japanese liking for a score-as-sound effects approach to film music. The score is by Shiro Sato, has who worked with video game composer Nobuo Uematsu in the past, but whose only solo credits to date have been on the various incarnations of this story. Working in close collaboration with the sound editors and designers, Sato incorporates various unearthly groans and moans into his ambient electronic designs. Other than the piano-based main theme, there’s little in the way of conventional melody; like Kenji Kawai before him, Sato score his scenes with synthesised drones and occasionally harsh electronic tones, into which the genuinely creepy sound effects are incorporated. The Grudge has already been re-made for the American market, directed by Shimizu again, with Sarah Michelle Gellar in the lead role, and although at the time of writing its composer has not been confirmed, I eagerly await its release.

EUROTRIP

JAMES VENABLE

The latest teen-comedy to emerge from Hollywood is Eurotrip, a sporadically funny road movie which is best described as National Lampoon’s European Vacation crossed with American Pie. Scott Mechlowitz stars as Scott, a typical American teenager, who has an e-mail pen friend – Mieke – in Germany. What Scott doesn’t realise is that Mieke is actually a stunningly beautiful blonde (Jessica Boehrs) – so when Mieke declares her feelings for him, Scott (thinking Mieke is male) rebuffs her. Realizing his mistake, Scott decides to make amends by showing up on Mieke’s doorstep – so, in the company of his best friends Cooper (Jacob Pitts), Jenny (Michelle Trachtenberg) and Jamie (TravisWebster), he heads for Europe, and all it has in store… Basically, Eurotrip is a very bad movie – only sporadically funny, with generally bad writing, bad performances, and lame execution. Worst of all, Eurotrip reinforces every negative European stereotype in existence in an attempt to wring humour out of supposed “national traits” which died out decades ago: the English football hooligan, the sleazy Italian men, the sex-crazed drugged-up Dutch, the socially deprived former Eastern bloc. It doesn’t work. This is 2004, guys, not 1970. Lucy Lawless (TV’s Xena) has an amusing part as the Amsterdam dominatrix who introduces the hapless Cooper to delights of Club Vandersexxx, and there are cameo appearances from more established actors such as Matt Damon, Rade Serbedzija, Diedrich Bader, Patrick Malahide, and even Vinnie Jones, but beyond the star-spotting and occasional moment of comedy, this film has very little going for it. I actually feel quite sorry for Jim Venable, and the way his career is going. He is undoubtedly a talented man, having won awards for his work on the popular animation shows Samurai Jack and The Powerpuff Girls, but since his graduation to the big screen he seems to have staggered from one inane comedy to the next, and is in real danger of typecasting. Eurotrip follows hot on the heels of Scary Movie 3 and Jersey Girl, and like those film his generally accomplished score is overshadowed by the ineptness of the comedy and overborne by the songs on the soundtrack. The main title is a funky affair, a few moments of tenderness creep in, such as when Scott and Mieke meet for the first time, and he has fun playing around with generic musical nationalities as the central quartet flit around Europe, but beyond these fleeting moments Venable has little to say. The soundtrack album, on Milan, features songs by The Jam, Apollo 440, and even David Hasselhoff, but nothing of Venable’s score – a disappointing development considering that Milan promotes itself as a soundtrack speciality label.

THE NOTEBOOK

AARON ZIGMAN

Derided by many respected critics as nothing more than a glorified soap opera romance, Nick Cassavetes’ film The Notebook is, in actual fact, a wonderfully realised and moving drama about a love that can endure a multitude of obstacles. Based on the best-selling novel by Nicholas Sparks, it stars James Garner and Gena Rowlands as two elderly people in a nursing home. Rowlands is obviously having memory problems of some sort – possibly Alzheimer’s disease, or a related illness – and, in an attempt to stir her mind, Garner reads her a story from a hand-written notebook. The story he tells is of Noah Calhoun and Allie Hamilton (Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams), young lovers in the American South in the 1930s. Allie is young and pretty, from a wealthy and privileged family; Noah is handsome, rugged and impulsive, but from humbler stock, and works as a labourer at a local lumber yard. Despite their markedly different backgrounds, and the blatant and vociferous disapproval of Allie’s family, the two fall madly in love. However, circumstances conspire to drive them apart – not least of which is the onset of WWII. The Notebook is syrupy, schmaltzy, and unashamedly yanks on every heart-string it can find, but it also has a warm and passionate heart which cannot fail to connect with anyone who has experienced the kind of unrestrained love depicted here. Cassavetes, screenwriters Jan Sardi and Jeremy Leven, and cinematographer Robert Fraisse pull out all the stops in making everything have a polished veneer, while Gosling and McAdams have a tangible chemistry and romantic spark which make their love affair seem more real than it might have otherwise. Sterling support from Garner and Rowlands (who share the film’s most tear jerking scene), as well as Sam Shepard and Joan Allen in smaller roles, only add to the overall effect. Composer Aaron Zigman, whose only previous major credit was the Denzel Washington medical drama John Q, endows The Notebook with a beautiful and sensitive score for piano and strings, which gives the sumptuously photographed landscapes and scenes of tortured romance a definite grace, elegance, as well as a sizeable emotional impact. Despite his youth, Zigman has a wonderful gift for melody and dramatic timing, and many of his cues add a great deal of resonance, with their vibrant crescendos and tender themes. To reflect the period setting, a number of jazz standards by the likes of Billie Holliday, Duke Ellington and Benny Goodman vie with original material penned by Zigman. The accompanying album is a well-balanced mix of the old and the new.

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MONSTER

BRIAN TRANSEAU

The story of Aileen Wuornos has inspired a multitude of books, TV-movies and documentaries, each chronicling in great detail how, while working as a prostitute along the highways of Florida in the early 1990s, she murdered seven men. After a media-led hunt, Wuornos was arrested, convicted, and eventually executed for her crimes in November 2002. Patty Jenkins' film follows hot on the heels of Nick Broomfield's cinematic documentary Aileen: The Life and Death of a Serial Killer, but unlike the earlier portrayals of Wuornos as a cold-blooded killer, Monster is an exploration of Aileen the person, Aileen the victim, Aileen the sufferer of years of terrible abuse. The centrepiece of the film is Charlize Theron's utterly mesmerising, Oscar-winning performance as Wuornos. Adopting perfectly the mannerisms and attitudes of a hard-bitten white trash hooker, the usually glamorous Theron is wholly convincing, despite being buried under a bed of "ugly make-up", looking significantly heavier, with rat-tail hair and with a half-smoked cigarette butt continually hanging from her lips. Her foil is Christina Ricci (all grown up since The Addams Family) as a painfully shy lesbian who takes a shine to the butch and brash Wuornos, and who becomes her unwitting accomplice, blinded by love as the body count increases. The most telling thing about Monster is the continuing notion that Wuornos never had a chance in life: she was a serial killer through circumstance rather than choice. She spent her life in the gutter, literally living from hand to mouth, and in the end her only way out was via the electric chair. The other good thing about Monster is that director Jenkins never gets preachy: the audience is never asked to forgive Wuornos for what she did, or even to see things from her point of view. Her murders, while initially carried out in self-defence against a man who raped her, gradually become more and more gratuitous, with the last one carried out on a man who was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Jenkins shows this with shocking clarity - as time goes on, Wuornos changes from being the victim, to being a self-appointed crusader against the evil men of the world, who in her eyes are responsible for her tragic life. The technical credits are good, from Steven Bernstein's natural cinematography to Ed McAvoy's authentic production design, and there is solid support from character actors such as Bruce Dern, Pruitt Taylor Vince and Stuart Wilson. Look out also for Kane Hodder (Jason from Friday the 13th) in a cameo as an undercover cop. After a brief gap of a couple of years, electronica composer Brian Transeau (using his usual monicker "BT") returns to the fray with an intimate country and rock-led score that musically reflects the tough, streetwise attitude of Wuornos and her life. Using an unusual set of instruments, including piano, acoustic guitar, hurdy-gurdy and various percussion implements, Transeau affects a musical depiction of urban decay which, while very different from "traditional" film scoring, actually works rather well. Things get hairy during the various murder sequences, during which Transeau raises the tempo and volume considerably, but on the whole Monster is a quiet, intimate score, which gets under the skin of Wuornos's world through its bluesy guitar solos, dark piano lines and moody Americana vibe. The 2-disc soundtrack, on the DTS Entertainment label, is heralded as a "groundbreaking" release, combining the 70-minute score (mixed and released in DTS sound) with various DVD elements and special features.

ZATÔICHI

KEIICHI SUZUKI

The latest film from cult Japanese director 'Beat' Takeshi Kitano is Zatôichi, a classic samurai tale which is part Akira Kurosawa, part Sergio Leone, part Marx Brothers and part MGM musical. Takeshi stars as the eponymous Zatôichi, a blind wandering masseur whose outwardly frail demeanour hides his true self - Zatôichi is actually a fearsome samurai warrior whose sword needs no eyes to guide it. After being attacked on the street by a group of thugs, and helped by a kindly widow, Zatôichi finds himself at the centre of a vicious war between rival gangs for control of a small town. Teaming up with the widow's clutzy nephew Shinkichi (Gadarukanaru Taka) and a pair of geishas out for revenge, Zatôichi agrees to help rid the town of the yakuza overlords, which will allow the inhabitants live in peace - but to do so, he must engage in a showdown with a deadly ronin named Hattori (Tadanobu Asano). As is Takeshi's style, Zatôichi is a film which deftly mixes blood-curdling action with moments of introspection and knockabout comedy, resulting in a hugely entertaining film for fans of the genre. The sword-play has to be seen to be believed: lightning-fast reflexes, intricate choreography, and highly-stylised violence which puts as much importance on flying limbs and gushing blood as it does the familiar pre-combat stand-offs. Takeshi, in the lead role (with bleached blonde hair) is as charismatic as ever, as convincing as a doddering blind man as he is a untouchable swordsman, and interjects several moments of gentle humour at his own expense. Takeshi the director brings beautiful camera work and a wonderful sense of authenticity to the setting, and even manages to stir the audience's emotions with a heart-breaking flashback sequence during a geisha dance. The whole film is quite remarkable. It's the film The Last Samurai mythologised. It's the film Quentin Tarantino desperately wants Kill Bill to be. Zatôichi's superbly impressive music is by Keiichi Suzuki, one of Japan's rising film music stars, who previously worked on such hit films as Tokyo Godfathers and Spiral. His underscore is a pseudo-Morricone clone, and a good one at that, full of broad and lively synthesisers, relentless percussion, and a series of unexpectedly chirpy themes, the upbeat nature of which belie the overall seriousness of the film. Where Suzuki's music shines, however, are in the brilliant Stomp-like interludes of "percussive farming", where the on screen-antics of the dance troupe The Stripes add to the underscore, using hoes and rakes, hammers and saws as the percussion section in tandem with Suzuki's music. The gloriously outrageous finale, in which the entire cast contributes to a mass-tap dancing festival that would put Gene Kelly to shame, is an amazingly bold conceit - but one which works wonderfully. Here, Suzuki brings a swing band feel to the proceedings, with big fat brass and finger-snapping rhythms galore. It's a wonderful, anachronistic, anarchic set-piece that highlights Suzuki as a man to watch, with a refreshingly offbeat ear, and the potential to succeed outside Japan - if anyone in Hollywood is daring enough to hire him. Suzuki won a Japanese Oscar for his work. The score CD is available only in Japan, on the Columbia label.

HOUSE OF SAND AND FOG

JAMES HORNER

The debut of Ukrainian/American director Vadim Perelman, House of Sand and Fog is a shattering motion picture. Based on the acclaimed novel by Andre Dubus III, it takes a seemingly banal premise - two people wanting the same house - and ever-so-slowly turns it into a devastating look at pride, redemption, and obsession. Jennifer Connolly stars as Kathy Niccolo, a recovering alcoholic who is evicted from her home for non-payment of taxes. Swiftly sold by the local authorities, the house is bought by Masoud Behrani (Ben Kingsley), an exiled Iranian colonel whose life in USA with his wife Nadi (Shohreh Aghdashloo) and son Esmail (Jonathan Ahdout) is not turning out to be the American dream he intended. Working in menial construction jobs, Behrani intends to use the house as a stepping-stone for his family to get back their dignity and self respect - until an investigation reveals that Kathy's eviction was down to a clerical error. With help from lawyer Frances Fisher and friendly cop Ron Eldard, Kathy decides that she wants her house back - and will stop at nothing to get it. The central features of this film are the loggerhead performances of Jennifer Connolly and Ben Kingsley, who dominate all with their pride, passion and stubbornness. Both see the house as their chance for redemption; both will risk everything to ensure they have it. Watching these to actors spar is a wonderful experience. Also worth mentioning is Roger Deakins's sublime cinematography, especially his wonderful use of shadow, silhouette and half-light, and of course James Horner's Oscar-nominated score. Horner's work is firmly rooted in the stylistics of the mid-90s, echoing dramatic works such as Searching for Bobby Fischer, but without any brass whatsoever, and with a significantly increased electronic element, resulting in a curious hybrid. That works in the context of the film is a given; Horner's intimate, personal music adds a level of tension and drama to a number of scenes, but is oddly dreary on CD. Wandering piano lines, lingering synth chords, and familiar Hornery orchestral textures are the order of the day for the majority of the film, adding soft mood and pastel colour to the daily life of Kathy and the Behranis, but very little else. However, the movie's final half-hour is quite masterfully scored, during which Horner's music finally breaks out into full orchestral themes, and adds a further layer of emotional power to the already emotionally powerful imagery. It's odd to say, but this actually is one of the few occasions where I feel Horner should not have received an Oscar nomination for his work - although dramatically apt, it is too slight a score to stand up against many of the better, un-nominated works of 2003. Nevertheless, for fans of Horner's more restrained scoring style, House of Sand and Fog comes recommended.

BIG FISH

DANNY ELFMAN

Essentially the story of a son trying to come to terms with his father's past before he dies, Big Fish is a wonderfully entertaining fairy-tale, replete with all the familiar stylistic touches for which director Tim Burton is famous - but with considerably more heart. Based on the novel by John August, Big Fish stars Albert Finney as Edward Bloom, who throughout his life has been a teller of "tall tales". Edward's son Will (Billy Crudup) has grown to despise his father's fish stories, most of which he completely disbelieves, and as he has grown into a man, he and his father have become more and more estranged. However, with Edward now terminally ill, Will returns to his childhood home to reconcile with his father and, hopefully, extract some truth about his father's life, and the man he is. Instead, Edward continues to tell tall tales - about giants and werewolves, witches and enchanted villages, circuses and freak shows, bank robberies and war stories - all of which involve his younger self (played in flashback by Ewan McGregor). However, as Will investigates further, he discovers that his father's life story may not be as fantastical as he first thought. Despite the episodic nature of the story, Big Fish is a thoroughly entertaining and affecting film, which affectionately tips its hat to Ray Bradbury and Mark Twain, but with a definite Burtonian twist. Burton's own impending fatherhood is obviously the inspiration for his exploration of father-son relationships, but the flashback sequences are all quintessential Burton, from the elaborate array of freaks and grotesques that pepper the picture, to the chocolate-box perfection of the town of Spectre, where life is so perfect no-one ever leaves. Albert Finney and Ewan McGregor are wonderfully cast as Edward Bloom; Finney endowing the aged Edward with a gruff, gnarled good-humour, while McGregor makes the younger Edward so irrepressibly cheerful and enthusiastic it's impossible not to like him. When he woos his future wife (Jessica Lange) with a field full of daffodils, every man in the audience wishes they had that kind of romantic instinct. The supporting cast, which includes a number of familiar faces from previous Burton flicks (Jessica Lange, Robert Guillaume, Helena Bonham Carter, Danny De Vito, Steve Buscemi, and Matthew McGrory, the tallest man in America) is superb, and Dennis Gassner's art direction is quintessential, from the gnarled trees that ensnare Edward in the forest, to the pastel portrayal of Edward's life in suburbia. For his ninth collaboration with Burton, Danny Elfman has written one of his most charming and whimsical scores, infusing it with a sense of wonder and beauty that has not been evident in his music since his early-1990s heyday. There are orchestras and choirs, oompah bands and big top marches, bluegrass and country arrangements, and a multitude of period songs, all of which combine to create an excellent soundtrack. Several key moments (Edward's first encounter with the fish, his first meeting with Sandra at the circus, the finale at the river) are all scored with emotional intensity, making this score an Elfman effort to treasure. The soundtrack is a song/score split, and features 16 score cues alongside a number of period pop tunes, including the Golden Globe-nominated original "Man of the Hour" by Pearl Jam.

SCARY MOVIE 3

JAMES VENABLE

You can always tell a comedy movie franchise is in trouble when they wheel out Leslie Nielsen. The third in the series of the ultra-successful horror spoofs, Scary Movie 3 this time takes aim at M. Night Shyalamalan's Signs, the Japanese horror The Ring, Eminem's 8 Mile, and various others besides - but with decidedly less amusing results than both previous instalments. The hapless Cindy Campbell (Anna Faris) is back, having survived the antics of the earlier movies, now employed as a roving TV journalist. Investigating a number of supernatural phenomenon - mysterious video tapes, crop circles, and a possible alien invasion - Cindy must team up with faithless farmer Tom Logan (Charlie Sheen), his wannabe rap star brother George (Simon Rex), and the President of the United States himself (the inimitable Nielsen) to uncover the mystery. And that's basically it, plot-wise. After a surprisingly funny opening involving Pamela Anderson and Jenny McCarthy at a Ring-style girly sleep-over, the gags come thick and fast, but unfortunately more of them are misses than hits. Pop Idol judge Simon Cowell has a hilarious bit as an audience member of a rap contest, there's a sacriligious sequence in which the protagonists defile a funeral, and there are cameos from the likes of Queen Latifah, Denise Richards, George Carlin, the Coors Lite twins, and even a whole host of gangster rappers, but none of them can save the movie from ultimate self-destruction. Perhaps the biggest indictment of Scary Movie 3's failure came when the original creators of the series, the talented Wayons Brothers, jumped ship just before the movie went into production, forcing Dimension Films to draft in Airplane director David Zucker and his long-time comedy screenwriting partner Pat Proft at the last minute. Their lack of time - and Proft's increasing lack of inspiration - is all too apparent. The unenviable task of scoring this drivel went to James Venable, who has carved out a niche for himself writing surprisingly good orchestral scores for unlikely films like The Powerpuff Girls Movie and Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back. In truth, Venable does much better with his music than the film deserved, going down the Elmer Bernstein route of scoring it straight. In the end Venable endows the film with several moments which, in other circumstances, would generate genuine scares, shocks, and creepy atmospherics. Unfortunately, Venable's valiant efforts at lending the movie some credibility are undermined by the pure stupidity of the final product, and some quite effective music is likely to be forgotten along with the film. The accompanying CD, on Varese Sarabande, features six cues of Venable's score (including an unbroken 10-minute suite), along with several songs, some of which were penned by fellow composer Frank Fitzpatrick.

THE HUMAN STAIN

RACHEL PORTMAN

"AS HEARD IN THE FILM" REVIEW COMING SOON.

LOST IN TRANSLATION

KEVIN SHIELDS

A beautifully realised character study directed by Francis Ford Coppola's daughter Sofia, Lost in Translation looks destined to bring awards success for its two leading performers, Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson. Murray plays Bob Harris, a waning American movie star out to make some easy money in Japan, where he is still popular, by endorsing a brand of whiskey. Baffled by the language, bemused by the local customs, and feeling wholly alienated from his family and friends, he spends his time in the hotel bar, soaking up the aforementioned whiskey. It is here that he meets Charlotte (Johansson), the young wife of a fashion photographer (Giovanni Ribisi), who is in Tokyo accompanying her husband on a shoot. Left alone most of the time, and wondering where her life is going, Charlotte strikes up an unlikely - but deeply emotional - platonic relationship with Bob, as the two of them bear their souls and share the issues of their life with each other, until they are both ready to return to the "real world". Both Murray and Johansson are impeccable in their roles, both of them revealing a depth and strength that (in Murray especially) was hitherto unheralded. As a pair of friends exploring a strange new world, Bob and Charlotte are like wide-eyed innocents, lost souls who, for a few brief days, find a kindred spirit to share their mutual senses of loneliness. As they experience shinto shrines and karaoke bars, amusement arcades and sushi restaurants together, you get the feeling that finally, for the first time in a long time they are being themselves. It's cathartic to watch. Murray has plenty of funny moments - his trials in the hotel gym, and his encounter with a wizened old man in a hospital waiting room are comedy classics - but it is in the honesty of his drama that he shines. Johansson, too, proves that she is a young actress to be reckoned with, and there are a couple of scene-stealing cameos from Anna Faris as a vacuous Hollywood actress, Yutaka Tadokoro as an unintelligible commercial director, and Nao Asuka as a complementary call girl with a surprising seduction technique. The score for Lost In Translation is by composer Kevin Shields, a former member of the rock bands My Bloody Valentine and Primal Scream, and who is making his film music debut here. Working with music supervisor Brian Reitzell, Shields's music is predominantly synthesised and ambient, adding mood and texture to scenes without really drawing any attention to itself - or leaving any kind of impression. He occasionally adds and instrumental colour to liven things up - a vocal inflection here, a slide guitar there, a percussion sample somewhere else - but on the whole it goes nowhere in particular, and says very little, but somehow seems to suit the natural, understated mood of the film well. The accompanying soundtrack CD features four Shields tracks, along with four other cues (two by Reitzell, two by Coppola's collaborators on The Virgin Suicides, Nicolas Godin and Jean-Benoît Dunckel, aka Air), and several songs, including efforts by the aforementioned My Bloody Valentine, and The Jesus and Mary Chain.

RUNAWAY JURY

CHRISTOPHER YOUNG

The latest John Grisham adaptation to hit the big screens, Runaway Jury is less about the adventures of the lawyers trying the big case, and more to do with the mechanics of the 12 men and women who eventually pass the verdict. John Cusack stars as Nick Easter, who finds himself on the jury for a high profile trial involving a gun manufacturer. The counsel for the prosecution is led by the idealistic Wendell Rohr (Dustin Hoffman); the defense is being marshalled by the ruthless, unscrupulous Rankin Fitch (Gene Hackman). However, things get much more complicated when a mysterious woman named Marlee (Rachel Weisz) - actually Nick's accomplice - contacts both Rohr and Fitch, claiming to have the ability to "sway" the jury towards giving a particular verdict - for a high price. As the trial begins, and the outcome becomes more and more important for everyone involved, Marlee and Nick find themselves in increasing danger, as both Rohr and the highly dangerous Fitch try to outwit each other and secure the win. I would imagine it's difficult to convey the legal intricacies of a Grisham novel to the big screen, but director Gary Fleder and the four screenwriters do an admirable job. Some of the details were changed (the gun company was a tobacco company in the original novel), but the fast pacing and high level of interest remains intact. Hackman and Hoffman are the thespian heavyweights and, having never acted together before, have a superbly showy stand-off in a bathroom, a la De Niro and Pacino in Heat. Cusack and Weisz are as good as they ever are, while the supporting cast is absolutely spectacular - Bruce Davison, Bruce McGill, Jennifer Beals, Luis Guzman, Cliff Curtis, Bill Nunn and Dylan McDermott amongst others. Christopher Young's score does not play a large part in things, other than to reflect the Louisiana bayou vibe (the movie is set in New Orleans), and to add a kick to the few action sequences. The jazz main theme is a variation on his own work on scores like The Hurricane, Rounders and Wonder Boys, with strings, stand-up bass and an organ, combined with a couple of surprisingly large-scale and exciting action elements which bring a full orchestra into the mix. Nick's foot chase with Rankin's goon is an enjoyable romp, as is Marlee's fight with the nasty Janovich, but the most memorable moments feature Young setting the scene with some wonderful bluesy rhythms and down-at-heel jazz textures. Not a classic score, by any means, but one which fits its film.

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Movie Music U.K is designed and maintained by Jonathan Broxton (c) 2004. All opinions and views expressed on these pages are my own and are in no way intended to reflect those of the University of Sheffield. All photos and album artwork used on Movie Music U.K. are for non-profit making promotional purposes and no copyright infringement is intended.