Movie Music UK - As Heard In The Film 2005

Movie Music UK - As Heard In The Film 2005

SHALLOW GROUND

STEVE LONDON

Review by Jonathan Broxton: Shallow Ground is the debut international feature from young director Sheldon Wilson, a low-budget independent horror movie with lots of good ideas, but a disappointing lack of sense and professionalism. It focuses on a small sheriff station in a remote California mountain town, staffed by three officers (Timothy V. Murphy, Stan Kirsch, Lindsey Stoddart), all of whom are packing up, ready to leave town following the completion of building work on a nearby dam. Their journey is halted, however, by the macabre appearance of a naked teenage boy (Rocky Marquette), covered from head to toe in blood, who refuses to speak, but who emits a palpable sense of malevolence and menace. Thus begins a terrible night for the Sheriff and his deputies, who try to piece together the mystery of who – or what – this boy is, and what his appearance has to do with the unsolved murder of a local girl a year previously.

I’m actually a little perplexed at why this film has been released in cinemas in the UK. After playing at a few film festivals (where is did not get great reviews) it went straight to DVD in the United States, and has not been scheduled for distribution anywhere else – which is not necessarily a bad thing as, by and large, it’s really not very good. Sophomore writer/director Wilson is technically adept, and has interesting angle thoughts when it comes to cinematography and lighting. Similarly, the basic concept of the film – ‘what goes around comes around’ – is fine, the special effects are gorily good, and the Bloody Boy character is a remarkably original and effective creation. It’s just that there is a noticeable absence of logic in the screenplay and a noticeable lack of quality and conviction in the acting. It’s perhaps a little unusual that the only performance of note comes from young Marquette, who does little more than stare threateningly at people. For the rest of the time it’s strictly amateur night, despite the inclusion of 1957 Oscar nominee Patricia McCormack and 1980s character actor John Kapelos in the supporting cast.

The music for Shallow Ground is by Canadian newcomer Steve London, who was nominated for a Canadian Emmy in 2002, but who has yet to make an international impact elsewhere. In purely musical terms, London’s score is actually pretty good: he has a great deal of fun experimenting with all manner of atonal madness, screeching string work, whispery voices, bombastic stingers, and wild percussion rhythms, especially in the action sequences. At times his music is reminiscent of early James Horner, especially scores like Humanoids from the Deep, while elsewhere he seems to have picked up some of the avant-garde techniques his former boss Christopher Young employed in early scores such as The Power and The Dorm That Dripped Blood. With Spongebob Squarepants composer Gregor Narholz and industry stalwart Bill Stromberg undertaking conducting, orchestrating and “consulting” duties, and bolstered by the performance of the Budapest orchestra, London seems to have captured the spirit of the low-budget horror score perfectly. The single problem, however, is that the movie is desperately over-scored, almost to the point of ridiculousness.

As well as being the film’s composer, London was also part of the sound editing team, and as a result his music is much higher in the mix than is necessary. As a fan of orchestral scores, it is almost sacrilegious of me to say this, but London should have gone down the less-is-more road, because as it stands his music does the film more harm than good. Every tense moment, every minor camera movement, every glance of recognition between the characters is accompanied by an ear-shattering squeal of dissonance on the soundtrack that starts out tiresome, quickly becomes annoying, and eventually is almost laughable. Whatever sense of dread and menace the filmmakers intended to create has been completely undermined by the needlessly overbearing music, which is a shame because there is a great deal of raw talent on show. With a more musically-aware director behind him, London could easily go on to enjoy a successful career in Hollywood - IF he can show a little more self-restraint. Unsurprisingly, there is no soundtrack album for Shallow Ground, although the end credits rock song “No One Leaves” written by London with Nicole Hughes and Jeff Dalziel and performed by Scratching Post was released as a single.

THE SKELETON KEY

EDWARD SHEARMUR

Review by Jonathan Broxton: There’s something sinister going on down on the bayou in The Skeleton Key, the latest film by director Iain Softley and “Ring” screenwriter Ehren Kruger. Kate Hudson stars as Caroline Ellis, a palliative care nurse in New Orleans who accepts a job at a rural plantation house out in the Louisiana swamps owned by Violet Devereaux (Gena Rowlands) to look after Violet’s husband Ben (John Hurt), an old man who has suffered a debilitating stroke. However, as Violet sorts out some legal issues with the family lawyer Luke (Peter Sarsgaard), Caroline discovers disturbing evidence of old voodoo rituals up in the attic, leading her to believe that not everything to do with the Devereaux household is what it seems…

It’s been a long time since there was an interesting take on the old voodoo legends – probably since The Serpent and the Rainbow back in the mid-1980s - but The Skeleton Key offers up some clever ideas to go with all the familiar iconography associated with the ancient animist religion. Kate Hudson, in one of her first purely dramatic leading roles, is pretty effective as a young woman who finds herself caught up in a world she doesn’t understand. Similarly, Gena Rowlands is excellent playing against type as a faded southern belle with a secret to keep. Director Iain Softley uses the atmospheric Terrebonne Parish locations to great effect: the gnarled trees draped in cotton moss, the old French colonial architecture, and the humid feel of the swamp itself lends The Skeleton Key an authentic air of mystery and menace. In truth, the film isn’t all that scary: it’s more unnerving in a way which can’t fully be described. It gets under your skin and makes you uneasy without you realising why, and when the final revelation comes – which I won’t reveal here – it seems all the more shocking because of the work of Softley, cinematographer Daniel Mindel and designer John Beard had put in previously to set the right tone.

Ed Shearmur’s score is an interesting one. It’s quite unlike his recent work, being more concerned with ambience and atmosphere than rousing themes. Acoustic guitars and subtle Creole orchestrations dominate the proceedings, adding a level of musical validity to the setting, and although there’s no real main theme to speak of, Shearmur’s moody, slightly dirty-sounding textures feel great in context. When the tension rises and things get hairier, Shearmur resorts to the familiar combination of shrieking strings and orchestral stingers, which is slightly disappointing from a purely musical point of view (he’s more than capable of writing something less clichéd), but it is undeniably effective at raising the audience’s pulse rate. Accompanying Shearmur’s score is a well-selected mix of songs reflecting the local Cajun colour and history, including the familiar “Iko Iko”, and further works by artists such as Robert Johnson, Mississippi Fred McDowell, Blind Willie Johnson, and others. The soundtrack CD on Varèse Sarabande is roughly a 50/50 split between songs and score.

WEDDING CRASHERS

ROLFE KENT

Review by Jonathan Broxton: One of 2005’s more effective summer comedies, Wedding Crashers is the latest vehicle for comedy duo Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn, who seem to be making something of a habit of appearing in movies together. This time round they play best friends John Beckwith and Jeremy Grey, good-natured womanisers who spend each summer crashing society weddings, spinning tall tales about their lives and histories, with the express purpose of ‘having their way’ with the bridesmaids. However, then the pair crash a wedding hosted by powerful US Senator Cleary (Christopher Walken), things change: John (Wilson) meets unexpectedly falls in love with Cleary’s middle daughter Claire (Rachel McAdams), while Jeremy (Vaughn) finds himself pursued by Cleary’s slightly insane youngest daughter Gloria (Isla Fisher). Before they realise what has happened, the happy-go-lucky conmen have been invited up to the Senator’s lavish summer home in the country, where they meet the rest of the family, including Cleary’s sex crazed wife Kathleen (Jane Seymour) and Claire’s jock boyfriend Sack (Bradley Cooper). Unfortunately, John and Jeremy must continue with their charade in order for true love to blossom…

I have to admit I have a real fondness for comedies like this, which combine romantic sentimentality with verbal sparring and slapstick violence. Wilson and Vaughn, along with Ben Stiller, are among my favourite comedy actors of the moment, and Wedding Crashers is a perfect example of what they do so well. David Dobkin (who directed Wilson in Shanghai Knights) keeps the action moving nicely, and it’s great to see performers like Christopher Walken and Jane Seymour not afraid to lampoon their cinematic personas for amusing effect. Rachel McAdams and Isla Fisher are solid in their supporting turns (Fisher especially has some riotous scenes), and the whole thing concludes with a happy ending that actually had the audience I saw it with cheering and clapping – almost unheard of in the UK!

Rolfe Kent’s original score for Wedding Crashers is a fairly straightforward affair which combines modern jazz riffs for the misadventures of the crashers with upbeat caper music for the more out-and-out funny sequences, and low-key romantic sentimentality for the orchestra. Some of the sailing sequences aboard Senator Cleary’s yacht are scored with sweepingly beautiful nautical themes, while the finale has all the usual rom-com stylistics, replete with upbeat string lines and tender piano melodies. All in all it’s a pretty typical effort, but one which provides a number of attractive and memorable moments in context. Unsurprisingly, none of Kent’s music features on the widely-available soundtrack CD (which instead features pop tracks from artists such as Death Cab For Cutie, Flaming Lips, Bloc Party, Spoon and Rilo Kiley), but Kent has himself provided some score music MP3s for download from his official site.

THE DESCENT

DAVID JULYAN

Review by Jonathan Broxton: Young British director Neil Marshall looks set to become a hot cinematic property in years to come if his first two movies are anything to go by. Following his critically acclaimed, hugely popular (in Britain at least) debut Dog Soldiers, Marshall’s sophomore effort is The Descent, a gut-wrenching, white-knuckle rollercoaster of a movie which is arguably one of the most viscerally terrifying British horror films in many years. The plot is simple: After the death of her husband and daughter in a freak car accident a year previously, one-time thrillseeker Sarah (Shauna MacDonald) agrees to visit a gang of her old friends on holiday in the Appalachian mountains for a pot-holing expedition, hoping that rekindling the camaraderie will shake her out of her post-traumatic funk. The group - which includes her best friend Beth (Alex Reid), team leader Juno (Natalie Mendoza), adrenaline junkie Holly (Nora-Jane Noone), and several others – head off into the hills and, at first everything goes to plan. However, a few wrong turns and a freak accident later, the friends find themselves trapped deep in an underground cave system with no obvious way out. Worse yet, someone – or something – seems to be down there with them.

To reveal more about the nature of the horror lurking deep beneath the Appalachians would do disservice to those who would want to experience this entertainingly petrifying film for themselves – suffice to say that what transpires truly is the stuff of nightmares, especially for claustrophobics. Marshall’s masterful manipulation of light, shadow, texture and sound creates a truly frightening atmosphere, while the close proximity of the sheer rock walls and narrow tunnels make the sense of enclosed oppression almost palpable. Later in the film there is blood, and there are guts, but it what Marshall conceals and implies rather than what he shows that makes The Descent the powerful film it is: after a careful build-up, during which the tension is ratcheted up to almost unbearable proportions, Marshall releases the trigger and doesn’t let up until the closing credits.

As well as Sam McCurdy’s excellent cinematography and lighting and Danny Sheehan’s unnerving sound design, one aspect of the film which works tremendously well is David Julyan’s original score, a work of similarly slow-building drama which explodes into animalistic anger when required. Written mainly for orchestra, with carefully augmented synthesisers and almost subliminal vocal work, the bulk of Julyan’s score is made up of layer upon layer of string tones which work alongside and against each other, creating a dense musical palette which constantly shifts and re-shapes itself. As the film begins, the tone is light, almost romantic, but as the focus of the film changes from the relationships between the friends to their fight for survival, so the tone of Julyan’s score changes to match it: the string clusters become harsher, plaintive brass notes float into the mix, eerie electronics add to the sense of isolation and remoteness. Then, unexpectedly, Julyan launches his orchestra into full-throated dissonant carnage: loud, savage stingers and brutal action cues which scream and wail along with the women whose torment the music accompanies. This is excellent stuff which adds volumes to the effect of the movie – which, ultimately, is what the whole game is about. Sadly, but not unsurprisingly, there is no commercial soundtrack release at this time.

IN MY FATHER’S DEN

SIMON BOSWELL

Review by Jonathan Broxton: A searing, dramatically potent, quietly devastating film from New Zealand, In My Father’s Den is the debut feature by writer-director Brad McGann. Based on a novel by Maurice Gee, the film explores the tragic events that befall a small South Island community when one of its long-lost sons returns home. Paul Prior (Matthew McFadyen) is a celebrated but world-weary war photographer who, following the death of his father, returns to his childhood home to seek reconciliation with his brother Andrew (Colin Moy) and sister-in-law Penny (Miranda Otto) and sort out their estate. While exploring in the old house, Paul stumbles across a long forgotten escape: the den of the title, where he and his father once shared their love of life and literature, and where he and his old girlfriend Jax (Jodie Rimmer) explored teenage passions. Despite virtually no-one knowing of the den’s existence, Paul discovers that it is now being used by 16-year old Celia (Emily Barclay) – Jax’s daughter - a similarly disenfranchised youth who longs to escape her rural life and experience the world. Seeing in Celia a kindred spirit, Paul and the girl strike up an unlikely friendship, much to the displeasure of Andrew, Jax, and the wider community, who see an inappropriateness in their relationship that does not exist. However, when Celia goes missing, fingers begin pointing at an increasingly unpredictable Paul, initiating a chain of events which causes long-buried family secrets to re-emerge.

In My Father’s Den is a quiet, slow moving, but emotionally shattering experience built around two staggeringly good lead performances by English actor Matthew McFadyen and young Emily Barclay, both of whom are compelling and wholly believable as the jaded world traveller and eager young idealist who strike up an unlikely friendship. To reveal any of the details of the plot twists and turns would do the film a disservice, suffice to say that the emotionally charged finale brings to light a number of devastating revelations which bring the rest of the film into focus. McGann’s screenplay is as competent and intelligent as his direction, and Moy, Otto (in a small but important role), and young Jimmy Keen are solid in support of the leads, while Stuart Dryburgh’s naturalistic cinematography makes striking use of New Zealand’s vivid landscape.

One other marvellous thing about In My Father’s Den is that it sees the return to the big screen of Simon Boswell, one of Britain’s most under-utilised and under-valued film composers. Having not scored a major international film since A Midsummer Night’s Dream in 1999, and having only worked on a number of smaller-scale British and television projects, Boswell’s name has dipped beneath the film music radar of late. Although In My Father’s Den is unlikely to initiate his re-emergence as a truly international talent, it more than illustrates why he should be better-known and more frequently employed than he seems to be. Written mainly for synths with occasional live instrumental performances, Boswell’s score is as quiet and intimate as the film itself, underscoring the unfolding layers of family tragedy with a great deal of subtlety and restraint. Xylophones, marimbas and sampled solo violins add the human element to Boswell’s soothing electronic tones; while not containing a strong theme, the brief melodic lines and powerful recapitulations at key moments underline the drama without ramming the point home. The well-judged use of classical music, opera, and modern pop source music adds a moments of orchestral intensity and lyrical beauty to Boswell’s work. He often scores films like this – The War Zone, for example – and its obvious he’s very good at bringing out the drama in these kinds quiet films. It’s probably not a score which would make particularly interesting listening away from the film – hence the lack of an accompanying soundtrack – but in context it excels.

MR. & MRS. SMITH

JOHN POWELL

Review by Jonathan Broxton: One of the kind of high-concept action movies that Hollywood often unleashes during the summer months, Mr. & Mrs. Smith is a knockabout action-comedy from director Doug Liman. Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie star as happily married couple John and Jane Smith who, unbeknownst to each other, work as assassins for rival firms. For a while, and with the exception of the occasional trip to a marriage guidance counsellor, all is rosy in the suburban Smith household – until, one day, two different clients hire them to eliminate the same target, and the pair discover the truth about each other. With their covers blown, all hell breaks loose, initiating the mother of all domestics…

Loud, flashy, nonsensical, but generally an enjoyable mess, Mr. & Mrs. Smith is the epitome of the “big dumb fun”. Director Liman and screenwriter Simon Kinberg inject a rich vein of humour and sexual tension into Pitt and Jolie’s characters, and there’s a neat supporting turn from Vince Vaughan as one of John’s assassin buddies, who still lives with his mother. The action sequences are pretty well-handled, but the overall concept did leave a slightly bitter taste in my mouth – I can’t remember another PG-13 movie with such an enormous body count, or such a flagrant disregard for human life and property. OK, it’s a movie about assassins, but the way the cadavers pile up during the course of its 120 minutes is quite staggering. Ultimately, the film may well be remembered for being the project will ultimately (allegedly) was the final nail on the coffin of Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston’s marriage than for its cinematic qualities.

Musically, Mr. & Mrs. Smith is a fun assignment for English composer John Powell, who has written a score in the vein of earlier light-hearted action efforts such as Agent Cody Banks, Paycheck and the Bourne movies (one of which was also directed by Liman). With the orchestral ensemble in place, and a healthy dose of synthesisers to embellish the funky modern edge, Mr. & Mrs. Smith swaggers from scene to scene with a great deal of panache and energy, underscoring shootouts and car chases with the stylishness Powell has developed over his last few features. Several cues have a definite Latin edge to their orchestrations (probably as a recognition of John and Jane’s first encounter, in Bogotá, Colombia), which comes to a head during the daringly sexual dance piece “Tango De Los Asesinos”. The film has two soundtracks: a song compilation featuring just one Powell track alongside a bevy songs by artists such as Poison, Soft Cell, Joe Strummer, The Righteous Brothers and Captain & Tennille; and a 45-minute score album with 19 of Powell’s cues. Both are on the Lakeshore Records label.

THE LEAGUE OF GENTLEMEN’S APOCALYPSE

JOBY TALBOT

Review by Jonathan Broxton: Regular readers of Movie Music UK will know by now that I am a huge fan of the BBC TV series The League of Gentlemen, an unremittingly twisted comedy creation which follows the lives of the inhabitants of fictional English town of Royston Vasey. Having built up something of a cult following since its debut in 1999, it was to be expected that a cinematic spin-off would follow – and so we have The League of Gentlemen’s Apocalypse, a deliciously dark satire with hints of Hammer horror and even time travel! Directed by regular TV helmsman Steve Bendelack, Apocalypse begins when the inhabitants of Royston Vasey discover that they are fictional creations, dreamed up by the twisted imaginations of writers Mark Gatiss, Steve Pemberton and Reese Shearsmith. The town is suffering an onslaught of apocalyptic proportions and so – to save the town – the characters have to travel from Royston Vasey into the real world. After the failure of “Team 1” – Edward (Shearsmith), Tubbs (Pemberton) and Papa Lazarou (Shearsmith again) – to contact the fourth member of the League, Jeremy Dyson (Michael Sheen), it falls to the unlikely Team 2 trio of psychotic butcher Hilary Briss (Gatiss), gay German teacher Herr Lipp (Pemberton) and manic-depressive Geoff Tipps (Shearsmith) to leave the safety of Royston Vasey and track down the real-life actors who play them (Gatiss, Pemberton and Shearsmith playing narcissistic versions of themselves). It seems that, instead of writing about the exploits of Royston Vasey, the League have been working on a new screenplay for a renaissance horror film called The King’s Evil – and this lack of interest has caused the town to self destruct! From then on, the anarchic humour kicks in, with everything from ejaculating giraffes to ancient magicians and men in toilets, as Team 2 try to convince the League to save their community.

Although the “characters becoming aware of their own fictitiousness” plot has been used countless times before, the way the League manage to twist it to their own unique vision makes this film a true delight. Having been criticised in the past for having too many one-joke one-dimensional characters, the writers used Apocalypse as an excuse to examine their creations in more detail, resulting in some surprisingly moving moments: Although the star of the show is undoubtedly Mark Gatiss, who turns in a truly monstrous and scary performance as Hilary Briss, it is Herr Lipp’s realisation of his true nature, and his rail against Steve Pemberton, which provide the best dramatic moments. The scenes with Lipp pretending to be Pemberton (complete with a mixed Blackburn/Duisburg accent) are as funny as they are affecting, and bring a wonderful new facet to the character. Film buffs will love the multitude of cinematic references the League pack into their movie, especially the wonderfully retro Ray Harryhausen-style stop motion animation, and British cameo-spotters will have a ball picking out the likes of Victoria Wood, Peter Kay and Simon Pegg from the cast.

Musically, The League of Gentlemen was always excellent, and Apocalypse continues the trend, giving composer Joby Talbot the opportunity to broaden the scope of his TV music with a bigger orchestra and more money. The familiar jazzy main theme is still prominent, but goes through a number of interesting permutations, from bittersweet to action-styled, even being heard as a mobile phone ring tone! During several key scenes Talbot is given the opportunity to pastiche the sound of Bach and Handel with a series of beautiful harpsichord-led baroque pieces for the sequence set in the Renaissance royal court, while at other times his music is shamelessly based on the classic Hammer horror scores of James Bernard and others, of whom Talbot is a great admirer. There is also a great deal of action music, most notably during Hilary’s fight with the Humunculus, and the glorious theme which first appeared at the end of Season 3 (“While There’s Still Time”) is reworked into an amazing orchestral ‘catharsis’ theme for the film’s finale. A mixed bag, to be sure, but it more than highlight’s Talbot’s versatility, and earmarks him as a talent to watch for the future. Silva Screen will be releasing the score CD on 4 July 2005.

STRINGS

JØRGEN LAURITSEN

Review by Peter Simons: A Danish puppet movie directed by Anders Rønnow-Klarlund, Strings tells an epic sword-and-sorcery tale along the lines of Excalibur and King Arthur about a young prince named Hal Tara who, following the death of his father, the King, seemingly at the hands of his sworn enemies, must venture out of the royal city to seek revenge before he can take up the throne. However, as he journeys through his kingdom-to-be and meets his subjects, Hal discovers a few shocking home truths about life in the real world – and finds true love where he least expects it in the shape of the beautiful Zita. With a voice cast that includes heavyweight British actors such as James McAvoy, Catherine McCormack, Derek Jacobi, Julian Glover and Ian Hart, Strings oozes class. Cinematography, lighting, set- and puppet design, as well as the controlling of the puppets’ movements, is absolutely top notch. Its darkly lit set, subdued color schemes and the unremitting rain create a grim and mysterious atmosphere reminiscent of Excalibur. The puppets have an old fashioned, almost antique, design and are very clearly made of wood; and are very clearly on thick black strings. While this may prevent the audience from becoming emotionally involved with the characters and their quest, the writers have very cleverly woven these aspects into the very fabric of the story. The wood and the strings are as much a part of the characters’ anatomy and of their universe as are their limbs and heads. This is most beautifully portrayed when a baby, newly carved, comes to life after six strings descend from the heavens. The film’s biggest obstruction, however, is the puppets’ lack of a moving mouth, which makes it difficult to follow who is talking, and ultimately makes it impossibly to connect to the creatures.

The classically oriented score is by Danish composer Jørgen Lauritsen who, either cleverly or predictably, accentuates the use of strings, harp and woodwind instruments. It is a somber and understated score with warm orchestrations, but it fails to deliver a memorable theme that could have provided the film with the emotional impact it is now regrettably lacking. While the score is, to an extent, written in a Germanic idiom, it actually sounds a lot less like Richard Wagner than you would expect from a film of this mythological magnitude. In the end, Strings is an artistically and technically outstanding film, which unfortunately cannot capture the hearts of the audience.

DUMA

JOHN DEBNEY

Review by Peter Simons: A return to director Carroll Ballard’s favorite subject, Duma is based on the semi-autobiographical book by Carol and Xan Hopcraft, and tells the story of young South African boy Xan (Alexander Michaletos), who adopts an orphaned cheetah and becomes its best friend. This simple, uncomplicated plot is virtually a retelling of Ballard’s previous directorial effort Fly Away Home – albeit with big cats rather than geese – as Xan sets out on a quest to release the big cat back in to the wild, struggles with the sudden loss of his father, and adapts to other difficulties with adolescence and growing up. While Fly Away Home was a surprisingly moving coming-of-age story, Duma is unfortunately a generally boring affair. The characters never really come to life, despite the generous amount of time that Ballard spends developing them. The plot is far too predictable for its own good; the film dwells on Xan’s rather uninteresting journey, while the story’s more poignant moments, like the death of Xan’s father, are dealt with in a matter of seconds. Xan inadvertently comes across as a selfish kid after he leaves his mother without any indication of where he is going, while his buddy on the road comes across as too much of an untrustworthy partner to accept he is actually one of the good guys. The stars of the show are ultimately Duma the cheetah, and the inspiring scenery of South Africa. Werner Maritz’s cinematography is impressive, but fails to save this movie from being superfluous.

Sadly, the largely ambient score by John Debney and world music maestro George Acogny is equally unimpressive. Essentially made up of synth pads, strings that keep fading in and out, ethnic percussion and African vocals, it does not deliver the standout theme you would expect someone like Debney to come up with. The score is not non-melodic per se, but prefers an atmospheric approach rather than a thematic one. With strong stylistic similarities to Debney’s The Passion of the Christ, Mark Isham’s Fly Away Home, Thomas Newman’s typically sensitive piano motifs, and James Horner’s typical pan flute flutterings, it seems the temp track may also have heavily influenced the soundtrack. The score is set for a release on the Varèse Sarabande label, but judging by its impact on screen, it is not one to wholeheartedly recommend.

SAHARA

CLINT MANSELL

Review by Peter Simons: Playing off like a modern times Indiana Jones, Sahara is a dumb-but-fun action adventure flick starring Matthew McConaughey and Penelope Cruz. The former plays Dirk Pitt, an adventurer on a search for a legendary American ironclad that set sail, so to speak, for Africa at the end of the Civil War in 1866. Rumor has it that the boat, sinisterly dubbed by locals as ‘the ship of death’ is buried under the desert sand, unlikely though that sounds! Cruz is doctor Eva Rojas of the World Health Organization investigating a lethal and rapidly spreading epidemic in Eastern Africa. As Eva sets out to find the source of the plague, she crosses paths with McConaughey, and, needless to say, their separate quests lead them to the same destination, but not before they are threatened with their lives, chased through the desert and repeatedly shot upon – not necessarily in that order. Improbable situations succeed each other hastily, but luckily the film holds its tongue firmly in its cheek. How else to explain the bullet dodging and gravity defying stunts? Dirk and sidekick Al (Steve Zahn) come across like the old buddies that they are supposed to be, fully trusting each other throughout the perilous events, and maintaining a good sense of humor about it all. The cast further includes such wonderful actors as Williams H. Macy, Rain Wilson and Delroy Lindo. Directed by Breck Eisner the film looks slick, with fabulous locales, and unfolds at rocket speed. However, the film does feel long and its swift all-is-well conclusion feels like a lazy way out, as if it doesn’t really matter – and, in a way, it doesn’t.

Providing the musical score for Sahara is Clint Mansell, a late replacement for Brian Tyler. An Englishman previously best known as the face of the 1980s rap/pop fusion band Pop Will Eat Itself, Mansell’s film music career to date had been predominantly in the independent arena through films such as Pi and Requiem For a Dream. Considering his background, and that up until now his work has been predominantly electronic and minimalist, it comes as a real surprise to hear what he has done for Sahara. Though the film is marred with a handful of songs that firmly place the movie in present time, Mansell’s score is an appropriately epic work for orchestra, with an emphasis on brass and percussion. While the main theme is somewhat forgettable, though at least there [i]is[/i] a main theme, the action music more than makes up for it. Ethnic percussion, racing strings and brass eruptions that recall James Bond provide the movie with the right amount of energy, excitement and enthusiasm. The reflective moments are scored for strings, and there are plenty of African chants spread throughout the score. A song CD has already been released with just one cue of Mansell’s music, but as of yet there is no word of a separate score release and, judging by how well the music plays in the film, this is quite unfortunate. The music may not be anything we haven’t heard before; it is done with enough gusto to wish for a closer listen.

THE ASSASSINATION OF RICHARD NIXON

STEVEN STERN

Review by Jonathan Broxton: In its way, The Assassination of Richard Nixon is a Taxi Driver for the 21st century, an emotionally shattering examination of a man whose life is spiralling out of control - despite his best efforts to maintain a moral and ethical standpoint at a time when political corruption and social indifference were rife – and the actions he takes to set things right and make a point. Directed by Niels Mueller, who is making his directorial debut, the film takes us back to 1974, at the height of the Watergate scandal. Sean Penn stars as Sam Bicke, a failed furniture salesman who can do no right. His boss Jack Jones (Jack Thompson) is losing patience with his inability to close sales; his wife Marie (Naomi Watts) is desperate to get a divorce; he is estranged from his tire-salesman brother Julius (Michael Wincott), and can’t get a loan to start up a new business with his best friend Bonny (Don Cheadle) because Bonny is black. As Sam's life disintegrates, he gropes for someone to blame, and he eventually decides that the source of his woes is the President of the United States, Richard Nixon. When he sees a news report about a helicopter landing on the White House lawn, Sam comes up with an audacious plan: to hijack a plane and fly it into the White House, killing Nixon and making himself a martyr.

Although based on factual events (Bicke really did attempt to hijack a plane in Washington in 1976), Mueller and co-writer Kevin Kennedy have made their film more of a character study than a conventional biopic, concentrating instead on the personal life of Bicke and social climate during the period which drove him to such extreme actions. The cornerstone of this film is the performance of Sean Penn, who makes his character a world-weary everyman who stutters and stammers his way through life with puppy-dog eagerness to please, but whose good intentions are continually thwarted. Although Sam is a whiner who continually fails to take responsibility for his actions and instead blames “society” for all his problems, he is nevertheless a man with whose plight we can identify – no matter what he does, no matter how hard he tries, circumstances conspire against him. There’s can’t be a person alive today who hasn’t experienced the sense of frustration and injustice Sam feels throughout this film. His notions of “considering himself a grain of sand, but wanting to prove that the smallest grain of sand can make a difference” ring true and, in a clever conceit, are recorded on tape and sent to composer Leonard Bernstein (for whose music Bicke has an affinity), hinting at his terrible plans. He is the ultimate worm-who-turns. With naturalistic photography, good attention to period detail, and excellent supporting turns from especially Thompson, Watts and Cheadle, The Assassination of Richard Nixon is a powerful motion picture which once again highlights that Sean Penn is one of the leading dramatic actors of his generation.

The score for The Assassination of Richard Nixon is by Steven Stern, a relative newcomer to the big stage, whose previous scores have included titles such as Bloody Murder, Hangman, and working with the Media Ventures gang on Speed, The Lion King and The Rock. Taking the Leonard Bernstein link as his stylistic starting point, Stern’s music is defiantly classical in style, and makes good prominent use of an attractive piano and string combo throughout. Despite being essentially a one-theme score – the central melody plays constantly at key moments in the story – Stern’s excellent decision not to over-saturate the film with music ensures that, when he makes his entry, it is with an impact that leaves a positive impression. In addition to Stern’s score, the film soundtrack includes a couple of music library cues taken from the archives of Stern’s own company, Selectracks Music Services; three Beethoven extracts (from Piano Concerto No. 5 in E Flat Major, Piano Sonata No. 1 in F Minor and Violin Sonata No. 5 in F Major, Op. 24), as well as a number of classic rock and pop tracks from the period which crop up in the background or on Bicke’s car radio as he drives around. Sadly, no CD from The Assassination of Richard Nixon exists at this time.

VALIANT

GEORGE FENTON

Review by Jonathan Broxton: The first British film to jump on the CGI animation bandwagon, Valiant is an entertaining (if a little un-ambitious) movie which does for pigeons what Chicken Run did for fowl. Set in a highly stylised England at the height of World War II, the film follows the exploits of the titular Valiant (voice of Ewan McGregor), a diminutive wood pigeon who dreams of joining the Royal Homing Pigeon Service and doing his bit for King and country. Valiant gets his opportunity when, after meeting the dashing Captain Gutsy (Hugh Laurie) at a rally to drum up new recruits, he decides to go to London to enlist. Teaming up with Cockney wide-boy pigeon Bugsy (Ricky Gervais), Valiant and his new cohorts find themselves in basic training under the gruff Sergeant (Jim Broadbent), and before long are embarking on their first mission – to retrieve and return with a secret message lost in occupied France. However, in order to complete the mission, they must face the evil General von Talon (Tim Curry), a ruthless falcon with a penchant for leather capes and Third Reich regalia, who has captured and eaten pigeons before...

Coming on the back of massive global successes such as Shrek 2 and The Incredibles, it was almost inevitable that Valiant would struggle to impress in this world-class company. The animation is competent enough, Gary Chapman’s direction occasionally shows some nice visual flair, and voice cast is extraordinary (in addition to McGregor, Broadbent and Curry it also features John Cleese, John Hurt, Rik Mayall, Olivia Williams and even Jonathan Ross) – but the whole thing is just so English, it sometimes stretches the bounds of credibility, even for an Englishman like myself. The whole thing has a stiff upper lip, jolly hockey sticks stereotype to it, playing off nationalistic clichés like there’s no tomorrow, and giving the whole thing the air of a cartoon episode of the old British sitcom Allo Allo, even down to the bad French accents. Many of the gags fall sadly flat, or make continual use of a “colliding in mid-air” pratfall that wears thin after the fifth time. The one high point is the vocal performance of Ricky Gervais, who builds upon his persona from the Golden Globe-winning The Office to such an extent that Bugsy could have been David Brent in another life. Many of his brilliant one-liners will go over the heads of kids, but adults will recognise them as potentially coming straight from the manager’s office at Wenham Hogg.

Musically, Valiant is a tentative success. George Fenton has a successful history of WWII films, with scores such as Memphis Belle to his name. This time around, Fenton combines his orchestra with performances by the Central Band of the Royal Air Force, resulting in a work which is part Ron Goodwin, part Edward Elgar, and part Eric Coates. The main theme, the RHPS March, is a deft piece for brass band - upbeat, noble, yet retaining that slight sense of self-deprecating pomposity that always seems to be present in military fanfares. One action cue, as Valiant and his comrades evade the falcons through a cornfield, is breathlessly exciting, and there are a couple of stirring “off to war” pieces for the full orchestra which merely act as a reminder of how good this score could have been had it been written for a more serious movie. A slight love theme for Valiant and nursing bird Victoria, a brooding Teutonic theme for the falcons, and some Great Escape/Dirty Dozen style training montages fill out the proceedings – although the finale is completely ruined through the wholly inappropriate and anachronistic inclusion of the jitterbug classic “Shoo Shoo Baby” performed in a modern style by R&B stars Mis-Teeq. Where’s Vera Lynn or Glenn Miller when you need them? Going into this film, I was anticipating a score along the lines of Memphis Belle meets Chicken Run. It’s not that good, but it has its moments.

DARKNESS

CARLES CASES

Review by Peter Simons: Set in Spain, but with a English-language cast, Darkness is a flawed horror film made in 2002 that only just now found its way into British cinemas. An American family moves back to their native Spain to be closer to their old friends and relatives. The house they move into, however, has a sinister history. Forty years ago, six children were ritually killed in that house, while a seventh kid got away. With an approaching eclipse, dark forces are gathering to finish the ceremony that started four decades ago. The most likely victim is youngest son Paul (Stephan Enquist) who has been producing several disturbing drawings, and whose pencils keep mysteriously disappearing under his bed. This is, of course, beside the fact that several creepy figures are hiding in the dark corners of his room. Repeatedly he shows up for breakfast with nasty bruises on his body, but his parents are not the least bit concerned, as they believe the wounds are self-inflicted. His older sister Regina (Anna Paquin) is the only one who is willing to protect him; either from the monsters or from their parents Maria and Mark (Lena Olin and Iain Glen). Together with her local boyfriend Carlos (Fele Martínez), Regina starts a little investigation of her own and slowly unravels the house’s shady secrets. All the while the father is having severe health problems, as an old disease rears its head and makes his life, and subsequently that of the entire family, nearly unbearable.

Over the course of a mercifully short 102 minutes, the film works towards its deadly climax; or anticlimax. Saying the film is flawed is an understatement. With the exception of the loving and protective Regina, none of the characters are even remotely interesting. Paul loves to draw, but that’s all the character development we are granted to see in this movie. It remains unclear (or at least it’s easily forgotten) what mom and dad do throughout the day. The story is weak and never manages to properly explain exactly what the purpose is of the ritual that is about to be completed. Friends turn to enemies in the blink of an eye; and turn to friends again in another blink, disregarding all logic and, more importantly, tension. During the terror moments the camera is shaking so badly it causes annoyance rather than fear; not to mention that the film even tends to be out of focus on several occasions. It could be argued that director Jaume Balagueró was trying to achieve a somewhat artistic effect. Needless to say: he failed. Allegedly, some of the film’s bigger scares have been cut out to achieve a PG-13 rating. To me, this doesn’t make any sense whatsoever. That’s like cutting out the best laughs from of a comedy to prevent it from being too funny.

However, the second best thing about the movie, after Anna Paquin’s lead role, is the score by classically trained composer Carles Cases. Born in Barcelona in 1958, Cases studied piano and cello in his home town, and went on to study composition and orchestration in Norway and Cuba. He is well versed in both classical and jazz music, and has scored over thirty movies in his native country. His score for Darkness is nice enough, but hardly anything special. It’s the usual amalgam of brooding strings, a lullaby-ish piano-theme and some mysterious vocals. Nothing we haven’t heard before (in the recently released Hide and Seek for example), but it proved a pleasant distraction in an otherwise disappointing film. The soundtrack has been released on CD in Spain, and for fans of this particular approach to horror and thriller scoring it may be worth checking out.

THE MACHINIST

ROQUE BAÑOS

Review by Jonathan Broxton: An alienating look at the life of a man on the brink of sanity, The Machinist is the latest film from director Brad Anderson, in what is his follow-up to the 2001 arthouse success Session 9. An unrecognisable Christian Bale stars as Trevor Reznik, a shattered, shadow of a man who works shifts in a metalworking shop, has not slept in a year, and is disturbed by his past. Introverted and lonely, Reznik’s only human interaction comes by way of friendly waitress Marie (Aitana Sánchez-Gijón), who works at an airport coffee shop he frequents; prostitute Stevie (Jennifer Jason Leigh), who offers him solace and compassion; the landlady who owns his run-down apartment, and his co-workers at the shop. However, the appearance of an oddly sinister new colleague named Ivan (John Sharian), leads Reznik to cause a tragic accident at work – an event which takes Trevor on a mind-bending journey of fear, guilt, paranoia and ominous Post-It notes. Is Trevor losing his mind, or is there really a conspiracy against him?

The most startling thing about The Machinist is the physical appearance of Christian Bale, who lost nearly 60 pounds – a third of his body weight – in preparation for his role. His sallow complexion, skeletal torso (you can literally see almost every bone in his body) and haunted eyes are utterly compelling to watch. Xavi Giménez’s beautifully de-saturated cinematography, the strangely desolate Spanish locations, and the languid pace director Anderson adopts all combine to make The Machinist a quietly disturbing piece of non-mainstream cinema. Unfortunately, I found the whole experience to be indescribably boring. I can’t remember another occasion when I have entered a cinema wide awake and looking forward to a movie, and then genuinely been put to sleep by it. And I can’t explain the reasons behind it… the basic concept is an interesting one, the cast is superb, Bale’s performance is remarkable, but something about the actual realisation of the finished product left me totally cold.

One other aspect of The Machinist which works excellently is the score, by Spanish composer Roque Baños, which has been rightly described by many critics as “Hermannesque”. The whole things sounds like a sampler album of the great man’s works, from the meandering strings and vicious slashes of Psycho and the oppressive nature of Cape Fear to the theremin of The Day The Earth Stood Still and the impressionistic flourishes of Vertigo and North By Northwest. The musical ghost of Herrmann hovers over everything that Baños does. The whole score has a tone of generally unremitting bleakness, occasionally enlivened by moments of high suspense or occasional action (the accident at the shop, Trevor’s run from the police), but for the most part Baños’s musical interpretation of Trevor’s life is just like the film: dark and disturbing. Some confusion surrounds whether or not a CD of The Machinist exists. A “manufactured CD”, supposedly released by the film’s production company Filmax, recently appeared on Ebay under the film’s original Spanish title “El Maquinista”. Whether this CD is a legitimate release, an official promo, or a bootleg remains unclear – but either way, it deserves to be heard.

HITCH

GEORGE FENTON

Review by Jonathan Broxton: A delightful romantic comedy which gives hope to clumsy, overweight, unlucky-in-love guys everywhere, Hitch is the latest film from director Andy Tennant (Sweet Home Alabama, Ever After). Will Smith stars as Alex “Hitch” Hitchens, a self appointed “date doctor”, who uses his observations about romantic interactions to help guys build the self-confidence and self-esteem to woo the woman of their dreams. However, as successful as he is with others, his own personal life is a romantic void: until beautiful gossip columnist Sara (Eva Mendes) comes along. Suddenly, Hitch starts to feel the pull of romantic attachment, and all the good advice he dispenses goes out of the window when it comes to applying it to his own life. Meanwhile, Hitch is embarking on his most challenging assignment yet – to help the nervous, terminally clumsy but lovable accountant Albert Brenneman (Kevin James) pluck up the courage to talk to beautiful socialite Allegra Cole (Amber Valletta).

Will Smith is as appealing as ever, and Eva Mendes finds the right balance of potential partner and über-bitch, but the most appealing pairing is that of Kevin James and Amber Valletta. James, best known as the star of the hit comedy The King of Queens, makes Albert the clutz incarnate, bringing to the screen all the neuroses, worries, and problems most guys feel at some point in their lives. All he wants is to love, and be loved, but when you’ve got mustard stains on your pants and you dance like an idiot, what are you supposed to do? His relationship with the gorgeous, untouchable, massively wealthy Allegra Cole is sweet and endearing – Albert makes all the mistakes he was born to make, but Allegra falls for him anyway. Why? Because it’s his failings, not his perfections, that make him unique. His private reaction after he finally kisses the girl of his dreams is funny, truthful, and totally priceless. This is not to say that Hitch is not also riotously funny, because it is. The jet-ski sequence on the Hudson River, the trip to Ellis Island, and the romantic meal which turns into a disaster thanks to some stray shellfish show an appealing lack of self-consciousness on Smith’s part, and some of the one-liners in Kevin Bisch’s screenplay had me rolling in the aisles.

While watching Hitch, you could be forgiven for not noticing George Fenton’s original score. The song-soundtrack put together by music supervisor Pilar McCurry is so strong and so prominent, that Fenton’s light music virtually disappears into the background – which is a shame, as some of the moments which do stand out are lovely. The score which Hitch resembles the most is, unsurprisingly, Groundhog Day. As with that film, Fenton uses a winning combination of romantic string-and-piano scoring with some deliciously upbeat jazz caper music which counterbalances the more tender moments with knockabout comedy. The end credits sequence features a piece of big band jazz which actually recalls Ira Newborn’s swinging Naked Gun scores, all raucous trumpets and kicking rhythms. Unfortunately, none of Fenton’s score appears on the soundtrack CD, which is made up of (admittedly great) song selections instead: “Love Train” by The O’Jays, “You Can Get It If You Really Want” by Jimmy Cliff, “It's Easy To Fall In Love” by Martha and the Vandellas, “Reasons” by Earth Wind and Fire, and others.

HOSTAGE

ALEXANDRE DESPLAT

Review by Jonathan Broxton: A white-knuckle thriller from French action director Florent Siri, Hostage is Bruce Willis’s latest attempt to re-capture the box-office glory he enjoyed in the 1980s and 90s with the Die Hard series. Here he plays LAPD hostage negotiator Jeff Talley, a master tactician in the world of crime negotiation, whose world is torn apart when an entire family is massacred during one of his operations. A year later, and Jeff is now the chief of police in a small Ventura County community, a world away from the dangerous streets of Los Angeles. Despite some problems with his wife (Serena Scott-Thomas) and daughter (Rumer Willis), Jeff is happy – until three kids (Ben Foster, Jonathan Tucker, Marshall Allman) break into a house in the rich part of town and take accountant Walter Smith (Kevin Pollak) and his son and daughter (Jimmy Bennett, Michele Horn) hostage. Before long, Jeff is thrown headlong into a dangerous situation, with three unpredictable small-time crooks in above their heads. However, things get decidedly worse when a much more sinister organisation take an interest in the goings on in the Smith household, and kidnap Jeff’s family in order to get what they want out of the situation…

One of the most satisfying things about Hostage is how intelligent it is; this isn’t some simple Hollywood shoot-em-up, where the protagonists are super-human muscle men and the villains one-dimensional caricatures. Doug Richardson’s superior screenplay never panders to audience expectations, and isn’t afraid to play against the genre rules, resulting in a film which has just the right combination of brains, balls and thrills. This is one of Bruce Willis’s best roles in several years, a sort-of return to his 1980s heyday after the quietness of The Sixth Sense and Unbreakable, but without the macho posturing that dominated his earlier work. He makes Jeff a man searching for peace and redemption after a life on the edge, and the desperation he feels when placed into his impossible situation is almost palpable. The supporting cast are generally excellent, especially Jimmy Bennett as the Home Alone-style resourceful kid who out-smarts the crooks, and of course it’s always good to see Kevin Pollak back on the big screen, even if he does spend the majority of his screen-time unconscious. It’s also worth mentioning the largely brilliant cinematography of Giovanni Fiore Coltellacci, who somehow manages to come up with new and unique ways of shooting mundane things like mountains and houses so they appear both appealing and disorientating. Also, the main title design is a treat: although it was obviously inspired by the “writing names on buildings” trick from Panic Room, it makes a great change to see a director take the time and trouble to introduce his movie in a new and interesting way.

Alexandre Desplat’s international career to date has consisted almost exclusively of period pieces (Girl With a Pearl Earring) or intimate dramas (Birth), so it comes as something of a surprise to discover that he’s an excellent action composer as well. With a bit of Elliot Goldenthal, a bit of Howard Shore, and his own individual sense of orchestral inventiveness, Desplat’s score for Hostage is as much of a white-knuckle ride as the film itself. Basically, his music takes three roads: heartbreaking solo vocals (performed by his daughter Antonia) to capture the emotional torment at the heart of Talley’s plight; contemporary electronic and urban scoring to add a level of modern energy to his orchestra; and extended passages of quite raw and powerful action music, much of which makes especially notable use of bass-heavy brasses, electric cellos and heavy percussion. During many key moments, Desplat’s score takes prominent centre stage, carrying the weight of the film on its broad musical shoulders, enlivening the picture with its instrumental inventiveness and sheer dramatic oomph. Occasionally, Desplat’s score is slightly overpowering in terms of its level in the sound mix, overwhelming the moment with elegiac vocals that come across as just a little bit overly-manipulative, none of this takes away from the actual quality of the music itself. I firmly believe that, having now shown his credentials on a film which has genuine box office potential and is very different from his previous works, Desplat is destined to be one of the major composers in Hollywood over the next few years. Sadly, no CD of Hostage has been released, nor is one planned for anytime soon: promo please!!!

CREEP

THE INSECTS

Review by Jonathan Broxton: A British/German throwback to the nightmarish, claustrophobic horror movies of the 1970s, Creep is the story of what happens to a pretty young woman who becomes trapped in the London Underground when she falls asleep in the platform, and wakes up to find all the exits locked. Exploring the network of tunnels that catacomb underneath Britain’s capital to try to find a way out, Kate (Franka Potente) soon finds herself at the mercy of a nameless, deformed human (Sean Harris) who stalks the network at night, picking off the unwary. Running for her life, she teams up with a homeless couple (Paul Rattray and Kelly Scott) and one of the Creep’s previous victims (Vas Blackwood), who are also desperately trying to escape from the unknown killer.

Creep’s young director, Christopher Smith, would have us believe that the film is a gory horror-satire exploring themes of social deprivation, homelessness, child abuse, and lots of other highbrow sentiments. In reality, the film is a mess: it takes a potentially superb idea, and butchers it, resulting in a film which is (aside from a few “boo” moments) not scary, not thrilling, not particularly interesting, and which fails to ask the pertinent questions it intended. The problems are twofold: firstly, the Creep is a poorly-envisaged character – supposedly a “deformed child” raised in a secret laboratory under the city, no reason is given for his homicidal behaviour other than the fact that he was genetically reared, and never got much attention as a kid. Secondly, the film relies on too much gore and cheap shocks in place of real tension and fear. The brain subconsciously implies far more terrifying things than what it can see on-screen: doesn’t every wannabe horror filmmaker know this by now? The character development is zero, the screenplay is appalling, Franka Potente is wasted, the supporting cast do little, and as the credits roll the whole thing feels like a giant waste of time.

The score for Creep is by English composing duo Tim Norfolk and Bob Locke, better known as The Insects, who have been composing in the UK since 1996, wrote the score for the films “Love and Death on Long Island” and “Owning Mahowny”, and who have collaborated in the pop world with artists such as Massive Attack and even Madonna. Living up to their name, the ‘music’ The Insects wrote is made up almost solely of wall-to-wall industrial sound design which buzzes, hums, groans and moans without any passing acknowledgement to theme or melody. It’s never anything less than effective, and it certainly creates a genuine sense of foreboding and unease whenever the Creep is… well… creeping around, but its not something I would chose to listen to on its own. Just as well there’s no CD really…

VERA DRAKE

ANDREW DICKSON

Review by Jonathan Broxton: A typical effort from director Mike Leigh, which fuses traditional British “kitchen sink” drama with potent social commentary, Vera Drake is a powerful film about a loving wife, mother, and neighbour in 1950s London, who – unknown to everyone – also carries out illegal abortions. With nothing more than carbolic soap, a syringe and a cheery smile, Vera “helps” the young women who have found themselves in a terrible predicament, and are unable to do anything about it, be it due to financial limitations or class status. For years, things are fine in the Drake household, until one day, while Vera (Imelda Staunton) and her husband Stan (Phil Davis) are celebrating the engagement of their daughter Ethel (Alex Kelly) to the dim-but-lovable Reg (Eddie Marsan), the police arrive. It seems as though one of Vera’s “patients” has become gravely ill after a visit, and the authorities have been informed – and suddenly what Vera saw as her helping those in need becomes much more serious.

Vera Drake is anchored by a truly mesmerising Oscar-nominated performance by Imelda Staunton, a well-known British character actress, who plays Vera as a good natured busybody, oblivious to the potentially harmful situation she puts herself and her family in through her actions. In Vera’s world, everyone is called “dear”, and every problem can be solved by a nice cup of tea, making her a quintessentially British characterisation. The flicker of realisation that crosses her face when she finally understands the enormity of her crimes is a staggering moment of clarity in a life dominated by friendly fussiness and a no-nonsense attitude that characterised life in post-war London. Wisely, Leigh takes no moral ground on Vera’s actions - she does what she does, and that’s all – instead leaving it up to the interpretation of the viewer as to whether her eventual punishment fits the crime. What Leigh does do is capture perfectly a snapshot of life in 1950s Britain, with all its social mores, patterns of speech, and attitudes towards sexuality, as well as its dress sense and décor. Anyone who ever knew someone who lived in that community, or (like me) is related to someone who lived at that time, will appreciate the meticulous attention to period detail in Leigh’s work.

Andrew Dickson, a prominent British theatre composer who previously worked with Leigh on Naked and Secrets & Lies, has written a small, chamber-like original score for the film, the intimacy and sparing use of which increases the emotional impact of scenes in which it appears. Essentially a one-theme score, it is performed by a variety of soloists, highlighting harps, violas, cellos and bass flutes. It accompanies Vera on her cheery way, looking after the needy, looking after her family, cleaning the houses of others – a musical depiction of a 1950s “the salt of the earth”. Vera’s other life as an abortionist, unusually, features a completely separate musical identity – that of a small female choir – whose unaccompanied intonations seem to indicate that Vera is an almost angelic presence, watching over the girls as a guardian spirit. When things change, and Vera stands accused, the voices lament her plight, and instead of celebrating her bravery, the theme mourns for her lack of understanding and obliviousness to the severity of her crimes. It’s a clever score from a composer who gets very little recognition; however, unsurprisingly, no CD of Vera Drake is available.

MILLION DOLLAR BABY

CLINT EASTWOOD

Review by Jonathan Broxton: Clint Eastwood’s 25th film as director, Million Dollar Baby is a boxing movie, but which isn’t really about boxing. It’s a movie which uses boxing as a metaphor for life; as an illustrative tool to tell a more universal story about hopes and dreams, bettering yourself, making the most of your circumstances, and striving for unattainable goals. Eastwood plays Frankie Dunn, a gruff boxing coach from Los Angeles with a low-key but successful gym, and a potential champ under his wing in the shape of Big Willie Little (Mike Colter). However, Frankie has demons in his past, and will not let Willie fight for a world title; when Willie ups and leaves for a more ambitious coach, Frankie finds himself questioning his purpose in life. Salvation arrives in the shape of young Maggie Fitzgerald (Hilary Swank) a tough wannabe female boxer trying to escape from her white trash Missouri roots by being successful in the ring. At first reluctant to take her on - “I don’t train girls” - Frankie is eventually convinced by his old friend Scrap-Iron Dupris (Morgan Freeman), and before long Frankie and Maggie find themselves on the road to success, building on Maggie’s natural raw talent and Frankie’s years of experience.

If this were merely a boxing film, it would end there – Maggie wins the title, everyone lives happily ever after. But Million Dollar Baby does not go down that easy route. Eastwood and screenwriter Paul Haggis explore instead a number of challenging themes which come out of the blue, none of which I will reveal here (I don’t want to spoil the ending) – suffice to say that the film’s last third contains some of the best acting work ever done by Eastwood, Swank and Freeman in their entire careers, and has a finale which is both emotionally shattering and dramatically appropriate. By skewing his strong-yet-silent persona, Eastwood gives a performance of a lifetime, endowing Frankie with more inner turmoil than a dozen Dirty Harrys or William Munnys. Similarly, Hilary Swank tops her Oscar-winning performance in Boys Don’t Cry by making her Maggie tough, yet vulnerable – a woman whose life and self-esteem depends almost totally on her performances in the ring, and whose surrogate father/daughter relationship with Frankie is the film’s emotional core. Quite simply, this is one of the finest dramatic films of 2004, and fully deserves the praise it has received.

As well as directing, producing and starring in the film, Eastwood also composed the original score, the second time he has done this following his official debut on Mystic River in 2003 . Working with his long-time friend and collaborator Lennie Niehaus (who conducted and orchestrated), Eastwood’s music is understated, restrained, but wholly appropriate in conveying the dramatic needs of the story. His main theme is an echo of the one he wrote for Unforgiven back in 1992 – slow, delicate, intimate, and performed mainly by a soft string section. It re-appears performed on solo guitar during several key sections, and is re-orchestrated for piano in others, but it never makes any large, demonstrative statements, and is never overly-manipulative or syrupy. It’s a testament to Eastwood’s sense of restraint that he allows his audience to be moved by the performances, and the circumstances, rather than being told what to feel by gooey underscore. While many would infer that Eastwood is not a “proper” composer, in that he has never been classically trained, his dramatic sensibility for the use of music in film is not in question: Million Dollar Baby is sensitive, low-key, but excellent in context. Varèse Sarabande will be releasing a CD of Million Dollar Baby in the near future.

LADDER 49

WILLIAM ROSS

Review by Jonathan Broxton: For some reason, there aren’t very many movies made about fire fighters – Ron Howard’s 1991 blockbuster Backdraft being one of the few high-profile exceptions. This phenomenon is odd, as their exploits are inherently cinematic: approaching raging infernos with a degree of selflessness and heroism that makes for an epic, engaging movie-going experience. Also, since 9/11, the lives of the men and women who battle fires on a daily basis have taken on noble proportions, and it is this angle that director Jay Russell’s film Ladder 49 explores. Joaquin Phoenix stars as Jack Morrison, a member of one of Baltimore’s finest fire crews, who while tackling an inferno in a large industrial unit, finds himself cut off from his team, badly injured, and in need of rescue. As he lies waiting for his comrades, he reflects on various important episodes in his life: his initiation into the unit; his first meeting with Captain Mike Kennedy (John Travolta), who would become both a close friend and a moral guide; his relationships with colleagues Lenny (Robert Patrick), Tommy (Morris Chestnut) and Ray (Balthazar Getty); how he met and fell in love with his wife Linda (Jacinta Barrett); and the various blazes he has tackled – and beaten – over the years. Although the film does not generally deviate from the genre’s stock clichés, they are filmed with such dignity and conviction that they are easy to overlook, and the honest sentiment the film conveys makes the overall package one which is easy to admire. Phoenix, Travolta, Patrick, and especially Barrett are very good in their roles, and the technical aspects of the film (especially the elaborate pyrotechnics) lend the project an enjoyably professional sheen.

Working with Russell for the third time is composer William Ross, who after a decade of scoring kids films and rather silly comedies, has been given a shot at writing music for something with more meat and muscle. As one would expect, the story inspired Ross to write one of the best scores of his career, although at times (and as has been the case in many of his more prominent works) he leans a little too heavily on the temp-track, which seems to consist of a great deal of James Horner. To capture the working-class roots of the firemen, the Maryland locale, as well as some of the characters’ ethnic background, much of Ross’s score is infused with a touch of the Irish. Fiddles and an occasional pipe feature heavily in the orchestral score, adding an intrinsic sense of emotion to an already rich sound. During the action sequences, Ross brings a sense of energy and urgency to the film, utilising a modern percussion section and occasionally frantic electronics. During the film’s touching climax, Ross’s music soars to great heights, giving John Travolta’s moving speech weight and gravitas, and bringing things to a fitting close. In addition to one cut from Ross’s score, the soundtrack CD features two songs by singer/songwriter Robbie Robertson, one of which (“Shine Your Light”) has become a popular hit. Other artists which feature include The Ohio Players, Bonnie Raitt, The Pogues and The Black Crowes. A promo would be VERY welcome, however.

TEAM AMERICA: WORLD POLICE

HARRY GREGSON-WILLIAMS, TREY PARKER and MARC SHAIMAN

Review by Peter Simons: Team America: World Police, the new film from South Park creators Trey Parker and Matt Stone, may very well be the most controversial movie in recent years; or indeed since South Park the movie. Making fun of every single action movie cliché, while pissing on American politics at the same time, Team America tells the story of a Thunderbirds-like organization that springs into action to stop terrorists and their evil plans. In their pursuit of terrorism they blow up everything that crosses their path, but the destruction of Paris or the pyramids in Egypt is only a small price to pay to ensure freedom. All the while, the team members have their own personal problems as well as love affairs.

While the movie certainly pokes fun at the blunt ways America tends to interfere with world politics, it falls short as a political satire as it refuses to take sides. If we’d take the stirring speech during the movie’s finale seriously, it could even be argued that Team America supports the war on terrorism; at any cost. The movie does however succeed brilliantly at being a spoof of the Jerry Bruckheimer-type action films: from the multitude of explosions, the bad-ass attitudes, the superficial relationships, the slow motion sequences, all the way down to the music. In an ironic, but ultimately typical Hollywood twist of fate, Marc Shaiman’s original score was rejected after it was recorded and after Shaiman had posted a hilarious letter on his website telling his fans how thrilled he was to be working on this movie and how his music sounded nothing like the sweet, sentimental scores he’s particularly known for. Coming in to write a replacement score in a mere two weeks was Harry Gregson-Williams, who is no stranger to the Bruckheimer style of film scoring. With the help of a small army of additional composers, arrangers and orchestrators he managed to deliver a score that is not only appropriate for the film, but is actually more cleverly conceived and a lot more enjoyable to listen to than many of its contemporaries. What makes Team America such a great score is that Gregson-Williams presents a handful of surprisingly good themes; combines them will all the clichés we’ve come to know from The Rock, Armageddon, Black Hawk Down, et al.; and plays it straight all the way through the movie without mickey mousing the comedy. There is the wailing electric cello as we see terrorists on screen; the duduk as we enter Egypt; the electronic drumloops during the car chases; and, of course, the brassy power anthem for the team.

Though composed at record speed and intended as a parody, Team America is one of the better scores in its genre, with the main theme being very catchy and the love theme being surprisingly heart wrenchingly beautiful. Within the film, the score makes a bigger impact than the songs, hilarious though they are. The various songs (written by Parker and Stone, with some additional arrangements by Shaiman) are short and even then tend to simply fade in and fade out making them feel oddly disconnected from the film. Of course, this might as well be the very effect the creators were after. Having heard the songs before seeing the film, however, they had less impact on me then they did on CD; Derka Derk and the Montage song are arguably the most effective. While all the songs from the movie were presented on CD, the film’s end credits oddly enough contains one more song that’s not on the soundtrack release. Fans of Kim Il Jong may want to remain seated for this one. Click here for the full review of Team America.

WHITE NOISE

CLAUDE FOISY

Review by Jonathan Broxton: An intriguing but ultimately rather silly supernatural thriller, White Noise is officially the first theatrical release of 2005. Directed by British TV stalwart Geoffrey Sax, it stars Michael Keaton as Jonathan Rivers, a successful architect living the American dream with his beautiful novelist wife Anna (Chandra West) and young son. However, Jonathan’s life is shattered when Anna goes missing, and is subsequently found dead face-down in a river. Things take an unusual turn when, after the funeral, Jonathan is visited by Raymond Price (Ian McNiece), who claims to be an expert in Electronic Voice Phenomenon (EVP), a much-disputed science whereby the voices of the dead communicate with the living through the static and white noise of household appliances – televisions, radios, video recorders, and so on. To make matters worse, it seems as though Anna is trying to warn Jonathan that something terrible is about to happen…

Despite having a quite interesting premise, White Noise is let down by two things: the completely absurd ending, which almost negates everything that has come before it and descends into stock clichés and genre conventions, and the incredibly slow pacing, which makes a fairly standard length film seem much, much longer than it is. Michael Keaton, as he always does, provides his character with a sense of realism and integrity that the film does not really deserve: the grief and sense of detachment he feels following Anna’s death, and the steps he takes to have one last, fleeting moment with her is something we can surely all relate to. Supporting characters are perfunctory, but Ian McNiece leaves a positive impression as the scientist-cum-medium who helps the bereaved, and its nice to see Deborah Kara Unger back on screen, albeit in the familiar “female sidekick” role. It’s flashily made, and the production design and architecture are especially impressive (all metal and smoked glass), but none of this can disguise the shoddy logic at work in the screenplay.

The original score for White Noise is composed by French-Canadian newcomer Claude Foisy, who worked on the comedy spoof “2001: A Space Travesty” and the popular TV science fiction series “The 4400”, and who is making his mainstream debut here. Foisy’s score is pretty much a genre standard: tinkling pianos, xylophones and high-end strings to illustrate the creepy/beautiful setting of the film (Vancouver), a low-key romantic theme to depict the love between Jonathan and Anna; a whole load of shock-stingers and loud crashes to accompany the various “boo” moments of things appearing out of nowhere; and some quite frenetic action sequences for the confusing (and disappointing) finale in the building site. As a mainstream debut, it’s pretty accomplished, but it’s nothing we haven’t heard a million times before: Christopher Young, or John Ottman, or Marco Beltrami, or any fairly major composer can write this sort of stuff in their sleep. Nevertheless, while following the tried and tested formula, it is never anything less than appropriate and effective, and one hopes that Foisy has an opportunity to show us what else he can do before long. No soundtrack CD from White Noise exists at this time.

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