Wednesday, April 22, 2015

GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL (2014)

After listening to what seems like thousands of hours of film scores during the last thirty years and change, it now requires quite a unique feat of compositional acrobatics to gain my attention.   Perhaps it's due to my advancing age or the fact that, objectively, much of the music composed in film and TV these days just isn't intrinsically as interesting.  At some point during the last ten years or so, I crossed over into simply enjoying what I already have and discovered I wasn't as eager to invest in what was new.   Of course, I can't help but remain informed on the latest movie music, but I often hesitate to recruit many current composers or their scores into the ranks of my favorites.  That being said, 2014's GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL and its composer, Alexandre Desplat, knocked me over with the power of a cimbalom and immediately bounded into my list. 

I'd wager that by my mid-30's, my core cast of treasured composers had settled into place.  Speaking musically yet in a comic book context, my super-heroic "Justice League" had solidified.  I had my Superman and Batman in the form of John Williams and Jerry Goldsmith, respectively.   Danny Elfman might be considered the hyperactive Flash, while Bernard Herrman exhibited the brooding, loner traits of the Martian Manhunter.  Filling out the ranks were John Barry, James Horner, Elmer Bernstein, Elliot Goldenthal, Shirley Walker, Ron Jones and Alan Silvestri.  Feel free to imagine which other superheroes they each could correspond to - for the life of me, I can't think of one that oozes as much sensuality as John Barry does in his music.  Maybe that's for the best, though.

These giants of their art all made their distinct impressions on me in the years prior, their music carved into my being.  I've never tired of their company.   New members could be added to the team periodically, however, such as when a discovered classic film and its score won me over or I simply took chances on unknown names seen on the record store shelves.  The key was to find myself affected greatly, connecting to a unique sound, style or approach.  For a long time, these fresh experiences were eagerly sought after, in the same manner as needing to meet and connect with new people.  Eventually, akin to aging classic rock fans who checked out of their genre around 1983, the modern styles soon felt strange and cold.  Yes, this can happen even to soundtrack fans.  Sometimes I wondered whether I should be worried about this change in me or instead just resume listening to every amazing score Jerry Goldsmith wrote in 1982.

 
I went into GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL already a Wes Anderson fan.  Since 1998's RUSHMORE, I made it a point to catch all his movies, even if it wasn't always at the cinema.  His attention to detail appealed to me, how each of his movies appeared like finely crafted frescoes presented in ornately gift-wrapped packages.  The scenes and sequences were often staged in a mock proscenium style, lending a more traditional theatrical feel to the events and we the audience subconsciously might sense we're attending a live stage performance.  Yet interestingly enough, the actors deadpan much of their delivery and reactions, instead of leaning towards a grander, theatrical style to match their carefully curated surroundings.  This, plus the mercurial and mischievous nature of his work and the thoughtful choices in music, lend a unique quality to all of Anderson's movies, akin to the  consistent style and themes running throughout Steven Spielberg's or David Lynch's career.

Alexandre Desplat is a name I've been aware of for at least ten years.  I knew he was very talented and had been providing surprising, sophisticated scores to a variety of films, including two HARRY POTTER entries.  Admittedly, I hadn't seen many of his movies.  Additionally, I was less frequently taking stabs in the dark on current soundtracks without any foreknowledge.  As in the early days when I was a rookie, a cautious fan, it would require a cinematic bonding, where both the film and its score impressed themselves upon me at once.  Just like Stan Lee once mused that every comic book is someone's first, any particular work from a composer is some curious listener's introduction to their sound world.


GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL eclipsed THE ROYAL TENENBAUMS as my top ranked Wes Anderson film.  I was held rapt by its characters, settings and structure, especially how it gently and subtly guides you backwards in time, from one storyteller to another, and then effortlessly circles around the block again to where you and the movie first met.  Certain sequences even left me a grinning, giddy fool, such as the snow mountain slalom escape and the unexpected gun melee.  Every line delivery by Ralph Fiennes is perfect.  That weirdly obscene erotic art used to replace the "Boy With Apple" painting still makes me chuckle.  And all during the adventures, Desplat's music uniquely colors every detailed corner of the film.  His idiosyncratic use of cimbalom and balalaika reminded me of 1960's Maurice Jarre film scores.  Meanwhile, the melodies themselves welcome you warmly yet seem noticeably tinged with melancholy, in concert with F. Murray Abraham's character, Zero.

I've since sought out more of Desplat's work, finding myself entranced by BIRTH, energized by THE MONUMENTS MEN and its jaunty, chin-up military march worthy of Elmer Bernstein's THE GREAT ESCAPE and awed by the sheer orchestral power displayed in his GODZILLA score.  There's a transparency and clarity in his music that I appreciate.  Too much current movie music sounds muddied and directionless, but I don't become lost or overwhelmed by Desplat's scores.  I trust he'll retain these qualities throughout subsequent projects.  His approach supplies needed fresh air to an aspect of cinema that can often be considered art and yet has recently dissolved into mere product.

Maybe in some way, the art of movie music can be considered kin to the legacy of the fictional Grand Budapest Hotel, in that there are far fewer stewards and patrons now who can care for the once lustrous and opulent establishment.  Its fading qualities are seldom appreciated or noticed except by those strange folk who seek it out, wishing to learn its secrets and history and wade through the overlooked treasures.  Or I'm possibly just allowing nostalgia and sentiment to stay far past checkout time.

Regardless, I'm happily including Desplat's music into my hours of listening, while simultaneously inducting him into my film score "Justice League".  Though I have no clue what superhero persona would fit an erudite French composer. 





   

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