HELLBOUND: HELLRAISER II (1988)

Weirdly linked together in my list of soundtracks and notable life moments are a high school field trip to the great mecca of New York City and Christopher Young's dark, unforgiving score for the 1988 horror movie HELLBOUND: HELLRAISER II.  Admittedly yes, it's a strange association to share, that of a blood-soaked nightmarish film with an excursion to the Big Apple; nevertheless, any time I grab this CD off the shelf, highlights of my wide-eyed, fresh-faced journey there are conjured up. And you know, some might argue that this music could actually underscore various shadowy sections of the massive metropolis.

December 1989 occurred during my junior year at Rocky Mount High School, the year in which I had fully invested myself in its scrappy yet earnest theater program and drama classes.  Scheduled for that month was a week-long field trip to New York City solely for the students and teachers who made that theater program live and breathe.   Excitement ratcheted to giddy levels as we learned our agenda consisted of sight-seeing, Broadway show-going and (awkwardly attempted) choreography classes.  And for many of us, including me, it represented the lengthiest amount of time away from home and parental supervision.

Several days prior to departing, while watching television late one night and half-heartedly flipping channels, I happened across the closing ten minutes of 1987's HELLRAISER on HBO.  Written and directed by horror novelist Clive Barker, it was a film I knew only by reputation as being especially gory and intense.  Both then and now, I'm not a viewer who can handle horror movies too often, yet curiosity kept me tuned in that evening.  The finale unfolded as expectedly harrowing, full of jagged puzzle boxes and perforated demons, but I'll be damned (no pun intended) if the music didn't completely surprise and engage me, even through to the last end credit.  Fully orchestral, melodic, ominous and memorable, with a final cue that was a melancholic string-dominated elegy. 

Broadcast that night immediately after was the sequel, HELLBOUND, and, purely for the music, I decided to risk inevitable nightmares and continue watching (yes, nightmares did occur).  The main title cue of powerful brass and choir bolted forth aggressively, showcasing a twisted religiosity, like the menacing flipside of Biblical-themed epics from Hollywood's Golden Age.  According to the title credits, the composer was Christopher Young, a name new to me and one that now demanded my attention as a soundtrack fan.  I only lasted about twenty minutes into the film yet I still found myself intrigued by the storyline, so in addition to being introduced to the scores of Christopher Young, the world of Clive Barker was also presented to me and proved to fascinate for years following.

Now, regarding that New York school field trip, departure was scheduled near our Christmas break, if I recall correctly.   Gathering at the high school several hours before sunrise, we eager drama students bounded aboard a convoy of Greyhound buses, choosing seating partners while waiting in line.  Quite a long ride awaited us so of course we each needed to remain ensconced in our comfortable cliques.  The great thing, however, was that there was such a strong sense of camaraderie between everyone on this journey, even those who were new to each other, so there really wasn't much an air of exclusivity.  For me, I was able to spend more time with new friends such as Jeff Dale, Tara Stewart and Roland Hankerson.  

In addition, the other experience that can occur on such crucial teen-aged trips, when surrounded mainly by those your own age, is brief yet intense crushes and flings.  Like flash paper, though, such flings burn blindingly bright for mere moments, sometimes painfully so. On this trip north, I somehow began flirting with one particular girl whom I had not met before during normal school hours.  She was shy and bespectacled, with blond curly hair.  This kind of attention was still very strange and new for me, but accepted unhesitatingly.  By the time we arrived in NYC, she and I seemed to have swiftly evolved into a full-fledged couple, though this mostly consisted of clammy hand-holding and tiny, quick kisses.  Stumbling around at love back then was the standard more often than not.  

I was thrilled and amazed as we toured Times Square, dawdled at the Met, hailed cabs and lunched at the World Trade Center.  I'm not sure how many square miles of the city we covered, but it felt like every corner was explored.  An amount of autonomy was allowed by our chaperones, leading to burgeoning feelings of independence and control over our young lives.  While my friends and I strolled through city streets at night, laughing and joking, I garnered a small sense of adult life past that present day.  It was a feeling I could recall when house and school rules seemed never-ending.  

We attended a performances of both THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA and LES MISERABLES right there on Broadway and even spontaneously took in a matinee of GYPSY on another day.  Many in our group breathlessly anticipated the former two events, as back then those two productions, along with MISS SAIGON, ruled the high school drama classes as favorites among the kids.  Retracing my steps to the opening topic, though, I was overjoyed to finally visit the Tower Records location in the Village area.  Their soundtrack section was brimming with every available album I could have imagined and more, but browsing time had to be kept short.  

"Kid in a candy store" is the favored expression, right?  Well, Tower Records was the "Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory" of music stores, including a treasure trove of movie scores I longed to hear, all here at my fingertips, yet I had to remain cognizant of limited funds in my wallet and minutes on the clock.   Thus, HELLBOUND: HELLRAISER II earned the distinction of being the score I targeted on that visit and it was actually the first CD I ever purchased.  I didn't even own a CD player and I didn't care.   Thank goodness my dad set about purchasing a 6-CD stereo unit that same Christmas.  

Sadly, over the course of the week, I began to feel smothered in that new romantic relationship which ignited at its start. Slowly I pulled away from the shy girl, feeling terrible about it the entire time.  All I had wanted for so long was this attention from girls at school.  Then it presented itself and I wriggled away after only a few days.   I soon learned that not every offer of affection should be accepted without a little consideration.  To borrow a baseball metaphor, you just can't swing at everything tossed your way.  

The ride back home was mostly a blur, though I remember my parents waiting for me at school when the buses all filed in.  And I do remember a change in myself.  I felt bonded with my new friends, welcomed and appreciated, knowing that my presence really mattered and could be missed when absent.  We trusted and cared for each other and this experience helped nourish my confidence, realizing that good friendships had this potential. 

Once home with my new CD of HELLBOUND, I could better appreciate the music's strangeness, its fury and its dark beauty. In short order, I sought out Christopher Young scores for the original HELLRAISER, THE FLY II, the low-budget sci-fi flick DEF-CON 4 and any number of movies on no one's radar.  My palette was expanding when it came to movie music and Young represented his own unique, puzzling and compelling corner of the genre. 

THE BLUE MAX (1966) / PATTON (1970)

I'm not sure whether all who serve in the military wind up being fans of military-centric entertainment, but it certainly was the case with my father.   Films such as PATTON, THE BLUE MAX, THE LONGEST DAY, WHERE EAGLES DARE, VON RYAN'S EXPRESS, MIDWAY and TORA! TORA! TORA! all had multiple screenings in our household, even though for a kid they could often seem interminably long and chock full of impenetrable combat strategies.  Later I grew to appreciate these films for my own reasons, along with their associations to my father, and as a marvelous repository of great music.  

 

My dad had been a pilot in the Navy during the late 60's and early 70's, stationed at bases mostly along the East Coast and amazingly enough, was not deployed to Vietnam, though the possibility loomed consistently.  Instead, he flew planes into hurricanes for storm tracking, as crazy as that might seem, with a group called the Hurricane Hunters, and eventually earned the rank of lieutenant commander.   I wish in my youth I had bothered him for tales from that chapter in his life, but I probably assumed there would always be time enough.  

As a kid, I instead would glean a great deal about my parents' respective pasts and inner lives through astute observation.  The books they read, the movies they watched, the jokes they told, items on their shelves and opinions espoused.  From this errata, my imagination constructed their reality.  My father's flight helmet and ceremonial Navy sword, both buried at the back of his closet, were two such focal points for me.  Holding them in my hands planted exciting pictures in my head of my dad darting among the clouds in a single-engine plane.

I learned later that my dad felt any time was the best time to spend in a cockpit.  I think he began missing those days as a pilot the further his life advanced beyond past them.  Perhaps, once my sisters and I had all graduated and moved out, he might have found his way behind the controls of some aircraft again and aloft into the clear blue sky (or even the eye of a hurricane).

Now, my father was just as observant of me as I was of him and it was soon evident the extent of my interest in film music, especially seeing as how my hard earned cash wound up getting spent on the albums.  I ordered movie magazines that included composer interviews and even struck up a pen pal friendship with a fellow in Canada who mailed me rarities on cassette.  Initially content to delve into this hobby on my own, it all eventually thankfully provided a good bridge between he and I.   The music in movies we all watched together could turn into a topic, my dad inquiring on my thoughts and making suggestions of his own.

Two films he had me watch with him specifically for the music were THE BLUE MAX (1966) and PATTON (1970), both war-time centric (World War I and II, respectively) and featuring scores composed by the prolific and crazy talented Jerry Goldsmith.  At that time, my main focus was on the current sci-fi and fantasy genres and the handful of scores by Goldsmith that I owned were his two STAR TREKs, ALIEN and THE SECRET OF NIMH.  War movies of the 60's and 70's were a bit out of my wheelhouse.  I really hadn't yet developed the fascination and appreciation I now have for what existed before I was born.

PATTON is deservedly famous for George C. Scott's lead performance and the film overall, but one notable aspect is that it only features thirty minutes of music across its entire three-hour running time.  My dad asked me to pay attention to the main title, where the character of General George S. Patton is sketched brilliantly and succinctly in musical fashion - trumpets fed through an echoplex device to mirror his belief in reincarnation, a hymnal-type melody heard on pipe organ (my dad loved organ music, by the way) to represent the man's religiosity and finally an ebullient march to elucidate his militarism.   I don't remember what my exact response to my father once the movie wrapped up (I can frustratingly be tight-lipped with my thoughts at times), but I sought out the soundtrack soon after and made sure to crank it up on my stereo.

THE BLUE MAX, starring George Peppard and James Mason, might not be the most well-remembered of World War I flicks from the 1960's, but due to its extensive presentation of flying machines it might be have been closer to my dad's heart than others.  The movie follows a brash, arrogant German pilot charging his way up the ranks and showcases some stellar mid-air sequences, all set to a soaringly gorgeous theme by Goldsmith.  The main theme's melody persistently ascends upward, which matches Peppard's character's single-minded pursuit to win his country's top medal for airmen, truly lifts the listener's spirit into the air.

The soundtrack for THE BLUE MAX proved difficult for me to track down.  I only first ran across a copy during my junior year at UNC Chapel Hill, while scouring their music library.  Several music courses occupied my course load that year, so I often would avail myself of their CD collection, the downside being that students had to remain in the library while listening.  It was thrilling to at last enjoy Goldsmith's score apart from the movie and especially amazing to discover additional music recorded for but never used in their intended sequences.  All I could think of was how much I wanted my dad to hear these brilliant passages and then wonder together how great it would have been had the cues been utilized in the film itself.

In the Summer of 1994, I interned here in Los Angeles and became friends with a trailer editor who held in his collection all the soundtracks I wished to own, including THE BLUE MAX.  During one afternoon at his house, I feverishly made cassette copies of various tracks from these albums, overjoyed not just for my sake but also that I could finally share these with my dad.  Once back in North Carolina to start my senior year, I proudly compiled several mix tapes for him to enjoy, mostly consisting of music by Jerry Goldsmith and Bernard Herrmann.  The opening tracks on the first cassette were from THE BLUE MAX and I truly hope hearing this music helped his own spirit soar skyward.

A complete edition of the score was planned for CD release in 1995.  I recall relaying this news to my father during one of our last conversations, probably during Summer 1994, and how exciting it would be to actually gift him a copy for his album collection.  But he didn't live long enough for me to have the chance.  The closest I could come to this was during the wake, when I discreetly tucked into his casket those mix tapes I made for him just a few months before.   Now, whenever I listen to either PATTON or THE BLUE MAX, the experience becomes my way to feel near to him again, a way that I can imagine my dad and I might be listening together.