NIGHTBREED (1990)

Danny Elfman's score for 1990's NIGHTBREED wasn't my first exposure to the rocker-turned-composer's music, yet it has remained my favorite of his throughout the years.  It was only the second CD I'd ever purchased and near the start of new and continuing trend for me as a soundtrack fan, that of collecting albums to movies I hadn't even seen.  Admittedly, it's one of those aspects of being a movie music fan that some people find unusual, but once you've hitched your wagon to certain composers then their music becomes priority more than the films they underscore.  Of course, the composers themselves would probably consider this habit somewhat ludicrous, since they acknowledge the music's first destiny is to accompany the picture.  Nevertheless, these guys had become my rock stars.  Others my age instinctively bought the latest R.E.M. or Peter Gabriel record; I looked for cover credits that read "Composed & Conducted by Jerry Goldsmith" or "Music by Danny Elfman".

I was immediately a fervent fan of Elfman's music, thanks to his rich and energetic contribution to Tim Burton's BATMAN, the previous Summer.  Then 1990 proved to be a banner year as he wrote four wonderful scores - NIGHTBREED, DICK TRACY, DARKMAN, EDWARD SCISSORHANDS - each a perfect compliment to their respective movies and to boot all great listens on disc.  With NIGHTBREED, a special attribute singled it out from the others.  Its expressiveness combined with the film's story really captured me, at least a version of me that I didn't share with many.  

The film was written and directed by novelist Clive Barker, based on one of his own books, titled "Cabal".  Since unexpectedly catching his previous picture, HELLRAISER, on cable in late '89, I surprised myself by becoming intrigued with Barker's writing.  I soon shopped for his novels and short stories, delving further into his unique brand of horror/fantasy.  The plots were dark, supernatural and byzantine, the settings often fantastic other dimensions, the characters alienated on the fringes of society and all frequently involved sequences heavy up on gore or sexuality.  I never was much a reader of the horror genre, yet the worlds and people inhabiting Barker's stories I found compelling.  And I began to feel a kinship with those elements.

The main focus of both the novel "Cabal" and its film adaptation concerns a secret society of monsters living sequestered away in their own underground community.  The protagonist, Boone, learns he belongs with them, after being falsely accused of murder and then gunned down by police.  Boone essentially dies and is reborn into this bizarre, appalling yet welcoming tribe of misfits.  Eventually he rescues them all from the town of hateful locals, emerging as their new leader.  Elfman's score merges pathos and sympathy for the misunderstood monsters, while also highlighting their strange abilities, including members turning into smoke and a woman sheathed in poisonous quills.  Rage at the horrors of their persecution and the cruelty of those who hunt them is expressed.   There are furious and kinetic passages for brass and tribal percussion, along with choral sections alternating between wonder and terror.  

I didn't see the movie itself until a year later on video.  Until then, the images only existed in my mind, propelled by the powerful music on disc and the words on the page.  The more I read of Barker's stories, the more this soundtrack, along with Christopher Young's music for the HELLRAISER series, underscored and embellished that immersive experience. Escaping into this world differed from STAR TREK and STAR WARS, connecting with shadowed parts of myself I couldn't share.  This shadow side was brooding, confused, pensive over the big questions of life and identified with characters who didn't seem to belong in normal society, who couldn't find a comfortable place to fit or a group to join. 

Confusion crept in I think due to how my life changed since moving from Durham to Rocky Mount.  At schools in the former city, I was a bit of an outcast and then in the latter I found I was accepted and needed.  Those years of unpopularity in junior high, of sometimes being afraid to board that school bus and winding up a walking target, took a lasting toll on me and how I still saw myself, silently.   A fresh start at high school in a new town turned my world right side up as fellow students became true friends.  I somehow still felt split.  It was as if I wore a public face, seen as gregarious, open and smiling, but inside I felt undeserving and worried that these people would switch off from me at any point, turning me into a target again.

I didn't trusted enough to display all my thoughts and feelings, suspicious that these could be used against me later maliciously.  If I didn't always make sense to myself, how would I make sense to anyone else?  I saw myself as strange, contradictory, unattractive and despising the fact that I sorely needed acceptance and approval from those around me.  In Clive Barker's world, it appeared wiser to simply retreat from normalcy, to cease pretending one even wished to belong and just join the exiles on the fringes.  There would be pain in the separation and knowledge that no return to regular society was possible, but solace arrived in no longer hiding aspects of yourself.  Maybe judgement only existed in the civilized world, not outside.  The denizens of Barker's stories showcased similar attributes, how they viewed themselves and discovered homes far from what was familiar, though intimidating at first.

I could feel alone in a crowd of friends who had openly welcomed me, concerned that they would abandon me if any unappealing aspect of myself was presented.  The words of Clive Barker remained a safe haven and NIGHTBREED the best method for accessing this isolated side, letting it breathe only in solitude.  However, as consistent friendships deepened over time and acceptance of myself flourished, this "misfit monster" inside required less and less attention, less and less breathing room.  Remaining present and connected to the real world instead grew prominent.  I realized that I could belong to people, trust them with more of who I am, with no concern of being shamed.  The bonds developed between each of us can nourish who we are more than trying to maintain our strength alone.   Alone there is no replenishment, any one of us could atrophy emotionally, but close ties with people can truly be sustaining. 

NIGHTBREED as a movie is it's own unique animal, with elements of fantasy, horror and a dash of the slasher genre added for spice, bolstered by amazing make-up and creature design.  Elfman's music is a winning ingredient, providing its heart and rhythm.  It's a score I still find brilliant and engaging, just differently than before, now that it's no longer tethered to a damaged, hidden part of myself. 

STAR TREK VI: THE UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY (1991)

For some, the soundtrack for STAR TREK VI: THE UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY might remind them of the movie's story and characters or of discovering the music of composer Cliff Eidelman.  For me, it is forever linked with my first petty crime.  The notable day occurred during December 1991, when I attended my first Star Trek convention.  It was there that I committed my first (and last?) act of (unintentional) shoplifting.  I'm unsure if this is a standard hazard at Trek conventions (probably is), as I imagine most fans think they represent the stalwart, honest qualities displayed by our star-faring heroes.  Nevertheless, at least my face didn't end up on convention watch lists in later years.  

It was my freshman year at Guilford College, in Greensboro, N.C.  This was several hours drive from my parents, which provided space for learning to get my own bearings both socially and scholastically in that first year.  There were days of loneliness, sometimes a full weekend, alternated with sequences of total and sudden social immersion.  In hindsight, I surprisingly enjoyed all of it, mainly due to that newfound sense of independence, of steering my own ship so to speak, without having to alert the boss.  A lonely day was still a day whose direction I could determine, though really it was my inability to voluntarily reach out to people that created that loneliness.  I missed my family greatly, especially my younger sister Meri, but realized this important opportunity to define my own time, outside of class that is. It was a period when youth can feel paroled from parental guidance and discover that every hour could offer up something unique, something strange or something soul-shaking.  Any person encountered in class or on campus seemed to hold potential for such significance.   

Guilford is a small, liberal, Quaker-founded college and one might make the assumption that everyone on campus would be a STAR TREK nerd, but I wound up finding my new comrades among the theater folk and choir groups.  They were a far cry from the eight guys I roomed with in the dorm.  We shared a four room suite with one, two-stall bathroom and I needed to quickly grow accustomed to less privacy, more noise and a roommate who once drank so much that I woke to find him vomiting right next to my bed.  That specific incident was never verbally acknowledged between us, but the large note I left instructing him to clean it up was what he used for that very task.  I don't think he much liked notes telling him to clean up.  The upside to the living situation was that at least I was able to use his television on Saturday evenings to catch episodes of STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION.

In perusing the local paper, I saw the advertised STAR TREK convention scheduled right there in town, with special guests from the movies and THE NEXT GENERATION.  It became a moral imperative that I attend yet I had no car during that freshman year, something which probably ensured I wouldn't be taking any potential dates off-campus, unfortunately.  Although none of my new friends could join me, one graciously offered to drive me both there and back.  And in the days prior to world-wide cell phone saturation, one had to strictly abide by the appointed time of retrieval.  Of course, this was akin to a gawky teen being dropped off at the movies by a parent, promising to wait outside later for pick-up, but it mattered little to me.  I was about to dive into a civic center filled to the brim with STAR TREK.

The first great thing about the convention was standing in line.  Weird, perhaps, but what made it notable was the fact that I could turn and talk about Trek to either person in front or behind me, confident that I wouldn't be met with quizzical stares.  Questions about favorite episodes, movies, what happened on THE NEXT GENERATION last week were all fair game.  A fan could feel safe in that environment, which I am sure is one reason why the conventions have persisted to this day. Once inside the hall, it was overwhelming seeing the number of people, both in and out of costumes, and the number of dealers' tables to peruse.  All those years when it was only Meri and I and our imaginations, creating our own adventures, suddenly didn't seem so isolated.  It was as if we'd carried on just one conversation which actually belonged to a much larger party. 

I started making the rounds.  My nerves kept me from chatting anyone up initially, so I zeroed in on those dealers tables, which displayed rare books, magazines, CDs & tapes, pins, posters and even bootleg videos, many items I'd heard read about years prior.  I had to be judicious about what I might buy that day as cash in my wallet was limited and I was too practical to max out my one credit card.    I spied the cassette of STAR TREK VI: THE UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY and eagerly picked it up to examine the track list.  The composer for the movie, Cliff Eidelman, was unknown to me so I had no clue what the music might sound like. 

I fully intended to hand that dealer cash for the soundtrack.  I held onto the cassette as I slowly continued examining other items on the table, began checking out the neighboring table and then I found myself on the other side of the convention.  With the cassette still in hand and the cash still in my wallet.  Yep, I shoplifted it.  No one seemed to notice, surprisingly.  I was a pretty honest kid, always trying to stick close to the rules, not makes waves and not attract attention for the wrong reasons.  Yet I oddly labored over whether to return to pay and the more time passed, the less I felt inclined.  If only the ghostly visage of Captain Picard sternly shaking his head in disappointment had appeared, then I might have made the morally right choice.  Thankfully, this little incident didn't ignite some spark for further misdemeanors.

The day progressed, the special guests spoke and held signings.  The guests were Robin Curtis, who co-starred in the third and fourth STAR TREK films, and Denise Crosby, who had a prominent role as Tasha Yar during the first season of THE NEXT GENERATION.  Normally when fans wait in line for a star's signature, it's an 8x10 glossy costing $25 which they offer up for that person's "John Hancock".   In this scenario, with no such items in my possession, I wound up asking Ms. Curtis to sign the liner notes of my stolen STAR TREK VI cassette and Ms. Crosby to sign the Wil Wheaton postcard I bought for two dollars.   I still shake my head at how annoyingly lame this must have appeared to them both.  It would be like asking current James Bond actor Daniel Craig to the sign the poster for Roger Moore's OCTOPUSSY.  Talk about an insult to an actor, especially poor Denise Crosby, whose character had been mercilessly killed off the show in season one and was now putting ink to a picture of Wil Wheaton, who's "Wesley Crusher" was still alive and kicking on the Enterprise.  Nevertheless, I cheerfully chatted them up, even conveying to Ms. Curtis how I thought it was a shame her character wasn't included in the new movie.   I'm stubbornly hopeful that mine wasn't the most embarrassing incident from convention, but star-signed shoplifted soundtrack is weird enough.

So once the convention wrapped, my friends cruised by to get me and that evening all of us, plus our theater class professor, took in STAR TREK VI at the nearby cineplex.  Being joined at the movies by a professor didn't seem odd behavior at Guilford, the theater group there was a pretty close, and for me, having hung out often with my high school theater teachers, it felt like old times.  It wrapped up that day perfectly and was a marvelous movie-going experience to boot.  The audience laughed at all the jokes, cheered the highlights and our professor relished Christopher Plummer's scenery-chewing performance and Shakespeare-quoting.   Cliff Eidelman's music was an amazing, energizing component, from the turbulent main title, the ebullient, new theme for the Enterprise, to the kinetic, climactic battle sequence.  I was glad to already have a copy of that score to enjoy on its own, even if I became an unknowing artful dodger in the process. 

 

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z4Ja1Jgvmkc