THE GHOST AND THE DARKNESS (1996)

With the immense diversity found in composer Jerry Goldsmith's music across his career as a film composer, it sometimes can be an entertaining game to guess how he might have scored the same film at a different time.  Often it's the genre pictures - science fiction, fantasy, action/adventure - that provide the most intriguing subjects and I think that 1996's THE GHOST AND THE DARKNESS fits the bill.   In listening to the album recently, I decided to devote a post to my thoughts on it.  While it's not in my top ten list of Jerry Goldsmith scores overall, I happen to consider it one of the highlights of his projects in the Nineties. 

The movie, directed by Stephen Hopkins, is based on a strange and harrowing event in 1898, when a construction engineer, named John Patterson, from the British Army is dispatched to East Africa to build a bridge across the Tsavo River in Kenya.  During the project, two lions terrorize the workforce, proving themselves man-eaters immediately.  The lions are named "The Ghost" and "The Darkness" by the locals.  Eventually, Patterson, played in the film by Val Kilmer, tracks and kills the two lions, however in the movie he is aided by a hunter originally from the States, played by Michael Douglas.  While the film itself may not be well-remembered or highly regarded, for sure the music is an element that warrants attention.  I wanted to examine this score in its proper filmic context but also look it in the context of Goldsmith's overall oeuvre.

 

Interestingly, Goldsmith's score orbits around three central ideas, which are often combined for maximum effect.  His main melody is broad and bold, voiced by brass in an English major mode, while rhythmic counterpoint is provided by a jaunty Irish motif on flutes.  The third element are sampled African voices, singing, calling and shouting, punctuating in both motivic and percussive gestures.  Essentially, the first two musical ideas represent Patterson, an Irishman working for the British East African Railway, his own persistence working in concert with the bullish confidence of 19th century Great Britain, all the while immersed in the striking and exotic wilds of East Africa.  In a way, it's comparable to Goldsmith's three-part musical summation of General George S. Patton in the 1970 hit PATTON.  There, he characterized the complicated and contradictory Patton through echoplexed trumpet triplets (representing his belief in reincarnation), organ chorale (representing his faith) and the famous march (representing his life in the military).  This approach to one individual seems to be expanded to summarize an entire movie's plot in THE GHOST AND THE DARKNESS.

Now, returning to play the game of how Goldsmith might have scored this movie at different points in his career, let's first travel back twenty years earlier.  Examining his projects in 1976, we find Goldsmith building to one of his most inspired periods, the late Seventies.  THE OMEN, THE WIND AND THE LION and LOGAN'S RUN are brilliant, unique works from this specific year, each one a highwater mark of its respective genre with long-lasting effects on subsequent scores. Had THE GHOST AND THE DARKNESS emerged as a project then, I imagine it would have more in common with those aforementioned scores, still being fully orchestral, perhaps bolstered by exotic percussion but with the harsh dissonance heard in much of his music of the era.  Outside of ALIEN in 1979, that dissonant quality eventually was supplanted by the Romanticism he explored later in the decade and the first half of the Eighties. 

 

By 1986, electronics had more fully entered his palate.  They had been a part of his music for quite some time, but beginning with UNDER FIRE in 1983 the synth element shifted more prominently to the forefront.  Goldsmith had even composed his first all-electronic score with RUNAWAY.  At this time, main themes, motifs and ostinatos were often carried by synthesizers instead of the orchestra, though his music was still just as complex and engaging.  Had THE GHOST AND THE DARKNESS been scored in '86, I think the attacking lions might have been characterized by odd electronic sounds, akin to what we heard in his music for GREMLINS and LEGEND, bolstered by the adventuresome orchestral quality of KING SOLOMONS MINES.  One could argue that with the story being a period piece set in the 19th century that only an acoustic score might fit, but in the 1980's Goldsmith still seemed fascinated with applying synths to any genre, as found in the medieval tale LIONHEART and the 50's era basketball drama HOOSIERS.

Suffice to say, that if the movie had indeed been produced twenty or even ten years earlier, it wouldn't have looked or sounded as it did in 1996.  Plus, Goldsmith wasn't one to provide the same sound for each film, even within the same genre or series, but I still find it interesting to wonder nonetheless, just going by his changing musical focus each year.  His growth as an artist all while still applying his talent and craft to movies over forty-five years make for a fascinating study, especially since his own voice is clear from the outset.

By 1996, after mainly steering clear from action/adventure films for several years, he was beginning a renaissance of sorts within the genre.   He had streamlined his sound.  The electronics were mostly dialed back to provide only color or pace as he composed for a more standard symphony orchestra arrangement.  He now showcased a preference for sweeping, major key themes, voiced broadly by strings and horns, perhaps awakened by his success with his music for RUDY in 1993 or just studios requesting further accessibility for general audiences.  Regardless, THE GHOST AND THE DARKNESS provided him an exciting and expansive canvas on which to musically paint with these new hues.

While some long-time fans of the composer felt unmoved by Goldsmith's scores of the Nineties, I happen to love a great deal of it.  This score in particular is an absolutely entertaining slice of his new predilections, combined with slices of his experimental side.  His thoughtfulness emerges in how he mixes the Irish, English and African musical idioms together, then pits them against the hollow, sometimes rattling sounds characterizing the lions.  Just as twenty years earlier, when music from that 1976 pointed to even greater examples closing out that decade, Goldsmith followed up THE GHOST AND DARKNESS with some marvelously engaging scores to cap off the Nineties.  THE EDGE, AIR FORCE ONE, LA CONFIDENTIAL, THE THIRTEENTH WARRIOR and THE MUMMY all display the best qualities of his then-current style with aspects of what was well-established for him.   In a funny way, this somewhat reflects the story of THE GHOST AND THE DARKNESS as well, in which modern bridges are built across well-traveled lands and new techniques combined with old wisdom prove potently successful.

In a neat twist of fate, when I moved to Chicago in 1998 and visited their renowned Field Museum, I was able to see the actual lions, which are on permanent display there.  Narration before the end credits mentions this fact, but at the time I had no clue that two years later I'd be see "The Ghost" and "The Darkness" up close and personal.   

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ucokjaOlr0I 

CINEMA SEPTET (1993)

It's been a longer delay than planned between blog posts, but I hope to get myself back on track with this one!

Twenty years ago I spent the Summer at an internship in Los Angeles  I expected the experience to have fast-tracked a career in the film business once I graduated college the following year, but that never materialized.  Instead, upon my homecoming to North Carolina to start my senior year, I was more confused about my future than ever.  Thankfully, a circuitous route finally deposited me back in L.A. in 2007, but I wanted to share a highlight in the realm of movie music from that Summer of '94, one that can still echo fondly among my current life every so often.  It concerns meeting and interviewing composer Christopher Young.  Of course, this is tied  to a soundtrack to mark the experience and in this case it's a 2-CD set called CINEMA SEPTET, featuring music by Mr. Young from seven of his early films.

Released as a special, limited edition promo by Intrada Records in 1993, CINEMA SEPTET collected previously unavailable and often never heard before TV and film scores composed by Christopher Young.  I learned about all these details, but my disposable income still hovered at impoverished college student levels so I had to let it pass.  I'd been collecting albums of Young's music since HELLBOUND in 1989.  I found his music absolutely hypnotic, engaging and even beautiful, in a melancholic fashion.  I'd wondered about his inspirations and approach to scoring films, but interviews with him were as rare as finding his albums on record store shelves.  Little did I imagine I'd be spending time in his studio only some months later with the chance to talk at length on these topics and more. 

My declared major at UNC-Chapel Hill was listed as Film & Television.  It actually wound up as the final year it was offered as such before being merged with the Communications department.  One day during the '94 Spring semester, I crossed the bustling campus and encountered an acquaintance of mine, Shane.  He and I had met earlier during orientation for junior transfers and both planned for the same field of study, but we never met up again until that afternoon.  This proved to be a fortuitous meeting as Shane explained to me how UNC offered a Summer internship program and evening classes in Los Angeles specifically for juniors and seniors, all for school credit.  That very day was the last for sign up.  I immediately took his direction, tracked down whomever was in charge and tossed my proverbial hat into that ring.  Who knew how many others I competed against, as only ten students would be chosen. 

Weeks later the news was delivered.  Happily, both Shane and I turned up on the list and were now set to spend part of the Summer in sunny So Cal.  It seemed the most exciting springboard to a life I'd always imagined and couldn't arrive fast enough.  Preparatory meetings and mixers soon occurred among the ten of us selected.  Internship options announced included a script reader for STAR TREK and post-production slot for the NBC TV series "Unsolved Mysteries".   Unsurprisingly, STAR TREK was my number one choice, but alas I was informed that the producers requested either a woman or a minority.   So instead, "Unsolved Mysteries" would end up gaining my distinctly minimal skills as an intern. 

I then reached out to Lukas Kendall, who at that time self-published the magazine Film Score Monthly, and alerted him of my good news.  He and I had corresponded by phone and letters since 1990, so it wasn't uncommon to catch up now and again.  This time, however, I had a favor to ask - could he put me in contact with a composer out in L.A. that I might interview for the magazine?  Lukas asked for a name and I replied "Christopher Young".  He shared his contact info and following a few days of anxiety over making this call, I dialed Mr. Young's number on a weekday evening.  It felt positively surreal to actually be speaking with one of my favorite movie composers, as if he were some historical figure brought back to life.  Mr. Young proved to be incredibly amiable and chatty,  graciously inviting me to visit his studio in Venice Beach once I'd made the Westward journey.

Life in L.A. for our eager platoon of UNC students consisted of weekdays at our respective internships, supplemented by an evening class twice a week.  We resided at the infamous Oakwood Apartments on Barham, a complex well worn by late night talk shows who scout for gullible subjects.  The evenly split group of five guys and five girls were crammed into dual two-bedroom apartments, a living situation which wore out its novelty after the first weekend as everyone struggled for privacy.  On my first Saturday, I made plans to visit Chris Young at his studio.  Since I had no car of my own, I naively ordered a cab from Burbank to Venice Beach.  I promptly realized upon arrival that I was supremely short of cash.  Embarrassingly enough, my first in-person encounter with Chris involved me sheepishly explaining that I couldn't pay the driver.  He amazingly paid the man the remaining amount without complaint, proving what a generous person he is.  To my surprise, this wound up being the first of three visits to his studio during that Summer and I took the opportunity to learn all I could.   I also took the opportunity to learn the L.A. bus system as a cheaper means of travel.

We chatted about what makes a film score truly memorable and how even the music of classic-era stalwarts Max Steiner and Franz Waxman may not always be considered quality every single time. Chris shared much about his experiences in the industry up until that time, both inspiring and frustrating.  The key trick was balancing art and commerce, as this industry was both the composer's livelihood and their muse.  One half of him operated from a need to write a theme which could be known by everyone while the other half was simply more interested in the esoteric, avant garde side of scoring.  To me it seemed as though he felt better suited to stay constantly struggling rather than accept he had achieved anything worthwhile, but maybe this mindset is for any artist.  I remember one funny anecdote he said then was that when stuck for inspiration, listening to Jerry Goldsmith's score for DAMIEN: OMEN II would often kick start the creative juices, reminding him to reach for more creative solutions.  

In the years prior to this, I was a self-taught aficionado of movie music.  Education materials consisted of album liner notes, infrequent composer interviews in magazines and the "by-fans-for-fans" publication Film Score Monthly.   There were even a few pen-pal letters with other fans.  Yet in a way, this was akin to auditing a class at USC or UCLA, with Chris as my unofficial professor.  He talked about his strongest influences - Bernard Herrmann, Jerry Goldsmith, Alex North - and where he thought their sounds could be discerned in his.  Over lunches in Venice, I tried to memorize every insight and anecdote imparted and was glad to have recorded it partially to cassette for possible publication.  Chris also relayed some unfortunately disheartening stories of working in the industry, the harsh reality of casual betrayals and fickle natures of many.  It was an honest assessment of Hollywood and I appreciated it, but silently wondered whether I'd be able to manage it.  I became a bit disillusioned by Summer's end, admittedly, unsure if I was prepared to plan the permanent move after graduation. 

Before I departed L.A., he presented me a gift of several albums of his music, including the aforementioned, pricey-for-1994, 2-CD promo CINEMA SEPTET along with other rare, not-available-in-stores items.  I was overwhelmed, not expecting anything like this and he even signed the liner notes, which became my first composer autograph.   For a poor college student with a frequently expensive hobby, these CD's became and remain treasured items in my collection.   Sadly, after hours spent transcribing my recorded interview with Chris, it failed at being published.  However, this disappointment never diminished my recollections told to friends and family.

While it ended up taking thirteen years until I finally replanted myself out here, I made up for lost time by diving into the film music community through various concerts, composer panels, signings and all manner of gatherings.  Friendships have been forged and I've had the privilege of connecting with great talents throughout the town, even reconnecting with Mr. Young.  Granted, my return didn't involve me actually working where I thought I would, nevertheless, living in L.A. is still the best place for me to be.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fszF-CA1ekk

STAR TREK GENERATIONS (1994)

This year marks the twentieth anniversary of the release of 1994's STAR TREK GENERATIONS, an event that is more momentous for me than it might be for others.  It was also twenty years ago that my father passed away suddenly.  Oddly enough, these two events are connected.  Not only did they occur within weeks of each other, but my dad should have been there in the theater alongside me, watching the new STAR TREK film when it premiered.   Instead, the movie emerged as a bittersweet touchstone, now always reminder of this major turning point in my life and one that is special to me more so than for other fans.

When STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION premiered in 1987, it quickly became a program that my family all watched together each Saturday.  My parents had been casual fans of the original 1960's series and the movies that began a decade later.  I say casual, in that for mom and dad it existed primarily as viewed entertainment which they thoroughly enjoyed, but this never expanded out into the big world of TREK conventions, books, action figures or collectibles of any kind, though this would all eventually populate my world.  In fact, my dad wasn't normally a sci-fi kind of guy when it came to entertainment, as he was mainly interested in the genres of war, spies and sports.  Nevertheless, if the story and characters appealed to him, then he was all in, starships or not.

In Summer 1988 we moved from Durham to Rocky Mount.  When the new TV season ramped up in the Fall, THE NEXT GENERATION was nowhere to be found on any of our local networks.  It was a syndicated series and thus local stations had the option of whether or not to add it to their schedules.  My father actually penned letters to the editor of the Rocky Mount newspaper stating what a quality program this new TREK series was, how we as a family watched it together and that it deserved to be broadcast.  I remember reading his letter in the paper, surprised that he went to such lengths, as I didn't realize it had meant that much to him.  Maybe it was simply the fact that the show had become a weekly ritual for us.  Maybe he just hoped to see more of the exotic, raven-haired cast member Marina Sirtis every Saturday.  I'll never know if this had any effect on the TV station or if the wheels already were in motion, but fairly soon THE NEXT GENERATION was broadcast in Rocky Mount.

The series wrapped up in June 1994.  I was home from college for the Summer, having completed my junior year at UNC-Chapel Hill.  The 2-hour final episode was a much-anticipated event in the household.  For me, it felt like the end of an era as the show's seven-year run had accompanied me through high school and all but my last year of college.  Those years of major life changes were always brightened by the presence of this series.  It helped me personally and I loved that it had been a constant companion for my family too, providing us memorable shared memories.  When the finale ended, in beautiful fashion I might add, the one consolation was the fact that the cast's transition to the big screen would occur in November, only several months away.  Funny enough, I recall my dad noting to me that THE NEXT GENERATION had actually eclipsed the original in his opinion, becoming his favorite.  I think he might have found a kindred spirit in the learned, thoughtful character of Captain Picard (played by Patrick Stewart) and I can't say I blame him.   

I remember November 5th being a crisp Saturday.  Finally, I had decided to attend one of UNC's football games, seeing as how I'd yet to use my student pass.   For some reason, I left the game at halftime and not long after arriving back at my dorm, my mom called. Something terrible had happened to my father.  She said it was like a stroke.  Paramedics were with him now and headed to the hospital.  With no further details, I jumped into my car and began the ninety minute drive towards home.  In my own thoughts during the drive, I never once considered the possibility that he wouldn't recover.  It just seemed too far-fetched, really. 

Finally at the hospital, I met up with my mom, who guided me into the emergency room.  There were several  nurses attending to my father as he lay prone on the table, seemingly unconscious.  It was explained to me that he had suffered a brain aneurysm that morning while at home.  Mom had been out shopping while my sister Meri had been upstairs, out of earshot and initially unaware that anything had occurred.   As she cradled my father's head in her hands, my mom announced that I was in the room and urged him to focus on me.  He was still so unresponsive, dazed yet almost trying to speak.  I will never forget seeing that his pupils were now completely, strangely black.   It's an image that still haunts me.  He soon slipped into a coma and we all took up residence at the hospital, nervously awaiting any improvements in his condition.

I still wasn't convinced that he wouldn't wake up.  I was pensive but not distraught.  I remember not joining in with family and friends when they prayed together, but then I've always found praying difficult and uncomfortable.  Looking back, I'm annoyed at my younger self for not participating for the sake of his father's recovery.  Nevertheless, by Monday nothing more could be done to help.  Each of us spent time alone with him, to say goodbye.  The last actual conversation between he and I was by phone, around two weeks prior.  In an ironic twist, this simple phone call now carries such emotional weight for me, an unexpectedly pivotal, treasured memory.  It's as momentous as if I'd been chatting with the Dali Lama.  I'm so glad I told my dad that I loved him before we each hung up that day. 

A few weeks later, STAR TREK GENERATIONS arrived in cinemas.  On opening night, I walked to the theater closest to my dorm, knowing only as much about the movie's plot as the trailers had revealed.  I found myself held rapt by this first big screen adventure of my favorite TREK crew, though it was an adjustment watching with strangers in 35mm Dolby Digital following years on a 24-inch TV screen.  I was inadvertently struck by the movie's overarching theme, that of dealing with the inescapable fact of losing our loved ones.  During the course of the story, Captain Picard learns of the tragic deaths of both his brother and nephew, while the villain, Soran (played by Malcolm McDowell) had years earlier lost his wife and child.  The main conflict arises due to Soran endangering innocent lives as a consequence to his plan to return to his family.  Admittedly, this could be considered a downbeat topic for a STAR TREK film, however in my world, it came along at the absolute perfect time.

At the close of the film, Picard espouses his view on loss, what he's discovered through his life, in that we should relish all moments and understand that what we have now won't ever return.  I choked up at hearing this.  I don't know if the lesson would have struck me as much if I hadn't experienced such a loss of my own, plus I felt it double since it originated from a NEXT GENERATION movie.  My dad's sudden passing was still too surreal to process.  I likened it to waking abruptly from a long dream in which I had a father, but this was actually reality, a life without him.  It was painful to realize I could never again connect to the time when he existed.  Finality of that sort is tough to reconcile with, but in absorbing the message in GENERATIONS I strive to enjoy my memories of him, making them part of my present and not focus on his absence.  It continues to be a struggle.

I saw the movie three times that month in theaters, the last viewing with my mom.  I didn't relay any plot details to her beforehand and it turned out to be a very emotional experience for her too.  While the end credits rolled, we stayed in our seats and talked... about the film, my dad and wondering how we could all continue without him.  He was so greatly missed in ways both small and large, even just wishing he could have joined us at the movies that day.  His passing reshaped our family in a manner that required great adjustment.  Growing older and further away from the days when he lived saddens me, since recollections dim.  I realize my time with him becomes less than the time without him.

GENERATIONS might not be the most popular among the entries in the TREK film series, but it remains special to me, beyond what the filmmakers could have intended.  Each day there are uncounted reminders of my father, including many movies, but this one in particular has become a time capsule for me, linked forever with everything I felt at his passing.  At the funeral, I spoke of one consoling thought of mine - the hope that by being his son it meant some part of him might still be present in my every day life.  I wanted to keep sharing with him what I saw, heard, read and felt.  The parts of me which reflect him as a father I'd like to believe are the best parts of myself.  And I hope he would be proud.

THE CASSANDRA CROSSING (1976)

Let it never be said that a soundtrack can't lead a person to love and family.  It might be a circuitous route and one not anticipated in the least, but my search for a specific album resulted in such life-changing events for a close friend.  As an added bonus, this friend and I also have the unique "honor" of stating that we met through a classified ad... in a soundtrack magazine... in the 90's. 

It was Fall 1993 to be exact and I had recently switched colleges.  I wrapped up my sophomore year at Guilford and inaugurated my junior year at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.  I packed up my dad's 1983 green Ford LTD, on loan for the semester, and moved myself into a complete arena of "newness" - town, school, people and dorm.  Of course, my burgeoning CD collection accompanied me and the music of one composer, Jerry Goldsmith, was quickly taking the lead in sheer number of albums.  

Much of his work I knew only by reputation, as it was either impossible to find on disc or simply never released on its own at all.   THE CASSANDRA CROSSING was just such an example of a highly-regarded score by Goldsmith, heralded by fans with more vast collections and deeper pockets than me.  The movie was a 1976 European production, in the mold of other "disaster" genre flicks of the decade, focusing on a deadly outbreak on a runaway passenger train and starring Richard Harris and Sophia Loren (plus Martin Sheen and O.J. Simpson!).  Apparently it featured a gripping, dynamic score by Goldsmith, available only on a hard-to-find CD.  Imagine my excitement when I found it listed in the classifieds section of the magazine Film Score Monthly.   The power of Goldsmith compelled me to respond, though I'd never actually answered a classified ad before.  It felt like a blind date.

I dialed up the number in the ad, which was a New Jersey area code, and a friendly, chatty guy named Todd picked up.  I asked about his copy of THE CASSANDRA CROSSING, if it was still for sale.  Unfortunately, Todd informed me that the CD had already been claimed.  Once I stifled my disappointment, I took the opportunity to simply start talking film music with another ardent fan, seeing as how it was a rare occurrence.  We also were both big STAR TREK fans as well, just in case the conversation wasn't nerdy enough.  Back in the day this type of connection might only happen through fan-operated publications and newsletters.  With the internet today, fan interactions occur without picking up a phone or even stepping outside. 

Todd and I began a habit of talking about once a month, trading cassette compilations and then planned a meetup in his territory some months later.  Yeah, I  know, it sounds like the start of some smoldering long-distance romance.  It can't be helped, but don't get your hopes up, only a really great friendship was the result.  My eventual trip to his town became my first experience flying alone and my first visit to New Jersey, where Todd was a history teacher and also ran the drama department.  He seemed the kind of teacher that students could call their favorite, or at least I would've said so had I been one of his students.  He was the dynamic, engaging type of teacher who, in true DEAD POET'S SOCIETY fashion, might even inspire a student to "Carpe Diem" and stand on their desk to boldly state "Oh, Captain, My Captain!".

For me, it was a significant friendship since it didn't begin in or revolve around school.  All my friendships up until then originated with peers in class or school theater productions, including college.  This involved someone not only a few years older who was a working adult, but also required effort to maintain through phone calls and travel.  School friendships, while no less important, can be maintained simply by showing up for class or knocking on neighbor's doors in your dorm, but my friendship with Todd was more akin to those between normal grown-ups.  It was the best glimpse of life beyond syllabi and blackboards, exams and assigned readings and days framed by seasonal semesters.  The friendship pointed towards what I most looked forward to - a sweet bachelor pad and a CD collection that eclipsed mine.  

Subsequent trips to New Jersey included venturing into New York City for soundtrack shopping at the famed and now lamented Footlight Records, a film composer panel where Todd and I wound up cracking jokes only movie music fans would find funny and even a fantastic concert with Jerry Goldsmith himself conducting selections from his scores.  Of course for that latter event, we waited eagerly outside the stage door, hoping to catch Goldsmith maybe smoking a cigarette, but the old genuis was wily and elusive that day.

Once I graduated college, Todd started making trips down south to my neighborhood in Chapel Hill.  It was during one of these excursions that he was introduced to my roommate at the time, a girl named Devon.  She and I met through our mutual friend Mark while we were all enrolled at UNC. A few years following graduation Devon and I wound up rooming together in a 3-bedroom duplex.  On one particular weekend, Todd flew down to hang out with me, Devon, Mark and his wife Presley as we happily floated between movies, restaurants and hiking.  It turned out, though, that Todd was having an even better time than we thought as he found himself crushing on Devon pretty hard.  They stayed up late talking as the rest of us headed off to bed.

After that weekend, the frequency of Todd's travels to Chapel Hill increased.  In fact, while I soon moved away to Chicago in '98, the two of them continued their long-distance relationship and he eventually relocated to Chapel Hill.  Expressed in TV terms, when I departed my role got recast.  Todd then became the new soundtrack/Sci-Fi geek in that circle of friends.  As a "Bewitched" analogy, he was the Dick Sargent to my Dick York.

 
I did finally hunt down my own copy of THE CASSANDRA CROSSING album, probably a decade or so later.  Later, another edition was released including all the music from the movie, so I grabbed that as well.  It absolutely met my expectations and soon emerged as a favorite among all the Goldsmith scores in my collection, never failing to be a great listen.  The movie itself I caught late one night on the TCM channel and it proved to be loopy, over-the-top and fun all together, with a downbeat ending I didn't predict.  But hey, it was the 70's, why should I have been surprised?  The director, George Pan Cosmatos, would eventually direct the Sylvester Stallone classics RAMBO: FIRST BLOOD PART II (1985) and COBRA (1986), so at least his career wasn't limited to unknown Euro disaster thrillers. 

At a certain point, this becomes less my story and more Todd's, but it would be remiss of me not to mention that he and Devon married and started a family, once they moved back north.  Two bright kids were produced, a boy named Jackson and a girl, Caroline.  I never asked, but I wonder if Todd and Devon ever considered "Cassandra" when naming their daughter. Sounds poetic, right?  On second thought, who wants their daughter to go through life explaining that their name originated with an obscure 70's movie and a classified ad for the soundtrack album.  Still, sometimes the best friendships begin under the oddest circumstances, when we're crossing paths without roadmaps.

THE MAN IN THE MOON (1991)

No starships, no lightsabers, no gun fights and no creatures.  This pretty much describes the unique status this soundtrack album held in my collection back in 1991, as the film THE MAN IN THE MOON is a straight-up family drama, with no elements of the "fantastic" present.   It certainly opened me up to exploring music from this genre, whether of the current or classic variety, as there are many excellent scores to be enjoyed.  What actually brought me to this specific title, however, was the 1990 movie FLATLINERS, as both feature music composed by James Newton Howard. 

FLATLINERS was one of those movies recorded from cable that wound up in heavy rotation on the weekends for my sister Meri and I.  Not sure whether it was the outlandish plot, grad school setting or the electric, why-didn't-they-ever-make-a-movie-together-again pairing of Keifer Sutherland and Kevin Bacon, but we soon had that film pretty well memorized, chorus and verse.  Add in Julia Roberts, William Baldwin and Oliver Platt and it was like a tormented, nihilistic Brat Pack with handy defibrillator kits.  I was fascinated by the depictions of the afterlife, seeing as I spent a great deal of time then ruminating about it, and the eclectic score by Howard really gripped by eardrums.  The music ran the gamut from gothic chorales, to groove-based hooks, moody synths and a sonorous, orchestral closer.  I loved every minute.  The only disappointment was that no soundtrack album ever found its way to disc. 

Back in the days of fewer soundtrack releases, being a fan of any composer meant your choices of their music on album was often limited.  Now fans thrive in an era of small, niche labels that are able to release movie music in limited runs, but before this it all relied on big labels and whether or not the studio signed off.  In the case of James Newton Howard, albums of his scores were rare in the early 90's, especially as so many of his projects yielded song-only soundtracks.  I thumbed through the record store catalogs and shelves, finding nothing, still holding out hope one day I would stumble across FLATLINERS, perhaps misfiled under the wrong letter by a careless employee.  However, I did wind up spying his name on the cassette cover for THE MAN IN THE MOON, thankfully filed correctly in the M's. 

It looked to contain no songs, only Howard's music, but I also discerned that the subject matter was as far removed from my usual soundtrack sustenance as possible.   Nevertheless, and with no info on the movie, I bought the cassette, glad to finally own at least one score from this new composer.  The first track, "Dani Brings Court Water", features a small orchestra of strings and woodwinds, augmented by guitar, mandolin and dulcimer, and upon hearing it I was mesmerized.  It played right on that edge between sweet and sad and the solo parts for violin and guitar were gorgeous.  I realize that an 18-year old male isn't normally affected by such tender music, but you know what, I'd already wept while listening to FIELD OF DREAMS so let's just all agree I was a sensitive kid.  The bittersweet quality of that opening found balance in other joyous, jangly cues for guitar, banjo and mandolin, rounding out the score nicely.

Granted, this score didn't at all resemble the rock orchestral style of FLATLINERS, but it worked for me.  So much so that I insisted on renting the movie itself the next time Meri and I visited our local video shop, a process which now seems as antiquated a notion as switching out 8-track tapes.  The movie stars a young Reese Witherspoon in her first onscreen role, along with Sam Waterston as her father.  It's a coming of age story, directed by the same man, Robert Mulligan, who helmed the 1962 classic TO KILL A MOKINGBIRD with Gregory Peck.  Set during the late 1950's in rural North Carolina, the film expertly handles the characters, the period and the changes affecting them all during one summer, especially as crushes, love and heartbreak are tackled.  My sister and I were unprepared for the excellence of this film, seeing as how no one else seemed to know it existed, and we quickly ranked it among our favorites.  It soon found its place among the same frequent screenings as FLATLINERS, GHOSTBUSTERS, REAL GENIUS, THE ABYSS and others.

In my 18th year, I was clumsily navigating that slowly dawning world of dating, when everyone else around seemed to have a better grasp of its intricacies yet the truth was that all of us at that age proceeded in blind, deaf and dumb fashion.  The "firsts" featured here - kisses, dances, loves - all resonated with me.  I wanted those same enveloping encounters, the meaningfulness and importance they conveyed to life, although to teen-age eyes all things appear meaningful and important.  Maybe it was an eagerness to step outside the family.  Experiencing those firsts of the heart felt like borders crossed into adulthood, where acceptance and love from a girl carried more weight than receiving this same thing from parents and siblings.   I never could have known how often in the ensuing years my heart was put through its paces, made to run this course again and again, but not really sure what kind of reward I actually wanted. 

I imagine it's been at least fifteen years since I last watched THE MAN IN THE MOON.  I'm confident enough that the movie still retains its strength to recommend it, though no doubt I will always see it through nostalgia-tinted glasses.  But hey, it's from the same director as TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD, that's gotta be worth some credit, right?  Afterwards, I continued to follow James Newton Howard's composing career, adding him to my roster of personal favorites alongside Goldsmith, Williams, Horner and Silvestri.  THE FUGITIVE, THE SIXTH SENSE, SIGNS, I AM LEGEND and many more highlights emerged for Howard, thankfully all with album releases.  And while there's been sentimentality to wade through in my words, I find THE MAN IN THE MOON and its music remain another great time capsule for me and my own coming of age story.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FocBUHniSV0