THE FINAL CONFLICT: OMEN III (1981)

I remembering waking one morning several years ago and realizing that I had stopped wrestling with God. Or to frame it less metaphorically, wrestling with the general concept of God, and by extension, spirituality and religion. This doesn't equate to mean that I had acquiesced and accepted God (or some form of Him, Her or It). Instead I simply realized that ruminating and examining had ceased at some unnoticed point before that particular dawn.  My theory is that it was due to plain mental exhaustion. This proved a bit vexing for me, though. Cogitating on God had remained of fervent interest since I was a pre-teen, following the requisite family viewing over Easter of 1956's THE TEN COMMANDMENTS. Subsequently, and kind of like the Burning Bush speaking to Moses, this lit a fire of excitement in me to crack open the family Bible and uncover all the backstory. I wanted to figure out whether God had a place in my life. It was a decision I could only accomplish after having collected as much data as possible, because in all honesty, I really never felt comfortable with God.

I began with Genesis, with The Word as it declares, and determinedly plowed ahead, at least up through either Joshua or Judges.  I spent weeks (probably months) reading the Old Testament as if it were "Gone With The Wind" or "War and Peace" - a long, expansive narrative parading a massive cast of characters.  The thing is, and this shouldn't be a surprise to anyone, I don't imagine the Old Testament was intended to be absorbed in such a linear fashion, even though all those varying tales and lists had been arranged in a semblance of chronological order. Years later, I would compare reading J.R.R. Tolkein's "The Silmarillion" to this biblical undertaking. Both weighty tomes chart our history from the beginning of the world and continue to drive forward inexorably through millennia, all without a recognizable, conventional story arc or structure and with characters who drift in and out of the action. There's no sturdy, center spine unless you count God vs. Man in one and gods vs. elves in Tolkein. Nevertheless, I found it mostly engrossing - wondering about the historicity of it all and somewhat unnerved by God's seemingly fickle nature and vengeful demeanor.

When I started writing fiction in high school and throughout college, whether for a class or for myself, my stories inevitably preoccupied themselves with religion, yet in a cynical and disillusioned manner. They were populated by isolated, broken characters struggling to reconcile with God and often outright digging in their heels against the concept. Tales I recall penning included one of Jesus returning to Earth only to find himself committed for mental disorders, one of souls drafted into celestial wars between angels and another about a prostitute named Nickel transported through time to the tomb of Jesus after he'd been laid there to rest. Frustratingly, I rarely had endings for these stories when I set them to paper. I felt compelled to start them nonetheless. I'm suspected that my creative writing teachers tired of my obsessive circling on the topic, though they never complained, and just offered friendly critiques.  It's as if I wanted a place for spirituality in my life yet found I was incapable of accomplishing this by way of belief in a higher power.  I attempted many times - church-going, praying, befriending those of strong, outward faith. Sadly, it always felt akin to wearing someone else's ill-fitting overcoat. Or, on reflection, like faking my way through a relationship for the benefit of the other person.

In college, I signed on for classes focused on the Old and New Testament, along with detours to cover the Gnostic Gospels, studying it all from a historical perspective, not a spiritual or dogmatic platform. I needed to learn truths about what I read, the actual origins. I must have been searching for irrefutable reasons to not subscribe to a faith, a way to "logic" my way out of believing in anything. Some part of me wished there to be more to our visible life, a supernatural realm and destination for our souls, but I was unable to accept blindly what religion presented. I was told by some that I already owed Jesus my faith as his cruel death on the cross abolished my sins.  Well, I never asked for that, I would reply, it was a debt I never consciously volunteered for.  It was comparable to receiving a jury summons for court in a different city and being forced to show up, no way to opt out. To boot, I instinctually recoiled at being folded into organized groups, which makes it pretty tough to count myself among members of a church, any church, whether Christian, Jewish, Quaker or miscellaneous. I can't pray or sing hymnals with others.  Of course I wish I could.  I hate that my chest would tighten and I rejected the open arms offered.  Then I worried that God, in whatever form, would be offended by this, wondering why I can't allow the stubborn stones of my own personal walls of Jericho to simply tumble.

It might appear to be a long road from that beginning to reach 1981's THE FINAL CONFLICT, the film score focus of this post. This was the second sequel to THE OMEN, from 1976, with 1978's DAMIEN: OMEN II sandwiched in between, all three scored by Jerry Goldsmith. In fact, Goldsmith won his only Oscar for THE OMEN, a well-deserved honor for sure, although he really should've won for almost everything he was nominated (PATTON, anyone?). This unplanned horror movie trilogy depicts the biblical character of the Anti-Christ, born as a child, named Damien, unknowingly raised into a normal life and the tragic deaths that surround him as he discovers his own apocalyptic purpose. What's the connection? Why wouldn't I instead choose to write about THE TEN COMMANDMENTS since that seemed to spark my religious exploration?  The quick answer is Goldsmith's music, but this isn't to draw any comparisons to or cast aspersions on composer Elmer Bernstein's score for THE TEN COMMANDMENTS.  I adore Bernstein's music yet this never became a favorite and the film itself I only revisited whenever it was broadcast during Easter.

Now, I've never been one for horror movies.  I can't stomach the gore or have fun with the tension and usually the terrible ways by which characters are killed give me nightmares. However, add in a score by a favored composer? Bonus points. Remove any masked, slashing stalker?  Double bonus points, my interest is piqued. Hence, THE OMEN series, along with THE EXORCIST (1973), POLTERGEIST (1982), HELLRAISER (1987), THE RAPTURE (1991) and others, were movies I found both intriguing and terrifying. The subject matter was presented in a deadly serious manner, for better or worse, with often literal interpretations of biblical prophecies intruding on present-day life. This was far different than watching a religious-themed epic set in the distant past. This was God and the Devil inserted brusquely into modern times, enacting a fierce struggle that allowed for no gray areas, no uncertain terms, ending in horrible consequences for everyday people. I really don't know why I tortured myself, other than for simply checking out the music. If I wasn't going to believe, why give myself anxiety over depictions of Armageddon?  Back then, as essayed in my earlier post on NIGHTBREED, there was a magnetism to these dark topics, a dangerous allure, threaded into my sense of isolation and confusion.

Goldsmith's music for THE FINAL CONFLICT is, for me, the standout from all three, though I absolutely acknowledge that THE OMEN initially set both the musical template and a trend, for this series and for horror movie music overall. His score for THE FINAL CONFLICT showcases remarkable new material, the highlight being the first glimpse of hope after the two preceding entries in the form of a major mode, exultant theme for the Second Coming.  Alongside this resides a new theme for the now adult character of Damien. It is powerfully voiced by brass and full not just of menace but also tinged with a smug, arrogant quality. This dichotomy of melodic material culminates in a glorious finale of orchestra and chorus, musically painting the arrival of Christ (yes, even a mostly mediocre movie like this earns stripes when the Son of God glowingly appears to cap things off). Surprisingly, there is a good deal of beautiful string-led passages, carrying a pious, humble tone, specifically to underscore the cadre of monks who track down Damien in an effort to kill him.  This contrasts against yet another element - a threatening, persistent, steady ostinato, heard often in the basses, harp and pizzicato strings.  This uncomplicated figure provides a motor which propels the scenes of death and destruction like the measured, assured pace of fate.

In a larger context, what's also fascinating about THE FINAL CONFLICT is that by the time Goldsmith worked on this project, his sound had modified since the original.  In the mid-Seventies, when the THE OMEN had been composed, his style was sparser and leaner, with more transparent orchestrations evident in smaller instrumental groups. Even with the additional mixed choir, THE OMEN score feels exposed, unsympathetic. Advance six years later and Goldsmith had entered the lush, post-Romantic period of his career. This seemed partially owed his own developing interests as an artist coupled with movies to which he signed on.  Big budget, handsomely produced films such as STAR TREK: THE MOTION PICTURE, THE BOYS FROM BRAZIL, LOGAN'S RUN and THE GREAT TRAIN ROBBERY called out for sumptuous accompaniment and he responded brilliantly. Interestingly enough, this period persisted and evolved, coloring his music throughout the 80's, even through subject matter as diverse as action (FIRST BLOOD, THE CHALLENGE), war (INCHON), fantasy (LEGEND) and animation (THE SECRET OF N.I.M.H.).  THE FINAL CONFLICT's grandiloquent orchestral/choral landscape paved the way for both POLTERGEIST and THE SECRET OF N.I.M.H. in the following year.  Delving into Goldsmith's canon, it's fun to imagine how different each score would sound if it had been composed just five years before or five years hence.

THE FINAL CONFLICT, along with multiple soundtracks composed by Christopher Young, Elliot Goldenthal and Danny Elfman, underscored much of my writing and thinking back then. However, out of all those horror-themed scores I once listened to, this one remains in rotation. I'm not sure what happened with all the rest, they're still great scores, but I just don't seem to need them as much anymore, if that makes any sense. I think they reflected a part of me that has diminished over the years. THE FINAL CONFLICT remains simply because of the Goldsmith factor, it's one of his top achievements from the 1980's.

My writing eventually shifted away from the tortured, conflicted tone, away from being treatises on loneliness, anger and isolation. By my thirties, writing fiction ceased altogether. Did I age out of it? And did I age out of wrestling with God? I then made less space on my reading list for books on religion. Emotional and intellectual investment waned. It began to feel as if I was studying curriculum for a course that had long since ended. At times I miss it - that grasping for meaning and a sense of the divine to each day. Even with no resolute answers unearthed, it endured as a vibrant part of my younger life. Upon reflection, I recognize that the endeavor to contemplate God, religion, its historicity and one's own spirituality is what keeps it present and alive. While I once struggled over choosing a faith and having that define me, I now consider that the act of searching for belief can be just as fulfilling as living with it.    

Listen below for music from THE FINAL CONFLICT. The first track underscores the fox hunt sequence (Damien's theme heard at :50 into the track) while the second track is the final cue of the film. The latter is a recent, wonderful recording performed by The City of Prague Philharmonic Orchestra and Chorus.

AN AMERICAN TAIL: FIEVEL GOES WEST (1991) / 1492: CONQUEST OF PARADISE (1992)

There was a brief, shining moment when I was a DJ on a college radio station. I hadn't sought it out initially and yet once the opportunity presented itself I excitedly realized that this would be akin to sharing a live mix tape with an invisible audience. An invisible audience from whom I wouldn't really be aware of any judgments, unless they took the time to actually call into the station. Internally I still had the push-pull complex of wanting to share the music I loved with people while also feeling completely self-conscious about it, worried to open myself up to potential ridicule.  But hey, it was a student-run station at a small, liberal, Quaker college, so I honestly had no reason to worry about acceptance. It was a free range of content we could broadcast, no one would bat an eye (or ear?) at hearing movie music emanate out of their respective 1990's era boomboxes.

This occurred during my second, and final, year at Guilford College, in Greensboro, North Carolina. My freshman year was discussed a bit in a previous post, the one focused on STAR TREK VI: THE UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY. Sophomore year was a definite improvement - better roommate, more friends, more confidence and a car, all winning attributes. Invitations to parties. Crushes requited. That tingling sense of newness to each day. I had places to go and people to see and people wanted to see me. I experienced those sought after feelings of belonging, of acceptance among the fellow oddballs, all on a campus likely considered weird from the outside looking in.

Right near the end of my freshman year I had joined the college choir as well as their small-scale band. The latter activity proved a complete mess for me, due to my nagging inability to actually sightread music.  There was no fooling anyone anymore. I was much better at memorizing by ear quickly, a handy skill in high school during the musicals, but sight reading is absolutely a necessary ingredient when asked to play a clarinet. Even so, the best reward from these activities was making friends with a guy named Devah, who became my roommate.  His given name was actually Daniel, but apparently there were so many Dans, Daniels and Dannys in his family that ihe went by Devah instead, pronounced just like the word “diva”.  I'm not saying that this word also described his demeanor, but... maybe every now and then it was apt. I think "Devah" was actually a Sanskrit word and it was a favorite aunt of his who might have chosen this moniker for him, but don’t quote me on this, my memory is a bit fuzzy.

Devah’s friendship was effortless and most welcome. We shared a similar temperament, interests and humor and often held marathon discussions on the perennially geeky topics of movies, science fiction, Star Trek and even how he wished to rewrite ALIEN 3 as just a bad dream. I became a fixture in his circle of friends, which was a regular roundtable of majors in organic chemistry, music and political science, followed by me sadly as an undeclared. Included in the group was also his on-again off-again girlfriend Catherine, already well-known across campus as the girl who would vociferously practice her vocal scales as she walked across the grounds. Also there was John, a sweet and quiet man who DJ’d at the aforementioned radio station, WQFS-FM.  He ended up being the person who suggested I join him there as another DJ.  On a side note, following the Fall break between semesters, John returned to school as a Hare Krishna - shaved head, robes and all. I always wondered and yet never uncovered what the heck happened to him during the Christmas holidays that brought this on. 

So I learned that with student-run radio stations it can be pretty difficult to staff it throughout each day, seeing as how those students who volunteered as DJs had to balance class schedules and more against their respective shifts.  I also discovered that it was the midnight to 3:00 am shift where they needed bodies.  Not ideal for sure - actually, it kind of sucked - but on the flip-side it was a time slot tucked deep enough into the day that any on-air missteps could go (relatively) unnoticed.  John elucidated how I could craft my own show format and music to play; I simply had to notate every track broadcast and remember to do live-reads each hour of certain sponsor scripts.  Their entire music library was at my disposal too, any time of day, another bonus.  I signed on as John's apprentice, to study his kung-fu ways of the college airwaves. He invited me to his weekly show to be tutored on how to work the dials, knobs and switches, along with the request phone line, the latter a proposition I dreaded.  I imagined it like being trained on a flight simulator, but one with a forearm-sized microphone positioned on a swivel in front of my face.  All I hoped was to avoid any "crash and burn" scenarios in which my ego was the primary casualty. 

I titled my show Soundwaves. In hindsight it was probably a bit generic and maybe more suggestive of a new age music program, but I assured any listeners that the focus was movie and TV music. Thank goodness that for my first solo "flight" on the air, Devah was listening back in our dorm room.  He might have been the only person tuning in, actually. Regardless, at around ten minutes into my first show he dialed in to the request line. A pit formed in my stomach as he informed me that no one could hear any music.  My spoken intro had been audible, but then dead silence followed. I somehow had skipped either a dial or knob once I set my first track to spinning in the CD player.  Crash and burn in progress. Quickly I compensated, cranking levels and flipping switches.  I guess it also felt as if this was opening night of my one-man show. The curtains parted, the lights bloomed bright and I blanked on my first lines.

AN AMERICAN TAIL: FIEVEL GOES WEST and 1492: CONQUEST OF PARADISE were my surprising first choices. I'm sure you're thinking now - say what? For John Williams' sake, why wouldn't I inaugurate a soundtrack radio show with a big ticket title,  a STAR WARS or JAWS? Even a well-known Bernard Herrmann score for Alfred Hitchcock? I don't know, I think I outsmarted myself, trying to be unpredictable and unconventional, avoiding the obvious. The danger was winding up being unmemorable.  Of course, the fact that no one heard the music at the outset didn't help. Nonetheless, these two scores were in my heavy rotation at the time, the former due to stalwart favorite composer James Horner and the latter because composer Vangelis had so few film scores to celebrate.

Throughout his career, even as his style shifted, James Horner's music for a variety of animated movies remained a consistent, reliable highlight. Akin to his fantasy film work, there's an engaging melodicism throughout, coupled with rich orchestration. The instrumentation is of a traditional, post-Romantic idiom, finding inspiration in the music of Sergei Prokofiev, all of which make this set of his scores very accessible. It began in 1986 with AN AMERICAN TAIL, which sported the song "Somewhere Out There", the award-nominated and oft played hit by Horner that everyone knew before TITANIC's "My Heart Will Go On", which made him a household name. Between this and its 1991 sequel, FIEVEL GOES WEST, Horner tackled THE LAND BEFORE TIME (1988), a score of his that remains one of my top favorites (still never seen that movie either, though). 

FIEVEL GOES WEST was composed in the same year as Horner's perennial fan favorite, THE ROCKETEER. It shares the same exuberance and boundless energy, bolstered by musical hallmarks of past Westerns - whip cracks, whistles, banjo, harmonica and even quotes from Aaron Copland's famous "Rodeo" ballet. Whereas the score for the original AN AMERICAN TAIL carried a sense of melancholy throughout (not surprising considering its story of the child separated from his parents in a new country), the sequel score is lighter on its feet.

With 1492: CONQUEST OF PARADISE, composer Vangelis re-teamed with director Ridley Scott for only the second time, following BLADE RUNNER in 1982.  I can't provide any assessment of the movie itself, I still have never seen it.  I hear it looks beautiful, though. Despite the movie's swift stay in theaters and subsequent disappearance, the album was a good crossover hit for Vangelis, who already had that built-in fanbase.  I loved this score immediately, as it combined his unique analog synth palate with a sonorous choir and ethnic instrumentation. There's almost no major reoccurring melody presented throughout, as is expected for a film score, instead each track is its own unique piece, allowing it to play unbelievably well as a hypnotic, stand-alone instrumental album. I think this approachability factor, along with the "cool" electronic factor, prompted me to lead in with this score on my first show. 

Ultimately, Soundwaves crested fairly early in its run, much to my disappointment.  I was, in reality, simply a substitute DJ while the longtimers and headliners couldn't execute their shifts. There were a handful of subsequent shows for me, still in the 12am-3am time slot, but those in charge eventually informed me that my movie music services weren't needed anymore. I guess three hours of soundtracks a week proved too much for one college radio station. Nevertheless, I continued perusing their record library when I had free time. No one seemed to mind this at all and I'd made some acquaintances during my innocent loitering. I'd often spend hours crafting mix tapes on their equipment, drawing out all sorts of albums from their cramped shelves, even branching into the extensive indie pop and rock sections. Unexpectedly, I connected with several obscure (to me) bands such as Cranes, Cocteau Twins, Kitchens of Distinction, The Sundays and even a few Lyle Lovett tunes.  Pop music hasn't occupied any space on this blog thus far, but the sounds I found then set the standard for what I've loved in that genre ever since. 

Radio DJing nestled into the back of my brain afterwards as one of those pipe dreams that appear to be creatively fulfilling and fun, yet always low-paying. In addition, soundtrack DJ seemed the most narrow of all pipe dreams and probably not able to sustain any living expenses. I certainly wasn't about to toss my hat into the Top 40 radio station ring. I've often been too practical when it comes to jobs and income, sticking with what offers steady pay and routine instead of pursuing high risk endeavors that only promise to increase my debt. Now, it might be high time when I invest in something high risk. If I do indeed find myself back in that center seat, staring into a fist-sized microphone, resurrecting Soundwaves, I'll make sure all the knobs and dials are properly hiked up. Perhaps I'll even devise a snappier moniker for the show too.

  

  

DRAGONSLAYER, DUNE and Sci-Fi/Fantasy Movies of the 1980's

Sometimes all it takes is a good mix tape to spark a new post. Granted, I'm using the term "tape" metaphorically, but yes, I still create what I nostalgically call a "mix tape", even if it is in digital form. I try to treat it as "side A" and "side B" or just keep it to CD length to maintain that illusion. What can I say, it's an old habit, hard to break, fun to continue. Recently I crafted three mixes devoted to science fiction and fantasy titles of the 1980's. Soundtrack fans of my age range can rattle off a dozen favorite films and scores from this decade, it's where the bug really bit for many of us. For young geeks there was much to absorb both at the cinema and on TV.  I know I wasn't always the best judge of quality but in the end it was really the music that mattered most to me. At that time, critics bemoaned the surplus of these movies. However, I think there are number of aspects that make it unique and worthy of study, not the least of which is the sheer volume of wonderfully varied movie music composed for genre during the decade, still arguably unequaled since.  

This was the era which saw the glut of new sci-fi/fantasy movies lean into STAR WARS as the springboard. Movies in its wake borrowed many of its attributes, from effects to production design and story structure, yet there was still a remarkable amount of imagination and boldness to be found. The approach to the score of STAR WARS taken by composer John Williams and writer/director George Lucas, that of grafting the sweeping, swashbuckling orchestral sound of 1930's adventure serials onto an unfamiliar, strange outer space landscape, unexpectedly set an orthodox that holds even to this day. Soon it became commonplace that any science fiction movie needed to feature a big orchestral score, when previously that hadn't always been the case.  And I can't argue with the logic of this, as it's an understatement to label this a massively inspired choice by Williams and Lucas. However, even with this approach dominating the genre from the late 1970's and into the 80's, what's most impressive is the amazing diversity heard in the music throughout these years, often due to surprising choices of composer for each project.

DRAGONSLAYER heralded an example of one such musical surprise.  This was a 1981 release from Disney, a fatalistic fantasy film populated by wizards, swordplay and (natch) dragons, yet interestingly more concerned with witnessing the passing of an age and of Christianity triumphing over magic. This was far apart from their lighter animated entry years earlier, THE SWORD IN THE STONE, and closer in spirit to 1979's moody THE BLACK HOLE, in which Disney rejiggered 20,000 LEAGUES UNDER THE SEA for deep space and added a killer robot with scissorhands. I loved it as a kid, then happily scratched its surface as an adult to uncover more to appreciate. Hired as composer for DRAGONSLAYER was Alex North, one of the most unique voices throughout movie history. His style could be angular and atonal, adopting the modernistic qualities of 20th century concert classical music, all while balanced against his tender, melodic side. His challenging sound, along with that of Bernard Herrmann and Leonard Rosenman, stood apart from the lush tonalities of the Alfred Newmans and Franz Waxmans of Hollywood during its Golden Age. North's scores for SPARTACUS, CLEOPATRA, A STREETCAR NAMED DESIRE and his rejected music for 2001 (wait, you didn't know that there was an original score composed for Stanley Kubrick's 2001?  Ask me about it!) all bore his personal stamp, helping to bolster the complexity into movie music and what it could represent.

I wasn't aware of any of this when I first saw DRAGONSLAYER at a young age.  I didn't even know who Alex North was.  I just knew that those powerful, declamatory low brass that open the film grabbed my interest immediately.  I still swooned for anything close to the sound of STAR WARS and while this score was fully orchestral, it resided on the opposite side of the field tonally from the sound that shadowed X-wings and lightsabers.  Regardless, I loved it and searched for the rare album release for years, finally snagging a copy in the late 90's (plus the official expanded edition from La-La Land Records not too long ago).  In talking about this score once with my friend Mark, he commented that it nearly made him laugh out loud with its dramatics. I think he considered it overheated. I disagreed wholeheartedly. It could be that watching DRAGONSLAYER through the lens of today's muted movie soundscape only highlights its eccentricities. I understand how the music could be off-putting for some.  It demands your attention, it isn't content to simply linger politely in the background, whether heard in the movie or separately on disc. I keep coming back to the word "challenging", but it's also undeniable brilliant and a score to which I'm quite partial.

Thus, while STAR WARS propelled the huge wave of sci-fi and fantasy films that swept through cinemas in the late 70's and into the 80's, there were still few rules set in stone for the genre then. To me it seems as if everyone was simply throwing all ideas against the wall just to see what stuck.  Why else would we get the weird hybrid that is KRULL (1983), with lasers infesting a medieval setting? Or 1980's FLASH GORDON, which is such a loopy, pop-rocks-and-soda-on-celluloid trip? Musically speaking, the massive influx of these imaginative productions led to almost every composer working at that time, in and out of Hollywood, getting a turn at bat (or sword or laser pistol).  The bonus for fans is that many were considered giants of the art form who subsequently poured their entire creative arsenal into their one sci-fi shot. Alex North is just one example, but there was also Henry Mancini scoring space vampires in LIFEFORCE, Ennio Morricone wrestling RED SONJA and Maurice Jarre trekking into both ENEMY MINE as well as MAD MAX BEYOND THUNDERDOME (all 1985).  These guys had been movie music titans for decades, with inarguable legacies ranging from BREAKFAST AT TIFFANY'S to THE GOOD, THE BAD AND THE UGLY and LAWRENCE OF ARABIA. Their respective idiosyncratic styles provided class and elegance to pictures in a genre once categorized only as "B", now receiving top billing and dollars.

Alongside the masters, there were some out-of-left-field assignments too, which brings me to the topic of DUNE (1984), directed by David Lynch. I was unaware then of Lynch in any other form before this movie. I had to enter his slanted perspective on life through the door marked DUNE in the sci-fi pantheon.  In retrospect, it's not surprising that Lynch shunned mirroring the common sound of sci-fi then - his overall filmic style shied away from almost all convention. But he didn't even hire an established composer. Instead, he went after the rock band Toto to provide music for his epic. Now, you could argue that there was some precedent for this choice, seeing as how Queen amped up FLASH GORDON with their anthems four years prior.  Yet here was DUNE, an accepted literary classic, being presented cinematically with a straight face. No doubt this rankled older fans of the book, but the resulting pop/orchestral fusion, while unexpected, was a score I immediately adored. Okay, the electric guitars might stand out against the sight of sandworms just a touch.  As a kid, I loved Toto's songs, or more precisely the ones played on the radio, such as "Rosanna".  My pop music knowledge obviously only extended as far as Casey Kasem's weekly countdown.

What I find incredible about this era is not just the motley crew of composers but the depth of talent and unique sounds they each brought. Vangelis with the all-electronic BLADE RUNNER, Wendy Carlos with TRON, Lawrence Rosenthal with the Richard Strauss-inspired CLASH OF THE TITANS, Bill Conti on MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE, David Shire on 2010 and Craig Safan hitting high brass notes on THE LAST STARFIGHTER. I could go on, but if wasn't for this confluence of a sweeping trend plus talent, I may not have discovered any of these composers. And in certain cases, their single contribution to this genre remains my single favorite score from their career.  I'm not going to name names, but... well, alright, one of them might be Ennio Morricone. I like his score for RED SONJA and not much else, except maybe his weirdly wicked music for EXORCIST II. Maybe I just didn't grow up with enough of his movies. This probably seems rather myopic, but they can't all be a Goldsmith or a Williams, where I'm in tune with nearly every note they've put to paper.

Speaking of, you might be wondering why I have yet to mention specific scores by Jerry Goldsmith, John Williams (other than STAR WARS) and James Horner. Their names dominated soundtrack collections back then as they became the backbone of the genre during the decade. Goldsmith truly set new standards each decade of his career, as far back as the original TWILIGHT ZONE series. Sci-fi and action movies were his bread and butter, though not out of his own personal interest, just that his sound and sonic experimentation lent themselves naturally. Horner could've been among the "one and done" group with his initial entry, 1980'S BATTLE BEYOND THE STARS. Rather, his sparkling, joyful orchestration for that ramshackle movie rippled across both his career and the sound of sci-fi on into the 90's. Once this style cemented in STAR TREKs II and III, KRULL and BRAINSTORM, it emerged as a subset of the Williams standard - still rich and melodic, but maybe more easily applied to more movies since there was no expectation of another "Imperial March".

But my goal here was to highlight the unexpected, the fortuitous choices. I hesitate to call them "one-hit wonders" because the composers I mentioned here all excelled throughout their career, but it's their obscure sci-fi/fantasy efforts that often escape notice. Hopefully I don't sound too precious about this era. Sure there is some bias, it formed the bedrock of my soundtrack fandom. I like to draw analogies to the era when Westerns and religious-themed epics held sway over cinemas in the 50's and 60's and all composers in town added both under their respective belts, whether earning steady pay from it or taking one swing- even Bernard Herrmann scored a Western (and it's great!).

Today's screens are now chock-a-block with comic book confections. Among this current cinematic wave are the customary highs and lows and shifting degrees of depth, especially as this genre struggles to both be taken seriously and aim for escapism.  Thing is, I don't find as much attention being paid to the accompanying music.  To my (admittedly aging) ears, the scores tilt towards blandness.  A more nondescript sound has been established, it's almost pre-programmed, and it's unfortunate.  Comic book movies should be as daring as the heroes they essay, including the music.  On a selfish level, at least I know it would provide me with strong tracks for a new mix tape.

Postscript: I'm attempting something new with the music clips chosen below for this post. With luck, everyone will still be able to play these as easily as the youtube clips!


     

STAR WARS: REVENGE OF THE SITH (2005)

Sometimes I think I could restrict my blog's focus solely to the two main pillars of my pop culture passions, STAR TREK and STAR WARS, and still be able to generate enough posts for several years. But of course, with so many weird and wonderful movie music gems to spotlight in all genres I keep it to a minimum; in fact the last time I wrote about a STAR WARS soundtrack was back in 2013, specifically about THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK. Seeing as how there's a new STAR WARS film, ROGUE ONE, being primed for launch this month, I figured I'd celebrate this with an appropriately themed topic. And considering the frequency, or lack thereof, of my posts, this might wind up as my closing thoughts for 2016.

I wanted to write about the final installment released in the series up until Disney, the new owners of all things Lucasfilm, inaugurated a new STAR WARS era with 2015's THE FORCE AWAKENS. In 2005, REVENGE OF THE SITH, otherwise known as EPISODE III, was released as the chapter that seemingly completed the saga's circle and it delighted, surprised and moved me in ways I hadn't anticipated. Along with this, John Williams provided the movie a masterful score that I've listened to more times than I count in the ensuing decade, almost more than any other soundtrack from the series.

On the day it was released, I wound up seeing it twice - once in the early morning on my own and then again in the evening with friends. From the opening space battle to the visually poetic closing moments, I was riveted.  As a first generation fan who caught each film from the classic trilogy in the theaters, I'd found myself fascinated on many levels by the era being presented in this second trilogy, the prequels.  It was akin to watching a "period piece" of our own history, when mannerisms, dress and behaviors might differ to the present, such as Elizabethan dramas compared to present day.  Not to everyone's taste, but I was digging it.  The world-building was imaginative and immersive, diving into other cultures and corners of the fictional galaxy previously unexplored or simply unknown.  I plugged into the macro/micro level of parallel storytelling on display throughout, noting how over the course of the trilogy we witness both a democratic Republic and a compassionate Jedi Knight named Anakin Skywalker be manipulated and corrupted from the inside out, all by the same person, that being Chancellor Palpatine.  Indeed, the fateful circumstances leading to Anakin's downfall constitute the component to which I unexpectedly connected.

As I've mentioned in a previous post (see STAR TREK GENERATIONS), my father passed away without warning back in November 1994, when I was twenty-one years old.  This tragic event cleaved a solid demarcation in my personal history, between my life with and then without a father. Working through this in the years since has been a convoluted process, as the emotional and psychological ripple effects are not always evident until much later.  And sometimes these unseen effects are uncovered by unpredictable means.  And so it was when watching REVENGE OF THE SITH.  I was struck by what was portrayed onscreen, the movie unmasking for me a truth that my fear of mortality and loss, stemming from my father's death, might negatively affect choices I make in life.

Anakin, as a young adult still figuring himself out, was plagued and emotionally crippled as a result of losing his mother in an unforeseen tragedy. Of course, his character's subsequent experience followed a much more severe path (cue the "Imperial March" here), but what hooked me was that his immense sense of loss over his mother had twisted over time into a need for control and an obsessive drive to prevent suffering any further loss. This pushes him into alarming and reckless decisions which lead to not only his own spiritual and physical destruction, but also ends the life of whom he most wanted to save. Akin to enduring Greek tragedies, Anakin echoes Oedipus by unknowingly fulfilling a haunting prophecy through the determined process of seemingly holding it at bay. There are also noted similarities to Shakespeare's "Othello", where we find good and kind qualities slowly overshadowed by hubris and greed, with a dash of a superiority complex from Anakin.  This is powerful, deep stuff, not often essayed in sci-fi spectacles.  Flawed, fictional heroes may tread on the edge of extremes, yet they normally refrain from fully falling in.

It dawned on me that I'd been struggling to keep from things changing in my own life. The further that time advanced into my father's absence, I think I unconsciously endeavored to control my surroundings, maintaining routines and who I was inside, even in small ways.  It surprisingly didn't stop me relocating across states, from North Carolina to Illinois and then California, which on a surface level absolutely seems like a willingness to embrace big changes.  Yet, if I lifted a corner and peeked below that surface, I found that the major moves fostered a distance away from what might affect me emotionally. Distance actually allowed me to preserve my inner self in amber, in a way. Instead of accepting and dealing with loss, I placed myself far from what would remind me of the absence of loved ones.  (I totally understand why Anakin as Vader never visited Tatooine again.) Feeling loss and change penetrates too deep. I unknowingly led my life in directions that would safely keep me from experiencing any further loss or calamity again.  In REVENGE OF THE SITH, when Anakin speaks to Yoda of his fears of losing someone close to him, Yoda advises him how death is a natural part of life and that he should learn to let go of all he fears to lose.  While counsel from Yoda isn't exactly approved by the American Psychological Association, it held sway with me, I felt I should heed this lesson.

It's funny that I share these thoughts directly following my prior post on the TV series LOST. Deftly delivered in its denouement to its lead character is a similar sentiment, that of learning to let go. There, however, it's tied to less catastrophic choices as made by Anakin in SITH and expressed more as an integral, necessary component for successfully transitioning beyond corporeal existence.  In LOST, Jack Shephard needed to learn to let go in order to forgive himself and grant his soul a sense of completion and peace.  In SITH, Anakin never learned to let go of his fear of loss and instead was seduced down a dark, calamitous path.  At a high cost, he'd been promised a power to prevent the deaths of those he loved and by extension, prevent himself from ever experiencing their eventual absence from his life. This revelation in Anakin's journey astounded me.  Never in my fan's eye view of what triggered the transformation of Anakin Skywalker into Darth Vader would I have imagined something so human and so vulnerable, almost uncomfortably so.  It endeared his character to my adult self, living on the other side of my father's passing.  In the life I lived that included both my father and STAR WARS, I most connected to Luke Skywalker.  Later, in the life without him, I seem most in tune with Anakin.

Regarding the music, Williams's score is an absolute treasure trove of gems, both major and minor. Bold new themes essay the tragic duel between Anakin and Obi-wan and mechanistic menace of General Grievous. Existing material, such as the love theme from EPISODE II, is often revived in melancholic tones. With this album, there isn't any interesting story about how I grabbed it, I think it was at the Borders on State St. in downtown Chicago.  I do remember being surprised at its overall brevity, that there were some marvelous cues from the film not included on the album. And, vice versa, I was surprised at tracks heard on the album that went unused or partially used in the film, but this is all old hat for an experienced soundtrack fan.  Williams' score for REVENGE OF THE SITH charts a varied path, from rollicking, 5/4 and quarter-time action material, to choral elegies, blistering brass fanfares and a 13-minute closing track that even encompasses the Throne Room music from the original STAR WARS. As soon as it wraps up, I want to listen to it again, but then I'm worried of wearing out its effect.

Now as fans and general audiences are being introduced to new stories and characters in the STAR WARS universe, the focus has returned to its origins, that being the tenets of the classic trilogy. I'm loving what's been presented thus far and am still in giddy awe of the simple fact that Han Solo, Luke Skywalker and Millennium Falcon populate the THE FORCE AWAKENS. It almost feels like a missing cinematic artifact from the 1980's catapulted through time somehow. Nevertheless, my passion for the prequels, and by extension the long-running "Clone Wars" TV series, hasn't dimmed. I realize I might be the oddball old-school fan.  To me, it's like being a fan of the original STAR TREK series along with STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION - same universe, different flavors. Part of me enjoys delving into the fictional historicity of it, somewhat analogous to J.R.R. Tolkien's "The Silmarillion" providing background to "The Lord of The Rings".  Another side of me ruminates on the symbolism and mythology present in the story's undercurrents.  Then there is that other part that simply relishes seeing the adventures of young Obi-Wan Kenobi.  Of it all, REVENGE OF THE SITH remains a potent distillation of everything I love about STAR WARS, while also embodying an emotional truth personally relevant to me.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Erwnbf42EOU

LOST (2004)

As longtime readers already know, and mentioned in my initial post, this blog was inspired by a scene in HIGH FIDELITY, both the novel and movie.  The blog's focus was to trace my life in an autobiographical fashion based on the soundtrack albums I collected, like following stepping stones across a stream. The events and memories that surrounded them and how they each led to the other was integral.  So I disciplined myself to make sure each post centered on some personal episode tied to an album or movie, yet there are occasions when I'd like to talk about a score without a specific time and place context.  Sometimes I just end up casually buying several awesome albums at Amoeba Records on a Sunday afternoon and nothing else momentous happens (except maybe excellent street parking). And what I bring home with me, the music contained on the discs could actually be momentous enough to blog about.

Since reaching my thirtieth post and nearly three years writing on my blog, I decided that it's time for a bit of evolution.  First of all, now that I just wrote that opening statement it feels like that isn't very many posts to show for three years' worth. Feel free to judge, just do it silently. Granted, it can be a bear to carve out a stretch to devote to the blog amidst work and life.  Also, I usually spend weeks on each post simply sifting through my thoughts and memories before setting down to write anything.  I imagined my posts would be frequent.  I still hope to write more often than I do, yet my concern is whether or not what I publish is of interest to anyone else.  Today's post is certainly of a personal nature, not tethered to one incident but instead a span of six years.

Recently I attended a concert at the Ford Theater, here in Los Angeles.  It was a concert celebrating the music of the television series LOST, hosted by showrunner/writer Carlton Cuse and composer Michael Giacchino, the latter of whom conducted the orchestra.  The theater was packed with passionate fans, evident during the pre-show chat when they peppered Cuse and Giacchino with both adoration and questions. The main event featured some full cues from select episodes, some performed live to projected sequences, and also several ingeniously arranged suites. I've attended numerous film and TV music concerts since moving to L.A. nine years ago, but considering how often I listened to the soundtracks and revisited these episodes it was surreal to experience it all live.  I realize this seems an obvious aspect for me of all people to point out.  I mean, look at my blog for goodness' sake, yet during the LOST's time on air I buried myself in its music.  So often it existed between my ears on headphones as I walked to work in downtown Chicago.  And in terms of TV music, it became tattooed on my soul, along with the scores for STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION, BATMAN: THE ANIMATED SERIES and 1978's BATTLESTAR: GALACTICA.  

The series spanned six seasons and I was a fervent fan from the start.  I found it an intoxicating, potent mix of character, story, setting and music that kept me engaged intellectually and emotionally. Like the aforementioned STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION, it wound up being a consistent companion during major shifts in my life.  While NEXT GEN paralleled my high school and college years, LOST trekked with me from living in Chicago to Los Angeles, through marriage and divorce and highlights and lowlights, some of which I find painful to recall.  Not all TV shows that I enjoy really get their hooks deep into me, though.  I think it's all due to the point in my life at which I'm exposed to the show, kind of like when NASA launches a probe into space at a precise moment in order to rendezvous with a planet at a specific point in its orbit.  If I'd been any younger, older or at another revolution in my life's orbit, LOST might not have made such an impact upon landing.

For better or worse, I connected with the lead character of Jack Shephard (Matthew Fox) immediately. Among my friends, he wasn't the popular choice. He was the obvious hero, he was willfully stubborn, often self-righteous, qualities which hopefully aren't quite like me. It was probably easier to latch onto more modest or humble characters like Hurley or Desmond. Yet Jack became my constant through the series, much in the same manner as the character of Data in NEXT GEN.  During my high school and college years, Data seemed to essay my own social awkwardness, the aim to fit in and belong while feeling apart and unlike others.  With Jack Shephard, it was watching him struggle with his estranged father's unexpected death, his own failing marriage, along with pressuring himself to always make the perfect, right decision and striving to repair what appeared broken around him, in people and situations.

Granted, my father and I hadn't been estranged before he passed away. Nevertheless, it was a powerful thread for me to follow, especially in the early, surreal scenes of Jack chasing his father's ghost on the island and then stumbling across the splintered, empty coffin.  Much later, the closing sequence of the series finale left me raw.  It's not often that I shed tears with such abandon.  Not only did I imagine myself meeting my father again in a similar fashion as Jack, but the guidance he shared contained lessons I sorely needed.  Hell, I probably still need to take heed.  The advice to Jack was to "let go", which I interpreted as letting go of how we attempt to control all aspects of our life.  It can create a sense of panic, an anxiety, when we seem unable to control all facets.  In addition, another shade of letting go is forgiveness - to forgive others, yes, but also to forgive oneself.  Forgiving others allows one to move forward or move on, both emotionally and practically. Learning to forgive yourself can help break down the bars in our self-made cages, those cages we sometimes create out of fear or shame and which keep us locked in place, developmentally speaking.  Hearing such sage advice at the close of a favorite show, reframed it all for me and it felt as if I was hearing this spoken by my own father.

To discuss the LOST's music specifically for a moment, composer Michael Giacchino devised a wonderful way to provide the show its own unique soundscape. In the best tradition of film composing greats Bernard Herrmann and Jerry Goldsmith, he eschewed a standard symphonic orchestra set up and instead limited his palate to just strings, four trombones, piano and varied percussion (timpani, boobams, drums, things that clang, etc).  No woodwinds, no supplemental brass.  It was a sparse and spare sound that mirrored the characters' living conditions on a (seemingly) deserted island. Herrmann and Goldsmith set the bar as far as changing up their "band" for each movie, the former famously for PSYCHO (1960) with its "strings only" approach and the latter on CHINATOWN (1974) by relying only on strings, piano, percussion and solo trumpet. Sometimes the project demands its own sound and sometimes, I think, this is done just for a creative exercise.  With LOST, Giacchino achieved his goal brilliantly, notably in this current age of television scoring landscape clouded interchangeable drum loops and drones.  He never wavered from this instrumental grouping, even though I half-expected him to expand it for the series finale, maybe as a powerful send-off.

But it wasn't only the particular sound of the score that elevated each episode. Giacchino was composing and displaying a multitude of distinct themes and motifs, for characters, for places and situations, themes that were often laid bare on the soundtrack to the exclusion of all else.  The first season brought forth themes for Jack, Kate, two for John Locke and even a jaunty tune for traveling across the island.  That same season's finale also announced a soaring theme, bursting with hope, for the launching of a ramshackle raft out to the open sea.  When first seeing this sequence as it aired, I was floored at how openly expressive and emotional the music was allowed to be, breathing such life and soul into the images, surprising for television in the 2000's.

I've always loved the fact that Giacchino cut his compositional teeth in television, before moving fully into motion pictures. Those years of smaller ensembles, tight deadlines and no time for second guessing on both ALIAS and LOST lays a groundwork similar to where Jerry Goldsmith and John Williams began.  Goldsmith once described how it helped him solve problems quickly on the scoring stage and to make the most of minimal resources, such as only 10-12 performers on an episode of THE TWILIGHT ZONE. I imagine Giacchino gained a similar skill set, along with honing his own personal style. The two strongest qualities inherent in all his music is a sense of play and a direct, emotional sincerity.  The sense of play is front and center in his scores for Pixar and the revamped STAR TREK and MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE film franchises. The emotional sincerity underpins throughout, only migrating subtly into the spotlight subtly at select moments.  Even when scoring something menacing, especially in scenes in LOST, there is an enthusiasm in the music, as it discovers new ways to jolt.  In a way, his music simply feels pleased and proud to play a part in the overall experience enveloping the audience, without a trace of cynicism or irony.

Continuing with LOST, Giacchino added fresh melodic ideas each season, culminating in the sixth and final season, which I find showcases the richest musical treasures, including a heartbreaking theme used in only one episode, "Ab Aeterno". LOST is the TV equivalent of what John Williams has accomplished in his seven STAR WARS scores and Howard Shore in his for the LORD OF THE RINGS and THE HOBBIT film series. In these rare cases, a talented composer first unpacks colorful and memorable ideas onto the page. Then, embellishment to the work progresses over many years, as unheard themes meet the original thematic inhabitants, blending into unique relationships.  The layering and enriching of the music is akin to the weaving of an intricate tapestry.  I find that this brilliantly reinforces the most memorable, indelible aspect of LOST itself, that of the characters. We're introduced to the survivors, then watch this group expand and adjust each season to new players, all mingling and interacting in fascinating combinations.  I wonder, was it all so that they could learn from each other to "let go", to forgive?  Is this what people in our own lives are there to teach us?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lrjs93NIaJY