A thriller that ridicules itself treads on thin ice. It risks disarming its
taut narrative fuse and collapsing in a heap of inconsequential plot. Part of
the problem is that the viewer no longer experiences the film purely on a
visceral level – the cerebellum has been activated, and the typical plotlines
of the modern thriller generally don’t survive the scrutiny. Take Mission
Impossible III – from a certain point, quite early on, that film invites
the skeptical viewer to laugh at its own plot, but the makers don’t ever invite
that viewer back into the film. The logic is far-too-strained, the plot so
by-the-motions, the characters so naively developed, that they should never
have made people think about it in the first place. Now of course what good
thrillers do when they get self-referential is they engage the brain of the
viewer on a positive level. Florent Siri’s Hostage from last year trod
the fine line very well between the visceral and the intellectual – with style
and wittily over-the-top iconography that only a French crew could imbue a film
with.
Another recent case is Spike Lee’s Inside Man, a bank heist film that
relies less on its many twists and turns to excite than the humour-laced
friction between the ethnic divisions of New York’s public service as they
jockey for career-elevating positions across cordons of red tape in crisis. In
fact it’s tempting to say Spike Lee regards the plot as complete nonsense, with
mise-en-scene and editing all cluing us into the joke. Performances are
generally excellent – with Denzil Washington having a great deal of fun as a
disgraced cop in a white suit who doesn’t seem to mind too much about anything.
His banter with actor Chiwetel Ejiofor’s detective is a consistent strong point
in the movie. Add in Clive Owen (more Robin Hood than Hans Grueber as thieves
come and go), the ubiquitous Christopher Plummer and a host of small star
turns, and Lee’s got a well-cast genre film that never takes itself too
seriously. (The only sour note is a performance by Jodie Foster that feels ok,
but a little too much like power casting – perhaps Catherine Keener would have
been better?)
One thing about thrillers that don’t take themselves terribly seriously is
that the composers nearly always need to be in on the act for the thing to come
off well. An expressive score that leaps off the screen and announces itself to
the viewer seems to strengthen the humour. Truly Hostage wouldn’t have
drawn such macabre chuckles without Alexandre Desplat’s hyperactive
orchestrations signaling Armageddon. Elliot Goldenthal’s S.W.A..T also
comes to mind, though in that case the composer’s humour was somewhat at the
expense of the film rather than in aid of it. And Lee’s regular collaborator
Terence Blanchard is very much part of the team here – the jazz-trained
composer turning in what may be his first action score after acquitting himself
finely with jazz-symphonic fusion scores for Lee’s Clockers and The
25th Hour.
The film actually opens with the last track on the album – a boisterous
remix of the A R Rahman song ‘Chaiyya Chaiyya Bollywood Joint’. Under the showy
editing of the opening titles, the piece follows the robbers as they set out to
execute the “perfect bank robbery”. Blanchard adds a subtle brass layer to the
piece – based on two-chord intervals – that interacts nicely with the editing
of credits. Instead of this fine opening, the album launches straight into the
first setpiece – ‘Ten Thirty’. The theme for the robbers is introduced with
rolling percussion and bellicose brass, the cue giving way to more ambiguous
writing for solo horns lost in a wash of keyboards.
The ‘hero’ themes – for the police and Denzil Washington’s negotiator – are
introduced in ‘Thrown a Bone’. The opening phrases hint at the signature sound
for Washington’s character – a small ensemble sound with prominent bass and
guitar. The brass announce an appropriately stern fanfare for the police forces
soon after, before the track descends into some interesting light percussion
atmospheric effects – Blanchard and Howard Drossin’s orchestrations are filled
with nice touches throughout. As with the robber theme – the police fanfare is
short and catchy, fairly immediate in its descriptive effect and extremely
malleable compositionally. ‘357’ presents the theme for Denzil Washington’s
character with cheesy brass, later to appear in many other cues, the highlight
being a duet for piano and saxophone in ‘Press Here to Play’.
Though the police fanfare and the robber theme are the dominant thematic
material throughout the score, there’s no shortage of interesting variations.
Consistently the main melodic instrument will present the theme in a
jazz-influenced variation on its core ideas. ‘Stevie Switcharoo’ introduces the
catchiest variation of the robber’s theme as the brass play variations over a
6/8 rhythm in the strings – later heard in ‘Nothing Yet’. ‘392’ puts the theme
in the woodwinds, interchanging with the brass. Orchestral mayhem overcomes the
police fanfare in ‘2nd Floor Window’ in a more serious cue. In one
of the more curious scenes in the film, marimba carries the robber theme in
‘Defend Brooklyn’ over rhythmic arpeggios.
‘Above Your Pay Grade’ introduces the theme for Jodie Foster’s power broker:
there’s a confident step to the rhythm and a hint of swagger in the woodwinds
that is later voiced by saxophones in the catchy ‘Demands in Place’. ‘Everything
Hunky Dory’ and ‘Frazier’s Tour’ are effective atmospheric cues subtly spotted
with the principle thematic material – the bass writing opening the latter a
nice hint of Blanchard’s jazz background. ‘They Bugged Us’ restores the power
of the visceral in the film’s tensest scene – the police themes adapted into a
tense setpiece. ‘Good and Ready’ closes the score with sexy swagger as the
Washington character finally joins his girlfriend on the bed she’s been waiting
on for his return the whole movie.
There are three cues that particularly stand out. As Jodie Foster’s
character pulls her trump card in one of the film’s final scenes, her playful
flaunting of leverage over all others is voiced by a string quartet reading of
her material in ‘Nazis Pay Too Well’. As the Denzil Washington character puts
together the final pieces of the puzzle in ‘Follow the Ring’, the main themes
are presented in a cohesive piece with both small and large statements.
‘Hostage Takedown’ is a brilliant piece of scoring – blending martial measures
and confused elation as the standoff between robbers and police ends in a way
the latter never expected. As police search the bank following this exchange,
echoplex trumpets summon the memory of Jerry Goldsmith’s Patton. The
orchestration effect so specific to the Goldsmith score that even though the
melody is not the same, either a composer honest about his process or an
over-eager music clearance department referenced it in the liner notes of some
versions of this album. (If only all albums featured such creative modesty!)
The music here is not beyond criticisms. The cue-changes are thick and fast,
reflecting the editing of the film, and while this is horse-for-courses in film
scoring, some of the cues here suffer more than usual from this, ‘Nothing Yet’
a prime case. Also after a while, despite the variation in the score, with such
a simple thematic basis, the piece starts to sound repetitive. It’s not hard to
imagine ten to twelve minutes of the score being removed and improving the focus
of the album as a whole. A more chronological arc to the presentation of the
cues couldn’t have hurt either. (Placing the Rahman cue at either end of the
score album, not just the conclusion, would have improved things for one, as
the intentional boisterousness of the score is never really apparent until that
track comes around at the end. It would have set the tone perfectly as an
opener.)
Blanchard’s score, generously represented on Varese Sarabande’s CD, might
not come from as refined a composer for orchestra as Desplat or Goldenthal. But
the composer has a strong voice, and his incorporation of jazz ensemble into
the score works well throughout, so while it’s not the best thriller score
composed in recent years, it’s a strong part of the film’s interesting tone.
And while the material is a little slim to sustain such a long album –
reminiscent of the film’s extended denouement – it’s still a great deal more
listenable on its own than the stern-faced synth-orchestral fusion scores that
have graced thrillers scored by some of the more regular faces in the genre.
Michael McLennan
Rating (in current album form): 3
Rating (if edited down and re-ordered): 4
Mark Walker adds:-
This is one of those scores
that really enhances the movie’s visuals: just as Spike Lee’s freewheeling,
almost documentary-like style captures the authentic feel of New York and its
fabled melting-pot population, so Blanchard’s score swings with an urban groove
that inhabits a soundworld not quite jazz not quite straight orchestral. The
hugely enjoyable main theme song sums it all up: Bollywood, rap, and
Blanchard’s jazzy orchestra all jumbled happily together. That said, this is
also one of those scores that works better in the movie than on CD. There’s no
opening title track here (the movie uses the song “Chaiyya Chaiyya” for both
front and end titles), so we’re plunged straight into an album where there’s
just a bit too much fairly anonymous underscoring, a bit too much repetition of
themes that don’t really go anywhere to make it a completely satisfying musical
experience away from the picture. Still, I’m glad I have this album, though
I’ll probably want to watch the movie on DVD and enjoy the music in situ
more often than I’ll play this CD.
Mark Walker
3.5