Name the enduring director-composer
relationships of recent cinema. There are all sorts of names that would come up
pretty quickly if you were to ask the average film score collector or film
critic. Spielberg and Williams. Burton and Elfman. Cronenberg and Shore. Even
Lynch and Badalamenti, for those so inclined. We tend not to hear so much about
Atom Egoyan and Mychael Danna, despite the fact that the ten feature
collaborations of the two Canadian artists include Exotica (1994) and The
Sweet Hereafter (1997), two of the best films from the American cinema of
the 1990s.
Their films tend to be distinguished by
strong collaboration between composer and director. Egoyan’s films tend to view
the potentially-melodramatic situations of his characters from a
strangely-detached position, his instincts generally to avoid the sensational
in his films. (The ‘bus scene’ from The Sweet Hereafter is the best
example – what other director would have had the guts to treat that so
dispassionately?) Danna’s style of composition for film tends to speak very
much to this style. His ensembles are always novel – there’s rarely an obvious
instrumental choice in any of his scores, but they never distract from the
film. If anything, they generally enhance it. (The use of the Persian and
medieval ensembles in the score of Sweet Hereafter is a masterstroke of
lateral dramatic thinking.) Danna’s themes for the Egoyan films are also
curiously objective in their initial relationship to the imagery – they always
seem to be in their own worlds at first, and then they come home in the final
stages of the film in their final statements, shaking the viewer who has
finally made sense of the many threads that make up an Atom Egoyan film.
I haven’t seen the Egoyan-Danna film that
preceded Where the Truth Lies, a study of the Armenian holocaust called Ararat,
and although the score is beautiful, the reviews of the film suggest Egoyan
gave up some of that objectivity that made his earlier films so objective. (And
it’s a tricky subject to remain objective about, so there’s no criticism
implied here.) That was four years ago, and Where the Truth Lies is a
strange place to find the Canadian auteur, adapting a 1950s set
sex-and-violence thriller about a Lewis-Martin-like comedian team (Kevin Bacon,
Colin Firth) that split up over an incident involving a dead girl (named
‘Maureen’) in their hotel room. In the 1970s, a young writer (Alison Lohman in
the Sarah Polley / Mia Kirshner role) tries to find out where the truth lies (a
delicious pun of a title) in that incident. Though reviews are mixed, I’m
confident Egoyan will find a fresh path into the material, especially if his
composer’s score concept is an indication of the choices involved.
Danna is widely regarded as a chameleon of
film scoring – not only does he make dramatic use of unconventional ensemble
choices, he also shows great capacity to immerse his voice in an idiom
historically or ethnically relevant to the film’s subject. In films for Deepa
Mehta and Mira Nair, this involved immersion into the aesthetics of the music
of the subcontinent. In Egoyan’s Ararat, the score heavily draws on folk
instrumentation and aesthetics for the Armenian people, colouring it with
orchestral writing. In Where the Truth Lies, the ‘period’ sound is more
a metaphor than a literal connection to history, and since the film is a
mystery concerned with celebrity lifestyles of the 1950s, it’s appropriate that
Danna employed Bernard Herrmann’s style for Hitchcock’s more psychological
films as a link to the era. What better way to suggest the era but through
referencing the film music from the greatest mysteries of the era?
I fear that to call this Herrmanesque and
to leave it at that will make this score seem redundant and passé. For what
could a Herrmanesque score possibly do that wasn’t done in Roque Banos’
remarkable homage score for The Machinist? But Danna’s work on this film
is analogous to Alberto Iglesias’ score for Bad Education – there is
homage to film-scoring’s prince of darkness, but the composer’s hand is very
much in evidence. First to the Herrmann. The mystery element of the score draws
most clearly on Herrmann’s writing for Vertigo, the arching melody for
strings over the harp in ‘Maureen’ with brass chords at the climax very much
suggesting the score of Hitchcock’s greatest film. (Citizen Kane also
comes to mind throughout the score – interesting in that Herrmann’s score for
the Welles’ film very much scored the reconstruction of the truth of a man’s
life.) Herrmann’s bass clarinet and harp writing are suggested in ‘Hollywood and Vine’, a haunting reprise of the theme. ‘I’ll See You Inside’ gives the fore
to another Herrmann staple – the alto flute. Bassoon and piano meanderings lead
into sharp low string phrases over a timpani rhythm in ‘Who’s Gonna Pay Me?’
Violent violin strokes enter over the woodwind lines in this cue, bringing Psycho
to mind.
Yet Mychael Danna’s distinctive style is
all over this score. The idiom may be Herrmannesque, but the intervals, the
phrasing, brings to mind other Danna melodic writing. Even ‘Maureen’ is more a
Danna theme than a Herrmann one. Take the piano of ‘End of Story’ or ‘Babes on
Hand’ – it’s Danna. The prominence given to Danna’s writing for small rock band
sound also links the score to the period in a more literal way (the setting
being the hey-day of early rock). The electric guitar plays arpeggiations in
‘Small Scratches’ in almost expurgatory fashion. (If this is a scene of two
people giving in to their sexual urges, then it’s truly a fresh sound for
that.) The arpeggiations return in ‘Only to Destroy Us’, the mix prepared for
album by Simon Rhodes beautifully negotiating the timbres here. The final cue
‘Forgive Me’, is not a bad summation of the blend of Herrmann and Danna in the
score – electric guitar arpeggiations leading into a full string section
reprise of ‘Maureen’.
There’s also Danna’s ever-impressive
writing for violin. ‘The Truth Had Come Out’ puts Maureen’s theme exquisitely
for that solo instrument with piano accompaniment before the full ensemble
enters – it might be the second best cue Danna has written for the instrument.
(‘Garden of Death’ from Regeneration is not a solo violin cue, but the
prominent solo makes the cue overwhelming for me.) Then there’s ‘The Tape’, the
penultimate track and the longest cue on album. It should join the finale cue
from The Ice Storm as Danna’s most developed sustained cue. All the
ideas are in this track, including an extended violin solo, and when combined
with the following cue, it makes for a great ten-minute summation of the range
of this score.
Also worth noting are those tracks –
‘Palace de Sol’ and ‘Chinese Restaurant’ – that shift between a source cue
function and underscore. Danna’s idiomatic flexibility is evident in the brassy
band sound of the former (a collaboration with Rob Simonsen) and the orchestral
blues sound of the latter. The latter also points to another stylistic
reference that can be heard throughout the score – the solo trumpet opening of
‘Which Floor?’ takes us to the era of Leonard Bernstein’s On the Waterfront and
Jerry Goldsmith’s LA Confidential, though the orchestration is otherwise
recognizable as Danna. (Despite being the work of Nicholas Dodd, who is known
to have a strong hand in the scores he orchestrates.)
A highly recommended score. With one nice
surprise source cue early on featuring Firth and Bacon playing Martin and
Lewis. It’s not written by Danna, but it’s cheeky and it’s a cute allusion to
the period via diegetic music. But buy this for Danna’s score – he really is a
remarkable voice in film music, one for whom Oscar recognition is well overdue.
Michael McLennan
Rating: 4.5