This score, appropriate to the film’s religious theme, is
preponderantly solemn, mysterious and cloistered. The orchestra is large and is
supported by the forces listed above. The opening ‘Dies Mercurii I Martius’,
beneath its liturgical surface, has a restless quality; and, towards the end,
an explosive disruptive element that hints at a secret that could rock the
Church. Little synth disturbances, and one or two banalities, spoil its effect
and these carry over into the second cue, ‘L’esprit des Gabnriel’ clearly
depicting malign influences in the plot but at the same time making for a less
comfortable listening experience, and reminding one at one point of Goldsmith’s
work for The Omen.
Classical liturgical music influences are strong: from early
church modes, including Gregorian Chant (even to Respighi’s modern dressing of
such music especially in the opening of the ‘Fructus Gravis’) and here one
might detect other influences at work including Puccini and Vaughan Williams
(Thomas Tallis). But ‘Fructus Gravis’ also contains much tense material that
one might associate with thrillers scored by Bernard Herrmann. Then comes the
beautiful serenity of ‘Ad Arcana’ with its beautiful harp figures and plaintive
violin solo; and again Respighi and Vaughan Williams are recalled. Darker bass
figures cast a shadow over the peacefulness towards the end of this memorable
cue. ‘Malleus Maleficarum’ has impressive dread choral passages. The hushed
yet suspense-filled atmosphere of ‘Daniel’s 9th Cipher’, another
long and significant cue, features high suspended voices and treble stings with
cello and violin solos and quiet but tense tripping dotted rhythm ostinatos.
Then, about half way through this 9-minute-or-so cue, soft low timps and rapt
string figures, then a choral entry, then the soprano voice and tremolando
strings suggest a revelation. Belying its cue title, ‘Poisoned Challice’, is
another lovely cue, scored for devotional male voices and soprano soloist (Hila
Plitmann’s silken delivery is impresses). ‘The Citrine Cross’ brings back
restless figures but beautifully orchestrated for celeste and harp. Gradually
disturbing, heretical forces ascend and seem to attempt to overwhelm the
devotions.
The dread music of ‘The Rose of Arimathea’ lurks dangerously
in low shadows before a solo piano leads into music of poignancy with women’s voices
hinting, perhaps, at the family of Christ’s journey into exile? [The cues on
this CD are most peculiarly named and often give a misleading impression in
part or whole]. A nagging conversation piece between a small ensemble of
fiddles and larger forces repeating the same terse material is ‘Beneath
Alrischa’, another interesting cue. ‘CheValiers de Sangreal’ continues this
material as a quiet ostinato with growling brass interjections until a noble
theme grows in intensity to overwhelm the orchestra, choir joining at the
climax, suggesting the establishment and secret flourishing of a ‘Royal
bloodline’.
Finally there is ‘Kyrie for the Magdalene’. A
disappointment. To this reviewer’s ears, it has pretensions after Fauré’s
Requiem but does not quite come off; it opens with a rather dissonant male
voice drone and with soprano and voices, and only a thin organ accompaniment,
continues its rather over-sweet way imitative of the French composer’s
cherished masterwork.
Considering Zimmer’s lack of a formal music education, I
hope I am not doing him a disservice by wondering how much of a contribution to
this score was made by the arrangements of: Lorne Balfe, Nick Glennie-Smith and
Henry Jackman as well as those for the choir by Graham Preskett.
A strongly
liturgical-sounding score, parts of which disappoint but mostly it is very
listenable - away from the controversies of that film.
Ian Lace
Rating: 4
Michael McLennan adds:-
While far from Zimmer’s best work, The DaVinci Code proves
to be a more compelling album than anything one would expect from a Ron Howard
adaptation of Dan Brown’s glorified airport novel. (Yes, I wish I’d written it,
and accrued the royalties, but that doesn’t make it good.) Decca’s release of
the score is not likely to supersede Wojciech Kilar’s score for Polanski’s The
Ninth Gate (an adaptation of Perez-Reverte’s Dumas Club – DaVinci Code’s
narrative template), but at least with touches of Hannibal’s sickening
elegance and The Ring’s pulse-raising string writing, this album stands
on its own as a unique entry in Zimmer’s catalogue. Particularly strong is the
album’s second half – specifically tracks 7 through 13 – what Zimmer refers to
in interviews as his DaVinci suite. ‘Poisoned Chalice’, Thomas Tallis
references aside, is a particularly beautiful composition.
It doesn’t quite feel strong enough to hold up as one of the
composer’s best though. For one, too many sections run on autopilot.
‘Chevalliers de Sangreal’, apparently the accompaniment to one of the few
exposition-free sections of the film, feels like an ensemble-specific reworking
of that accumulating 16th’s idea that Zimmer has used in Mi2,
Batman Begins and other recent efforts. ‘Dies Mercurii I Martius’ is the
first of several cues to outline a major theme with that bombastic unison
voicing that robs the composer’s work of yielding further nuances on repeat
listenings. It also adds to the erroneous impression that the accompanying
narrative is one of the greatest put on film. (Kudos to Zimmer for keeping a straight
face on that one.) And the thrills are never quite thrilling enough. If Bruno
Coulais found sufficient meat in the religiously-motivated murders of Crimson
Rivers to craft a score that balanced tension well with awe of deep
religious secrets, why not here, where beauty – both melancholic and joyful –
is the prevailing mood.
To tell you the truth, those who want to hear a score that
blends old world flourishes with modern aesthetics would be better off to go
with Tom Tykwer’s score for Perfume: Story of a Murderer. It’s not that
Zimmer’s score isn’t good, more that the praise it has received seems out of
proportion to its importance in his own catalogue and that of the genre.
Michael McLennan
3.5