I
first came across the music of William Alwyn back in
the early 1970s when I heard the symphonic poem The Magic Island on
Radio 3. I was seriously impressed with this attractive score. To my
youthful ears it seemed to combine romanticism with a particularly English
sensibility. Furthermore I was convinced that this was music that would have
sat well as the background to a swashbuckling Errol Flynn type movie. It was
easy to provide the motion picture inside one’s head! It was only after reading
the sleeve-notes - I went straight to Biggar's Record
shop in Glasgow
and bought the LP the same day - that I realised The
Magic Island was more to do with Shakespeare and Prospero than Hornblower or Long John Silver. The piece has remained one
of my all-time favourites and is highly likely to be
on my list of Desert Island Discs.
When
I received this current book for review I immediately looked in the index to
see what the author had to say about this particular work. And ... it is
basically nothing. There are a couple of references but no factual
comment. And this aspect basically defined my approach to this book – at
least on first perusal. I had been led to believe that there was more about the
‘non-film’ opus.
If I
am honest, ever since buying the complete set of Alwyn
symphonies I have longed for a definitive biography of the composer and a
technical study of his music. In fact there was a time I considered writing it
myself! Over the years – mainly due to the excellent cycle of Alwyn’s music by Chandos, I have
come to know and love most of the composer’s works. I guess that there must be,
or have been, some 70% of his catalogue available on disc. Of course, I bought
the three film music CDs as they were issued and these impressed me.
Incidentally, I found out that Alwyn wrote the music
to a few of my favourite films- including Carve
her Name with Pride (1958) and A Night to Remember (1958) – and I
did not know it! Yet nothing in these film scores changed my view that Alwyn was essentially a ‘concert composer’ who also wrote
extremely effective film music over a large part of his career.
What
I wanted was an analysis of Alwyn’s symphonic,
chamber and instrumental music as opposed to an exposition of his film music.
What we have got is a splendid study of the film music that, although
contextualizing the film scores within the general concert works, gives the
latter scant attention.
Having
got over the disappointment I began to explore the book in depth; after all I
should not criticise the book for failing to be
something it was never set out to be in the first place. It is not a volume
that requires to be read from cover to cover – in fact I would advise against.
However I would recommend reading the ‘Introduction: Music in the Shadows’ for
a basic primer of the subject. From the very opening paragraph one realises that we are in the presence of both a scholar and
an enthusiast. This book is absolutely crammed full of information – both
referenced and anecdotal. It is a model of how a book should be written insofar
as it manages to balance the depths of learning and scholarship with
readability.
I
noted that it is a book to dip into. So not unnaturally I chose to read about
one of my favourite films – Our Country. This
is a film that was produced during the Second World War with “a moving poetic
commentary by Dylan Thomas, captivating photography by Jo Jago
and painstakingly apt lyrical musical compositions by [William] Alwyn.” This was a documentary that was particularly
apposite for the wartime years. It was the story of a somewhat
‘impressionistic’ journey across wartime Britain by a British sailor
recently returned from a two-year tour of duty. So in many ways it is as if
David Sime, the sailor, was seeing the landscape
through the eyes of a foreigner – a newcomer to these shores. Yet by and large
it has been consigned to the archives. So I was delighted to find out that Ian
Johnson devoted some eight pages to a detailed discussion of this one film. It
is erudite, it is interesting and it would certainly add considerably to an
appreciation of the film. This is a seriously impressive study of one of the
more poignant films from the war years. Of course this attention to detail is
evident for most of the many the films that Alwyn
scored.
The
book is beautifully made: it feels good to hold – although with the high
quality paper it is rather heavy in the briefcase! There are some ten
photographic plates that include pictures of Alwyn
and stills from a number of ‘his’ films. A large number of musical
examples provide considerable source material for the development and
illustration of the argument. Although it is assumed that the ‘average’ reader
of this book will be reasonably musically literate, it is still possible to
gain a vast amount of information and opinion from this book if these examples
remains unheard or un-played – and of course there are always the three Chandos discs to help the reader with their
appreciation. Perhaps the most useful aspect is a musical glossary, which
explains a large number of musical terms. This allows the book to be read
intelligently by those who are not acquainted with the technical vocabulary.
Naturally
there is an excellent ‘filmography’ that details
every film that Alwyn worked upon, including a number
of un-attributed scores. This is presented in chronological form also with a
special section outlining music composed for the radio. It is neatly keyed into
the concert works that were written during the same period. An excellent
discography is provided which naturally leans heavily towards those many
recordings by Chandos and Lyrita.
This
is a great book that explores in considerable depth Alwyn’s
contribution to the world of the moving picture. The breadth of these
contributions is considerable and covers a wide diversity of film styles. The
book does not ignore, but does not concentrate on the concert works produced
alongside these film scores. The entire film output of William Alwyn is placed within the context of the British film
industry, which is perhaps the book’s greatest achievement.
John France
Rating: N/A