This fine film by Michael Stillwater provides us with 
    an insightful portrait of one of the most bankable of modern composers. Morten 
    Lauridsen is celebrated mainly – perhaps, by many people, exclusively 
    – for his vocal music. Though it’s clear from 
his 
    website that he has composed works in other genres it is the vocal music 
    on which this film concentrates. That’s understandable since the film 
    is part of a projected series entitled 
Song without Borders.
    
    Much of the footage is shot in and around Lauridsen’s home on the remote 
    Waldron Island in Washington State – he also has a base in Los Angeles, 
    where he is Professor of Composition at the University of Southern California, 
    his alma mater. The composer’s Waldron Island home is called Crum’s 
    Castle, a former general store which he bought in a very run-down state. It 
    still looks a bit ramshackle – in a nice way – but any shortcomings 
    in terms of creature comforts are more than compensated by its location. It 
    overlooks the water – next stop Canada – and as the island is 
    so sparsely populated there’s little to disturb the pristine beauty 
    except the sounds of nature, namely birds and the lapping waves. This is clearly 
    inspirational for Lauridsen.
    
    The film makes much of the natural beauty of Lauridsen’s environment 
    and the very sympathetic scenic camerawork is a major feature of the film 
    – much of the scenery is jaw-droppingly beautiful. There is no commentary. 
    Instead we hear a lot of reflections by Lauridsen, either as voice-over or 
    spoken directly to camera. A number of musicians and artists offer observations 
    about his work, including the composers, Ola Gjeilo and Paul Mealor as well 
    as the conductor, Paul Salamunovic. The latter is the conductor emeritus of 
    the Los Angeles Master Chorale and it was for him and that choir that Lauridsen 
    wrote one of his most celebrated works, 
Lux Aeterna. Indeed, it was 
    the 
highly 
    enthusiastic review by my colleague John Phillips of Salamunovic’s 
    premiere recording of the work that alerted me to Lauridsen’s music. 
    I bought the disc as a result and so it’s to John that I owe my initial 
    awakening to Morten Lauridsen’s art.
    
    It’s not the Salamunovic recording of 
Lux Aeterna that is included 
    on the soundtrack to this film. Instead the equally fine recording by Polyphony 
    and Stephen Layton is used (
review). 
    Other music featured in the film includes the 
Madrigali, in which 
    Paul Mealor conducts an evidently good chamber choir, Con Anima. They have 
    recorded those pieces (
review) 
    and it looks as if the sessions, with the composer in attendance, were included 
    in the film. Other recordings by The Singers/Minnesota Choral Artists and 
    by The Dale Warland Singers are heard.
    
    Another ensemble is featured: 
Volti, 
    a professional chamber choir from San Francisco. Sadly, I don’t think 
    they’ve recorded any of Lauridsen’s pieces. That’s a pity 
    because they are truly excellent in the excerpts we hear in the film, where 
    we see them in rehearsal with Lauridsen in attendance. Inevitably, perhaps, 
    the film leads up to Lauridsen’s rapt 
O magnum mysterium and 
    it’s Volti who sing it; they do it wonderfully well.
    
    Volti’s conductor, Robert Geary is well versed in conducting contemporary 
    vocal music and I suspect that much of the music that he and Volti perform 
    is an awful lot more complex and chromatic – or dissonant – than 
    Lauridsens’s. Geary makes an insightful comment. He tells us that in 
    his estimation Lauridsen comes closer than any other American composer to 
    understanding what deep meditation is all about and to bringing that forth 
    in a musical way.
    
    This is an excellent film. We gain a good understanding of Morten Lauridsen 
    and what makes him and his music tick. There’s some beautiful music 
    to hear and the scenic photography is stunning. You may be like me when you 
    watch a documentary and tend to skip the closing credits. Don’t do that 
    on this occasion because if you do you’ll miss hearing in full another 
    of Lauridsen’s most appealing pieces: the serene 
Sure on this Shining 
    Light.
    
    The bonus features include an abbreviated version of the film [56:45] and 
    a number of shorter items. These include Commentaries [9:16] in which various 
    people, including several who have participated in the performances shown 
    in the main film, pay tribute to the composer. The other bonuses are, frankly, 
    ‘commercials’ of one sort or another. I don’t think they 
    add a great deal to the package.
    
    Anyone who admires this composer will want to see this film and if you don’t 
    know Lauridsen’s music or if you have heard it but can’t get on 
    with it Michael Stillwater’s perceptive documentary might just open 
    the door for you.
    
    
John 
    Quinn