Three guilty pleasures.
- September 8th, 2010
- Posted in Music
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There are some who would qualify film music itself as a guilty pleasure. Let’s assume for the moment—and forever afterward—that these people are wrong. Film music is the finest, noblest, most versatile, most marvelous “genre” of music there is, and the wise listener who sows his life with seeds of film scores will reap a harvest of delight.
Within this ambrosian genre of music, however, there still remain guilty pleasures—those scores that are so sappy, so cheesy, so dated, so guilty of some aesthetic transgression or another…and yet still find for themselves a warm reception in our hearts (and usually the hearts of few others).
I want to share three such guilty pleasures. These are by no means the only three for me, but they are representative of scores that, despite being publicly maligned or rightly understood to be very uncool, are just too doggone wonderful for me to pay any heed.
My meticulously scientific criteria for the following cues were that either the cues themselves are in some way guilty, or they belong to scores (and by extension, composers, in some cases) that should only go out in public with bags on their heads.
Guilty Pleasure One: “Don’t Panic,” from I.Q.
Few people know Jerry Goldsmith’s music for the 1994 romantic comedy I.Q.—a film about Einstein’s theory of the inevitability of Tim Robbins and Meg Ryan hooking up in the American Grafitti era—save those who saw, and remember, the movie. Goldsmith concocted a kooky blend of light romance and frenetic shenanigans—stirred up with heavy doses of ’50s doo-wop and fiddled variations on “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” Sounds insane—and it is. This score has the chemical power to explode your brain with annoyance, but for me it goes down as smooth as a chocolate soda. This track, “Don’t Panic,” is the culmination of all the aforementioned disparate elements, and the result is so fun it’s breathtaking. Playful doo-wop does battle with a snaky cello line, the love theme peeks its head in, and then the saxophone takes over with jazzy authority. The cue climaxes with funky, syncopated piano hits accompanying the sweet love theme on strings. I get guilty goosebumps every time I hop aboard this joy ride of a score.
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Guilty Pleasure Two: “John Henry,” from Tall Tale.
Though I owned at least three of his scores, Randy Edelman’s name was somewhat of a byword around my house growing up. His music is typically plagued with insubstantial synthetic orchestration, and most of his music tends to curdle under the same thick layer of corny homogeneity. And really, who would expect the score from Gone with the Wind for Tall Tale—a Disney-backed story about a cynical pubescent boy who comes face to face with lassoin’ Patrick Swayze and Oliver Platt and his big, blue ox? While the score to Tall Tale sounds a lot like Edelman’s other entries into the annals of saccharine ’90s family films, there are at least two real standout tracks that showcase Edelman’s creativity and gift for melody. “John Henry,” which accompanies the legendary strongman’s race against steampunk technology, opens with a typical Edelman statement of epic grandiosity. Then, an anticipatory drumroll, and the cue bursts at the seams with an infectious low piano figuration and slide guitar. A gospel choir chimes in atop a church organ, and it all makes for one of the most fun tracks Edelman has ever written.
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Guilty Pleasure Three: “Dobby the House Elf,” from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.
It took me years to finally swallow my pride and read the Harry Potter books, so, believe me, there’s a great deal of guilt wrapped up in admitting an affinity for anything Harry—let alone something as shameful as the theme for arguably the most annoying character in the films: Dobby the house elf. Dobby has aptly been described as the “Jar Jar Binks of the Harry Potter world,” and with his already dated CGI and excruciating ascetic antics, one can’t help but beat themselves in the head with the nearest blunt instrument whenever he’s onscreen. For the Chamber of Secrets, John Williams didn’t even clock in to put the finishing touches on this stinker in the series (which is basically a shameless, formulaic rehash of the first film), but instead trusted a handful of new themes to the guiding hands of William Ross. Yet, despite all of this reeking guilt, I find Dobby’s theme an irresistible delight. Regardless of Ross’ association with the score, this theme is all Williams. His master touch of orchestration is evident, and the theme is reminiscent of his sweet little melodies for other intended-to-be-endearing (but usually just annoying) creatures like the Ewoks or Jawas (or Lex Luthor). It has the patent Williams atonal B section, but at its heart is a small, affectionate theme for woodwinds. The accompanying strings and Christmasy bells could easily qualify it for entry into the Home Alone universe; and, as far as Williams’ music is concerned, that’s a high compliment.
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What are your guilty pleasures? Is there such a thing?
John Powell’s score for P.S. I Love You is my guilty pleasure… the theme, beautifully featured by a piano in the last track (“P. S. I Love You”) as well as the almost embarrassingly emotional tracks “The Urn” and “The Cake” are highlights. The rest is pretty full of cheese.
By modern standards, I.Q. is a sterling romantic comedy, and certainly one my favorites in the sub-genre of interclass romances. (Can’t top Roman Holiday, of course, but what can?) FSM’s “Scott Bettencourt” once branded Goldsmith as a composer more comfortable with darkness than with light, but Goldsmith had a deft, distinctive, and highly adventurous touch with even the fluffiest of comedic fare.
It serves as an interesting counterpoint to Williams’s more prosaic (if highly competent) approach to slapstick comedy, which makes for a considerably less interesting listen. Impeccable orchestration and immaculate timing can take take you only so far.
@Libba Greiving
I have to say, I never found what I heard of P.S. very appealing. It sounds way too much like the scores of its genre that came before it. So I think it definitely qualifies as a guilty pleasure.
Of course, I love John Powell nonetheless.
@Alan
I’m not a big fan of a lot of Goldsmith’s out-and-out comedy writing (i.e., The Burbs, Looney Tunes, etc.), but I agree that he was far too good to just be good at handling dark material.
I don’t like it when Williams goes into full-on Mickey-Mousing with his music, like he did so much in the recent Indiana Jones disaster. (Of course, I don’t like it when anyone uses Mickey-Mousing.) But when he honors a comedy scene with a melodic, standalone set piece—much like when he does the same with an action scene—I love the results. A few examples would be the terribly fun “Follow Me” from Always, the Never Feast scene from Hook, and “No Ticket” from Last Crusade. Not “slapstick comedy,” per se, but wonderful execution of a wry musical sense of humor.
I have to say Marco Beltrami’s score to Hellboy, and Mark Mancina’s score to The Haunted Mansion, respectively. Neither seem to have gotten much love in our world
@William Dodson
I love the Hellboy score! I’m not at all familiar with The Haunted Mansion, nor most of Mancina’s music in general. I’ll try to track it down based on your endorsement (and then we’ll see if I share in your guilt).
Now playing on the Movie Scores station of AOL Radio: “Kisses and Cake” from P.S. I Love You. I like it! Do I feel guilty? No. Should I?
@Alan
I’m not sure if this is relevant, but the inability to feel guilt is one of the prime symptoms of psychopathy.
“Guiltless Psychopaths” would be a great name for a band.
You’ve been very critical of “Mickey Mousing” in conversations we’ve had about film/TV scores before, but I think you’re too critical sometimes. I understand that you appreciate film music as it stands on its own, and your laudatory description of the genre in this post demonstrates that. But: film music is not composed in a vacuum. Good film music should accentuate what happens on the screen as its primary goal, and if it happens to sound good independently of that, the composer gets extra credit. It seems like what you call “Mickey Mousing” is sometimes just a composer playing on the emotions and action onscreen a little more than usual. To me, that’s just the nature of the beast. *Steps off soapbox*
@Ben
For better or worse, I have come to focus my attention on film music as an independent art form. I realize it is initially written to serve a specific function within the film, but as the best of its representatives do work well outside their films, I’ve honed my exploration down to the music as its own entity. Again, for better or worse.
However, there are many composers who have proven that you can effectively accentuate the action onscreen without resorting to spastic, nonlinear Mickey Mousing. Mousing is the most obvious and, in my opinion, easiest way to serve a scene that bounces around a lot; it’s far more difficult to create a flowing narrative piece of music that still manages to synch with all the hits and jolts. John Williams has it in him, as did Jerry Goldsmith, as do a few others working today. You can justify Mousing as “just serving the film,” but in my opinion it’s a lazy excuse not to do something far better. Those composers who serve the film and simultaneously write great music are the ones who stand the test of time. It’s this kind of film music that I am most interested in exploring and listening to.