Opinion: Clones, Composites and Composition
by Edwin Black
Two of the most listened to music scores in recent memory are Tomorrow
Never Dies by David Arnold and Titanic by James Horner, both
big-budget blockbusters. Both offered the composers a chance to make a
major contribution to the film score archives. Both are immensely satisfying
listens, hummable to abstraction, and brilliantly produced. But neither
added a thing.
Don't get me wrong. I love both scores, and have listened to each about
100 times. Are they original, should they be called compositions by composers?
To a large extent the answer is no. Soundtrackdom needs new terms to describe
such musical creations. They are clones and composites tacked onto authentic
composition. I expect to see more of it as studios process film scores
the way they process logos and ad campaigns--just another commodity in
the package. And so long as composers are expected to clone their previous
work to satisfy a preexisting notion in a demanding director's or producer's
mind, and/or run out of new ideas of their own, that is exactly what will
happen.
The best example of clone music is Arnold's Tomorrow Never Dies.
Arnold, who distinguished himself with heart-gripping scores for Stargate
and Last of the Dogmen, has floundered ever since, including his
big boomy so-what Independence Day. But with those successful credits,
he understandably was tapped for TND when Barry was bypassed. Apparently,
the assignment and intent was to write in the John Barry-Bond idiom. Barry
created the most extensively imitated music franchise in film score history
with more than a dozen different devices, elements, motifs and motives
that automatically say "Bond, secret agent," and swagger, sometimes
in as little as a few notes. Today, it's all cliche music. But it was originated
by the master, John Barry, who used staccato brass, electric bass guitar,
short harp glissandos, muted horns against snare drums, da lontano cymbals,
punctuating crescendoes and much more to define the Bond image. Arnold
respectfully acknowledges Barry in the scoring and in interviews. Barry
reportedly even heard tapes of several cues and approved of the treatment.
The treatment is brilliant as it openly integrates motifs from the James
Bond and 007 themes as well as Goldfinger, Living Daylights,
and other Barry compositions. The cue "White Knight" best exemplifies
this. But this is clone music, not an original score, even though the cue
briefly turnstyles through some Arnold thematic matter. A few years ago,
we would simply call this a brilliant arrangement or adaptation by a magnificent
arranger. Now for some reason this is called a composition by a composer.
Using snippets from the "James Bond Theme" mandates a credit
to Monty Norman (would someone explain the history of this once and for
all?). Using a few measures of the original Star Trek theme fetches
a credit to Alexander Courage. Certainly, there is exquisite new Arnold
material in TND. "Sinking of the Devonshire" is Arnold
all over and its lyrical climax recalls the emotional majesty of Arnold's
Stargate. Arnold's "Backseat Driver" is wild and wonderful
Bond music, as Arnold adds racing cacophonic piano dischords to the traditional
material. And the beautiful "Paris and Bond" love cue moves the
listener passionately, again with Stargate-style motives and motifs carrying
Arnold's original theme into the unmistakable Barry style. In TND,
Barry's franchise has been masterfully cloned, arranged and even added
to--but for some reason the piece is treated as a new composition. In the
intellectual property business, the term "derivative work" has
a meaning. I would have just as much respect for Arnold's score if it was
labelled "Tomorrow Never Dies, music composed, adapted and
arranged by David Arnold" with a credit "based on original musical
material by John Barry." But Barry's name never appears on the CD
or in the end credits. Ironically, Gert Frobe and Sean Connery get a credit
for a barely audible mumble in Moby's version of the James Bond Theme.
But Barry's name is absent. Why?
I have another silly, little question. If the John Barry sound was so
sought after, why didn't the producers simply call upon Barry to score
the movie?
Arnold's TND is hardly the only clone music out there. Hans Zimmer,
one of the world's most creative film composers, has turned cloning into
a commercial artform with his factory of composers, adapters, and arrangers
who create music in the Zimmer style. He can't clone himself, so he has
done the next best thing, cloned his music. The Rock is the best
example of a Zimmer clone or adaptation; it combines Backdraft and
other Zimmer material. Interviews with the composer only add to the confusion
on whether he participated a little or a lot in the charting by Nick Glennie-Smith.
In Peacemaker, Zimmer's themes and treatments are actually mimiced
in a dynamic, pulsing cue entitled "Devoe's Revenge." Zimmer's
assistant Gavin Greenaway clones the Zimmer style. Artistic honesty makes
me feel good about the score, since Greenaway at least gets a clear credit
for his work.
Of course, lest anyone think cloning, adapting and arranging is a new
process in film scores, the process is well-established and goes back decades.
Elmer Bernstein's Magnificent Seven is known for Bernstein's famous
original bravado theme; yet in many places I nonetheless hear passages
virtually identical to Aaron Copeland's El Salon Mexico (itself based on
traditional Mexican thematic material). And Alfred Newman directly cloned
without credit Barber's Adagio for Strings as the main theme for The
Greatest Story Ever Told. I consider both works brilliant for what
they are. But today, as film music proliferates, this trend increases and
confuses the uninitiated. A little perspective is needed to give credit
where credit is due.
Nothing in the above concept should inhibit or diminish using preexisting
themes or styles in new works. A composer and arranger I immensely respect
once told me, "original music is the art of creative imitation."
Reinterpretation, restatement and recasting have been legitimate expressions
of original composition throughout the finest moments of music history.
Obvious examples come to mind such as Tschaikovsky's 1812 Overture which
used the Marseillaise. Prokofiev's First Symphony, "the Classical,"
was completely unlike anything the composer became known for, and instead
was a tribute to Mozartian classicism. Charles Ives, America's greatest
composer, who quietly preceded Stravinsky, consistently relied on "Turkey
in the Straw" and other Americana tunes. Copeland's "Fanfare
for the Common Man" catapults a simple English folk tune into one
of America's best loved concert pieces. But Tschaikovsky, Prokofiev, Ives,
Copeland, and countless other masters composed pieces based on prior material
that became uniquely theirs by virtue of their creative stamp or interpretation.
The same can be said of John Barry when he openly went to Rachmaninoff's
Rhapsody on a Theme by Paganini in Somewhere in Time, or Giorgio
Moroder's disco take from Mozart in American Gigolo. Neither man
is diminished because they updated a prior work; in fact, their talents
only shine more brightly because they uniquely merged their own creative
identity with the prior works, thereby qualifying as new composition. Nor
do we have anything but appreciation when film composers go to period,
ethnic or stylistic music, again with their own unique stamp. We expect
Jerry Goldsmith to compose in the Andes and South American genre in Under
Fire, and then resort to Asian styles in The Chairman. We are
happy John Williams twice briefly used a Hebraic theme in Raiders of
the Lost Ark when the Ark was referenced, and scored Tibetan instrumentation
for Seven Years in Tibet. Those are not clones or even adaptations.
Those are original compositions but in a style or a genre.
Clones, adaptations and arrangements are one thing. Composite music
is another. I apply this term when a composer basically takes a number
of his own or other works and binds them together as a new cohesive form.
The best example that springs to many minds is, of course, Horner's Titanic.
By now, it has been well established that people hear derivations of many
other works in Titanic. Enya's "Book of Days," Zimmer's
Radio Flyer, and Horner's own The Rocketeer and Braveheart
to name a few. These are pasted atop and beneath Horner's original love
theme reprised in Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On."
Like many, I am unable to understand why the most expensive movie ever
produced did not rate a score written from scratch that could stand with
the likes of other major original film compositions for blockbusters, such
as Williams' E.T., Bernard Hermann's North by Northwest,
Barry's Dances with Wolves, or Ernst Gold's Exodus. Okay,
let's forget totally original music and talk about composing within a genre.
It is frequently done. I completely understand why Williams deftly relied
on Paganini-style violin sketches for Schindler's List, why Zimmer
scored Russian choral and East European themes into Peacemaker,
and why Goldsmith textured Patton with martial music. But what's
Titanic's connection to highland themes and Enya's "new age"
hymnal? I can stretch the Rocketeer lift--maybe, sort of...Titanic
hero Jack Dawson was a small-town lad? Nah, that doesn't work. Frankly,
I don't see the thematic rationale for any of it.
Ironically, Horner's patchwork collage is a complete success. It masterfully
supports the movie, and penetrates as a freestanding CD. But that's just
it. It's a composite of several wonderful preexisting themes and styles
in a new whole. I admire it as entertaining and uplifting music. I would
just feel better about it--and we could all stop feeling guilty about enjoying
the music--if the score were credited as "arranged, adapted and composed
by James Horner." Then people would view the piece for what it is:
a masterpiece of musical talent and skill that showcases brilliant arranging
skills. Then we would all be sitting on the edge of our seats waiting for
Horner to produce an original composition, having proved he can adapt several
others.
Don't confuse a composer's legitimate right to compose in his own style,
or with his own identity, or even to reuse themes. John Barry magnificently
reused the Zulu theme in Cry the Beloved Country. Goldsmith
has splendidly reused or reincorporated a number of recurring themes or
motifs from film to film that make his music uniquely Goldsmith. Zimmer
has his own signature climax style pulsing down the chord as heard in numerous
flicks from Black Rain to Backdraft. And we expect Horner
to extend and reiterate Cocoon music in Cocoon II. What we
don't expect is a retread. And that's what Titanic is--a glorious,
moving retread. Was it lack of time, lack of ideas, or lack of comprehension
about the borders between clones, composites and composition? I have immense
respect for the skills and talents of Horner. Talk is cheap. Scoring is
tough. Try holing up in a hotel room on a Friday and come out Monday with
a score for 102 instruments. Just hanging the notes together so they sound
as awesome as they do, and evoke the emotions they do are reason enough
to hail Horner. And I expect he will walk away with one or two Oscars.
But in Titanic, hail him as an arranger, not an original composer,
except for his original song.
In fact, perhaps now is a good time for the Academy to introduce a new
category: "Best Adapted Score with Original Material." Then both
Tomorrow Never Dies and Titanic could legitimately compete
for top honors. And both would deserve the award.
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