Robocop: Prime Directives: (Norman Orenstein) The
franchise that developed after Paul Verhoeven's introduction of
Robocop in 1987 was a depressing steady decline for the concept,
with successively worse films matched by a television animation variant
aimed at kids and ultimately a terrible series of four Canadian-produced
television films in 2000 and 2001. Made with a budget of only $8 million
dollars, the four parts of
Robocop: Prime Directives were
reportedly pushed through production only because its was legally
mandated by contract to happen. Unfortunately, what little nobility left
in the franchise after it was done catering to children in the 1990's
was completely throttled upon this awful resurrection, so cheap at times
that it looked like a student film. What's even more astonishing is that
this wretched continuation, which does loosely follow the prior events
of the feature films, ran for a total of 375 minutes. Not only does
Robocop, the famed cyborg-cop, serve the public trust, protect the
innocent, and uphold the law in Delta City, but he does so without any
of the gore, grit, or surrounding production values that at least
Verhoeven had in his favor. The four mini-films, entitled "Dark
Justice," "Meltdown" (which sounds like something we saw in the first
feature film), "Resurrection," and "Crash and Burn," are all scored by
Canadian freelance composer Norman Orenstein, whose career consisted
mostly of songwriting and performing for relatively unknown bands. With
the help of GNP Crescendo, the record label most friendly to the
trashiest depths of the science fiction genre of film music, portions of
all four television scores were made available on one album shortly
after the start of 2001. First of all, it should be declared that if
you're looking for anything remotely like Basil Poledouris' respected
music for the series, then don't bother with this. Orenstein uses none
of Poledouris' thematic material and, because he limits himself to
mostly an array of synthesizers, that broad tone of ballsy brass from
the feature films is gone. The lengthy scores are performed by just
Orenstein and a trumpet soloist, which may be standard practice for
ultra-low budget television projects, but is painful to hear in the
context of this franchise.
As to be expected, the music for
Robocop: Prime
Directives takes on a completely synthetic style and attitude,
dominated by keyboarded samples. Like dozens of other cheap television
scores performed by one individual, this one offers the same choppy,
bass-heavy, and imagination devoid tones of muck. There are portions
that sound familiar to other television action films and series, simply
because of the restrictions a one-man symphony is forced to deal with.
There are, however, a few unique aspects of
Robocop: Prime
Directives that should be detailed. First, a faint stylistic echo of
Poledouris' general tone is sometimes explored throughout the scores,
providing a very basic element of melodramatic nobility associated with
the character. Second, Orenstein inserts a trumpet solo in many of his
cues to signify the coming of his primary theme, which is not a problem
except for the seemingly bizarre choice to turn Robocop into a Spaghetti
Western and emulate Ennio Morricone in laughable fashion. The Latin
flavor, so blatantly reminiscent of drunken Mexicans in old features,
serves to hail the meeting of a matador and a bull, which is not only
out of place for the Delta City, but isn't even executed in a way that
could be metaphorically convincing. Instead, until you realize that it
was intended to be a serious motif, don't be surprised if you confuse
this score with one of comedic or parody intent. Another reason why
these scores by Orenstein fundamentally fail is because of their overly
melodramatic construct in every circumstance. In the enunciation of each
cue, the pace is emphasized to planet-crushing importance, making it
seem that a deity is about to appear on the landscape and bless Delta
City. Such a move might work in the series, but it becomes tiresome on
the album after the first ten minutes. The scores for the two middle
films often degenerate into pounding, rhythmic noise with electric
guitars accentuating the keyboard performances. Overall,
Robocop:
Prime Directives sounds like yet another laughably low-budget effort
from a rock band songwriter asked to compose for a supposedly serious
topic. Such mindless music increases your appreciation for Mark Snow,
who manages to thrive in these situations. The attempt to make this
concept into a Spaghetti Western is so dumb that the wailing trumpet
motif is miserable comedy.
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