: (Thomas Newman) In reality, the loss of 1,600
British men in an all-fated attack on German lines in World War I would
have yielded indifference from the British commanders. But that doesn't
make for compelling storytelling, so writer and director Sam Mendes
concocted a scenario in April 1917 in which the Germans retreated to
fortified lines as a means of luring those 1,600 British soldiers into a
trap, all the while a pair of British men attempt to relay a stop order
to those advancing units by traversing some of the most dangerous
territory in the war. One of the two soldiers braving this desperate
journey will likely lose his brother amongst those 1,600 if the attack
is not cancelled, enhancing the drama. The bittersweet tale is less a
commentary on war as it is, as per usual for highly acclaimed war films,
an examination of the human spirit. In the case of
, however,
Mendes took the concept a step further by presenting the movie as though
it was filmed in one continuous shot. In no small part due to this
compelling and spectacular method of conveyance,
received
widespread critical acclaim, significant box office response, and a
variety of mainstream awards. The film represented the seventh
collaboration between Mendes and composer Thomas Newman, whose music in
their films together has often garnered respect and awards nominations.
The veteran composer openly stated that
was likely the most
challenging of these projects to date, in part because the one-shot
aspect of the film did not allow for traditional cue breaks. As a
result, the spotting of the score in the film was left to ebb and flow
depending on the emotional needs of a particular shot, and while Mendes
originally sought to include only about an hour of music, Newman's
contribution eventually swelled to 95 minutes. The director instructed
him to avoid constant gloominess and the cliches of war films, instead
opting to use music to span a range of extreme emotions from moment to
moment. Undoubtedly, Hans Zimmer lurks over this score with an immense
shadow, his approach to
proving unshakable. The former score bleeds through in both the
methodology of Newman's writing and in literal temp-track emulation. The
latter informs the gruesome sound design that is commonly accepted as a
tool of suspense in the war genre of this era.
Newman toiled endlessly with ideas for
1917,
Mendes rejecting a substantial number of initial takes by Newman on the
score during early trial sessions jamming with a few of his trusty
instrumentalists. The composer eventually asked Mendes if he could
simply write generic rhythm-setting music for the director to use as he
shot the film, an approach that was denied. But a fair portion of the
final score functions much like one would for a Terrence Malick film,
with extended cues of underscore easily interchangeable even though
Newman didn't suffer the usual Malick rearrangement treatment in this
case. The overarching impression that the score for
1917 gives
the listener is a feeling of creative indecision, a director desiring
extremes in his soundscape and a composer struggling to assemble a
workable, cohesive score via these individual moments of uniqueness.
Newman is certainly capable of providing both melodramatic orchestral
heft and bizarre, other-worldly soundscapes. And his foray into the
James Bond franchise with Mendes allowed him to build some muscle, as
Newman says, in his action repertoire. But in the process of providing
bits and pieces of all these styles in one score, including Newman's
trademark breathy woodwinds, dulcimer, and exotic percussion, the whole
is lost. There is no connecting tissue in this music that pulls the lead
characters through from start to finish; the awkwardly shifting tones
betray them by suggesting that they have no identity outside of the
extraordinary events they encounter, and this approach seems cheap.
There is a main theme of the film, but it shamelessly follows John
Williams' lead in
Saving Private Ryan by exploring its lovely
dramatism only in one major cue at the end. While this theme is
foreshadowed early in the score ("1917"), it provides solace through
solo cello and eventually full ensemble depth with stoic French horn
accompaniment in "Come Back to Us." It's a gorgeous moment of Newman
lyricism, but it has no connection with anything else in the score aside
from, perhaps, some fleeting piano representation of the same idea in "A
Scrap of Ribbon." The remainder of the score offers extremely stark
electronic sound design, not so obnoxious as
Dunkirk but
definitely in that general mould, and Newman isn't afraid to use
synthetic mutilations of specialty instruments, some of which vaguely
vocal-sounding, to produce an uncomfortable ambience. This mass of
material occupies most of the score and, while sufficient in the film,
is an extreme challenge to appreciate on album.
Listeners will encounter little memorable in Newman's
electronic ambience for
1917, the rhythms too elusive to carry
even marginal interest. Despite Mendes' instruction, these sections are
indeed gloomy, and they carry on for seemingly interminable lengths.
Fortunately, the director did encourage Newman to allow for a few
moments of immense emotional release in the score, and these cues are
clearly the highlights. During the fire sequence in "The Night Window,"
the composer offers one of his most explosive expressions of fully
symphonic glory, a singular cue of undulating rhythms for cellos,
rumbling timpani, and broad strokes of brass that remind of Newman's
phenomenal climax in
The Shawshank Redemption. (The underlying
motif in that cue is previewed in "Gehenna.") The score's other major
relief valve is "Sixteen Hundred Men," and this cue is far less Newman
than it is Zimmer. It's really disappointing to hear a composer of
Newman's stature rip off a temp track emulation to the degree that we
hear here. The popularity of the "Journey to the Line" theme from
The
Thin Red Line is reaffirmed with this remarkably similar rendition,
though Newman does add percussion and brass to the long crescendo
(recorded in one take) in an extroverted manner that Zimmer did not.
Again, the rhythmic motif in this cue is singular, poignantly
accompanying the dizzying, final dash in the story's journey but not
building upon anything explored prior. The straight action material in
1917 is surprisingly infrequent, suspense like the hideous
electronic noise of "Tripwire" occupying some of this space. Conversely,
the action cues stray heavily into John Powell territory, the string and
synthetic rhythms, worldly percussion, and brass on key reminding
heavily of
Green Zone. A better version of this technique is
developed late in "Englander," in which Newman creates a more unique and
notable brass motif. (Listen for a subtle reference to the brass lines
of this moment at 2:20 into "Mentions in Dispatches.") In the end,
Newman's work for
1917 is as psychologically exhausting as the
film itself and cannot be sustained alone for its whole length. The
variance in the score is just too extreme, no consistent demeanor
developed for the whole and the moments of catharsis forced cheaply into
an otherwise bleak soundscape. That said, the highlights of this score
are among the best of Newman's career, especially "The Night Window,"
and no collector of his work should be without these moments of
impressive, symphonic triumph. There is 20 minutes of absolutely superb
music, temp-track emulation included, on a 77-minute album, so be
prepared to cull four or five cues from the otherwise gloomy, unpleasant
whole.
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Bias Check: |
For Thomas Newman reviews at Filmtracks, the average editorial rating is 3.15
(in 33 reviews) and the average viewer rating is 3.13
(in 55,990 votes). The maximum rating is 5 stars.
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