Amélie: (Yann Tiersen) For a stretch of time in the
late 1990's and early 2000's, the burgeoning arthouse scene gave birth
to international distributions of hot foreign films that became the
"flavor of the year" for American cinema goers. In late 2001, against
formidable competition from major fantasy franchises, director
Jean-Pierre Jeunet's
Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amelie Poulain achieved
hyper-popularity in its native France, its name condensed to
Amélie for its awards-garnering international run. For many
outside of France, the film was audiences' introduction to actress
Audrey Tantou, who plays a waitress with a mundane lifestyle in Paris
until she stumbles upon a box of small, hidden treasures in her
apartment that leads her on a voyage of discovery. Through her resulting
selfless acts of kindness to others, she eventually meets a man who
could possibly be her soulmate. The romance of
Amélie is true to
the Parisan setting, and few films can match this one's aptitude for
capturing the essence of the ultimate feel-good story. The same
description could likely apply to Yann Tiersen's score for
Amélie, itself achieving significant and lasting popularity in
response to the film. Tiersen was not primarily a composer of music for
soundtracks at the time; rather, he was best known in Europe as a
musician and recording artist with a striking ability to play a plethora
of instruments himself. The director by chance heard a sampling of
Tiersen's music in a production assistant's car and it shouldn't be
surprising that a fair amount of the artist's existing material ended up
tracked into the finished cut of
Amélie. Since up to 60% of the
music for the film came from his various albums from 1995 to 2001 ("La
Valse des Monstres," "Rue des Cascades," "Le Phare," and "L'Absente"),
the score was likely considered ineligible for an Oscar nomination, and
this reliance upon previously available material is something of a
disappointment. Fortunately, all of Tiersen's music acquired for this
film falls into familiar instrumental patterns, so those unfamiliar with
his works will likely not know the difference. What they will learn
immediately is that
Amélie is the kind of score that will
strongly divide listeners based upon ethnic comfort zones and, of
course, an affinity for the film. Thus, while the score has a very
devoted following (and has been compared, though not very accurately, to
the music of Geroges Delerue), it could conceivably drive some listeners
absolutely nuts.
Although it may be an over-simplification to condense
the merits of
Amélie down to one statement, it could be argued
that your appreciation of the score depends solely on your tolerance of
accordions. If you hear the "Pennsylvania Polka" from
Groundhog
Day in your nightmares, then by all means steer clear of
Amélie. The accordion is joined by vibraphone, piano,
glockenspiel, mandolin, banjo, and acoustic guitar in conveying the
numerous spirited, small-ensemble scherzos or solemn solos that rotate
mostly between accordion and piano. A string orchestra is utilized at
times, but never with enough harmonic depth to make it worthy of
discussion. The textures of these instruments are utilized to their
fullest, with almost explosive rhythmic exuberance often supercharging
the atmosphere with whimsical, dancing spirit. The score's more
contemplative moments don't completely shake that bouncing spirit, the
lovely piano solos of "Le Moulin" still maintaining a generally positive
environment. The consistency of the score, led by its original title
theme in the "La Valse D'Amelie" tracks (first for accordion and then
for orchestra and eventually piano solo later on album), is only truly
shaken by changes in tempo for the accordion and ensemble. For listeners
enamored by the innocent beauty, both physically and in intent, of the
film's lead character, the waltzes in this music will satisfactorily tip
toe delicately through her small adventures, always soliciting a smile
with their sense of humor. A handful of lightly mechanical sound effects
at the start or end of a few cues will help that cause. Additionally, a
few creaky old gramophone-like recordings of songs from yesteryear
litter the album and reinforce the product's effectiveness as a
souvenir. On the other hand, if you could not grasp the appeal of the
film (or if you're not prepared for it), the score for
Amélie
could be a nearly insufferable representation of all the stereotypical
sounds of Parisian culture that annoy you the most, packaged in such
condensed fashion that you may not even be able to complete the
listening experience. It's hard not to gravitate towards the latter line
of thinking, because Tiersen's career sound is so distinctly foreign to
those unaccustomed to hearing accordions in waltzes with any regularity.
For listeners who love every last second of that sound, however, Virgin
Records accompanied their initial commercial album for
Amélie in
Europe with a limited edition that features four additional cues at the
end (amounting to about eight minutes of material). Either way, it's
hard to be neutral about music with such overflowing style.
*** @Amazon.com: CD or
Download
The inserts of the retail albums include no extra information about the
score or film. The limited product exists in a cardboard sleeve with significant
advertisements regarding the bonus material on the exterior.
