Aquaman: (Rupert Gregson-Williams/Various) Insanely
beautiful stupidity awaited viewers of Warner's
Aquaman, the
sixth of the studio's DC Extended Universe entries and proud recipient
of over a billion dollars in box office grosses. The 2018 powerhouse
spectacle is the opening solo installment for the Aquaman character, and
director James Wan opted to explore the underwater world of Atlantis
with excessively extravagant visuals that left little concern for a
meaningful script. It's a ridiculously silly but mesmerizing diversion
from all plausible reality, revealing the backstory of Aquaman as a
superhero and the oceanic realm he's destined to rule. This after a
troubled childhood, family betrayal, royal politics, and a whole lot of
really bizarre Atlantean shit, not to mention villains with submerged
armies and numerous hysterically ludicrous obstacles, all provide the
conflict in the story. By the time Julie Andrews, who rejected a cameo
in
Mary Poppins Returns in favor of her appearance as a
condescending squid-like force here, graces the story's latter half, we
are all reminded to close our mouths. After all, we are not codfish, as
she has chided us before. The wild blockbuster madness was not lost on
the soundtrack for
Aquaman, for which DC veteran Rupert
Gregson-Williams, joined by the usual army of Remote Control
Productions-affiliated ghostwriters, and Wan decided to supply an
over-the-top score that only exacerbates the obviousness of everything
witnessed on screen. Gregson-Williams' music for
Wonder Woman was
no triumph despite its catchy guilty-pleasure sensibilities, and the
exact same equation applies to
Aquaman. This music is not meant
to stir the intellect; rather, it's intended to sound cool, a
distinction clearly made by the composer and director as they selected
the instrumental and stylistic personality of the score. Fortunately,
the end result is a potential improvement over
Wonder Woman is
some ways, but the situation with the album is reversed; whereas the
earlier score made for a rather attractive (albeit still brainless)
album experience, the
Aquaman album is quite frustrating in its
poor presentation of the arguably more engaging music.
In finding a distinctive character for the soundtrack for
Aquaman, Gregson-Williams ultimately chose to resurrect a few
retro styles and bloat their demeanor to new levels of noisy ruckus.
First, of course, is the obligatory nod to Hans Zimmer's 1990's Media
Ventures heritage, with power anthems galore, electric guitars a
blazing, choral awe at no deficit, and the tonality of a juvenile rock
song. Certainly, this score is evolved from those days, but the basic
equation remains the same, and the influence is obvious at a place like
1:02 into "He Commands the Sea." Secondly comes a tribute to Vangelis
1980's style in the significant vintage keyboard tones, often
manipulated to form this work's most distinguishing characteristic:
obnoxiously effective pitch-altering accents at the forefront of the
mix. The Vangelis love is embodied not just by the obvious
Blade
Runner aspect of the synthetics' tone but also in their rhythmic
contributions, as heard at the start of "Kingdom of Atlantis," and the
more traditional keyboarded elegance akin to
1492: Conquest of
Paradise at a moment like 2:06 into "Swimming Lessons." The
pitch-slurring effects sometimes raise these Vangelis origins blatantly,
as in the latter half of "Arthur," though later they stray occasionally
towards the sound of an electric guitar or violins making the same
sound. One would think that this technique of aligning ascending and
descending pitch effects to specific moments in the score is a
representation of marine life communication or simply fluid movement as
suggested by the ocean, but the composer seems to have chosen the
electronic elements more ambiguously to represent the otherworldliness
of the Atlantean kingdom and everything else fantastic witnessed down
there. Never mind that there doesn't seem to be electricity in the
place. The effect works better at some moments than others; it triumphs
when Gregson-Williams manages to start the tone on a note complimentary
to the counterpoint line of a theme and resolving either on a note
within the primary thematic line or on the base key, as he does in "He
Commands the Sea." When the pitch effect doesn't very clearly start and
end within a tonal chord, it becomes more irritating. Such problems also
occur when the melodic line slightly wavers in pitch on synthesizer, as
in "Kingdom of Atlantis," a related tool of uniqueness that simply makes
the listener feel as if three beers weren't enough.
Aside from the vintage Hans Zimmer thematic and choral
equations and the synthetic tones and keyboarding of Vangelis,
Gregson-Williams also infuses
Aquaman with a few other elements
of intrigue. Foremost in these efforts is the duduk, an Armenian oboe,
applied for no intellectual reason on behalf of the familial relations
in this story. Instead, it's employed because it is sufficiently
strange. Throw in some oceanic sound effects related to calling seagulls
and the echoing mix of repeated, wavy melodic structures along the way.
Of course, there are villains toiling in the story, so the composer had
to toss in some more recent Remote Control staples such as Zimmer's
"horn of doom" (though more synthetic here) and outward distortion at
the lowest registers to reinforce the notion that blasting away on key
in those low octaves tickles the testicles of viewers better than
anything more sophisticated. In the end, however, despite all the best
efforts by the symphonic ensemble and choir to stir up the rowdy
environment of comic book superhero lore, it's the electronic
accompaniment that really defines the work, a cue like "He Commands the
Sea" containing massively tonal orchestral expressions of victory and
multiple performance inflections from male and combined chorus but
ultimately defined by the synthetic sweeteners. The tone of
Aquaman is expressed almost constantly in the development of one
of the score's many themes, most of which entertaining in their blustery
but satisfying simplicity. The album presentation is arranged to
showcase these themes in succession, much like a typical Brian Tyler
album of the era, without regard for the actual narrative of the film.
Some of these suite-like tracks are cobbled together from multiple cues
heard later in the movie. The "Arthur" suite opens immediately at 0:18
with the main superhero theme for Arthur/Aquaman, building to a
momentous brass rendition that previews later trumpet-led versions that
expose the theme as an all-to-close-for-comfort relative of Alan
Silvestri's heroic identities for the competing Marvel universe. (Recall
that Danny Elfman made the same minor misstep in
Justice League.)
The remainder of "Arthur" explores several variants on this
Silvestri-like hero theme, and the idea explodes for the loftiest of
optimistic, valiant intentions at the opening of "Suited and Booted."
The main lines of the melody are often referenced in shorter bursts
elsewhere as faster action demands.
Following the main superhero theme of
Aquaman,
Rupert Gregson-Williams offers two other ideas for Atlantis in general,
both summarized in "Kingdom of Atlantis." The first theme, a series of
rising phrases suggesting ascension, is introduced at 0:41 into that cue
and receives a notable crescendo later in the first minute of "The
Legend of Atlan." The latter half of "Kingdom of Atlantis" presents the
score's merging of Arthur and Atlantis for a sort of royal proclamation
of triumph. Enjoying some of the score's most blatant pitch effects,
this melody is heard first at 1:49 into the cue and eventually dominates
the end of "What Could Be Greater Than a King?" (after once again being
paired with the proper Atlantis theme), the latter half of "He Commands
the Sea," and most of "Reunited." It's the true, ass-kicking identity of
the score that screams, "behold at my massive penis, uh... trident, and
notice how awesome my hair looks as I flex my latissimus dorsi muscles
through this suit! Fool!" Ironically, these themes are heard in the film
after the fourth theme presented on the album, one representing Arthur's
parents. Developed in "It Wasn't Meant to Be," this tender, largely
symphonic idea is where Gregson-Williams somehow thought that a duduk
would be the best representation for the coast of Maine. This idea
receives its due sensitivity and glory late in that cue and is reprised
to a lovely end by piano and cello in "Swimming Lessons" and in bloated,
melodramatic form in the midsection of "What Could Be Greater Than a
King?" The album then transitions to "Atlantean Soldiers," where
immediately heard is the evil fanfare version of the Atlantis theme that
becomes the calling card for Arthur's half-brother and douche
extraordinaire, Orm. His more brutal, low-register identity and that of
the Black Manta associate villain bleed together in the cue, heard at
1:47 and continuing to mingle in minor-third pounding-on-key stupidity
in "The Black Manta" and, in more fragmented form, in "Permission to
Come Aboard." The villainous, four-note descending phrases of blasting
bass return in the middle of "Suited and Booted." These stomping
expressions are highly annoying in each of their applications; are
audiences really so dumb that a composer has to pound away with this
simplistic distortion to drive home the point that a badguy is a badguy?
While the fight sequences in this score sufficiently alternate between
the appropriate melodies when needed, the dichotomy between them is
ridiculously over-defined, especially given the genetic connection
between Arthur and Orm.
Arguably the score's most alluring theme is one not
actually written by Gregson-Williams. The obligatory light rock song for
the credits of
Aquaman is "Everything I Need," written by Skylar
Grey and Elliott Taylor, performed by former, and it's about as
pleasantly inoffensive as a pop song can get in these circumstances.
(The album contains a more instrumental version using evocative piano
and symphonic depth with hints of the score's actual tone, courtesy of
Gregson-Williams' production involvement.) The melody of this song is
interpolated into the score as a theme for Arthur's love interest, Mera,
though don't expect to hear this material outside of "Between Land and
Sea" on the album. That cue, though, is a fleeting highlight of the
score, the full ensemble expression late in the cue a gorgeous and
unfortunately brief connection to the song. The album is rounded out by
a couple of really awful inclusions that somehow made it into the film.
The heinous "Ocean to Ocean" rap adaptation of Toto's "Africa" is
laughably out of place in this context. More intriguing but no less
unlistenable is Joseph Bishara's "Trench Engaged" cue; apparently, Wan
must have thought Gregson-Williams incapable of providing a dissonant
suspense cue for the trench sequence in the movie, so he returned to his
gore fetish days to hire Bishara, his frequent collaborator on those
films' hideous scores, to write an insufferably incongruous piece of
music for just that moment here. With the inclusion of these two
wretched tracks, the album is especially hindered. The non-chronological
presentation of the score is exacerbated by the omission of several
notable cues heard in the lengthy film. Gregson-Williams' (and team's)
contributions to the film only amount to 54 minutes on the product, a
disappointingly limited survey of a score that, for better or for worse,
is a fascinating listening experience in its brazen exposition of
fantasy. The CD version even suffered distribution problems upon its
release. That product intriguingly has "DISC MADE IN MEXICO" stamped on
its exterior, perhaps to appease the minions of Donald J. Trump. Aside
from the woes of the album, though, the score is a pure guilty pleasure
delight when removing the villains' posturing fight cues from the
presentation. Yes, the music is intellectually deficient when you
compare it to truly thoughtful film scores. But it wears this
personality on its sleeve with pride, resurrecting Vangelis traditions
with great love and easily achieving the unique blend of overall
character that was clearly the goal. Embrace
Aquaman with your
brain powered down and appreciate its momentous silliness as much as you
admire the excess of Willem Dafoe's man buns on screen.
@Amazon.com: CD or
Download
- Music as Written for the Film: ****
- Music as Heard on Album: ***
- Overall: ****
The insert includes a list of performers and extensive credits but no extra
information about the score or film. At least two variations of official cover art exist.
