, there has been a
special place in cinema for those films capable of causing audience
members to experience epileptic seizures and vomiting during viewings in
theatres. Joining this elite group is
, the fourth installment of the hideous "Twilight"
series of books and films, the latter divided into two parts for maximum
financial milking of concept enthusiasts in 2011 and 2012. While
loyalists maintain that Stephenie Meyer's series of teenage fantasy
novels offer good escapism, the cinematic adaptations of them have done
little to sway critics and those outside of the concept's core. That
latter constituency has made the franchise one of seemingly endless
profit,
launching itself past half a
billion dollars in worldwide earnings within a few weeks of release. The
insipid plot of this fourth film laboriously strolls through the
inevitable honeymoon and consummation of the relationship between the
female lead and her vampire squeeze, the results of which are a
troublesome pregnancy and a gruesome birthing sequence that not only
causes a hybrid baby girl to imprint upon the obnoxious werewolf dude
that fulfills the love triangle, but forces the underachieving young
mother to become a vampire herself to survive. Most of the redeeming
aspects of
are its controversies, starting
with the hacking of partially finished production materials from studio
servers by a woman in Argentina (who was sued by the studio after she
distributed them) and the dismay of pro-choice groups who see the plot
as a subversive anti-abortion message. Best of all are the major media
reports that the birthing sequence, complete with flashing strobe-like
lights and a fair amount of gore, caused healthy audience members to
suffer seizures and spontaneously vomit in the aisles. Aiding the
evacuation of their stomachs is Carter Burwell's score, which
appropriately twists through its own gut-wrenching moments of suspense
for these awful displays on screen. That said, though, Burwell's work
for
entry, a byproduct of the
marginal maturation of the concept in the interim. He earned these two
assignments in the franchise because of existing relationships with the
directors that have rotated in and out of the concept since 2008.
While it seemed logical on the surface for Burwell to
return to the franchise in the two
Breaking Dawn films to wrap
the series' musical narrative into a nice package, it was his prior work
of significant success with director Bill Condon that ensured this
outcome. The original 2008 movie's score was not met with much
appreciation from film music collectors; it was a grungy blending of
Burwell's trademark chords of challenging tonality and rock-inspired
muck meant to growl and brood into the hearts of franchise fans. And
that it did, ironically, earning respect from
Twilight followers
not as thrilled with Alexandre Desplat and Howard Shore's more
classically inclined sequel scores. For
Breaking Dawn - Part 1,
Burwell has managed to accomplish what many had hoped to hear from the
start: an effective combination of both sounds. The dark and
bass-dwelling moodiness of his original effort, complete with modern and
percussive sensibilities, is reprised, led by acoustic guitars and a
wealth of players meandering through the depths of the bass region
(including fewer than normal violins for an ensemble of this size). The
piano has always been the heart and soul of the franchise's scores,
utilized somewhat poorly in the first entry but quite well in the
sequels. Burwell here finally allows the instrument to truly capture the
romantic spirit of the concept. Likewise, the fully symphonic portions
of
Breaking Dawn - Part 1 also break through Burwell's often cold
structures to present several remarkably powerful and accessible
statements. The melodies in these passages may still be a bit more
obscure than those offered by the composer's peers, but the resonance is
finally there to convincingly carry a sense of gravity that concept fans
inexplicably apply to these films. The balance between heartwarming
romantic interludes and ballsy cues of huffing and puffing is
surprisingly well accomplished in
Breaking Dawn - Part 1,
resulting in a far better listening experience on album than the
original
Twilight had ever been. The softly tender sincerity of
piano, woodwinds, and strings in "Goodbyes," as lightly playful tone as
possible in "Hearing the Baby," and the appropriately Latin expression
of rock-like harmony in "A Nova Vida" (complete with solo female voice
and flute in alluring roles) are about as accessible as anything Burwell
has ever written for the screen, despite a continuation of his somewhat
awkward meters. The same can be said about the cues of momentous
stature, led by the bravado of "A Wolf Stands Up" and even some gothic
ensemble vocal accents in "The Venom."
Despite some new, recurring motifs for the main trio of
characters in
Breaking Dawn - Part 1, there is no single dominant
thematic identity in the score. Whereas this issue may become a problem
in most contexts, it doesn't seem to adversely affect this entry very
much, in part because of the composer's resurrection of his primary
theme from the first film. A significant amount of personal meaning went
into the application of "Bella's Lullaby" by Burwell in
Twilight,
and it's quite refreshing to hear it become a significant player in the
latter half of
Breaking Dawn - Part 1 as the destinies foretold
in the first film are finally fulfilled. This theme's performances,
usually by piano, culminate in the concluding cue, "Bella Reborn," which
states the idea with substantial ensemble support. It's still difficult
not to be reminded of the redemptive theme in
Conspiracy Theory
when hearing parts of this melody, and its staggered layering of piano
and optimistic symphonic backing at the end of the cue here definitely
reinforce that connection. Outside of these associations, the most
obvious development of consistent motifs and techniques in
Breaking
Dawn - Part 1 is the use of Japanese Taiko drums and their
affiliated banging of sticks to represent the werewolves in the
franchise. While the consistency of this instrumentation is almost
cartoonish at times throughout the score, Burwell's intelligent use of
those ideas in the final cues is worth noting for transcending
expectations. That instrumentation comes into direct conflict with the
two other parts of the triangle in "Jacob Imprints," in which the drums
come to a sudden stop during an important moment of realization, and
"You Kill Her You Kill Me" (you have to love run-on sentences in cue
titles for a film worthy of nothing more than run-on sentences), in
which the werewolves' musical identity clashes with the more
contemporary electric guitar-led musical persona of the vampire culture.
Overall,
Breaking Dawn - Part 1 is a score that will pleasantly
surprise most film music collectors who were not particularly impressed
with the sour personality of Burwell's work for the 2008 original. More
importantly, this music finally achieves the arguably superior blend of
contemporary and classical tones for its fantasy depictions, surpassing
Desplat's
The Twilight Saga: New Moon as the most appropriately
expressive entry in the franchise. Film music collectors have long
wondered when Burwell would finally develop his challenging and
trademark structural mannerisms into an effective romantic application
that is easy on the ears for longer than just short passages in his
work. This score is finally that deliverance, and it's unfortunate that
it had to reside in such an intellectually devoid, stomach-churning
movie.
**** @Amazon.com: CD or
Download
| Bias Check: |
For Carter Burwell reviews at Filmtracks, the average editorial rating is 2.84
(in 19 reviews)
and the average viewer rating is 2.8
(in 10,924 votes). The maximum rating is 5 stars.
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