: (Mark Mancina/Trevor Rabin) Directed by
first-timer Simon West, a veteran of British music videos,
served as evidence in the mid-1990's that the concept of the
"American blockbuster" was indeed truly dumbed down for the masses. It
was yet another film in a progression of Jerry Bruckheimer projects that
attempted to prove that Hollywood could make money on pyrotechnic
exhibitions without the need for any serious character development or
other redeeming intellectual quality. The problem with
is
that the film squandered its only assets; a typecast group of actors is
led by a positively bored Nicolas Cage into a series of explosions and
other special effects that were as poorly shot as they were improbable.
In fact, the film's greatest weakness is its extremely poor direction
and shooting. It goes through the motions without distinctive flair,
without decent wisecracks from the script, and without anybody really
believing for a moment that protagonist is actually in any danger.
Definitely part of the problem was a formulaic score by Media Ventures
junkies and former rock band members Mark Mancina and Trevor Rabin.
After
made such collaborations acceptable in 1996, Rabin
in particular would partner up with other Hans Zimmer pupils for several
pictures to come. His output has never strayed far towards the
intellectual end of the scale, though co-composer Mark Mancina has had a
more varied career. By
Any semblance of that intelligence went out the window
for
Con Air, a score that imitates the harshest moments of
The
Rock and extends them to the limits of frenetic distortion and
testosterone-heightened enthusiasm. In the wide range of Media Ventures
spin-off scores from 1996-2006,
Con Air remains the most violent
and unorganized. Obviously, you're going to know ahead of time whether
this genre of music suits your listening needs; pity the average John
Berry collector who accidentally purchases this score. Still, even
considered within the range of Rabin, Mancina, and other former Media
Ventures artists,
Con Air is a wretched piece of work. For even
some steroid-injecting collectors of this genre,
Con Air is trash
(though, come to think of it, the score would be oddly appropriate to
enjoy in the bathroom while you're injecting your buddy in the butt with
steroids and suffering subsequent 'roid rage episodes), and there's a
distinct reason for it. Even a film as ridiculous as
Con Air can
be enhanced by its musical score, no matter if it's performed by a
couple of rock band members on synths and guitars. But this score reacts
to movie rather than adding to it, providing music that is applied as a
sound effect. Flashes of the electric guitars react to flashes on the
screen, grinding bass rhythms react to action sequences, and cheap
synthetic string keyboarding reacts to elements of perceived importance
or danger. The score does have a couple of themes, mostly used to allow
the electric guitar to wail away in the score's latter half. A four-note
motif yields to a fully harmonic theme, heroic in a grim sort of way,
and typical in its overly simplistic construct. You can hear the guitar
in all of its glory in "Battle in the Boneyard" and "Fire Truck Chase,"
both of which are nearly intolerable cues.
The performances are mixed in such a manner to maximize
the gain level of each synthetic instrument, causing the score to hit
you in the face like a brick. There is no finesse to be heard in the
mixing of the limited synthetic ensemble, even in the score's lighter
moments. Token romance is inserted in "Trisha," "Poe Meets Larkin," and
in the latter half of the closing "Overture" (the placement of which
seems to defy logic, no?), by scaling back the guitar to almost acoustic
levels, but these sequences aren't half as genuinely sensitive as those
in
The Rock. The tendency of these scores to attempt to create an
"anthem" at their heart is not lost in
Con Air, but any interest
that usual Media Ventures collectors will be looking for will be met
with an intentionally abrasive mixing that sucks all the nobility out of
such performances. The overall impression that
Con Air leaves you
with is nebulous, with a faint headache caused by the opening cue only
contributed to by the score's reckless and endless progression of
electronic mayhem. Some guys seem to get off on this kind of trash, and
bless these people. But for the rest of the populous, the opening cue is
the best representative of
Con Air: its intentionally grinding
distortions immediately cause you to check to ensure that your stereo
system isn't suffering from a malfunction. Contributing to the
all-around stupidity of this film is the situation with its song;
nominated for an Oscar was "How Can I Live," a song that didn't appear
on the one and only soundtrack album available upon the release of
Con Air (the one here with only score). In the age of blatant
commercialism, this head-scratcher just adds more suspicion as to the
competence of those involved with the project. In the end,
Con
Air's score is astonishingly juvenile, and represents the ultimate
low point in its genre during the 1990's.
* @Amazon.com: CD or
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| Bias Check: |
For Mark Mancina reviews at Filmtracks, the average editorial rating is 3.27
(in 15 reviews)
and the average viewer rating is 3.12
(in 10,858 votes). The maximum rating is 5 stars.
For Trevor Rabin reviews at Filmtracks, the average editorial rating is 2.5
(in 12 reviews)
and the average viewer rating is 2.62
(in 13,618 votes). The maximum rating is 5 stars.
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