likely would not have spawned a franchise had it not
been for lead actor Brandon Lee's accidental death on set during the
final days of shooting. Because of that sensation,
attracted enough mainstream interest to not only turn a decent profit
but also lead to two substandard sequels in the following six years. The
plot is simple: Lee plays a murdered aspiring rock star who returns from
the dead a year later to avenge the killing of himself and his female
companion. His supernatural powers were the imagination of a comic by
James O'Barr, and Alex Proyas' impressive direction gave the film enough
visceral glamour to compensate for the generic nature of the story. An
overwhelming appeal to the senses added style to the disgustingly
violent killings on screen, saturating
with a non-time
specific and bleak, slightly futuristic environment of dark hues in
which a charismatic hero can thrash and impale appropriately comic-like
villains. The film is not only engrossing to watch, but it accentuates
Proyas' sense of accelerated movement by placing a loud rock soundtrack
prominently into the mix. Because Lee's character is a slain rock band
member, he is given mournful on-screen performances on an electric
guitar in rooftop scenes and, of course, an aggressively harsh, metal
soundtrack complete with popular selections from the rougher edges of
the genre. These songs only occupy a minute or two in the final mix
each, but their impact is immeasurable. By comparison, Proyas never
planned for
to have much of a score. It had originally
been the intention of dominating the score by composer Graeme Revell
with a similar sound, perhaps even taking a guitar theme and bloating it
out to full, superhero configuration. Instead, however, in one of his
first memorable and major mainstream scores, Revell took a more
unconventional path, one that still required some convincing of Proyas
when it came time to address the romantic portion of the narrative with
a marginal orchestral presence. The composer also sought to apply his
passion for world music, and particularly Middle Eastern tones, into
this work to serve the fantasy element, ultimately manipulating those
sounds heavily as to avoid any ethnic stereotype.
Revell's mixture of exotic tones for the supernatural
atmosphere, metal and industrial elements for the violence and setting,
and orchestral harmony for the love story form an intriguingly effective
sound to represent the heart of
The Crow. The rock songs,
meanwhile, represented on their own compilation, speak to the straight
kick-ass action and revenge aspects. He ultimately did not completely
abandon the idea of using a prominent electric guitar in the score, and
the source-like usage for the on-screen performances, although short,
will steal the show for some listeners. The assignment was compelling
for Revell in part because the love theme took on additional meaning
given Lee's death, and his efforts yielded him several jobs writing
music for comic adaptations to films in the subsequent ten years.
Because of the score's frequent usage in trailers, Revell once
commented, "In retrospect, I think
The Crow was pretty seminal,"
and he would extend its basic atmosphere to
The Crow: City of
Angels. The audience of the score for the first film is likely to
pull much harder at the heart strings of devotees of the concept rather
than the usual film score collectors. While the score's love theme
performances are easy on the ears and intriguing in texture, the middle
portions of the work, those that emphasize the heavy industrial
elements, will likely eliminate much of the interest from strictly
orchestral score enthusiasts. But that doesn't mean that
The Crow
will be frightfully insufferable during its entirety for that crowd,
either. Roughly half an hour of the love theme and hypnotic ethnic
performances occupy the opening and closing cues of the film and
original score album; these passages are engaging despite maintaining a
chill for much of their length. Simmering rhythms propelled by unusual
percussion, droning keyboarding, and chanting voices are accompanied by
shakuhachi flute, Armenian duduk, and muted trumpet fragments of melody
for many of the more significant moments of reflection in
The
Crow. Some might consider the trumpet to have a noir-like jazzy
influence. The swells of orchestral accompaniment for the primary
character's mourning scenes, guided mostly by piano and a 50-member
string section, are satisfyingly redemptive at the end of "Birth of the
Legend," "Rain Forever," and "Return to the Grave." In other highlights,
the instrumental soloists give this theme two minutes of sorrow in
"Remembrance" and female vocal accents provide eerily contemporary tones
in "Last Rites."
Outside of the relatively romantic, readily accessible
portions of the score for
The Crow, the remainder of Revell's
work consists of either pounding or grating industrial tones of no
particular direction or source-oriented pieces. The latter will be of
the most interest to fans of the film. The openings of both "Captive
Child" and "Inferno" contain the love theme performed with distorted and
obviously painful emotion by solo guitar. (Lee was not actually
performing these scenes himself in the film, as he had died by that
point in the production). Additionally, the start of "Tracking the Prey"
contains a source segment of the rather mundane rock song, itself
derived from the love theme, performed by Lee's fictional band,
"Hangman's Joke," in the film. Together, all of these parts of the score
for
The Crow offer a souvenir from the film as effective as the
song compilation, though be prepared for largely textural and
atmospheric music in its majority. Because of the sonic colors employed
by Revell for
The Crow, however, the work remains an interesting
listening experience that could be edited into suites to separate the
reflective and violent passages. This recommendation especially applies
to Varèse Sarabande's 2021 expanded and limited 2-CD set for the
score. While the label's 49-minute product of 1994 was sufficient for
casual appreciation, the 2021 version offers 96 minutes of score and the
end credits rock song co-written by Revell and containing some of the
DNA of the score. On the surface, a hundred minutes of music from
The
Crow is a drab, challenging journey, and much of the additional
material extends the grating industrial suspense and killing material.
But there are half a dozen fairly significant cues of percussively
impassioned action and the love theme that debut on this product and
should be included on any suite of highlights, including the smart
interplay between vocal and instrumental colors of "Despair," the
extended romance of "Inertia," "Pain and the Shadows" and "A Cold
October Night," the nicely lyrical but atmospheric "Innocent Lovers,"
and the substantial percussion and vocal finale of length, "Angel From
Hell." These cues are required listening for enthusiasts of the score,
and the remastering of Revell's wet vocals and exotic instruments is
appropriately mystical. Even in the longer presentation, the most
problematic aspect of the score is that its subdued nature doesn't allow
for it to do what most superhero scores accomplish: tell a story on its
own. Still,
The Crow was never meant to be such an endeavor, and
despite its dispiriting persona, you have to give Revell credit for
absolutely nailing this assignment.
**** @Amazon.com: CD or
Download
| Bias Check: |
For Graeme Revell reviews at Filmtracks, the average editorial rating is 2.74
(in 19 reviews)
and the average viewer rating is 2.78
(in 17,118 votes). The maximum rating is 5 stars.
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