: (Wojciech Kilar) If the
cinematography, art direction, and costumes are good enough, then the
rest of the production, including the title character, can be damned.
That's what Francis Ford Coppola faced when putting his lavish spin on
the famed vampire from Transylvania in his 1992 epic,
. The immensely gothic production values largely overshadowed
a cast with a few veterans who could chew on the material with
appropriate melodramatic zeal and a handful of young heartthrobs looking
pretty in their turn of the century garb. (The movie's genesis, oddly,
was as a vehicle for young actress Winona Ryder.) It was a film to be
seen and heard rather than contemplated for its extension of the Dracula
myth, some of which, especially in the real estate investment aspect of
things, didn't make much sense, and the extravaganza was boosted by a
monumental advertisement campaign and a significant amount of hoopla in
the press. Despite its mesmerizing qualities, Coppola's film ironically
lacked a convincing soul, playing out like an overacted stage production
on the best cinematic steroids of the day. Another aspect of the
production experiencing no limits in the melodrama category was the
appropriately massive score by Polish composer Wojciech Kilar, whose
career had not yet made a significant splash in America. His score was
somewhat surprisingly absent from the nominations of any major awarding
group; the film's design elements received significant praise from both
the BAFTA and Academy Award voting bodies, winning three Oscars. Perhaps
it was a lack of name recognition that restricted Kilar's chances at the
time (though he never fared particularly well with international awards
until 2002's
is a particularly memorable aspect of the production. All of
the over-the-top values assigned to the other appeals of the film are
evident in this score, from the swells of morbidly romantic orchestral
melody to the pounding choral passages of urgent and mighty
terror.
While Kilar had written many film scores by that time, an
absolutely free reign afforded to him for this assignment by Coppola led
to some complications in the production of the score. While that liberty
allowed Kilar to write music distinctly informed by his own style, it
also meant that he showed up at the recording sessions having written
several concert-like pieces of music rather than anything specifically
timed to coincide with the film. This forced the production team to
record several hours of variants on these themes and leave the task of
matching the music to the film to Coppola and the editing team. It was a
technique not typical for the era that foreshadowed how the film scoring
industry was destined to operate in the coming decades. Stylistically,
though, Coppola was pleased with what he received. To be expected from
Kilar is, beyond the basic ingredients of a large, gothic score, a
lushly brooding sense of Eastern European sensibility, a distinctive
touch so remarkably appropriate for
Bram Stoker's Dracula that
this sound alone is likely a solid reason why Kilar was applauded for
making the most of out the high profile assignment. In the few major,
internationally distributed feature film scores of his career, this one
remains perhaps Kilar's most famous, even if it is not his best.
Ultimately, most of what you hear in
Bram Stoker's Dracula would
be explored by the composer with more sincerity in forthcoming projects.
The tone and style of Kilar's music is an interesting cross between his
later scores for
The Ninth Gate and
The Portrait of a Lady
(both impressive in their own ways), as well as a foreshadowing of the
epic, resoundingly deep ensemble rhythms that Howard Shore would employ
liberally in his music for
The Lord of the Rings. (All you would
need to do is emphasize the low woodwinds a bit more in a few of the
Kilar cues here and this material could have eerily matched parts of
Shore's classic works in orchestration and tone. The irony is, of
course, that Kilar was originally offered the
The Lord of the
Rings assignment but declined). There exist three major themes and
one minor one in
Bram Stoker's Dracula, all of which conveniently
reprised in the concert suite format Kilar compiled for the end
credits.
The primary identity in the score for
Bram Stoker's
Dracula represents Dracula and his vicious brides, introduced early
and with understandably great sorrow in "Dracula - The Beginning" and
stirring up more menacing trouble in "The Brides." This deep string
waltz is that which is most saturated with Eastern European mannerisms,
and while it is sufficient in tone, its lack of adequate frequency or
development later in the score (until it bookends "End Credits") weakens
it considerably. The only exception comes when Kilar uses the theme as
both an interlude and counterpoint within his love theme, heard first in
"Love Remembered" but really taking off in "Mina/Dracula" and "Love
Eternal." When performed by only woodwinds, this doomed melody has a
John Barry quality of overwrought romanticism, though its bass string
performances, as in the latter cue, give it a greater amount of gravity.
Of all the score's themes, this one receives the most variation in tone,
especially in the middle act of the film, and each incarnation is
welcomed. The propulsive theme for Anthony Hopkins' Van Helsing (and
associates) is impressive but perhaps this score's greatest misstep.
Expressed with unyielding bombast in "Vampire Hunters," "The Hunt
Builds," and "The Hunters Prelude," it's not hard to mistaken this theme
as the primary one for the film, especially given its prominent
placement in the final mix. A forceful percussive rhythm pounds
underneath a series of eight note phrases that aren't really heroic or
powerful enough to set the right tone for Van Helsing's activities. In
these cues, Kilar gains momentum in the deepest piano and brass ranges
in rolling rhythmic structures that might remind of Carl Orff, and in
"Dracula - The Beginning" and "The Storm," he builds snare-tapped
rhythms that employ fiendishly evil choral chanting and random vocalized
outbursts. The use of voices in a variety of ways, from subtle
whispering to glorious chants, is a precursor to the concluding moments
of
The Ninth Gate. The use of outright shouting and random vocal
effects in "The Ring of Fire," punctuating an attack on a horse by the
brides, is interesting but totally unlistenable. Occasional soprano
female vocals are lovely in a creepy sense and all too short, though the
use of solo voice to foreshadow the love theme in "Mina's Photo" is a
highlight.
A couple of rather unique portions of the score for
Bram Stoker's Dracula contribute to its lack of strong
continuity, led by a somewhat dreamy light percussion theme for Lucy, an
idea that nearly ruins the "End Credits" after its lengthy exploration
in "Lucy's Party." The other interesting abnormality in the score comes
at the end; in the closing seconds of "Love Eternal" and the entirety of
the short "Ascension," an ethereal quality dominates in high choral
tones and rare, pure tonality. When you put these cues together with the
three major themes, there is friction between the interactions and a
general disconnect in the flow of the score. The "End Credits"
arrangement perfectly encapsulates this point, each sequence within its
seven minutes having at least some merit but all together failing to
produce a coherent whole. Aside from some overlap of the Dracula and
love themes, Kilar does nothing to weave the score's melodic constructs
and accompanying instrumentation into a functional whole. As such, the
work is more appropriate as a lengthy concert piece inspired by the
concept rather than a film score that serves all of its scenes as well
as it should have. In reality, once the production realized that the
score was not tailored to each scene, a dedicated arranger would have
been recommended; the building blocks are magnificent, but the narrative
is largely lost in the music. The original 1992 soundtrack album offered
55 minutes of music that included a wretched, unrelated, and stunningly
misplaced Annie Lennox song at the end of the album. A limited 3-CD set
released by La-La Land Records in 2018 recreated the film arrangements
of Kilar's recordings without a significant remastering and threw in
countless alternate versions of many cues as well as the original album
edits. This presentation only exacerbates the repetitive nature of the
score and reveals that even the alternate takes in many cases aren't
significantly different from those that listeners are already most
familiar with. The exception may be the love theme, which easily remains
the highlight of the score; the additional variations on that lovely yet
troubled piece are appreciable in all forms. The "Mina/Jonathan" unused
album arrangement is perhaps the most interesting hidden revelation. On
both albums, a heavy emphasis on the bass region, reinforced by the mix,
also contributes to a restricted soundscape. There is much to impress in
Kilar's
Bram Stoker's Dracula, but it's a score that will leave
you wanting better cohesion every time you revisit it on album.
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