: (Hans Zimmer/Various) Though mostly
faithful in its historical accuracy, Christopher Nolan's acclaimed 2017
war film
took some artistic liberty with the famed
evacuation of Allied forces from France during World War II. The
director sought to avoid to two aspects of the genre covered endlessly
by other films: politics and character stories. With limited dialogue in
his script, Nolan's goal was to immerse the audience in the sights and
sounds of the harrowing evacuation, taking a mechanical approach to a
dramatically emotional event. There is indeed emotional depth in
, but it is largely applied through the blunt force of the
film's overall tone of brutality. A handful of characters is followed
throughout the story, but their depictions are two-dimensional and
dwarfed by the various wholesale aspects of war shown in intervals at
land, air, and sea. The movie's stark depiction was largely heralded as
a success, earning significant grosses for a grim war topic and
predictably eliciting numerous awards nominations. Among the highly
praised production elements of
is its score by Hans
Zimmer and his expansive crew. For long sequences, the film utilizes the
score in conjunction with only sound effects, blending the two together
as needed to supply a morbid sense of foreboding to the proceedings.
Nolan specifically requested music of a propulsive but ambient nature to
accentuate the feeling of panic felt by all involved in the evacuation.
He then dials in and out the interchangeable pieces of the score where
needed in the film, with no significant synchronization points attempted
and the music alternating between blaringly obvious and barely heard. At
several points in the film, the score creeps into the background of the
mix in such a way that you cannot tell if it is music or the droning of
an approaching German plane. At other times, the forceful music is so
loud that you cannot hear what the characters are saying or even the
sound effects immediately around them. In both cases, however, that
music exists to unsettle. Even in its heavy reliance on "Nimrod" from
Sir Edward Elgar's "Enigma Variations" for the redemptive element in
latter cues, Zimmer and his team thrash the demeanor of that piece to
give it a distinctly battered personality.
Not surprisingly, the music for
Dunkirk by Zimmer's
conglomerate is polarizing to the extreme. It received immense
mainstream praise and awards consideration, further evidence that
composers of this era are awarded for trying to differ from convention
rather than be proficient at the fundamental purpose of film music. Some
detractors will argue that
Dunkirk isn't actually music at all,
similar to criticism leveled at Jóhann Jóhannsson's
equally lauded
Arrival the previous year. That's not true, as
there is definite musical structure throughout
Dunkirk. Zimmer
adheres to his now obnoxious, predictable methodology of writing long
cues containing one, drawn-out crescendo that adds layers of activity to
an underlying rhythmic device. Aside from the Elgar interpolations,
there are a few actual recurring motifs of significance in the score,
the two most obvious heard easily on top of each other in "The Oil." The
first of these is a slurred, octave-alternating alarm of sorts for
synthetics, heard most obviously in "Supermarine" and utilizing a
different interval in "The Mole." Under that highly grating motif in
"The Oil" comes a vaguely brass-like crawl that rises slowly through an
octave on agonizing, deliberate notes, an idea more clearly enunciated
in the first half of "Regimental Brothers." While there are cues like
"We Need Our Army Back" that contain ambient sound design by default,
most of the score is driven by some throbbing rhythmic device. In the
aerial sequences ("Supermarine"), for instance, you hear the much-hyped
pocket watch sounds of Nolan manipulated by Zimmer's crew as a pace
keeper. Though dissonant in almost all corners not involving Elgar, the
score is indeed certifiable music. It's just not effective music at
accomplishing its task unless you accept the idea that sluggish,
brooding musical figures of extremely oppressive personality can
function to accentuate a full range of emotion on screen. Unfortunately,
Zimmer fails at this task, as the only way Nolan can crank up and down
the emotional grip of a scene is by adjusting the volume on the score.
It's no surprise that some of the most powerful scenes in
Dunkirk, such as the escape by the film's lead character in the
opening moments, are absent Zimmer's otherwise intrusively unwelcome
music. In fact, it wouldn't be difficult to postulate that the movie
would have been better off with no score at all.
An effective film score in a case like
Dunkirk
is one that can manipulate audience emotions without making itself
overtly noticeable to the movie-goer. If you only have three simple
sides to your score (atmospheric droning, rhythmic droning, and Elgar
droning), then the only way to address the difference between unease,
worry, fright, panic, and outright terror is by adjusting the volume of
the music, and that's a terribly constricting way to operate. Even if
Zimmer was instructed, by necessity of Nolan's diminishment of
characters, not to address specific emotional connections in the plot,
there has to be a greater distinction between fear and relief. For a
scene in which German bombers attack the lines of soldiers on the beach,
the conclusion of that moment of horror is only the absence of the
score, and that technique shouldn't be necessary. There are still strong
emotions in the aftermath of that attack, even if the soldiers remain
stunned by the experience. A maestro composer knows how to apply
appropriate music for both halves of that scene, even if only adjusting
a few orchestrations and chord intervals from here to there. The
Dunkirk score's recording is interchangeable throughout, of
course, allowing Nolan the means to throw generic notions of musical
fear at any volume he wants when needed. Some will argue as to the
effectiveness of this technique, but even if you accept such cases of
directorial convenience, one must interject that the material recorded
by Zimmer's crew isn't appropriate for the era of this particular action
anyway. There seems to be a determination by the composer that any
situation requiring dread or despair requires synthetic accentuation.
And, yes,
Dunkirk is an extremely "processed" score. It's also a
cheap and novice approach to a WWII movie that could have been serviced
better by the exact same constructs if they had been conveyed by musical
instruments and performance capabilities that actually existed at the
time. One can only imagine what the Elliot Goldenthal writing techniques
of the 1990's could have provided for this context using organic means.
Awards bodies and dedicated Zimmer apologists can make endless circular
arguments about how creative the composer can be with his sampled sound
effects run through loops, but such choices are not really that
innovative. Finding a way to score the "Supermarine" aerial sequences
with only minimally manipulated woodwinds would have been innovative.
And it would have been possible, too, even with the same sense of fear
and gravity.
There are times when the score for
Dunkirk
traverses into the realm of black comedy, begging for ridicule as Zimmer
and his associates attempt to surpass prior creativity. The concept of
the long Zimmer crescendo has become as humorous as his thunderously
booming base notes on brass made famous in
Inception, and there
is no better a place to generate some chuckles as in the cue "The Oil"
in
Dunkirk. Over six minutes, Zimmer propels all his thumping
rhythms on key, slurring octave effects, rising note progressions, solo
piano strikes in the base, and dissonant string effects on the top
towards one massively orgasmic expression of silliness at the end of the
cue. At the 5:00 mark in that cue, a vaguely
Inception-like
broadside from the bass region shifts the tempo in its most awkwardly
hilarious gear of "fear zeal," Zimmer's seemingly only answer to the
need for providing greater emotion: faster, louder versions of the same
pointless crap. And then there's poor Elgar, whose music here is given
Blade Runner treatment by Remote Control regular Benjamin
Wallfisch for reasons unknown. The tempo of "Nimrod" is slowed
dramatically, conveyed with a tone that barely sounds organic, and it is
joined by bass pulses in "Variation 15" and "End Titles" that perk up
weary ears in expectation of imminent Enya vocals. Who exactly looked at
the technology depicted in this film and made the determination that a
combination of electronica Elgar and a significantly digitally
manipulated-sounding score elsewhere was appropriate? The Elgar
applications are shameful, and it's unfortunate to contemplate that
these misguided attempts at emotional payoff in the resolution of the
score are what earned this score its award nominations. So whose fault
is all of this? Many will point to Nolan, who continues to display no
competence whatsoever in how to apply music to his films. But Zimmer
also shoulders blame for hyping his techniques so that the mainstream
believes this type of music is revolutionary when it's actually
mindless, simplistic, and inept. There's also the usual business with
ghostwriters in the score for
Dunkirk; six, at least, and maybe
seven or more, of the Remote Control crew had a hand in generating music
for this project. The end result is insultingly juvenile and ruins
several scenes in an otherwise fine film. There was no place for a cue
like "Elegy for Dunkirk" from Dario Marianelli's
Atonement in
this context, but some realization of genuine emotional range in between
those techniques must have been possible. On screen, the Zimmer horde's
music is best when it's absent, and on album, it's best when it has
concluded.
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