Greyhound: (Blake Neely) Perhaps nobody was more
frustrated by the impact of the 2020 global pandemic on the schedule of
a cinematic release than actor Tom Hanks, who wrote the screenplay for
the year's
Greyhound and starred in the lead role. The Sony
production was released instead by Apple digitally, and while the film
received somewhat positive critical marks, it fizzled amongst the
competition. The story of
Greyhound follows the commander of an
American destroyer tasked with leading the defense of a World War II
convoy across the Atlantic despite German U-boat resistance. The
harrowing journey during the portion of the crossing without air cover
is highlighted by several extremely brutal battles between the Allied
and Nazi vessels, with losses significant on both sides. Hanks'
performance as the commander is steady but not spectacular, and the
special effects of the naval warfare varies greatly from impressive to
obnoxiously fake. Enthusiasts of naval films will love the shots of the
destroyers turning and passing each other at flank speed over high seas,
even if the ships aren't actually real. It's a film that strives for the
realism of an immersive wartime experience, with inspiration from
Saving Private Ryan and
Dunkirk mixed with classic
submarine and destroyer chase films like
The Enemy Below. The
film is a tight 90 minutes in length, and while much of it would have
been better served by silence and the strength of sound effects and the
ocean, the production opted for a significant amount of original music
to be used. As a producer, Hanks had worked with composer Blake Neely on
multiple occasions, and being a veteran of Hans Zimmer's Remote Control
clone factory, including ghostwriting on some of his scores in the
2000's, Neely was well capable of writing music in the style of
Dunkirk for
Greyhound. The assignment represented a
fantastic opportunity for Neely to jump from the small to big screen, so
he was a casualty of the pandemic's havoc on cinema as well. Listeners
might recall that Neely provided music for Hanks' "The Pacific"
television series in 2010, though
Greyhound sounds nothing like
that. It's clear that the composer approached this film as a horror
thriller with a tinge of Americana where appropriate, because the
general tone of the score is both vicious and nasty at great
lengths.
Most importantly, Neely made the decision to emulate
Dunkirk's disregard for the period of the film and apply liberal
doses of brazen sound design along with an orchestral ensemble for
Greyhound. Extremely harsh rhythmic tearing, scratching, and
screeching accompanies dissonant design in between brief symphonic
respites from the carnage. Undoubtedly,
Greyhound is a score that
lost its battle in the early spotting and conceptual stages, the final
product ridiculously distracting in the film and cheapening the product
in the same way as the inconsistent visual effects. Rarely does action
and thriller music become so wincing in context, this movie's battle
sequences suffering badly from inappropriately grinding, contemporary
horror music that sought creativity in its metallic inclinations but
instead loses the humanity involved. The mix of the score so heavily
weighs the synthetic and percussive tracks that there really is no
purpose to the orchestra for much of the running time. This loss of
organic touch detracts from the fear conveyed by sailors on screen,
Neely forgetting to view the subject through their lenses. The
manipulated electronics and looped effects here are appropriate for a
futuristic science fiction thriller, perhaps, but when aggravated by
forceful percussive banging in this context, one can't help but wonder
what Neely was thinking. He sought to represent the U-boat wolfpack with
a synthetically generated wolf cry that sounds like a wailing electric
guitar attempting to generate a chilly howl; the same idea was used less
obtrusively in
Catwoman (a score to which he contributed) to
represent felines. Neely combines it with pitch-defying wailing
background tones in suspense applications to offer a musical calling
card for the U-boats in the film. Sadly, the usage is so flamboyant and
frequent that it becomes something of a running joke in the movie.
Certainly, none of the warcraft involved could naturally make that noise
itself, so the musical motif is simply an over-the-top embellishment.
The composer explores a possible traditional, descending theme on brass
for the wolfpack at 0:36 into "Here They Come," but he abandons the idea
until the climax in "Bring Hell Down From on High." The lack of motif
coordination occurs several times, stomping brass motifs like the one in
the middle of "Bring Hell Down From on High" not really connected to
anything else in the score. By the end of that cue, however, Neely does
at least allow the orchestra some breathing space over the electronics
even if the droning and thumping baseline persists.
The flip-side of the score is the dramatic portion that
Neely reveals fully in "But at What Cost?," and it is here where he
really excels. The main theme of the film is teased in the title of
"First Crossing," the commander's rejection during "I'll Always Be
Looking For You," and his fear later in "It's Not Enough." In "But at
What Cost?," however, as the surviving convoy ships are handed over to
the British, Neely supplies genuinely moving, string-dominated
reverence, highlighted by the cheering of the commander's vessel as it
passes the convoy on its departure. There was room for similar
renditions of this theme in full during "First Crossing" at the outset,
but Neely unfortunately went the route of dissonant suspense despite the
hope and temporary aerial protection that the convoy enjoyed at the
moment. The percussive rendition of this theme later in "But at What
Cost?" remains palatable and is quite a lovely, tonal piece. A separate
theme, for some reason, is provided in the funeral scene earlier in the
picture, "Lost Souls," an oboe carrying a unique melody for the slain
men aboard the lead destroyer. This cue quickly turns grim as the
attacks on the convey continue. The mass of the score for
Greyhound, when not obliging the Americana elements for brief
stints or engaged in outright sonic battle, is occupied by unpleasant
suspense ambience dominated by droning electronic textures and
fragmented orchestral phrasing. The duo of "Huff Duff" and "From
Beneath," for instance, subjects you in 16 minutes of pointless muck
(complete with mutated whale calls) meant to reinforce, in quite an
unsophisticated manner, that the men on these ships are scared. A cue
like "Nightfall Dangers" is almost comical in its Remote Control
playbook plundering. As mentioned before, the tension would have been
better served with silence. After all, the stealthy silence of
submarines was their terrifying trait. The same could be said of the
battle sequence, which would have prevailed just as well without any
music at all so that realistic sound effects could supply all the
exhilaration necessary. The wailing howl for the U-boats may be
considered cool by some listeners, as it is certainly unique as a motif,
but it becomes this score's main identity as a result and is at times
humorously cartoonish. Overall, the digital-only album for
Greyhound is horribly long and will test your patience
repeatedly. The work isn't as dreadfully inappropriate as
Dunkirk
in its totally, but much of it suffers from the same inappropriateness.
Seek this score for the redemptive "But at What Cost?" closure, an
appreciably welcome 10-minute relief after an unnecessary barrage of
overabundant, distracting, and poorly conceived noise.
** @Amazon.com: CD or
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There exists no official packaging for this album in its American release.