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| Powell |
How to Train Your Dragon: (John Powell) The first
of author Cressida Cowell's novels about young, medieval Viking Hiccup
Horrendous Haddock III was loosely translated by DreamWorks into an
early 2010 film of 3D technology and the same name. After a series of
ridiculously juvenile animated topics from that studio throughout the
2000's,
How to Train Your Dragon is an epic fantasy adventure
aimed at children and adults while carrying moral themes of tolerance
and family bonding. It follows the unlikely development of a friendship
between a nerdy Viking teenager and an injured dragon he was meant to
kill as part of his culture's ongoing feud with the beasts. Through his
tender relationship with the dragon, he not only seeks to bring peace
between the species but also earn the respect of his father, the Viking
chief, and the young female warrior of his liking. An absence of much
stupid humor, a plot with actual meaning, an effective cast, and a
spectacular, completely computer-generated visual design combined to
lead
How to Train Your Dragon not only to overwhelmingly positive
critical reviews but also surprisingly robust earnings. The film blew
past its $150 million budget in grosses within the first two weeks of
theatrical release and the concept's viability as a feature franchise
was affirmed four years later. The trilogy of
How to Train Your
Dragon films stands among the best narrative arcs in animation
history, and its soundtracks have played a vital role in cementing its
legacy. The music in DreamWorks' 19 previous films had traditionally
been the domain of Hans Zimmer and, by association, his Remote Control
army of clones. John Powell, one of the two most successful graduates of
Zimmer's organization, has been involved with several of these
productions but always sharing credit. Zimmer long praised Powell's
abilities, on more than one occasion asserting that Powell is the far
superior composer between them, and it was refreshing to finally see
Powell helm a DreamWorks production on his own. That doesn't mean,
however, that there isn't an army of assistants, orchestrators,
arrangers, specialty performers, and engineers that dwarfs the usual
ensemble for the crew on the other side of the glass from the
orchestra.
Powell had already attracted so many collaborators that
questions arose about how much of the success of a project like
How
to Train Your Dragon should be credited to the primary composer,
though such concerns were eventually assuaged as he came to dominate the
2010's with the quality of his solo work. What the score for
How to
Train Your Dragon proved was that Zimmer was indeed correct about
Powell's superiority when you take into consideration the incredible
density with which he writes. Among those that used Zimmer's friendship
to spawn their own careers, Powell continues to write music that is, on
a technical level, more impressive in its orchestral mastery than any
other. A veteran of almost a dozen animated projects since the late
1990's, Powell had always provided workmanlike music for the genre.
Ranging from proficient to outstanding in his tackling of these
assignments with personality and style, these scores are often
hyperactive and abundant in the creativity department. Usually, however,
they lack focus and a consistent flow, likely by necessity. You have to
go back to his collaborative efforts for
Antz and
Chicken
Run to be able to assemble listening experiences that tell a fluid
narrative on album and feature highlights of significant length.
Building off of the majesty and greater continuity exhibited in
X-Men: The Last Stand, however, Powell finally managed to create
a well-rounded and more easily digestible variation on his typical
mannerisms for
How to Train Your Dragon. He knew that this
assignment would be a watershed event for his career, in part because of
the high quality of the film, and he sought to take his base sound to
the next level. The score's employment of both rhythm and brass layers
will be extremely familiar for any enthusiast of Powell's music, as will
some of the progressions in the composer's many themes for the film. A
sense of exuberance in the score's lighthearted portions is especially
reflective of the composer's previous works, as is his affinity for
using rhythm-setters of light percussion to carry the momentum of a cue.
But the film's longer narrative format, absent the lurching, unwieldy
slapstick nonsense and quick cuts that had plagued DreamWorks films for
years, allowed the composer to explore themes with long lines and formal
interludes and develop them throughout the score in satisfactory
fashion.
While the instrumentation of
How to Train Your
Dragon remains a point of moderate controversy given that it
emphasizes Celtic tones rather than Nordic ones, Powell managed to
compensate for misgivings about the ethnicity of the work by concocting
a really strong set of themes for the picture. He not only establishes
these identities tactfully but he manipulates them in ways that James
Horner masterfully accomplished in his animation projects of the late
1980's and early 1990's, twisting them with altered major/minor modes,
slower tempos, and excruciating performance emphasis. While none of the
ideas truly defined itself immediately as the "main" theme of the first
film, a byproduct of the quantity of themes and the fact that the actual
main theme has two distinct parts each qualifying as its own
representation of the concept as a whole, Powell eventually came to
clarify them in the sequels. There are eight consistently applied themes
in
How to Train Your Dragon, the main one's two parts potentially
considered separate and thus making nine. The suite of primary themes
for Hiccup and his dragon, Toothless, starts with a descending arpeggio
figure that comes to represent their lasting friendship; for some
listeners, this motif may be the most memorable tune from the score. It
forms the cyclical foundation of the popular "Forbidden Friendship" cue,
the "don't screw it up" music-only moment in the film that Powell
tackled near the end of his work. The idea originates from a tentative
statement near the start of "Training Out There" before taking on
dramatic minor-mode duties later in the cue. It finally enjoys the
exuberance of its future in "See You Tomorrow" and "Test Drive," the
latter allowing the idea to fully mature. Powell wraps back to this
bonding motif in "Where's Hiccup" and "Coming Back Around." By then, the
composer has explored his main theme for
How to Train Your
Dragon, the two-part identity doubling for the concept of flight.
The two phrases of this theme often operate independently but serve the
same purpose, one loftier by design while the other more muscular and
anthemic. The primary phrase opens the score in "This is Berk" and wafts
through "Wounded" before finally erupting with joy under the friendship
theme early in "See You Tomorrow" and throughout "Test Drive." It
likewise exudes heroics throughout "Where's Hiccup" and "Coming Back
Around."
The main theme's secondary phrase is the most simplistic
idea in the
How to Train Your Dragon franchise and eventually
becomes its dominant anthemic identity over the course of the trilogy.
Explored softly near the outset of "This is Berk," this theme bursts to
the forefront at 0:39 into "Test Drive" and finally ditches its
interlude placement by 2:00 into that cue. The end of its melody
soothingly closes out "Not So Fireproof," and it becomes a choral hymn
at 0:35 into "Ready/Confront." It returns to interlude duties for the
primary phrase of the main theme in "Where's Hiccup" and "Coming Back
Around," the former on delicate solo piano. These themes become Powell's
standard send-off for the finales of these scores, the descending
friendship motif always in tow. The two-part theme of redemption and
excitement fights for air time with a formidable foe in the first score
that eventually loses the battle by the third film's score: the Berk
theme that Powell associates with Viking mischief. This rollicking
identity is heard both in tender and monumental modes in the first 90
seconds of the score, rolling through "This is Berk" with all the spirit
Powell can muster from
Chicken Run for the introduction of the
Vikings' island. It is typically the opener for these films and embodies
a sense of high adventure that takes buoyant progressions from the
swashbuckling days of Erich Wolfgang Korngold and accelerates them to a
hyperactive pace and frenzied depth of instrumentation. Often conveying
a spirited Scottish flavor, this theme is as memorable in its
enthusiastic conveyance as it is in its repetitive insertion to
represent the story's overarching adventurous personality. Rowdy
explosions of the theme persist at 0:50 into "Anybody See That?," at
2:02 into "New Tail" (where Powell just this one time debut's the idea's
awesome interlude sequence that gloriously returns in "Dragon Racing" in
the next score), and throughout "This Time For Sure" and "Astrid Goes
for a Spin." Sometimes serving as a formal interlude to the Berk theme
is the Viking fighting theme alternately representing Hiccup's father.
It proudly stomps at 1:27 and 1:49 into "This is Berk" before backing
off the menacing tones later in that cue and turning mysterious in "War
Room." The idea dominates early cues but diminishes in presence
thereafter, occupying portions of "Anybody See That?," "Training Out
There," and the outset of "Dragon Training." It does reassert itself at
0:27 into "This Time for Sure" amongst the brighter Berk material.
Powell also introduces a theme for Hiccup's wacky group of
friends in
How to Train Your Dragon, the identity doubling as an
aspirational tune for the youth. Heard first at 3:18 into "This is
Berk," the idea turns vaguely heroic in "Anybody See That?" and is
sprinkled throughout "War Room" and "Training Out There." It becomes
redemptive at the beginning of "Kill Ring," massive at 1:37 into
"Over/Less Okay" and 1:05 into "Counter Attack," and is the basis of the
closing "The Viking Have Their Tea" credits cue. About as frequently
referenced is the score's de facto villain's theme, though the Viking
warrior identity sometimes fills that void as Hiccup rebels against his
own culture. The theme for the dragons is dominant in "Dragon Battle,"
offering clanging and tapping percussion to accentuate their
militaristic representation. The idea, which clearly set the basis for
future villains' themes in the franchise, returns in "Hiccup Comes
Home," the closing moments of both "Dragon Training" and "Dragons Den,"
and the start of "Not a Viking." The climax of the film from
"Ready/Confront" to "Counter Attack" applies this idea as needed for the
battle, "Wings" containing perhaps the most menacing performance of the
theme. On the other end of the spectrum is Powell's theme for fate,
heard first at 1:04 into "Training Out There" and realizing its
potential at the start of "New Tail" and in several performances in "See
You Tomorrow." Finally, the score would not be complete without a
romance theme, and though Powell offers one in only three cues in the
score, it's immensely impactful. As Astrid doesn't reciprocate Hiccup's
feelings at this point in the franchise, it's not surprising that her
theme is dropped into just these rare places. It debuts during her
larger-than-life intro at 3:01 into "This is Berk" but flourishes in
almost suite-like form in "Romantic Flight," complete with longing
fiddle and soothing choir. Some listeners will hear similarities in
progressions and rendering between this theme and that of the princess
in the
Shrek scores. While "Romantic Flight" is frustratingly
short, Powell allows the theme additional room in "Let's Find Dad" and
the first minute of "Coming Back Around." On the whole, Powell's
thematic tapestry is largely woven in "This is Berk," the composer's
opening cues in the first two films tending to serve as fantastic
summaries of many of the franchise's main identities. These ideas
sometimes mature into different meanings as the stories progress, but
the core group remains intact and begs for intellectual pondering
together as a trio.
As attractive as the thematic construction in
How to
Train Your Dragon is Powell's extremely organic spread across the
dynamic range of instruments. He defies all of the formulas that cripple
the scores of other Zimmer associates by using a blend of live and
sampled specialty sounds to breathe vibrant life into the tone of his
thematic performances. The marimba and dulcimer rhythm in "Forbidden
Friendship" combines with ethereal female voices and sleigh bells to
create an extremely unique ambience. A remarkable cue is "See You
Tomorrow," which raises memories of
Chicken Run while
highlighting the score's strange but consistent use of Celtic
instruments (bagpipes, fiddle, and penny whistle) in conjunction with
harpsichord and tapping snare. This approach was recommended to Powell
by the film's producer after the composer had struggled to first create
a more Viking-appropriate sound. This tone is given muscular depth in
the following "Test Drive" with the assistance of large varied drums and
even an electric guitar. Anyone tired of hearing how lesser Zimmer
associates abuse electric guitars in their orchestral scores needs to
pay attention to how well Powell employs the instrument as purely a bass
enhancement that infuses a cue with just a slight hint of coolness
without overpowering even a penny whistle. The dynamic spread of the
soundscape emphasizes treble elements without sacrificing satisfying
bass; this technique extends to the choir, which includes brawny male
vocals to represent the pride and power of the Vikings in ways that
resurrect shades of Jerry Goldsmith's
The 13th Warrior, not
surprisingly, while also extending to the high female ranks to crank up
the intensity of the fantasy element in the battle cues later on. Fans
of clearly recorded and mixed solo performances by woodwinds and strings
will find much to like in this score, all the way to the conclusive "The
Vikings Have Their Tea," which, like several other cues before it,
addresses the levity of a scene without resorting to even faint hints of
typical cartoonish ensemble hits and slapstick pacing of stuttering
movement. At the time, it was refreshing to hear Powell able to expand
upon some of the nascent techniques in his previous scores and give them
full-fledged identities here. His best scores typically feature
extraordinary highlights but suffer from continuity issues often beyond
his control. The format of this film allowed him to really play with his
themes and explore dense instrumental balances not usually heard
anywhere in film music.
Overall,
How to Train Your Dragon is an
extremely well-developed score for the animated genre. It's technically
superior to all of Powell's previous endeavors in this area and was
arguably the most satisfying listening experience of this nature since
his past collaborator Harry Gregson-Williams' underrated
Sinbad:
Legend of the Seven Seas in 2003. There were, however, a few
detractions to the score that have diminished over time but are still
worth mentioning. The first issue is obviously the ethnicity of the
work, a choice noticed by critics at the time and causing some
head-scratching. It wasn't surprising to learn that the casting of some
Scottish actors in lead roles for the voices led to a similar influence
of that ethnicity on the score. But there's really no logical reason
whatsoever for bagpipes, fiddles, and whistles to have such a prominent
place in a score for Vikings. They do sound pretty, of course, and they
were something of a musical common denominator with new age pop culture,
and that was probably a determining factor. There was a lingering
distrust of the application of Scottish and Irish tones that James
Horner had perpetuated through the years, and to hear such elements in
How to Train Your Dragon had the capability to irritate or at
least baffle some listeners. Powell does make a few nods to traditional
Viking tones, especially with the horn call and percussion at the outset
of "Dragon Battle," but none of it approaches classic Mario Nascimbene
territory. Secondly, there is no doubt that while the robust foundation
of this score, as well as its dynamic orchestral flourishes, will appeal
to Golden Age film music collectors, Powell still doesn't take his foot
off the gas for very long in his works. Cues like "Forbidden Friendship"
and "Romantic Flight" are absolutely necessary respites from the level
of bombastic activity in this music. The suite of final cues is
appropriately exhausting and jettisons some of the thematic cohesion
earlier in the score for outright explosive symphonic rambling. It's
glorious material, but for those who have never been able to tolerate
the extroverted personality of Powell's previous animation scores, it
could be daunting to navigate. This downside includes the bizarre
marching band tone of the score's finale. Another downside of the film
and album is the Icelandic-styled rock song, "Sticks & Stones," provided
by Jonsi, which drains all the enthusiasm out of the environment created
by Powell. Jonsi's songs for the sequels are commonly considered
superior to this original entry, and they would eventually figure more
directly into Powell's work.
On album, the initial Varèse Sarabande product
of 2010 surveyed a generous 72 minutes from the score and covered all
the major cues. In 2020, the label revisited
How to Train Your
Dragon in conjunction with Powell's studio to release the complete
the score with two alternates and a handful of demos. While
Varèse released this limited, "deluxe" CD album (later offered
digitally), the arrangement and mixing of the contents was entirely the
work of Powell and his own studio associates. Generally, the most
interesting change to the presentation is Powell's decision to adjust
the mix so that the listening experience isn't so loud across the board,
allowing more natural dynamism that enhances the perceived scope of the
recording. The cues aren't combined differently except for the merging
of "This is Berk" and "Dragon Battle," which is a bit odd until you
consider that those two tracks were actually considered one longer cue
by Powell. He chose to provide both final versions of the logos music at
the start of the picture in succession, separating the film version from
the far more ominous choral alternate that he had originally intended.
(This beefier opening is preferable, so it's nice to hear it attached
formally to the full "This is Berk" track.) The other alternate is a
version of "The Vikings Have Their Tea" that combines its fiddle and
whistle for all of the cue rather than trading off on the melody. In the
meat of the score, there is only about 12 minutes of additional material
on the longer album, and some of it is incidental. The duo of "Anybody
See That?" and "War Room" offers noteworthy development of the various
Berk and Viking themes, however. A choral fantasy crescendo in
"Offering" and action burst at the outset of "Teamwork" are also
engaging. Laying on bagpipes and percussion without remorse for the
friendship motif is "Astrid Finds Toothless," and "Not A Viking" offers
a suspenseful performance of the same idea. The mammoth
"Relax/Stroke/Hell" and "Wings" present the muscular Viking fighting and
dragon themes at explosive choral levels. Listeners expecting more
development of the score's main themes will be disappointed, but the
2020 album does maintain a better narrative presentation. Powell's demo
recordings are an intellectual treat, covering six of the score's seven
best cues. Despite the curious and potentially damaging aspects of his
score's ethnicity, this recording is about as fine as the composer's
animation style can get, and Powell's sequel scores, astonishingly,
managed to improve even further upon the formula. In 2010, this was
Powell's best fantasy ruckus since
Chicken Run and, for setting
itself well apart from its peers both in the genre and in the realm of
one-time Zimmer associates,
How to Train Your Dragon hurls enough
fire to earn the highest rating.
***** @Amazon.com: CD or
Download
| Bias Check: |
For John Powell reviews at Filmtracks, the average editorial rating is 3.22
(in 46 reviews)
and the average viewer rating is 3.12
(in 48,579 votes). The maximum rating is 5 stars.
|
The insert of the 2010 Varèse album includes lyrics to the song
and extensive credits but no extra information about the score or film. That of
the 2020 product contains extensive details about both.
