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Review of How to Train Your Dragon (John Powell)
FILMTRACKS RECOMMENDS:
Buy it... if you have always appreciated John Powell's dense and
rowdy orchestral style for animated films and seek the opening entry in
his resoundingly exciting and thematically rich trio of award-winning
scores for this concept.
Avoid it... if you become easily overwhelmed by bombastic fantasy music of immense size or cannot accept hearing Celtic specialty instrumentation at the forefront of a score meant for Vikings.
FILMTRACKS EDITORIAL REVIEW:
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. *****
TRACK LISTINGS:
2010 Varèse Album:
Total Time: 72:06
* written and performed by Jonsi 2020 Varèse Album: Total Time: 105:26
* written and performed by Jonsi (Cue numbers are included with each track)
NOTES & QUOTES:
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.
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The reviews and other textual content contained on the filmtracks.com site may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed without the prior written authority of Christian Clemmensen at Filmtracks Publications. All artwork and sound clips from How to Train Your Dragon are Copyright © 2010, 2020, Varèse Sarabande, Varèse Sarabande (Deluxe Edition) and cannot be redistributed without the label's expressed written consent. Page created 4/10/10 and last updated 4/26/21. |
