: (John Ottman) This 1997 flop is one of
those examples of a movie concept that should have achieved cult status
but instead failed miserably at the box office and thereafter, making
you sit and contemplate where it all went wrong. The concept of
involves Jason Patric as one of the world's foremost
forgers of classic paintings. When he decides to paint one last
Rembrandt and pass it off as real so that he can retire on the earnings,
he gets caught up in the murder mystery surrounding the potential buyer
of the painting. He has to prove his innocence by painting a Rembrandt
in court, leading to one of the more interesting trial scenes ever put
on film. There's also a fair amount of obligatory chasing in the film as
well, joined by a meager love interest that becomes intertwined in the
intrigue. Ultimately, the lengthy scene of the painter's creation of a
Rembrandt is the clear highlight, and it's a passage driven mostly by
the propulsion of its precisely synchronized music. The task of scoring
the project for rising talent John Ottman was one of infinite
possibilities, and he took advantage of every last drop of creative
energy in his system to write one of the most truly standalone scores in
the digital era. The 1990's were known as the era of Ottman's most
original works, with works like
waiting as hidden gems
for fans only familiar with his superhero scores of the 2000's. Some
collectors of the composer's works still consider the score to be among
Ottman's very best achievements, the pinnacle of his longtime
collaborations with orchestrators and conductors Larry Groupé and
Damon Intrabartolo. It's difficult to argue with that assessment, for
defined Ottman's early success with its wicked, deviant
sense of style, a robust flair of personality that the composer never
managed to fully rediscover in the subsequent decade prior to
concentrating on his editing career instead. It's a score that proves
that less can indeed be more, for Ottman's ensemble consisted of only a
modest 60 Seattle players. But the incorporation of a wild array of
specialty instruments, the use of an old church as a recording location,
as well as a controversial mix for its initial album all gave the score
a sound unique to itself.
In an era when film scores all increasingly began to sound
alike, and references could be drawn with ease between the new and old,
Ottman's
Incognito was a breed of animal unlike most others. In
few other scores of the digital era has a composer so perfectly merged
classical and modern styles, from the baroque ornate to the contemporary
suspense technique, with such fluid precision. Waltz rhythms lead a
tandem of main themes that join the painter on his journey to becoming
Rembrandt, using each section of the musical ensemble like another color
on the palette. The instrumentation of
Incognito is truly
astounding, and the mix of the elements together places each performance
at equal levels to ensure their impact. Solo performances from the
traditional ensemble are often highlighted by woodwinds, while the
string section is in perpetual conflict with itself. The strings chop
through staccato rhythms with several layers of activity, some plucked,
and they alone create the whirlwind of atmospheric whimsy that prevails
in the attitude of
Incognito. For the conflict between the
American and European aspects of the story, a snazzy saxophone bridges
the gap between those tones and the brass section, which is less obvious
and often restrained to solo performance by bold mid-ranges and muted
trumpets. That saxophone and trumpet are crucial in conveying the more
modern noir side of the film's chases, the former alone giving the score
a significant injection of style. The percussion and cleverly utilized
electronics are the superstars of
Incognito, however. For the
straight classical feel, Ottman employs a harpsichord (which whips with
the kind of fury that you rarely hear from the instrument), piano,
triangles, chimes, and bells, each given significant solo roles on top
of the ensemble during various moments of frenzy. The piano's
meanderings in several cues will remind of similar tip-toeing in
The
Usual Suspects. Because the film is linked inevitably to Spain,
Ottman doesn't fail to let loose with the Latin flavor, and it is this
distinct influence that makes
Incognito a fiendish delight. An
acoustic guitar is joined by woodblocks, rattles, tambourines,
castanets, and maracas that become more prevalent in the score's
remarkable concluding tracks. Any classically structured score with
these Latin instruments is just asking for trouble, but Ottman pulls it
off.
In addition to the basic blend of American, European,
and Latin blends in
Incognito, Ottman also uses two neutral
elements with great effect. First, his trademark choral sound was
synthetic in nature at this time in his career, but its usual deep tones
only add to the mystique of the score's aura. Second, he conjured the
sound of a whip, possibly electronically, and this whipping sound is
expertly included as an equal member of the ensemble. His themes are
equally strong, albeit untraditional and challenging in their
progressions and therefore not overly hummable. Flighty in their
movements, they are elegantly harmonic and flow with grace and
distinction. They expand on the Gothic nature of the main theme from
The Usual Suspects and are given some rambunctious rhythms to
follow. There are four themes overall in
Incognito, but only
three stand apart. The main theme is a descending identity heard
immediately at the outset of the score in the "Opening Titles," and it
comes to represent the concept of art fraud and the main character
himself with elusive elegance from start to finish. Much of the flair
associated with the specialty instrumentation is performing alongside
this theme in the score, and the idea flourishes in the first half of
the score and in the more tentative "Re-Creation" in the courtroom. Its
sense of relief at the narrative's end is also notable. An adjunct to
this theme is one for that character's father, who is the inspiration
behind the fake Rembrandt painting. It mingles extensively with the
primary theme in the painting-oriented cues, concentrated heavily in
"Sketching/A Perfect Face" but becoming revelatory in stints during
"Work Begins" and "Painting/The Spanish Peasant" before achieving
resolution nicely in "Peasant's Return" and reserving a position in the
middle of the "End Credits." A love theme is the other main idea in
Incognito, and its John Barry-like presence is introduced on
piano and woodwinds in "Kissing Marieke/The Note" and is sprinkled
through the female lead's scenes thereafter ("Police Pursuit" and
"Marieke Reads the Note") before strongly punctuating "Final Kiss" at
the end of the story, where it merges with the painter's main theme
brilliantly for one of the more suspenseful resolution moments of
romance in memory. Ottman also supplies a percussively anxious idea for
the crooked art dealers in the story, starting in "Paint Me a Rembrandt"
and recurring during the score's many thriller cues in its mid-section.
The melodic confines of this theme are elusive, however.
In both the outwardly thematic and more abrasive
chasing material in the score's middle third,
Incognito is a
dense score, with so much activity at every moment that it can easily
tire the listener. Slower moments in the score are equally creative in
instrumentation, still demanding your attention. There are times when
the stalking, attack, and chase material becomes challenging,
detractions like "A Murder?" and "Bad Deal" resorting to a few moments
of shrieking dissonance. Prickly horror techniques on strings bleed over
from the composer's
Snow White: Tale of Terror. Some of the
courtroom material in the third act is comparatively understated, but
Ottman retains enough coloration from the previous portions of the score
to keep it related and interesting. One of the more controversial
aspects of
Incognito has been its original album's mix. On that
50-minute product, the music was given a very treble-heavy presentation,
allowing the specialty instruments, especially the metallic ones, to
shine with great clarity. This move was taken to compensate for digital
artifacts in the tapes that were otherwise distracting. While the
masking technique does add to the unique sound of the score (and the
listener can amplify the bass to counter the album's presentation), it
causes some elements to lose their natural tones and sound tinny. The
sax, for instance, can sometimes be confused with the sound of a
harmonica. On the other hand, the sound of the score is given an
enhanced fantasy element as a result, its otherworldly tone increasing
the strikingly unique aspect of its instrumentation. Ottman himself was
not satisfied with this presentation, despite the clarity of the
recording otherwise still being nothing less than stunning, and when he
rediscovered the original masters for the score within a few years, he
allowed them to be used for three cues on the "Cruel Intentions"
compilation album of his works three years later. While the mix was
largely corrected for those highlights, it took until 2024 for a fuller,
chronological presentation to emerge with Ottman's preferred mix. That
Dragon's Domain product is "The John Ottman Collection, Volume 1" and
also includes a pair of lesser, synthetic suspense works from that era
for the composer. The difference in the 2024 arrangement and sound of
Incognito will be significant for listeners accustomed to the
1997 album; it may be more even in pitch but the specialty instruments
are conveyed with less exoticism. Additional reverb would have helped.
But regardless of which mix you prefer, the score remains nothing less
than a marvelous display of creativity.
***** @Amazon.com: CD or
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| Bias Check: |
For John Ottman reviews at Filmtracks, the average editorial rating is 3.17
(in 35 reviews)
and the average viewer rating is 3.05
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