franchise was among the more
original ideas to come from Hollywood. The first two films in the
original trilogy, debuting in 1984 and 1986, were fiscal blockbusters
and ushered in a new wave of interest in youth martial arts and, more
curiously, bonsai trees. The original story's premise spoke to shy and
alienated youth by conveying a message of discipline and restraint, all
the while dancing through an obstacle course of mainstream stereotypes
of the decade dealing with teenage romance, bullying, and culture
clashes. A New Jersey boy is transplanted to Southern California with
his single mother and immediately becomes the target for hassling from
macho brats who belong to a local martial arts training group. He
happens across an aging Japanese master of the arts who not only trains
the young man in how to cope with his adversaries, but also serves as an
surrogate father figure. The boy's eventual triumph in competition is a
crowd pleaser of the highest order, and every youngster's hope to
achieve such heights cemented the character of Mr. Miyagi (and actor Pat
Morita, who earned an Oscar nomination for his role in the film) as an
instant favorite, a circumstance that did not go unexploited by
marketers of toys and novelty items. While the 1986 sequel was also
highly regarded, the third film in 1989 is largely considered a failure
and a 1994 spin-off with Hilary Swank as "the next karate kid" was an
embarrassment. It would take until a reboot of the franchise in 2010 for
the concept to be touched again without fear of ridicule. The first
three
films were directed by John Avildsen, whose
partnership with composer Bill Conti was unquestioned in its loyalty,
especially considering the success of their collaboration for the
original
. Conti, like Morita, was a vital source of
identity for the franchise, his music maintaining the same thematic
constructs and instrumental style throughout all four of the original
films. Anyone not pleased with Conti's habit of extremely basic
repetition of franchise ideas in his
scores at least feature a better
evolutionary flow. Still, the music for the 1984 original, highly
regarded in its whole because of a few remarkable, singular cues in the
film, is perhaps one the decade's more overrated scores.
As Conti has stated, his work for the franchise of
The Karate Kid is not rooted in research of Oriental musical
culture. Instead, Conti chose to do as he always did, accompanying his
comfortable personal style of writing with a touch of the stereotypical
elements of a region. In the case of
The Karate Kid, this
translated into a standard Conti rock and orchestral ensemble with a pan
flute and, to a lesser extent, taiko drums, to represent Miyagi's
teachings. The composer had always been a fan of pan flutes, hiring
renown performer Gheorghe Zamfir for the first and third scores in the
series. The lovely lower tones of the instrument are betrayed by Conti's
insistence upon forcing it into its higher ranges; by the time it starts
sounding like a penny whistle, you'll be covering your ears. Outside of
that flavor,
The Karate Kid pretty much adheres to the typical
Conti sound. A relatively small orchestral presence makes itself felt in
the score's three or four highlights, while a very restrained and almost
somber atmosphere accompanies the pan flute theme during its extensive
exploration in the score. Most notable for Conti enthusiasts is his
application of elements from his
Rocky scores, starting with his
pop-infused material for the conflicts at the start of the film and
extending to his usual string fugues for moments of advancement later in
the picture. Also utilized are light romance tones for watery keyboards
("Decorate the Gym" and "The Kiss") that are anonymous in the mass of
such material to exist for contemporary interaction at the time.
Thematically, Conti introduces a wealth of ideas but rarely develops
them with any significant depth, a problem that inhibits this score
severely. The most obvious identity is the nine-note figure heard on
plucked strings and pan flute for Miyagi. It's a nimble little theme,
first expressed in "Bonsai Tree," though Conti saturates the mid-section
of the score so thoroughly with the idea that it becomes tiresome after
the tenth identical performance. More redemptive is the boy's victory
theme foreshadowed in "Main Title" and orchestrally robust in "Daniel's
Moment of Truth." A hip series of two notes in the bass region represent
the bad boys of the tale, heard on Conti's grating synthesizers,
electric guitars, and badly dated drum pads from "Fite Nite" to "Dan
Ducks Out." The trademark Conti fugue in "Daniel Sees the Bird" is
obnoxiously reminiscent of the
Rocky scores, though the same
classical inclinations produce a highlight of the score late in
"Training Hard."
The saving graces for
The Karate Kid on album
are the opening and closing cues, both conveying ambitious orchestral
tonality and rhythmic propulsion that isn't really referenced much in
between. "Main Title" features a lovely string capitulation of the
victory theme before transitioning into something of an homage to Jerry
Goldsmith's upbeat Western style of the 1970's, complete with woodblock
effects and traditional winds over broad strings and brass. This cue is
no doubt the highlight of the score, begging only for a larger ensemble
for the performance. The final cue recaptures some of that appeal,
though it's packaged more like the climaxes of the fight scenes in
Rocky. With the exception of this five minutes of outstanding
material,
The Karate Kid remains overrated, a victim of both its
age and Conti's lack of cross-pollination of ideas to give the score
truly convincing development to mirror the multi-dimensional growth of
the story's protagonist. Still,
The Karate Kid remains a favorite
for those enraptured by the concept and immune to the seriously dated
tones of Conti's pop-influenced side, yielding several belated
score-only albums. Early products included some of Conti's source songs
for the film, completely omitting the score. Bootlegs had existed since
1999, offering substandard presentations partnered with
The Right
Stuff. In 2007, Varèse Sarabande included all four of Conti's
scores in a Club-limited box set of 2,500 copies that not surprisingly
sold out and commanded resale prices over $200. For Conti and concept
enthusiasts, it was a glorious product with satisfying sound quality,
though if you define yourself as belonging to a generation younger than
that franchise's original lifespan, then be careful when considering the
loyalists' hype. If you're looking for symphonic performances of more
robust stature and less repetition of the pan flute theme, seek
The
Karate Kid, Part II despite its cheesy synthetic rendering of the
flute. Varèse re-released the set's material from
The Karate
Kid on a standalone CD Club title of 2,000 copies in 2010 to meet
continued demand. La-La Land Records revisited the series of scores with
their own limited products in 2019, expanding the original entry by
filling out the final, unused fight cues and offering several mundane
extras; the sound quality was only marginally improved. For the 2010
reboot, the franchise originally sought the Hans Zimmer clone factory
before asking James Horner for a replacement score. It makes one wonder
if Conti, who was still composing at the time of its production, was
ever called, because regardless of your opinion of these original
scores, his return to the concept would have been a pleasure to hear.
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