Considering the Bieber song as the new identity for
The
Karate Kid, perhaps Conti's absence is a good thing, though Horner
apparently ignored or had no association with the song, either. There is
evidence in the final score for
The Karate Kid that Horner was
probably rushed a bit (mainly the lack of fresh ideas for the score's
themes and some cues that are simply generic filler material), but his
score is still effective. The instrumental balance is perfect, blending
a variety of world instruments with his usual lush orchestral tones and
synthetic elements. The electronic presence is maybe a nod to the
request of the production for an updated sound, and everything in
Horner's palette here is more refined and better developed that in
Conti's popular but somewhat aged score. Horner restrains the synthetic
elements to maintain a timeless quality that his orchestral character
scores typically yield, and this is a tremendous asset to this music.
The basic ideas behind Conti's original score are matched by Horner, a
reflective and tender orchestral presence for the boy shattered by
electronic elements for his beatings and the latter half of the film
driven by propulsive rhythms for the training and a victorious explosion
of major-key symphonic force for the boy's inevitable perseverance in
the tournament. Whereas Conti was obsessed with the pan flute, however,
Horner adds flavor from a number of ingredients, from his usual
shakuhachi flute to the more intriguing cimbalom (the latter making a
striking contribution out of the blue in "Mei Ying's Kiss"). The piano
is once again the heart of the score's quiet, conversational cues,
reminding of his early 1990's light dramas, and Horner's innocuous,
synthetic choral tones are a familiar method of addressing the mysticism
of the location. The use of solo voice, reminiscent of the boy's
performance that was featured on the album version of
Avatar's
"Becoming One of 'The People'," makes a few short but powerful
contributions to
The Karate Kid at the end of "Hard Training" and
middle of "Final Contest." Disappointing to some listeners will be
Horner's occasional slide into the Hans Zimmer/Remote Control reliance
on muscular, low string ostinatos and invasive percussive loops, the
latter sometimes irritatingly not exactly matched in the mix with the
orchestral recording (a strangely amateurish mistake for a production
crew of this experience).
The style of some of Horner's synthetically-aided
material was already explored in less grating manners in
Avatar,
and it should be forgiven to an extent in
The Karate Kid because
of its appropriate tone for the aggressive nature of the villains of the
tale (as well as the momentum necessary during training sequences, an
aspect of Conti's score that has always been appreciated). Horner makes
what sounds like an intentional nod to Conti's classically-inclined
training material in the final minute of "Journey to the Spiritual
Mountain," which would explain that sequence's totally unique style
compared to the rest of Horner's work. The diverse range of Horner's
instrumental applications and shifty, seemingly undecided use of
synthetic elements are among the score's weaknesses, causing the
training sequences to lack the continuity of style that Conti's
omnipresent pan flute theme for the master conveyed. This tentative
approach to the narrative also causes several anonymous, atmospheric
cues ("Ancient Chinese Medicine" and "All Work and No Play") that
feature no worthwhile development. That said, Horner's handling of both
the tender character sequences and fully orchestral outbursts are easily
superior to anything Conti provided, often developing in very long cues
that offer Horner's thematic ideas in extended, satisfying
presentations. Not surprisingly, the potentially debilitating drawback
to Horner's take on
The Karate Kid is his obvious obsession with
the thematic structures of his previous scores, a habit that reaches the
realm of the bizarre with this score. There are three recurring themes
in
The Karate Kid, the primary one containing an interlude that
sometimes wanders off on its own. The least utilized of these ideas
reflects the longing of the boy for his life in Detroit, and it's a
variation on Horner's usual, absolutely gorgeous themes for children's
longing. Heard in the last minute of "Leaving Detroit," in a brief
fragments near the ends of "Mei Ying's Kiss" and "Dre's Gift and
Apology," and with particular beauty at 2:40 into "The Forbidden City,"
this theme (which itself meanders off into
The Spitfire Grill
territory on strings) could have been a spectacular main identity for
the entire film. It follows the other secondary theme for the film in
the transitional sequence of "The Forbidden City," an impressive,
flowing string melody that is alluded to in its general sensibilities of
the Orient thereafter.
The primary theme for
The Karate Kid is where
the major obstacle exists, however. Foreshadowed first on trumpet at
1:25 in "Leaving Detroit," this theme undergoes a transformation from
the lovely piano renditions of "Mei Ying's Kiss" to the repetitive full
ensemble force of the latter half of "From Master to Student to Master,"
culminating in the necessary bloated renditions in "Final Contest" that
rival Horner's broadest timpani-pounding, cymbal crashing expressions of
grandeur. The problem with this theme is painfully obvious, however;
it's only a slightly altered form of Horner's love theme from
Avatar. It's not the four-note progression that most remember,
but rather the long and fluid form of the theme as heard in the
aforementioned "Becoming One of 'The People'." There's simply no way to
excuse self-referencing of this magnitude. Sure, it's a beautiful theme,
but you'll have a hard time believing that this story comes from China
and not Pandora. Even worse, the interlude section of the theme takes
the Na'vi theme and repackages it as well, not only therefore
referencing
Avatar but
The Four Feathers by default as
well. With all the talent that Horner has clearly exhibited through the
years, this reliance on recycling old ideas must be a conscious choice
rather than an inability to conjure fresh ideas. After all, this is the
composer that gave life to phenomenal, long-lined themes for
Willow,
The Rocketeer, and the likes. Perhaps he simply
thinks so highly of these ideas and doesn't believe they received enough
airtime in previous scores that he's going to give them second and third
chances to be appreciated by the masses (sort of like Jerry Goldsmith's
fascination with his theme for
The Russia House). Listeners
unsympathetic to Horner's re-use fetish will have reason to jump all
over this score, and the composer also helps himself to some Vaughn
Williams material in the impressive faux choral "Kung Fu Heaven," though
casual, pop culture film score collectors may associate it more
humorously with John Barry's majestic space station motif from
Moonraker. If Horner had explored original thematic ideas for
The Karate Kid, it would easily be a four-star score. His staunch
apologists will find much to love about it. Admittedly, this is among
the best three-star scores ever featured at Filmtracks. But the
wholesale recycling is even more damaging to
The Karate Kid than
it was to
Avatar, a trend that Horner must do something about
before he ceases simply being controversial and dissolves into little
more than a predictable source of ridicule and eye-rolling amusement.
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