: (Jerry Goldsmith) The distinction
between utopia and dystopia is explored in the 1976 futuristic thriller
, a science fiction extravaganza highly awarded for
its visual aesthetic. Several hundred years into the future, humans live
in relative comfort under giant domes, with all their needs guided by
computers. Orgies and other heathenistic activities are encouraged and
normal. But in return for that lifestyle is a rule that all people must
die at the age of 30. Naturally, some people find such a restriction
unacceptable, and they try to escape the city. Thus enter the "sandman"
assassin force that tracks down and kills such dreamy malcontents. But
what happens when a sandman and his love interest escape the city and
discover the ruins of old America? The fate of the city is sealed at
that point, but not before flashy fight sequences, the obligatory
talking robot of 1970's imagination, and a man versus machine showdown.
Although
wasn't particularly popular with critics, it
showed well with young audiences and briefly spawned a television
series. Hired to accentuate the dichotomy between the bizarre human
experience in the city and the realities of the heart and world beyond
was Jerry Goldsmith, who was in the midst of truly embracing electronics
as an experimental form of atonal ambient force. His approach to
was destined to resolve with his trademark symphonic
romanticism, laced as necessary with the robust action methods common to
his late 1970's works. But for the city's environment, the composer
leaned into the journey that had earned attention with his outlandish
synthetic music for
. The electronics in this
score are not the early iterations of his 1980's sounds that listeners
heard in
.
Instead, they were all-out analog funfests of atonal layering of several
performances using sound effects that are distinct from those that
Goldsmith used thereafter. Various sounds of squishing noises are
particularly interesting even if they are not entirely listenable, the
composer using this collection of wet noises to likely augment the
sexual nature of the lifestyle in the city.
For casual listeners, the score for
Logan's Run
will seem like two separate works jammed together and, sadly, Goldsmith
doesn't mingle the synthetic and organic sides of the soundscape as much
as one might hope. The distinct styles were meant to be that disjointed,
but Goldsmith never really adopts the most outrageously creative
synthetic lines into his otherwise orchestral cues. The two halves
sometimes overlap in the understated suspense passages, but usually the
worlds of the real and the fake exist at a musical stalemate. Some of
the synthetic cues are maddeningly obnoxious, with "Fatal Games," "The
Interrogation," and the source-like "Love Shop" all exploring different
tones of the synthetic array but all achieving the same frustratingly
claustrophobic feeling of inauthenticity and even insanity. On the
orchestral side, Goldsmith understandably introduces his traditional
players only as the story allows for the possibility of escape and a
love affair between the two leads. It takes until the actual escape and
witnessing of natural beauty and the artifacts of old society before any
intensity guides the ensemble. But these passages are the immense payoff
for the pain experienced in the score up to that point, and listeners
must be prepared to earn those tonal moments of grandeur. Thematically,
it can be tempting to casually write off
Logan's Run as
exhibiting only one major theme, that which develops and flourishes as
the freedom is achieved and humanity is redeemed. But the dominant theme
of the movie actually represents the city, and it's a brilliant and
easily distinguishable identity. The city's theme consists of two rising
trios, the second phrase one note higher in its third note. It's
intentionally off-kilter and yearning, seemingly positive but not quite
resolving. The theme opens the score as an abrasive bass synth rhythm in
"The Dome" and is formally introduced by troubled, lonely trumpet layers
over tense strings. It bubbles on electronics in "The City" and very
cleverly twists into a sinister celeste extension in "Nursey," the motif
still dominant but Goldsmith clearly messing with audiences' minds using
those progressions. Informing the challenging analog electronic tones of
the totally foreign "Flameout," the city theme is plucked on strings
under the humanity theme at the outset of "On the Circuit," and the deep
electronic menace for the motif continues in "The Assignment" before
shifting with muted panic to violins in "Lost Years."
Goldsmith never allows us to escape the treacherous
city theme in
Logan's Run during the majority of the picture, the
motif guiding the tumultuous string suspense of "She'll Do It" and
"Crazy Ideas" and agonized on string layers in "Terminated in
Cathedral," which leads to a thunderous piano climax for the needless
death of the scene. The theme serves as the foundation for some of the
frantic action bursts in "Intensive Care," is manipulated to only its
secondary phrase in cyclical motion in "They're Watching" to suggest the
monitored escape, and transitions to full orchestral action mode in "The
Key." It strikingly interrupts the humanity theme with brutal brass and
percussion at 1:18 into "The Sun" for the city's pursuit, transforms
into an almost giddy orchestral figure in "The Monument" for the two
leads' discovery of freedom from their life clocks, and stews ominously
as the villain returns once again in "The Truth." The city theme is
diminished to solemn remembrance on woodwinds and strings late in
"You're Renewed," becomes optimistic over flourishing string figures in
"The Beach," overtakes the humanity theme again in "Return to the City,"
and adopts a highly annoying electronic alarm formation in "The
Interrogation." Goldsmith allows the theme a whimpering death on trumpet
at the start of "End of the City." During this whole time, the city
theme battles with the composer's humanity theme, considered by some to
be a straight love theme but representing more than just the
relationship between the leads. This idea is actually less commonly
referenced in the work, and some of the more obtuse references to its
structure may not go noticed because its melodic lines are so much more
complicated than those of the city's theme. You hear hints of the
humanity theme flirting near the climax of "The Dome," its first actual
performance on sparse violins layered directly on top of city motif in
"On the Circuit." In this cue and several others involving both
identities in unison, the humanity theme cannot escape the city motif by
design. The lighter theme is badly tormented on strings in "Let Me
Help," provides an interlude during the Box robot material in "Ice
Sculpture" as a better preview of later romance, and finally explodes
for the full orchestra at 0:23 and 1:03 into "The Sun" for the escape
realized. It is tender on flute in "The Monument" amongst wondrous
woodwind meanderings, briefly returns in the troubled suspense of
"Return to the City," and overtakes the city theme on soothing strings
in "End of the City" for a massively victorious finale.
As customary at the time, the humanity theme for
Logan's Run is translated into a light pop variant in "Love Theme
From 'Logan's Run'" to help sell the album. Though pleasant, the tone of
that radio bait is so different from anything in the remainder of the
score that it just doesn't fit into the listening experience at all.
This despite the irony that it probably would have fit well as a source
piece in the background of the city's orgy environment early on.
Goldsmith instead opted to provide most major cues in the city's
confines with the grating electronic ambience, and listeners must be
prepared to encounter some wickedly atrocious synthetic ramblings in
these parts of
Logan's Run. A handful of truly unique moments is
mixed in between the otherwise divergent halves, however. The string and
piano tension of "A Little Muscle" is a nice sideshow but not as
intriguing as Goldsmith's weird motif for the Box robot, a slightly
oriental theme for strings and percussion in "Box" and early in "Ice
Sculpture." More palatable is the second half of "The Monument," which
offers its own triumphant view of the American civilization past
(including Richard Nixon, whose legend survives for hundreds of years!).
For pure Goldsmith action enthusiasts, the ambitious, trombone-led
rhythms in "Intensive Care" and "You're Renewed" will appeal. In the
end, however,
Logan's Run is a score begging for culling to
separate its two halves. The original LP record of 41 minutes translated
into the first two CD incarnations of the album from Bay Cities in 1992
and Chapter III in 2000, the latter a bit tougher to find because the
label quickly and unceremoniously went out of business. This
presentation was extraordinarily frustrating because it presented the
score's major cues out of film order and did so in a way that
exacerbated the dichotomy between the two styles of the work. Avoid
these products if at all possible. In 2002, the Film Score Monthly label
corrected the ordering and expanded the length to 74 minutes, a vastly
superior treatment that disappeared due to its limited pressing. In
2015, though, WaterTower Music re-issued those same contents as a
commercial CD. Any Goldsmith collector interested in this score should
seek one of these two longer options, especially considering their
improved sound quality. On any album,
Logan's Run can be a
difficult listening experience, but the complicated interplay between
the two themes is masterful, and if you can program out the purely
synthetic explorations of atonality, the remainder will give you just
enough symphonic Goldsmith heart to keep you coming back.
*** @Amazon.com: CD or
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