: (Brian May) While earning its fame at the
time of its 1979 release for its edgy, dystopian themes of violence and
despair, the longevity of
has been ensured by the
countless motorheads who adore the picture for its depictions of
vehicular modifications and destruction in demolition derby style.
George Miller's ultra-low budget movie was a massive success for
Australian cinema, standing tall as the most profitable return on a film
in the entire worldwide industry for two decades. Its setting was a near
future version of rural Australia where society is on the verge of
collapse and motorcycle gangs terrorize the roads. The remaining police
force is unsuccessful in stopping these hooligans from pillaging what
remains of civilization until one officer played by an undiscovered Mel
Gibson becomes embroiled in the battle. His daring use of his patrol car
to joust with and kill the gang's leader causes a confrontation of
between him and the clownish but dangerous group of degenerates that
will cost Max his job, friends, and family. It's a gruesome revenge
flick buoyed by its incredibly crafty staging of vehicular action,
including a fair amount of car and motorcycle modifications that take
masculinity on the road to the max. Certainly,
is a
senseless and brutal depiction of eye-bulging human depravity that lead
to several sequels, but it was a brilliant time capsule for societal
fears during its Cold War era. Miller originally conceived of the movie
without any dialogue, but even after that idea was dismissed, he
remained committed to his sound effects and music in post-production.
While a few source songs were placed in the film, the director's desired
soundtrack was to be dominated by minimal thematic development and a
maximization of the horror element through percussion and brass. He had
been introduced to the music of emerging Australian film and television
composer Brian May not long before, and he was impressed by May's
ability to channel the sound of Bernard Herrmann in his thriller work.
True to keeping the production rooted in Australia, Miller hired May on
a relatively tight budget, and the composer made the most of out the
project to yield a career-defining success.
The application of May's music in
Mad Max is,
regardless of your opinion of its quality, undoubtedly obvious in the
movie. The spotting of the score and May's indulgence of the brazenly
over-the-top personality of the movie causes the music to sound
cartoonish at times. But that's the whole point of the film; there is a
sick sense of humor lurking beneath both its heroes and villains, and
the use of the score is meant to exaggerate that effect. No doubt, it's
a horror score, but while parts of it are cacophonous to the extreme,
the score is also elevated because of how it is spotted and edited on
screen. The music often cuts to silence followed by delayed stingers for
major death moments, for instance. The reliance upon percussion as the
force behind the confrontation cues also blurs the distinctions between
the music and sound effects, sometimes quite creatively. May applies a
rampaging triangle like a ringing bell, for instance, to denote alarm
when something is about to go wrong. The composer's ensemble is filled
by brass, string, and percussion, the lack of woodwinds compensated for
by additional creative coloration from the percussion section and the
harp in particular. A saxophone provides a fleeting sense of comfort
that was ultimately minimized in the final edits of the recording. While
Miller didn't want the score to be overly thematic, May did supply a
meaningful narrative with his motifs. The actual confrontation sequences
are often not obviously thematic, as heard in "Declaration of War," and
outright horror techniques in a cue like "Flight From the Evil
Toecutter" are singular but very effective. The suspense passages
without major thematic references likewise define "The Nightrider's
Rave" and "Jesse Searches for Her Child." The motifs for the Main Force
Patrol of police early in the story are more rhythmic bombast than
anything else, with percussive flair in "Main Title" that extends to the
second half of "The Nightrider's Rave" and is included at the start of
"Outtakes Suite" on the longstanding CD album release. But May really
does remain faithful to a core set of three themes in
Mad Max,
making it a far more cohesive work than that which he developed for the
sequel. The narrative, while not always participating in the arguably
cartoonish flamboyance of the music's stature, is both satisfying and
effective.
A pair of themes exist for the core protagonists in the
story of
Mad Max, but they appropriately never sit comfortably
together. One follows the concept of family as interpreted by Max,
whether that represents his wife and young son or his colleagues and
friends in the patrol force early in the narrative. The presence of the
latter theme is the most overlooked aspect of
Mad Max, perhaps
because its purpose and lighter demeanor are so antithetical to
everything else in this franchise but more likely due to the brevity of
the comforting moments associated with it. This family/optimism identity
romantically introduces the protagonists' safe house on a farm in "Beach
House," and there's a strong element of Jerry Goldsmith 1970's light
melodrama in this performance. But it had been applied by May to the
good guys generally with whimsy in "We'll Give 'em Back their Heroes" as
well. Thereafter, the composer tortures this theme repeatedly in the
remainder of his score, translating it into auxiliary action in
"Foreboding in the Vast Landscape," reducing it to agonized fragments
throughout the first half of "Max Decides on Vengeance" on violins, and
persisting with those pieces, with even the saxophone in tow, in the
middle of "The Final Chase." The role of the sax is greatly illuminated
in "Outtakes Suite," much of its length dedicated to development of the
family theme in ways that never made the final cut of the picture. At
the same time, May's theme for Max himself extends out of the family
melody but is its own distinct identity of shorter, more direct,
cyclical stoicism. Its core phrase is five notes in length, but the
first one is sometimes dropped for referential brevity. You hear this
theme in counterpoint to the family theme in "Beach House," the two
struggling to reconcile in ways that may suggest that Max never believes
there will be peace for his loved ones. Its spotting and enunciation
throughout the entire score exudes this feeling of discomfort where
everything is headed in the story, even as Max ultimately vanquishes the
villains to the theme's brazen glory. Still, the idea builds with heroic
visions out of the family theme in "We'll Give 'em Back their Heroes" as
a way to generate some semblance of hope. (In the broader franchise,
it's tragic that the first trilogy didn't eventually wrap back to this
specific music as we realize his destiny as a marginal hero for the
surviving civilization in Australia.)
The Max theme doesn't define his persona much prior to
his full confrontation with the evil gang. Some slight foreshadowing of
the theme bubbles up in the inevitable horror on quivering strings in
"Dazed Goose," and that tension on strings is punctuated by one of the
theme's frequent references on French horn in "The Terrible Death of Jim
Goose." It barely impacts "Jesse Alone, Uneasy and Exhausted" because
Max is out of reach, but the theme becomes pronounced on strings and
French horn early in "Max Decides on Vengeance," gaining rhythm later in
the cue for a major fanfare-like announcement with timpani at its end.
Max's theme is translated into a menacing battle motif in the first half
of "Max the Hunter" and repeatedly gains traction over blurring low
brass pulses late in "Pain and Triumph." It eventually prevails over the
gang's theme at the end of "The Crazing of Johnny the Boy" as Max walks
away from his final kill. The theme for the villain, Toecutter, and his
motorcycle gang is a series of descending two-note phrases, often on low
brass and timpani. That brass, sometimes with trumpets, often jousts in
their phrasing to denote confrontations generally. The idea is heard
right away during "Main Title" in its battle mode, trumpets carrying the
actual phrase, and it's accelerated into a faster variant in that cue
and "Pain and Triumph." The theme evolves throughout "Rampage of the
Toecutter" and informs "Flight From the Evil Toecutter" but doesn't
outright emerge, which is smart for that scene. It swirls amongst the
suspense in "Jesse Alone, Uneasy and Exhausted" and becomes very
pronounced in "Pursuit and Tragedy" as the family tries to escape. The
last gasp for theme builds to a momentous statement late in "The Crazing
of Johnny the Boy," its demise coming at the hands of Max's theme.
Despite all of this thematic development, however,
Mad Max
remains a score known best for its face-smacking, rhythmic demeanor and
raw orchestral performances. It has a far more memorable personality and
recording mix than the sequel score, its emulation of Herrmann never
becoming obnoxious. So much of this work's magic was needlessly lost in
Mad Max 2 (The Road Warrior) two years later, though Max's theme
does journey into more romantic territory there. The CDs existing
for
Mad Max are hopelessly out of film order but do append the
impressive outtakes not heard on the LP presentation. May's music
continues to contribute immensely to the legacy of the film.
**** @Amazon.com: CD or
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