The Man from Elysian Fields: (Anthony Marinelli) A story of
redemption and the struggle for one's soul,
The Man from Elysian Fields is a
film rich with character style and thoughtful substance. Director George
Hickenloopers' strongly performed and intimate film depicts the choices of a failed
fiction writer who works a deal with the devil to help support his miserable life
and send him in a new direction. By selling his soul to the devil, who, in this
case, is played by none other than Mick Jagger, the writer is launched suddenly
into the world of high class male escort services. As fate would have it, though,
his first client is the wife of an aging Pulitzer Prize-winning author who is the
younger writer's hero. A triangle of relationships ensues, and the music of
composer Anthony Marinelli assists in lending depth to the romance of the story.
Marinelli was already a veteran of over 30 film scores by the time he was assigned
to
The Man from Elysian Fields in 2002, with most of his work residing in
the realm of television and resulting from a handful of recording studios from
which he worked. His career had garnered him several smaller-scale awards for his
scoring achievements, but his status as a performer and keyboardist on many
well-known scores never eventually translated into his own compositional success
for mainstream Hollywood films (despite his efforts for this and his best known
works,
15 Minutes in 2001 and
Young Guns all the way back in 1988).
His music for
The Man from Elysian Fields represented high hopes for the
composer, though the subdued nature of the work didn't create the necessary
memorable atmosphere to serve a greater promotional purpose. The tone of the music
is necessarily understated for a film of this depth of character. It is a very warm
score in heart and performance, with a small orchestral ensemble accompanied by
several important soloists who add needed accents to the slightly noir-like
atmosphere. Despite the anticipated scariness of the topic of selling one's soul to
the devil, the story doesn't take that bait, and because of the script's treatment
of the topic as an inner-spiritual journey for the primary characters, Marinelli
took a comfortably low key, but surprisingly poignant approach to his task. The
foundation of the score is built upon the intimacy of the acoustic guitar, with the
piano and orchestral strings sometimes taking the theme from the lead of that
instrument.
A slight hint of passive jazz offers a glimpse into the world of
high class escort services throughout the work. That jazz is accompanied by a solo
trumpet in parts, furthering the lofty and potentially seedy situations in which
the younger writer finds himself. The majority of the score is typified by the
first track on the album (which is probably why the more voluminous main titles cue
is presented at the album's end). The theme is drawn out in a sense of agony but is
elegant nonetheless, with its final, positive chord change indicating a sense of
fulfillment and growth. The theme and its chord progressions have an almost
European (and more specifically, a Mediterranean) sensibility to them, showing
similarities to the works of Luis Bacalov and Nicola Piovani. The highly restrained
romanticism will remind some listeners of Gabriel Yared's contemporary tragedies.
Instead of focusing on the overt development of his themes, Marinelli employs the
varying tones of the solo artists to indicate which emotions are prevalent at which
moments. The most interesting of these is the wavering, ghost-like female voice
that is mixed into several cues. Perhaps representing the spirit and soul of the
older writer's wife, the wordless vocals are as elegant as they are simple,
bordering on the edge of Middle-Eastern cliche but not obnoxious in any way. A sax
and even a sitar are occasionally mixed into the ensemble for an even more
fantasy-like effect, seemingly placing the writer into the context of one of his
own novels. But no matter what accent Marinelli uses to accompany the guitars,
piano, and strings, the score features a slowly paced, internalized coherence that
makes it a successful accompaniment for the film. There are no sharp cue changes,
no serious deviations from the normal level of volume of the performances, and
those performances are all crisp. There are no solo credits featured on the
packaging of the album for
The Man from Elysian Fields, but these artists
need to take the credit for taking Marinelli's otherwise lifeless work and bringing
it to life in such a way that it both intrigues and soothes the listener at once.
The product offers 35 minutes of pleasant harmony in a small, close range, and it
is an easy and fluid listening experience. The score's weakness exists in its
inability to expand beyond the suppression of its engaging personality at almost
every turn. It could have provided a bit more mirroring of the toil that exists in
the mind of the young writer, too. A small sampling of this potential is heard in
"Byron Destroys," but such material leaves the listener waiting for more.
Overall, this is almost a two-dimensional score, but a compelling one.
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The insert includes no extra information about the score or film. Credits
are sparse as well.
