| CLOSE WINDOW |
|
FILMTRACKS.COM
PRINTER-FRIENDLY VIEW 
Review of The Mexican (Alan Silvestri)
FILMTRACKS RECOMMENDS:
Buy it... if you like your parody scores to pull out all the stops
and make you laugh with their insanely silly, large-scale mocking of
classic cliches.
Avoid it... if you have a hard time tolerating the usual tones of the Western film music genre without a composer intentionally bloating each element of the recording out of proportion for purposes of comedy.
FILMTRACKS EDITORIAL REVIEW:
The Mexican: (Alan Silvestri) A release date in
early March 2001 betrayed any claims by Dreamworks that Gore Verbinski's
romantic crime comedy The Mexican was considered a serious
contender at the box office. Despite the production's star power, its
remarkably dumb script is matched only by the boredom that the actors
convey in their performances. A goofy and inept American criminal played
by Brad Pitt is left by his girlfriend, Julia Roberts, while he bungles
an assignment from his crime boss to retrieve a famous pistol in Mexico.
Small bits of psychology and physical comedy along the way are meant to
carry audience interest, but it didn't help that those two leads have
absolutely no chemistry together. The film was appropriately treated
with a score of parody intent from Alan Silvestri, who must have spent a
few sunny afternoons conjuring the comedy tones of The Mexican
instead of writing 70+ minutes of music for Cast Away. The film
is a quirky romantic comedy that is inescapably attached to its setting,
and because it wraps the funny characters, locale, and mythic Western
elements into one package, Silvestri provided one of most unique scores
in recent memory. For some of the more authentic stabs at original Latin
material, Silvestri collaborated with Mexican bassist Abraham Laboriel
(resulting in three of the cues in the film). It's not often that a
score can completely fool an avid film music collector, but The
Mexican is just that kind of score that plays so predictably to
cliches in culture and a movie genre that it indeed becomes a surprise.
The score is a charming, if not borderline silly piece of music, and
it's hard to believe that Silvestri intended for anyone to take it
seriously. Perhaps the tone is acknowledgement by the composer that he
must have known this film was destined for failure. Still, there can't
be much greater difference between the somber and restrained style for
Cast Away, the full-fledged Western parody material with
orchestra, chorus, and notable solos in The Mexican, and the
adventurous symphonic romp for The Mummy Returns next. If
anything, these three effective scores at the very least speak to the
composer's immense talent.
Silvestri's primary theme for The Mexican, heard in its full form in three or four major cues, is performed by a solo trumpet, heralding the entrance of stereotypical south-of-the-border influence. In and of itself, this isn't a problematic factor in the equation, but he then adds a momentous orchestra (even by Skywalker Studio standards) and the Hollywood Film Chorale to bloat the theme completely out of proportion. The result is a melodramatic set of thematic performances throughout the entire score that mock the old Westerns while at the same time producing a strong enough representation of the idea to give it a guilty pleasure label. A slight tango feel to its chopping bass strings and cool strumming of acoustic guitar is joined by the marching of a snare drum for its most flamboyant performances. Balancing out the sharp trumpet theme is an equally stereotypical Hollywood love theme that reaches its crescendo in "Airport." Utilizing basic harmonic chord progressions, the explosive resonance of this sudden outburst of romance features the same exaggerated emotional appeal as the finale to David Newman's Bowfinger. It stands out like a sore thumb because it is so ridiculously overdone for the context, but since that was surely Silvestri's intent for the music, you have to forgive its placement. The boyish optimism that prevails in the remainder of this score produces the same kind of romp that was heard in Marc Shaiman's City Slickers scores. To achieve its parody goals, the score embodies modern Western music with a zany attitude that pushes the envelope closer to Shaiman's second City Slickers work by using, more specifically, the fantasy element of the chorus. There is unfortunately a down side to this score. Silvestri allows the ambience to deteriorate into less sophisticated stereotypes of Mexican music at times. In particular, the "Ole" cues he co-wrote with Laboriel (which appear near the beginning and end of the album) contain mocking, if not outrageously emphasized Hispanic flavored vocals. The exuberance heard in these cues is so overwhelmingly optimistic that it takes Silvestri's already numbingly upbeat work to almost ridiculous levels of activity. Also working against this score are a few unsettling cues in which a series of orchestral hits have to synchronize with the action on screen. It's easy to imagine that the title theme on trumpet, too, can test the patience of some listeners. The string section of the orchestra performs during much of the score in a processional march that will probably get on some nerves, too. Several songs were inserted into the film, and they break up the flow of the album as well. The Dean Martin and Nancy Sinatra songs function well because they also represent the age of mythic Western movies, but the more modern songs (some of which existing in a genre that is a startling contrast to the immediately previous track), are a detraction from that feeling. Because of the arrangement of the intermingling of songs and score, the album is a very inconsistent listening experience. Not only are the source songs spread throughout, but Silvestri's cues are often quite short (a trademark parody necessity). Sequences of unremarkable underscore, although short as well, break up the mood of comedy. Hidden in these short cues, though, are some probable joys, including two purely light-hearted motifs representing the mind-numbing silliness of Pitt's character. The first idea, inhabiting "Blame Shifting" and the start of "The Mexican - End Credits Medley," uses the services of a harmonica, whistler, and banjo to roll gently along. The second, heard in "10% Clint" and later in the closing medley, pulls at the Ennio Morricone strings with such effectiveness that even novices will appreciate the sound of the classic, cult Western motif. Overall, The Mexican is mostly ridiculous music that can go on without interest for five minutes and then suddenly burst out with a simply phenomenal orchestral sequence of theme with orchestra and chorus. If you compile all of Silvestri's strong cues from The Mexican, you can easily get 12 to 15 minutes of fantastic parody music. It has the type of personality that will either blow you away or simply make you laugh. Either way, it will induce a smile. It is unfortunate, therefore, that the presentation of the music on the album, which seems to stay true to the storyline of the film, forces you to wade through a lot of mediocre cues and songs to get to these strong moments. ***
TRACK LISTINGS:
Total Time: 49:14
NOTES & QUOTES:
The insert includes extensive credits and artwork, but no extra information
about the score or film.
Copyright ©
2001-2024, Filmtracks Publications. All rights reserved.
The reviews and other textual content contained on the filmtracks.com site may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed without the prior written authority of Christian Clemmensen at Filmtracks Publications. All artwork and sound clips from The Mexican are Copyright © 2001, Decca Records and cannot be redistributed without the label's expressed written consent. Page created 2/20/01 and last updated 1/31/09. |
