: (John Williams) Perhaps only the founder of
the Shoah Foundation and the most well-respected Jew in the history of
filmmaking could pull off such a striking commentary on the history of
the Middle East's deadly history of religious and cultural reprisals.
Like
, Steven Spielberg approaches his history of
the aftermath of the 1972 massacre of Israeli athletes at the Munich
Olympics from the perspective of a documentary. But unlike
, with Spielberg angering both Israelis and Palestinians
(despite his obvious love for Israel) with his seemingly unbiased take
on the opening days of the perpetual cycle of terror-styled violence
that has existed between the two peoples since Munich. Based on the book
by George Jonas, the film deals with the trials and
failures of the small team of men organized by the Israeli prime
minister herself for the purpose of hunting down the eleven Palestinian
men behind the terror attacks at Munich and eliminating them in the
public fashion of horrific bombings. Likewise, the tragedies that occur
during these assassinations are presented by Spielberg with a distinctly
mournful atmosphere, often with the cinematic effect of bright lights
above, or outside a window, shining in on an otherwise bleak canvas of
muted colors. This affect of common melancholy between both the Israelis
and Palestinians is directly interpreted in the score by John Williams,
whose music serves to further merge the tragedy by sharing themes across
cultures and producing a score of both restrained beauty and stark
shades of gray.
Likely remembered as the year of Williams' final
Star
Wars score, 2005 has been a very active one for the maestro, with
Munich capping a series of scores that have all dealt in the
genre of high drama and action. For collectors of Williams' works (and,
given his universal popularity, a large portion of average movie-goers),
it will be tempting to compare
Munich with
Schindler's
List, and while the basic tragedy at the hearts of the stories is
similar, Williams' handling of
Munich is different if only
because it successfully conveys the dazed affects of both cultures'
hopeless futures should they continue down the path of perpetual
reprisals. Williams doesn't take a side in his score for
Munich,
with the highlights of the score ironically existing in the
Middle-Eastern-stylized vocals meant to dramatize the culture of the
Palestinians. Both the opening cue of the film and the stunning
"Remembering Munich" feature the lamenting vocals of Lisbeth Scott
(excelling here far more than in her concurrent efforts), with the
latter cue surpassing any other cue from Williams' pen in 2005 (in sheer
grip and raw emotional appeal) with its solemn mourning of the event.
Structurally, Williams offers a symbolic translation of that theme into
one that the strings of the orchestra can present for the Israeli
interests, with the lush and labored performances of the theme
resembling in parts the same extreme heavy-heartedness of
Schindler's
List. The single most similar string performance to the earlier
classic is heard in "Hatikvah (The Hope)," with the Israeli national
anthem powerfully enhanced by the composer.
A secondary theme for the leader of the Israeli
assassination group (Avner) is intertwined with the softer performances
of the Munich theme as the film passes between flashback and aftermath.
The culmination of this gloomy character theme exists in "A Prayer for
Peace," which Spielberg lauds as a "quintessential movement" that both
pays respect to the fallen athletes while remembering the historical
significance of the tragedy both during and after the assault. The Avner
theme would reappear more often than any other, though in its subtle
performances by acoustic guitar and oboe, it doesn't allow those
instrumental soloists the opportunity to shine as brightly as Scott does
in her vocals. Without the big name soloists for a modern Williams
score, it's interesting to note that the five or six main performers
here, while certainly sufficing in their duties, lack the punch and
memorability that previous Williams scores --and
Schindler's List
specifically-- have traditionally provided. But this restraint is a
byproduct of the score's intent, and a significant portion of
Munich is defined by a use of tense electronic loops and
dissonant piano strikes that resemble, in their basic usage, the
rhythmic sections of
JFK. Used for the tarmac flashback and raid
sequence, these slightly frenzied sections are qualified but difficult
to enjoy apart from the visuals. There are other "Williams-isms" in
Munich that continue to prove the composer's superior talents,
and while the score is saturated with such techniques and twists of
theme more often than Williams' two previous efforts in 2005, the
"Thoughts of Home" cue stands out; in this darkly thoughtful piece,
Williams establishes the Munich theme with the cello and French horn and
eventually brings the story to the present with a subtle switch to
Avner's theme (first with counterpoint).
The finale cue, for the end credits, is a resolute
contrast between the styles of solo cello and solo piano, with the full
ensemble providing interludes for the rolling elegance of the piano. The
obvious concert piece from the score, the end titles performance of
Avner's theme highlights the drama of the story in its layered string
statements while bringing the story home with the highly personal piano.
If this track does serve as the concert piece for
Munich, the
only shame in its construction is the lack of the poignant Munich theme
heard earlier in the score (though dragging around Scott for vocal
performances at every concert isn't realistic either). The Hollywood
Studio Symphony does a commendable job with Williams' material, although
one can't help but wonder if some additional emotional grip could have
been achieved by one of the more heralded and established performing
groups elsewhere. Overall, there are parts of
Munich that are
spine-chilling, and there is no doubt that it is an effective piece. But
unlike
Schindler's List, for which Williams went over the top to
express the tragedy of history with gorgeous theme after gorgeous theme,
Munich doesn't outward express the same level of emotion. Its
bittersweet sadness is countered by a quiet confidence, and perhaps some
of this temperament is due to the ominous statement that Spielberg is
making with the film... that it's entirely possible that without
extraordinary circumstances, peace can never be achieved. Williams
captures this dilemma well, but in so doing, you can't help but be drawn
downward by
Munich's stark realities. Don't be surprised to see
Williams achieve multiple Academy Award nominations at the end of
January, for his overall output in 2005 was magnificent, and his two
scores later in the year (this and
Memoirs of a Geisha) are both
finely crafted art.
**** @Amazon.com: CD or
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