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FILMTRACKS.COM
PRINTER-FRIENDLY VIEW 
Review of National Treasure (Trevor Rabin)
FILMTRACKS RECOMMENDS:
Buy it... if you aren't thrown off by Trevor Rabin's jarring
transitions from noble orchestral anthems to synthetic rhythms
punctuated by rampaging electric guitars.
Avoid it... if the recycled sound of Rabin's Armageddon and many subsequent siblings doesn't interest you when you know that no dramatic new adaptation of that sound is even being attempted by the composer.
FILMTRACKS EDITORIAL REVIEW:
National Treasure: (Trevor Rabin) Serving as little
more than a poorly rendered preview of Ron Howard's 2005 adaptation of
"The Da Vinci Code," National Treasure is a ridiculous piece of
eye candy that requires you to suspend nearly every practically minded
thought in your head if you want to buy into the its premise. A
contemporary American investigator with outstanding intuition (whose
family seems fond of naming their children after the founding fathers of
their country) does what acclaimed scientists for centuries have tried
and failed in doing: discover the path to the Holy Grail of fabled
treasures. Along the way, he has to stumble upon hidden shipwrecks,
steal America's Declaration of Independence, avoid a nasty-as-usual Sean
Bean, and happen upon vast cave systems that somehow seemed to elude
geologists despite all of the era's technology. The far-fetched nature
of the film, not to mention the extensive rip-off implications and
skeptical reviews from critics, didn't stop National Treasure
from barreling to the top of the box office charts for a few weeks in
the tepid Christmas season of films in 2004 and spawning a sequel
several years later. Being a Jerry Bruckheimer production, this
brainless mush was simply the next in a long and successful string of
films that the famed producer used to diminish the collective
intelligence of the world with an obvious lack of logic, and if you
crown Armageddon as the king of these endeavors, then it should
come as no surprise that former Yes member and former Media Ventures
associate Trevor Rabin was the composer of choice for National
Treasure. While many similar artists from the halls (or periphery)
of Hans Zimmer's school of musical sensibilities in the 1990's had since
graduated to bigger and better things (namely John Powell and Harry
Gregson-Williams, among others), Rabin seemed content stirring the same
old pot of Media Venture samples and simplistic rhythms and melodies for
films that called for that dumbed-down, candy-packaged approach. In
fact, he became something of a relic by the end of the 2010's, the only
composer really continuing to emulate that original 1990's sound in his
collaboration with Disney for youth-oriented action flicks. Still,
despite this lack of stylistic maturation, Rabin was perfect for the
National Treasure franchise. In a way, his methodology is exactly
what audiences (and even some film music collectors) still expect to
hear when they go to the theatres prepared to suspend their belief in
logic, and regardless of whether or not you can enjoy this music, it's
difficult to say that the fit between film and score isn't appropriately
cozy.
Realistically, you can't expect National Treasure to have received music any more intelligent than the usual muck that Rabin provided. The surprising aspect of Rabin's effort is that it actually ranks rather highly compared to most of his recycled sounds back then, competing at times with even his better regurgitations of this general style in his late 2000's assignments. That doesn't mean that there exists an ounce of individual creativity in instrumentation or any other unique element in National Treasure. In fact, its recycled electronic and orchestral ramblings are extremely tired and familiar. But at least they are assembled into a somewhat more palatable form, enhancing the role of the keyboard for a number of cyclical figures that do attempt to inject a sense of elegance into the score. It has the Armageddon effect going for it, one in which you move from pretty and simplistic orchestral statements of melody in one cue to metal-slapping charges of electric guitar-laden wildness in the next. Rabin never seems as though he wants to completely drop either sound in any context, so in the first half of National Treasure, you hear his underdeveloped anthems performed with the pseudo-sincerity that comes with a product that doesn't quite sound either entirely orchestral or entirely synthetic. An extremely large number of orchestral players is credited for this recording, but it seems as though these performers rotated in and out for sessions that probably amounted to a smaller overall group. Hence, a closing crescendo of majesty in "Treasure" that closes out the score with a tone that sounds more synthetic than real. The lightly rhythmic, tonal cues are pleasant, if not simply rehashes of music burned into the collective memory, and similar ghosts of scores past are raised for the latter half of the score, in which Rabin wields the electric guitars like a plastic sword in the hands of an 8-year-old child. The main anthem is first heard with the customary snare backing in "Ben" and eventually flourishes with fake choir during the faux-inspirational sendoff in "Treasure." Rabin almost busts out of his mould with flashy moves into the arena of Thomas Newman's keyboarding in "Library of Congress" and at the start of "The Chase." The "Declaration of Independence" cue, though, is perhaps symbolic of the (rather short) album's weakness, its beauty sandwiched in between daunting, rampaging electronic guitars. If only Rabin could stick with one mode or the other for an entire blockbuster such as this, then perhaps listeners could forgive its terribly recycled constructs and enjoy the performances from the electronic or orchestral elements alone. Unfortunately, he had not yet found that balance by National Treasure, though with the half dozen mundane but peasant orchestral tracks, Rabin pulls off a decently adequate score. ***
TRACK LISTINGS:
Total Time: 38:52
NOTES & QUOTES:
The insert includes a list of performers but no extra information
about the score or film.
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