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| Goldsmith |
Raggedy Man: (Jerry Goldsmith) One of a few films
directed by regular production designer Jack Fisk,
Raggedy Man
suffers from a very odd, disjointed script that can't decide if it's a
wholesome love story or a cheap slasher film. Opening in the early
1980's, it could have been either, and despite a flourishing acting
performance by Fisk's wife, Sissy Spacek, along with the outstanding art
direction and cinematography, the film's strange plot dooms it. Starring
as the sole telephone operator in a small Texas town during World War
II, Spacek's character meets a traveling sailor and the film essentially
follows the innocent emotional attachment that the two feel towards each
other and the woman's two young boys. The colors of the film are very
deeply rooted in the early 1940's, with the time capsule effect very
well conveyed. But the movie goes all awry with the involvement of a
scarecrow type of character, a "raggedy man," a group of loudmouth men
who have a keen eye for the operator, and a strikingly violent and
disturbing end. Critically, the film performed well, though there was
widespread sentiment that the narrative should have kept its focus on
the budding love story rather than the larger symbolism that the violent
elements are supposed to represent. This strange pairing of movie genres
presented a challenge for whoever scored the film, for the original
music would have to somehow strike the same balance without losing
cohesion. Composer Jerry Goldsmith was no stranger to small-scale drama,
the humbling vistas of Americana, or the brazen violence that exists in
his horror ventures. His qualifications in the department of sensitive,
highly personal woodwind themes extends from
A Patch of Blue to
A Girl Named Sooner, and it is this type of intimacy that
Goldsmith would largely abandon later in his career in favor of the more
largely romantic sound of a full ensemble behind his solo highlights. As
hard as it might be to imagine for enthusiasts of his more modern,
digital age works, Goldsmith had received award nominations for scores
like
A Patch of Blue, making him a very credible choice for a
small-scale, personal project like
Raggedy Man. Unfortunately,
Goldsmith's score predictably suffers from the same identity crisis as
the film's itself. As expected, he establishes a gorgeous primary theme
for the film, but it will instantly remind listeners of several of his
others, and he repeats that theme here until it's beaten like a dead
horse.
Performed with subdued elegance in the opening and
closing titles of
Raggedy Man with acoustic guitar, flute, and
harmonica, Goldsmith's lovely theme expands to include a light string
accompaniment. The only problem is that this theme is nearly identical
to the primary idea that would appear the next year in
Poltergeist, and it subsequently shares traits with every theme
attributed to "Carol Anne's Theme" thereafter and will present some
challenges to those who have little tolerance for self-repetition from
composers in general. The similarities wouldn't be so bothersome if the
structures and the use of strings and woodwinds (even down to the
swirling interlude sequence) weren't so identical, and if the theme
doesn't remind you of
Poltergeist, then it could draw comparisons
in its note for note borrowing from
Magic, too (and that's not
just because of the presence of a harmonica), as well as the
aforementioned light drama projects. It could be argued that Goldsmith
already wrote the most emotionally gripping version of this music in
A Patch of Blue. Another difficulty with
Raggedy Man is
the lack of focus caused by the film's wayward plot. A hoe-down
carnival-like motif, softer than similar insanity-inducing incarnations
of the same idea in Goldsmith's other scores, melds with a Mexican theme
and mingles ultimately with a shockingly sharp series of horror cues
late in the score. Jabbing, violent strings and brass attacks similar to
those in
Leviathan (of all places) completely destroy whatever
mood the softer moments of the score create for you. After repeating its
purely small-town heart with its simple instrumental authenticity
several times, the composer hits you with subdued versions of the
electronic "dooing" sound effect from the Blaster Beam of
Star Trek:
The Motion Picture fame in "Runaways." After the "Mexican Tune,"
complete with Spanish vocal performance (and sadly this is perhaps the
most interesting new material from Goldsmith in the score), the mood of
the score is permanently disrupted by the horrifying "End of Calvin"
mayhem. The score was released on album as the seventh entry in
Varèse Sarabande's original club series and sold for hundreds of
dollars after disappearing from the market. About ten years later, a
bootleg with 25 additional minutes of music appeared in circulation,
though this expanded version suffers from terrible sound quality, short
cue lengths, and the same disjointed feel to the contents in the rest of
the score. Overall, the title theme is very sweet, but you have heard it
in other places and it'll likely not be worth the price or search for
the collectible album.
** @Amazon.com: CD or
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| Bias Check: |
For Jerry Goldsmith reviews at Filmtracks, the average editorial rating is 3.29
(in 113 reviews)
and the average viewer rating is 3.31
(in 143,715 votes). The maximum rating is 5 stars.
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The insert includes no extra information about the score or film.
