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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. Debuting in the early
1980's, it could have been either, and despite a flourishing acting
performance by Fisk's wife, Sissy Spacek, along with generally
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
increasingly 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 itself. As expected, he establishes a
gorgeous primary theme for the location and character, but it will
instantly remind listeners of several of his others in both the drama
and Western genres, 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 by 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 appeared the next year in
Poltergeist.
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 weren't so identical, including the swirling
interlude sequence. Even 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 oddly playful hoedown/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 completely destroy whatever mood the softer moments of
the score create for you. After repeating its purely small-town heart
with 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
adaptation (sadly the most engaging recording from Goldsmith in the
score), the mood of the work is permanently disrupted by the horrifying
"End of Calvin" mayhem. The score was released on a 1991 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. Varèse re-issued its prior album for a
limited, "encore" CD run in 2019, selling out within days but joined by
an enduring digital download option. Overall, the main theme is very
sweet, but it's highly redundant for Goldsmith, and it alone cannot
carry an otherwise unsettled and brief score.
** @Amazon.com: CD or
Download
| Bias Check: |
For Jerry Goldsmith reviews at Filmtracks, the average editorial rating is 3.22
(in 138 reviews)
and the average viewer rating is 3.25
(in 154,649 votes). The maximum rating is 5 stars.
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The insert of the 1991 Varèse album includes no extra information
about the score or film. That of the 2019 re-issue offers details about both.
