: (John Powell) With its almost-too-human
representation of a world made up entirely of robots, the film
offers a heartwarming story of dreams and inventions while
also laying a heavy dose of animated eye candy on the viewer. From the
same inventors of 2002's
follows the journey of a creative, promising young robot (who, in
customary fashion, kind of looks like his performing voice, Ewan
McGregor) to the big city, where he encounters a host of wild mechanical
characters and fights an idealistic battle against a big robot
corporation (to fulfill, of course, the ideology of the filmmakers).
With Pixar throwing its finest complexities at audiences in the grand
scope that fits the IMAX screens on which
was released in
part in 2005, the sophisticated cinematography is countered by wacky
details such as robotic farts, a reminder of the movie's target
audience. Additionally,
is living proof that there's ample
work in Hollywood for composers talented in the orchestral slapstick
department of writing. This style of cartoonish symphonic mayhem has
always been considered a difficult task to conquer for any composer, and
yet the resurgence of its demand on the big screen since the late 1990's
has allowed a whole slew of composers to display their
more-than-adequate talents in the area. David Newman, Ed Shearmur,
Michael Giacchino, Harry Gregson-Williams, and John Powell have all
excelled at whipping up a frenzy of light-hearted spirit from an
ensemble, and for Powell in particular, his journeys in this sort of
comedy composition have extended from his well known collaborations with
Gregson-Williams (
). All composers in this genre owe some foundation for
their music to vintage cartoon masters Carl Stalling and Raymond Scott,
but Powell in particular has found his own niche within this general
style by wildly infusing other genres of music into the mix.
Not wasting the opportunity to maximize his sonic
contribution to
Robots, Powell enlisted a very full-sized
Hollywood Studio Symphony, a medium-sized choir, and even added
recordings of the Blue Man Group from their New York studios for some
extra flair. Approaching a film about cute mechanized characters would
lead Powell to the obvious conclusion that the percussion section would
get a healthy dose of action, and the sounds of the Blue Man Group play
along those same lines. Interestingly, however, Powell largely
diminishes the creativity of the percussion section (and the similarly
rendered samples of various machine-related noises) after a few early
cues. In the end, listeners hear a symphonic score that seems to pull at
the emotional side of the characters' humanity rather than truly
emphasizing the tinkering sounds of a robotic world. A generic, suburban
title theme for strings pleasantly introduces the score and is
consistently ratcheted up in intensity as the work progresses. The
progressions of this theme, especially when it's presented in slower,
wholesome statements, are strangely reminiscent of John Williams' 1970's
style. The quality of the robust action sequences from start to finish
is heard in Powell's ability to conjure new ideas for seemingly every
new robot and situation. A subtheme and rhythm for the Madam Gasket
character, highlighted by menacingly deep brass, is perhaps the best
developed identity within the mass of frenetic underscore. Other
individual elements in the score merit considerable praise, including
the mechanical percussion in "Robots Overture" and "Wonderbot Wash," the
choral train motif in "Crosstown Express," and a larger, ominous choral
attack piece for the ultimate "Attack of the Sweepers." But even within
those cues, the choral motif for the train intentionally slurs to a halt
in slapstick style, the attack sequence offers a short bagpipe
performance without relation to the rest of the score, the "Butt
Whoopin'" cue presents its coolness with a short interlude for electric
guitar, and the following "Homecoming" cue swaggers in suave style with
a Western rhythm. Several bursts of funk are also commonplace, the end
of "Bigweld Workshop" representative of a moment when that pizzazz
explodes out of a monumental choral statement in obnoxious
fashion.
Therein lies the problem with a soundtrack like
Robots. Its pace is so frantic, its energy is so vibrant, its
genre of music is so haphazard, and its thematic and rhythmic focus
changes so often that it could possibly drive a person mad when
listening to the score apart from the film. If you recall how strangely
the gospel finale cue played on the album for Powell's
Gigli,
then imagine an entire score of such shifts of genre influence and you
have basic understanding of the schizophrenic personality of
Robots. The same format, of course, exists in
Rio and
several other forthcoming Powell scores. The composer does manage to tie
Robots together with impressive ease, however, with the size of
the ensemble, a light-hearted airiness, the loyalty to non-synthetic
elements, and a sense of humor serving as cohesive glue for the work. On
the other hand, Powell may have missed the boat with an underutilization
of the Blue Man Group and other percussive elements. When you think back
upon
Robots in retrospect, you get the impression that James
Horner accomplished a more convincing and memorable old-fashioned
mechanized sound with a simple rhythm and woodblock approach in the
opening cue of
Bicentennial Man. Powell did not allow the robots
to define the score to the same saturating effect as John Williams
accomplished in his quirky 1981 robot-inspired score for
Heartbeeps, nor did Powell integrate sound effects with the same
imagination as Jerry Goldsmith did in his similarly-styled, humorous
efforts. To that end, despite the wide variety of percussion that Powell
did indeed employ in the score from no less than 18 percussion
specialists, including the funky guys in the blue paint,
Robots
doesn't leave the listener with any one spectacular dash of creativity
that will keep you coming back to it. In the end, it would seem that
Powell was instead looking to offer music that lends the characters of
Robots with the human hearts and souls that the mechanical
visuals elements could not as easily provide, and thus got squeezed in
his attempt to emphasize compassion over form. A patience-testing
44-minute presentation on album will satisfy any Powell or slapstick
comedy fan, and while
Robots may not have the digestible
personality of
Antz, the robust highlights of
Chicken Run,
or the thematic grace of
How to Train Your Dragon, it stands well
enough on its own feet to suffice.
*** @Amazon.com: CD or
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| Bias Check: |
For John Powell reviews at Filmtracks, the average editorial rating is 3.28
(in 50 reviews)
and the average viewer rating is 3.16
(in 52,492 votes). The maximum rating is 5 stars.
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