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| Serra |
Rollerball (2001): (Eric Serra) Fascination with the
rollerball game as a concept has never really diminished since Norman Jewison's
1975 film interpretation of William Harrison's original story, despite the fact
that the illogical and somewhat confusing film primarily dealt with
socio-political issues in general and not the game itself. If the term "cult" was
to ever be attached to the ultimate, fictionally conceived game, however,
Rollerball would be an obvious mainstream choice. Still, for some reason,
MGM and director John McTiernan, a talent who has produced both fantastic
successes and monumental failures on the big screen, decided that a modern
version of
Rollerball was justified for a 2001 resurrection. The film
would extensively pour its budget into its art direction, glitzing everything up
with lavish sets that were drenched in neon colors and flashing lights. Add to
that the primal noises of the violent game, as well as an awkward modernization
of the game's actual figure-8 setup, and audiences were treated to eye and ear
candy at every turn. McTiernan, as expected, also took the adult nature of the
game to its furthest, with considerable gore and nudity (hey, why not?) featured
throughout the picture, too. When MGM (and test audiences) saw McTiernan's result
in post-production, they were not surprisingly horrified and demanded
considerable editing and a new ending. The toned back alteration of the project
made even less sense when completed, and the film, hindered by a poor cast and a
nonsensical plot, was a huge failure. The score didn't help the situation much,
either. The original
Rollerball utilized a bizarre combination of
classical music and Andre Previn's own material to throw the futuristic setting
of the game in a state of timeless flux. This time around, French techno and new
age composer Eric Serra was assigned to push that musical sound even further into
the frightening future.
It was not often that Serra scored films outside of his
partnership with director Luc Besson, but given that this new
Rollerball
was once again set in a mythical European/Asian setting, Serra's habit of
producing a pseudo Middle Eastern style to his electronics would have seemed to
be more than appropriate. Such an example of this Middle Eastern influence can be
heard in one of his more popular mainstream scores for the American public,
The Fifth Element. For
Rollerball, however, Serra would push the
limits of his rhythmic loops and synthetic instrumentation, exploring a much more
abrasive level of harsh attitude. Most of the score cues in the film accompany
the violent scenes of the game in action, so fans of Serra's more contemplative,
mood-driven solo work or fluid scores should beware of the monstrous personality
concocted here. If you listen to enough Serra material, you begin to hear 30 to
40 stock sounds in his library of synthetic samples that the composer utilizes to
construct many of his works (some of which are samples that other people created
in the first place). This time, he throws them all at you with unrelenting force,
often on top of driving electric guitar rhythms or deep bass droning of
significant volume. A somewhat retro, Hammond organ approach is offset by
screeching electric guitars and a crashing series of percussive blasts throughout
these action cues. A distinct absence of harmony leads to the appropriate level
of discontent that one has while watching the horrific game, and yet the pace of
the music is so dauntingly pounding that you can't help but allow it to suck you
into its atmosphere. A handful of less engaging underscored cues does allow a
brief respite from the action, and these are often the times when a Middle
Eastern vocal (such as in "Serokin") or a somewhat East-Asian choice of
electronic instrumentation (such as in "Oportu") heightens the appeal of the
score beyond its typical employment of brute force.
The overall attitude of the
Rollerball score is deceitful
at its worst and tragic at its best, with the film's cold, careless, and
conniving corporate environment influencing every last cue in Serra's score. No
matter the rhythm of the cue, an intense, industrial pounding is conveyed in the
music, thrusting this hopeless environment down your throat with every
indiscriminant hit. The anger conveyed in parts of this score is convincing, with
motifs of frustration often dying in unceremonious fashion. Even the somewhat
less driving finale cues are still drenched in sound effects that begin in upper
ranges and slowly descend in tone, pulling the emotions in a downward spiral to
the very last moment. Serra toys with the listener by inserting some of his usual
sounds that are supposed to represent positive emotions, like the sleigh bells,
beginning to appear late in the score opposite likewise depressing cues. For
Serra's fans, this will be perhaps an interesting listening experience, but for
film score collectors in general,
Rollerball will baffle you with Serra's
continued disregard for the basic rules of cue structure or scene change. Even
aside from Serra's inability to maintain a theme in many of his scores,
Rollerball is among the worst examples of a score that has no cohesive
element whatsoever, playing on album like a solo work that follows none of the
established customs of film music. Its aimless, meandering, droning attitude has
no distinct beginning and end. Add to that four heavy songs (one of which an
intolerable Japanese rock song with old video game sounds and two other songs by
L.A. sleaze rockers Beautiful Creatures and Rappagariya) and you get a very
forgettable European product. Even if Serra was successful in harnessing the
negative power and emotion of the game in
Rollerball, he continues to
provide music that is all over the map, rendering the score useless in situations
when it needs to foreshadow an event, accentuate fine points in a cue, or even
make references to other scenes in the film. It's a horrendous failure, both on
screen and on album.
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The insert includes extensive credits, but no extra information about the
score or film.
