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•	2002 Album

•	2023 Album

•	2002 Album

To say that Badelt succeeded in creating an overachieving symphonic score for a film of this level of disappointment is an understatement. His work for The Time Machine is adventurous, melodic, and highly varied, with all the makings of an exciting action hit. The size and scope of the score, when considering the balanced employment of the symphony, his trademark electronics, and a futuristically ethnic chorus, is impressive, to say the least. That said, whether this work will reside as an affable guilty pleasure in your collection or, alternately, an irritating exercise in futility depends completely on your opinion about composers clearly stating all of the obvious influences in their careers or emulating temp tracks. Reportedly, The Time Machine utilized Goldsmith's score for The Edge as a temp track, steering Badelt heavily in that direction himself. Even if temp track emulation alone doesn't explain the frequent familiarity of The Time Machine, it's not all that uncommon for a newcomer, when greeted with a mammoth breakthrough project, to pay tribute to those influences in an open fashion. Some listeners consider this practice a detraction, claiming to expose a composer's lack of individual talent. These issues are central to The Time Machine, because the entirety of the score's best moments is so blatantly informed by the works of not only Goldsmith but also James Horner, John Barry, and Hans Zimmer that you can't help but make a mental note of each reference. Every thematic representation, from the brassy main theme to the romance theme on strings and an ethnic choral idea representing a future race, is informed greatly by the efforts put forth in the 1990's by those composers. The middle sequences in The Time Machine, from "The Time Machine" ("In a Week...") to "Stone Language" ("The Stones and the River"), are seemingly pieced together from Goldsmith's The Edge, Zimmer's The Lion King, and several free-floating tendencies heard in countless Horner scores. The resemblance to Goldsmith's work is particularly striking, even emulating the veteran composer's light rhythmic accompaniment to bold horn statements of the main theme for the time machine and protagonist. No Goldsmith collector can hear "I Don't Belong Here" without knowing it derives from The Edge.

Badelt remains faithful to his Goldsmith-inspired main theme throughout The Time Machine, and he manages to carry his ascending romance theme beyond its initial boundaries in the past setting as well. This lightly dramatic idea from Horner's books occupies "Bleeker Street" with its heavy bass string accompaniment of a leading violin and the sweeping, broad scope which Barry employed in the 1980's. (The first minute of "I Don't Belong Here" also offers mid-1980's Horner character at its best.) The love theme dominates early in the score, accompanying both death scenes, but Badelt references it later in the work as Wells' primary character is reminded of his lost love. This character, now with the name of Alexander Hartdegen, travels 800,000 years into the future, he discovers a world of darkly exotic tribalism. The introduction of the brazenly divergent and futuristic ethnic theme in "Eloi" ("Where Am I?") and "Good Night," extending to the final moments of the score, are cross between Goldsmith's The Ghost and the Darkness and Zimmer's The Lion King. It's an enjoyable identity utilizing 158 recordings of the same voice combined, but it struggles in the originality of its constructs and has absolutely nothing to do with the prior orchestral personality of the score. A shakuhachi flute and tribal-oriented percussion provide additional coloration to these performances. While all of the thematic references will positively tickle some film music collectors, others may consider these similarities disturbing despite their masterful symphonic rendering. In the late cues, concentrating on the more strident battle music, Badelt does offer a handful of unique ideas to give the score some distinction, though these moments are not as memorable. Badelt's thematic handling of the Morlock villains teases a few muscular variants on antagonistic melodies, but none of them sticks. His handling of their leader, Iron's Uber Morlock, is sadly vague in its meandering choral personality, suggesting connectivity through persisting hints of the two primary themes from the past. In the final moments of the narrative, those two themes shift from their classically symphonic tones to the shakuhachi flute of the future tribal society, though Badelt does allow one last reference of the love theme on piano. Never does the main theme really return to its original swashbuckling spirit, leading to the score's most intriguing characteristic: the total dichotomy of its first and second halves.

While Badelt manages to retain his two initial themes throughout, their renderings are so different by the end of The Time Machine that a casual listener might think he was hearing a completely different score. The first half features a more traditional line of dramatic and smooth orchestral exposition, often with typical fantasy choral accompaniment, but the second half addresses the exotic and sinister aspects of the story in totally different modes. Badelt chose to score the past settings with familiar orchestral methods but shifts for the future environment to throw totally different keys and harmonies at the listener. Along with the combination of attractive flutes, voices, drums, and some seemingly electronic devices to add a heavy bass region, he produces the similarities to The Lion King. It's quite a shock for one score to experience. Still, despite the less traditional sounds heard during the later cues, Badelt maintains a critical melodic atmosphere throughout most of their performances. The action cues that follow, especially during the Morlock attacks, resort to some less interesting, harsh pounding with a sharp synthetic edge, possibly due to the post-production manipulation of the ensemble. In some moments, the score sounds like Gladiator set in the distant future, but even during the dark confrontation at the film's climax, Badelt's sense of tonality never waivers. It is that last point that causes The Time Machine, as a score and album, to present itself in a cohesively enjoyable whole. While some of the more grating action cues in the latter half of the film are less impressive than the fluid expressions of drama at the beginning, even the least interesting aspects of this score are comparable to the average tone of Zimmer's efforts of the era. The African-influenced elements are not completely integrated with the Goldsmith-like brass main theme until the final cue, but by themselves, both offer some spectacular moments. Originality issues will always plague this work, though it's safe to say that if you're a Zimmer collector, the latter half of The Time Machine will appeal to you just as much as Goldsmith and Horner enthusiasts will appreciate the opening half. This equation does not change on a limited, 2023 expanded album, which adds mostly filler material in the latter half of the score. There are singular cues in The Time Machine that represent some the most impressive work by any composer in 2002, confirming that Badelt did indeed have potentially brighter days ahead. While this score may not shine as brightly as his music for The Promise a few years later, the two represent the composer's best achievements of the decade.  ****   @Amazon.com: CD or Download

Bias Check:

For Klaus Badelt reviews at Filmtracks, the average editorial rating is 3 (in 11 reviews) and the average viewer rating is 3.11 (in 103,349 votes). The maximum rating is 5 stars.