: (Jerry Goldsmith) This production is
one of those rare cases in which an American remake of a European idea
was directed by the same person who headed the original version of the
tale. Director George Sluizer's film of abduction and obsession was a
far more powerfully unsettled and gloomy experience in its original
Dutch format by the same title. To the disgust of critics, the American
version was appended with a positive, dreamy ending, ruining the point
of the film's horrific message. It did feature a strong cast, and an
early cameo by a young Sandra Bullock as the abducted makes the setup
particularly unsettling. The disintegration of Kiefer Sutherland's
character, the partner of the long-missing woman, fuels the horror of
the story, with the man's obsession with the highway rest-stop abduction
leading him finally to a grim confrontation with the psychopathic
mastermind (Jeff Bridges) behind the plot. One of the lesser known
efforts by Jerry Goldsmith in the 1990's,
is a late
entry in the string of highly personal horror/thriller scores that he
composed early in the decade. Goldsmith was very familiar at the time
with scoring films about personal destruction, and his work for
. The resulting music is largely the
highlight of the production. The moderately orchestral score for
maintains a subdued level of dread for the majority of its
running time, progressively turning up the heat to accompany the mental
anguish on screen. When the primary character re-lives the abduction in
his mind, Goldsmith employs a metallic, percussive rhythm,
electronically rendered for much of its volume, that begins at a slow
tempo and leads the orchestra at a continuously faster pace as the
realization of the abduction sinks in. That harsh rhythm further
dominates the score through subsequent usage, although Goldsmith
seemingly preferred to keep a more sophisticated and tight hold on his
suspenseful material by intertwining it with familiar styles from his
other scores.
Between the bass string plucking of a simple rhythm (as
heard in
The Shadow) and a creepy, descending woodwind and cello
motif heard in
Star Trek: First Contact, the pacing and sentiment
of
The Vanishing is often established around intrigue rather than
fright. For the purposes of this review, the track titles referred to
will reference the 1997 bootleg that long existed on the market as the
only album representing the score. As the story unfolds in the opening
cue, "Barney's Story," Goldsmith pulls his strings with more of the
agonizing effect employed in
Basic Instinct, begging the relief
of listeners and viewers from the darkly romantic, but equally troubled
performances of harmonic ideas. The mechanical theme for the villain in
this cue is sparse, but effective in its deceptive innocence.
Accentuating the personality of the villain is an interesting inclusion
of descending motif (usually only two notes in length) that Goldsmith
uses to represent the cries of the character's victim. Later in the
score, as the audience and lead character learn of her fate, this motif
is transferred from delicate woodwinds to resounding brass. Also
accompanying the killer's activities are electronic sound effects that
swoosh and echo like distinct predecessors once again to Goldsmith's
later
Star Trek writing. In "Diane's Fate," the electronics take
the spotlight in an almost soft, carnivalesque version of the villain's
rhythm until, as the method of her death is really revealed, brass and
timpani make their triumphant statement of tragedy. The parallels
between the motifs of this score and Goldsmith's later
Star Trek
entries is unmistakable, and while it is curious to speculate about it
in hindsight, the use is still effective. Also foreshadowing the future
would be the brutal attacks of timpani in the final two action cues of
the score, giving an early taste of what
L.A. Confidential would
offer a few years later. In between statements of the various themes for
The Vanishing are several filler cues, most of which
inconsequential in their slight volume and lack of development.
Goldsmith does attempt to maintain a sense of movement in even these
quiet cues, a constant reminder of the pursuit of the truth.
The most interesting aspect of
The Vanishing is
the love theme that Goldsmith suggests throughout the score before its
major performance at the end. It's no secret that Goldsmith had an
affinity for the theme that eventually anchored
The Russia House.
Its long history in development (and rejection) allowed the composer time
to perfect the jazzy idea for
The Russia House, still an emotional
powerhouse that ranks among the best efforts of the composer's career.
For some reason, Goldsmith apparently had not worked it out of his
system as of 1993, for he decided to reprise significant parts of this
theme for
The Vanishing after failing to work the same adaptation
into his two rejected scores of 1992. The theme is introduced in "The
Last of Diane," suggesting that it represents the lost love of the main
character's haunted past, but it makes another flighty appearance in "A
New Life," suggesting that perhaps the character is shedding that anchor
at last. Either way, the subject matter mirrors the emotional turmoil of
The Russia House and the application of the idea, while
understandably startling for any Goldsmith collector to suddenly hear in
the middle of this score, suffices in its purpose. By the snazzy final
cue of
The Vanishing, the audience discovers that the theme is
actually for the new relationship developing throughout the film, and as
the Americanized version of the story makes a light-hearted pun on the
line "No Coffee," the score does a 180-degree turn and revisits the
actual jazzy instrumentation of
The Russia House as well. The
same piano, sax (this time electronic?), bass, and percussion ensemble
is utilized once again, though Goldsmith adeptly takes part of the
previous theme's progression and accentuates the descending two note
motif from this score to match. One could say, therefore, that Goldsmith
had the theme for
The Russia House in mind when he wrote the "cry
for help" motif for the remainder of the work. At any rate, the closing
cue is somewhat tongue-in-cheek, likely Goldsmith's method of poking fun
at the fact that everyone recognized the upbeat ending to be a cheap
Hollywood twist. Still, the use of
The Russia House here is a
reprise in the spookiest of forms, not only because of the genre of the
film, but because it is so strikingly a "self rip-off" that James Horner
critics should perk up and take note.
On album, the cue is so fantastically out of place that
it could cause one to scratch his head in confusion. After 45 minutes of
emotional trauma in the score for
The Vanishing, however, "No
Coffee" seems like a huge sigh of relief (which was the intent of the
last scene of the film). But it certainly detracts from the otherwise
strong cohesion of the rest of the score. The thriller material is an
interesting study for Goldsmith collectors; the foreshadowing of ideas
in subsequent scores is plentiful, and
The Vanishing proves to
have been a fertile testing ground of ideas for the composer. Still, for
the sake of listenability, the last cue will overshadow the rest of the
effort due to its flashy theme and performance. For the many die-hard
fans of
The Russia House, it's a treat not to be missed. The
history of
The Vanishing on album was long dominated by a strong
49-minute bootleg available on the collector's market as of 1997.
Illustrious fans of the composer pressed the bootleg and passed it off
as a promotional endeavor; under the "Pony Express" label, this bootleg
offers all you'll want from the score and does so with excellent sound
quality. Many years later, the Varèse Sarabande label twice paid
tribute to the score. First, twenty minutes of the most pertinent
material from the score appeared at the end of the massive 6-CD "Jerry
Goldsmith at 20th Century Fox" set of 2004. Then, in 2007, the complete
65-minute score was remixed from the original masters and released as an
entry in the label's Club series (though at 3,000 copies, it didn't sell
out quickly like their other limited titles). Unfortunately, while the
2007 album is complete, the extra 16 minutes of music is only basic,
suspenseful filler material. Its inclusion actually deadens the
listening experience. More problematic is the fact that the vibrant, wet
sound of the bootleg's presentation (mirroring the composer's late
1990's albums in terms of dynamic mix) has been dulled considerably. The
electronics are particularly hindered. Additionally, the insert notes
fail to mention any of the obvious connections between this score and
Goldsmith's others. With all of this in mind, the 1997 bootleg remains a
superior product. Sorry, Varèse, but there's a reason why this
one didn't fly off the shelves. Either way,
The Vanishing is
strongly recommended. It may be derivative and contain ideas developed
further in other scores by the composer, but it's a solid guilty
pleasure for any Goldsmith collector.
**** @Amazon.com: CD or
Download
| Bias Check: |
For Jerry Goldsmith reviews at Filmtracks, the average editorial rating is 3.26
(in 125 reviews)
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