could have spun past
critics and audiences in 1958 with neither group realizing the dizzying
success of every aspect of the picture. Based loosely on the myth of
"Tristan and Isolde,"
contained all the typical plot
twists, identity crises, and blends of beautiful and psychotic imagery
that made Hitchcock into a master. It also featured the necessary
pairing of Jimmy Stewart and Kim Novak, sharing almost an equal amount
of screen time with the city of San Francisco, which serves as almost a
character of its own. Among other techniques best employed by Hitchcock
for
included the revelation of a plot twist to only
audience, the inclusion of nightmarish animation, and the integral role
for Bernard Herrmann's score. It's difficult to assess just how well
Herrmann's music for
(the fourth, and by far the best
collaboration between director and composer at the time) would stand on
its own without the stunning merits of the film's other production
qualities. Over the years, however,
has been established
as among Herrmann's very best scores, and is often identified as the
pinnacle of the famous collaboration. Perhaps by no coincidence,
is one of the few Herrmann scores for a Hitchcock film
that is highly developed in its romantic themes and motifs. It is thus
one of Herrmann's more listenable scores on album, with a love theme so
recognizable that it stands as a worthy identity to represent Herrmann's
larger body of work across all genres.
is a highly
structured score in a modern sense, utilizing its thematic and rhythmic
ideas in ways that were largely beyond their time. And while he does
this, Herrmann also offers several trademark horror techniques in his
instrumentation that fans would come to adore in future projects. In
short,
The score's opening titles sequence (over Saul Bass'
imagery) is unique in that it previews several motifs heard in far
different conditions later in the score, but doesn't reappear itself at
any time in full. Its broad brass notes over hypnotic triplet rhythms
are more in synch with Herrmann's straight horror scores, with a
boldness evident in efforts like
Cape Fear. A four-note motif
representing mystery in the score debuts here, as do fragments of the
love theme that would define the score elsewhere. The "Prelude" is thus
a battle between the nightmares and dreams of Stewart's character in the
film, alternating between horrific single brass notes and tumultuously
romantic string interludes. Herrmann, as he would accomplish in a few
other places in the score, finishes the sequence with an ambitious,
harmonious conclusion complete with resounding timpani and a gong hit.
In the days before lengthy end credits, the "Prelude" here would
ironically be the perfect closing piece. Immediately after this
introduction, Herrmann serves audiences with the recurring motif for
Stewart's problems with the fear of heights; his frenzied, dizzying
strings wave with an intense dissonance that truly defines the horror of
the affliction. The score then simmers for a considerable time, as the
relationship between Stewart and Novak's character, and the mysterious
behavior of the latter, is followed. Here Herrmann slowly develops two
major ideas in the score. First, the "love theme" is rooted in
exploratory strings while Novak is trailed; in later scenes, after she
is rescued from the bay, the theme begins to pronounce itself in full
form as the two leads converse. Of more importance to these
investigatory cues is Herrmann's use of the Spanish habanera rhythm as a
propulsive element in the mystery. The significance in the ethnic origin
of the rhythm comes from several references in the plotline of the film,
and its use is as methodic as Stewart's detective tactics. This rhythm,
often carried by a woodwind section amplified with five clarinets,
assists the slower moments of the underscore in maintaining your
interest.
The best known theme in
Vertigo remains the one
given full treatment in "Scene D'Amour." This love theme is a rare
venture into the unashamed melodic romance genre for Herrmann, evoking a
touch of mystery and sadness in its performances. With high style from
the Golden Age of Hollywood, this theme is as heartbreaking as any
you'll ever encounter from that era, and it retains its explosive
dramatic effect to this day. As mentioned before, however,
Vertigo is made great by its integration and maturation process
of these themes, and Herrmann applies them with great psychological
effect throughout the score. The love theme makes a grandiose statement
during Stewart and Novak's first kiss in "The Beach," a cue notable for
ending on a rare major key crescendo from Herrmann. As Novak's real
identity and Stewart start a fresh romance in the film's final third,
the love theme is brilliantly adapted into a more friendly waltz,
stripped of its slushy romantic weight because of Stewart's obsession
with Novak's previous identity. The score switches into the minor key
for the religious inclinations, utilizing an electric organ for suspense
in "The Forest" (when Novak disappears) and in the "Finale" (when a nun
causes the ultimate scare). The habanera rhythm is reprised twice in the
latter half, both at moments that are flashbacks to the early
investigations. First, the remarkable animated nightmare sequence throws
the rhythm at you with full force, adding castanets and tambourines for
ethnic flavor. A pivotal scene in the film involves Stewart's discovery
of the truth in "The Necklace," for which Herrmann uses the rhythms for
a final time in the form of sudden muted trumpets with striking force.
In "The Letter," Novak's real identity composes and then abandons a
letter to Stewart explaining what has happened to him, and during this
recounting of the film's first half, Herrmann appropriately touches
quickly (literally... in faster tempi) the musical ideas used in those
previous scenes. The score teases you with several false endings,
especially with the abrupt end of the love theme in "Finale," where a
solo organ cuts in and leads to Herrmann's bombastic, tragic brass
closing.
Behind the scenes,
Vertigo presented nightmares
in both the recording process and on its album variations throughout the
years. Due to a strike by American musicians and obscure international
laws, Herrmann was forced to have the score recorded in London under the
wand of Muir Mathieson. Though some believe that Mathieson's conducting
was among the best for any Herrmann score, the composer himself was
unsatisfied and eventually recorded his own suite of music from
Vertigo. Complicating matters even more, the British musicians
decided to strike as well halfway through the recording process, so
Mathieson finished the recording in Vienna. The problem with this
transition, however, is that the London sessions were in stereo while
the Vienna sessions were in far inferior mono sound. Because of this
(and many other factors), it would take nearly 40 years for a good album
presentation of
Vertigo to be assembled. In 1990, a Mercury label
CD offered 34 minutes of stereo music from the London sessions, which
luckily included most of the major cues (excluding "The Bay" and "The
Letter"). Meanwhile, suites from
Vertigo, usually including
"Prelude" and "Scene D'Amour," began appearing in many re-recorded
compilations, and these were typically well performed. The Varèse
Sarabande label rectified everything in the mid-90's with both a loyal
re-release of the original score and a full re-recording of the score on
separate albums. The original score was assembled as best they could in
1996, with many of the mono Vienna recordings placed in film sequence
with the major London ones; because of significant damage in the lack of
preservation of the master tapes, some material was lost, including the
"Graveyard" cue combining eerie high strings with awkwardly low
clarinets. Although Varèse's album of original material was
double the length of the Mercury release, it has been argued that
portions of that previous album sound better. That argument had been
made pointless after Varèse commissioned composer/conductor Joel
McNeely to lead the Royal Scottish National Orchestra in re-recording an
hour of
Vertigo earlier in the same year. The performance by the
RSNO, as well as McNeely's faithful interpretation of the score, is
superior in every aspect. So unless you absolutely require the original
recordings, in which case the late 1996 album is the most complete, the
early 1996 re-recording on Varèse is a stunningly satisfying
solution. No score has deserved such phenomenal treatment as much as
Vertigo, and even purists will enjoy Varèse's digital
rendering of this classic.
@Amazon.com: CD or
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- Score as Written for Film: *****
- 1990 Mercury Album: ****
- 1996 Varèse Sarabande Re-Recording: *****
- 1996 Varèse Sarabande Original Album: ****
- Overall: *****
