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Wilde: (Debbie Wiseman) If ever there was a perfect
casting of an actor in the role of a real life figure, it was Stephen
Fry and his portrayal of famed 1890's playwright Oscar Wilde. Despite
his incredibly popular writing at the time, Wilde was destroyed by
society's refusal to accept his homosexuality, an aspect of his life
revealed through a torturous series of public humiliations that led to
his imprisonment. He was a loyal family man who became infatuated with
fellow poet Lord Alfred Douglas after discovering his homosexual
inclinations, and the two carried on a secret relationship until members
of both men's families intervened. Wilde inadvisably sued Douglas'
father and his orientation was exposed to the extent that he was tried
for indecency and imprisoned for two years, during which time his health
failed and likely caused his death at only the age of 46. Both the man's
writing and his intriguing personal story have fascinated scholars for a
century, and a Pulitzer Prize-winning 1987 biography of Wilde by Richard
Ellmann was used as the basis for Brian Gilbert's cinematic adaptation,
Wilde, in 1997. The biographical project was not a financial
success, though it was applauded in the film festival circuit and later
received warm critical reviews and a handful of award nominations for
its acting performances. Fry's depiction of Wilde was almost universally
praised for its seemingly perfect reflection of the man. Conversely
admonished in those same reviews was Debbie Wiseman for her score, which
for some critics substantially overplayed its hand when matched with the
visuals. Gilbert's rather sparse directorial career hasn't remained
loyal to one composer, though Wiseman did offer her services to his
1990's pictures
Tom & Viv and
Wilde after Gilbert had
worked with David Shire and Jerry Goldsmith previously. Wiseman was
already a veteran of both film and television by the late 1990's, though
her work was not known widely in the international film music scene
until after a few immensely popular action and fantasy scores in the
subsequent decade. Her techniques at conjuring morbidly enticing
melodies proved to be key for
Wilde, for which she decided to
write unrestrictedly beautiful music to match the title character's view
on life. The resulting orchestral score is melodramatic to a fault,
lushly romantic and tragic in such overwhelming doses as to result in
the aforementioned dissatisfaction with how obviously it forces its
emotional impact upon the narrative. Rarely has any score been as
depressingly lovely on such a scale during its entire length, yielding
an impressive album experience that transcends its efforts to jerk tears
in context.
The ingredients for
Wilde are conservatively
appropriate, the orchestra unaided by any specialty contributors. The
influence of waltz rhythms prevails in the score's thematic material,
though despite the adaptation of Gilbert and Sullivan's song, "Ah, Leave
Me Not to Pine," in three cues, there is little of what listeners might
refer to as "period" music in the tone of the work. Wiseman instead
writes timeless tragedy that relies upon the sheer weight of the
orchestra's capability to express tonal magnificence of a dark nature.
The composer seems to be comfortable writing in a gothic mode of
minor-key heartbreak, her twists of progressions for this work's darker
identities instilling an implied deviancy to their feel. There are two
major recurring themes in
Wilde and an elusive but equally
impressive third motif that toils in less glamour. The main theme
represents Wilde himself, a grandiose expression of drama that suits the
man's larger than life mystique. The beguiling primary phrase of this
idea yields to an interlude sequence that is prominently conveyed in the
summary "Wilde" suite that opens the album. Occasional oboe and piano
solos of this theme reflect the saddest portions of the score. The other
major identity is the love theme for Wilde's wife, Constance, and, by
association, their two sons. Introduced in the final third of "Wilde,"
this theme offers the score's most intimately sincere moments. Respect
and somber beauty are expressed in this idea's many similar renditions
throughout the score. Hidden in the middle of
Wilde is the
score's arguably most tormented theme of appealing reach, likely
representing Wilde's connection to Douglas. Heard at the outset of "The
Wounds of Love" and "Don't Ever Change Your Love," this theme receives
major ensemble treatment later in the former cue and in the latter half
of "Cast Into Outer Darkness," in which it foreshadows Wiseman's
outstanding
Arsène Lupin. Singular moments also shine in
Wilde, the brightly optimistic "The Selfish Giant" similar to the
sappy love theme of
Lesbian Vampire Killers and "Wild West"
addressing the film's opening in Colorado with a spirited Aaron Copland
tribute led by fiddle solo and a rousing, full-blooded Western theme
over rollicking rhythms that could be strong enough to anchor an entire
score for a movie about the Old West. Overall,
Wilde is an
interestingly divergent experience in film and on album. Wiseman really
doesn't attempt to steer the score through any form of greater
development; it's as morbidly powerful at the start as it is in every
cue thereafter. As such, the man's decline isn't convincingly reflected
in the music's evolution. On album, though, this flaw becomes a
tremendous asset, for you will have difficulty finding 55 minutes of
more consistently tragic orchestral weight with a resounding quality of
sound.
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- Music as Written for the Film: ****
- Music as Heard on the Albums: *****
- Overall: ****
The insert includes extensive information about the film, composer,
and score.
