It’s not everyday that a comic book gets its own soundtrack - but then again, not every pen and ink title is Spooks. Originally released in a four part series back in February of 2008, this past July saw all the material collected together to form a full blown graphic novel adaptation. With a new short story as a bonus and the reinsertion of some unnecessarily deleted material, this tale of a military-based ‘ghostbusters’ that “keeps humanity safe from things that go bump in the night” has oversized ambitions out the Fifth Dimension. While the book itself was unavailable for review, Adelph Records sent out copies of the limited edition score for critics to contemplate. One things for sure - composers Lalo Schifrin and Andy Garfield sure have their hookey homages down pat.

Sounding like what would result if Paul Verhoeven and Michael Bay got really really drunk, had the ability to procreate, and ended up doing the dirty deed, the Spooks soundtrack is a short but sweet loony lark. This overblown pomp and pseudo-epic circumstance is brilliantly cheesy and absolutely pitch perfect. One can easily imagine over-pumped future marines kicking werewolf butt while lost in the middle of a warlock’s coven. Granted, “Omega Team” sounds like a rejected theme song for the supernatural people’s court, and “Zach and Felicia” has the flavor of a ‘70s TV movie wrapped in a velvet David Lynch longing, and there are far too many nods to John Williams and his entire Star Worn-out space operatics. But for something meant to complement an already larger than life concept, Spooks is sensational.

Westerns used to be the bread and campfire butter of multiple old school mediums. Between radio and early television, film and comic tie-ins, Cowboys and Indians set the standard for many an entertainment ideal. That they dropped in popularity was not a question of quality. It was almost exclusively a matter of overkill. Now, almost five decades later, the genre is experiencing a kind of renaissance. Films like The Proposition, 3:10 to Yuma, and Ed Harris’ recent Appaloosa reintroduced the dynamic to a cynical and sheltered generation. In the case of the latter of these otherwise fine efforts, the story of a pair of lawmen trying to bring justice to a small settlement has its problems (namely, the casting of Renee Zellweger), but overall, it was a wonderful update on a stock cinematic style. Heck, Harris even crooned the movie’s “love theme”, just like days gone by.

Similarly to listening to a cowpoke concocting his own surreal take on New Orleans jazz, Jeff Beal’s oddball backdrop for Harris’ horse opera is endlessly fascinating. In the end, however, it’s also entirely flat. It’s the kind of soundtrack that needs the actual images to make a lick of sense. Take track four, for example. Entitled “Allison French”, we are supposed to get a real feeling for Zellweger’s coquettish character. There is even a hint of duplicity in the melody (which happens to be appropriate). Instead, it sounds like the opening to an episode of High Chaparral. Elsewhere, inadvertent moments of improvisation are probably meant to suggest the “American-ness” of the project, how its Western sensibility really matches with other ‘USA-A-OK’ elements. But it’s an uncomfortable match. Tracks like “Dawn in Appaloosa” have a loose, funky feel. Yet other material like “Cole and Hitch Stalk Bragg” sound like incomplete tone poems. For a thoroughly winning film, Beal’s score is only partially satisfying. 

Marco Beltrami has quite an impressive resume. A partial list of the films he’s scored includes Mimic, Resident Evil, Hellboy, Terminator III: Rise of the Machines, and last year’s winning Western 3:10 to Yuma (for which he received a well deserved Oscar nom). The winner of numerous ASCAP awards, as well as the holder of a formidable geek fanbase, you’d swear he was a true genre genius. Yet in collaboration with longtime production partner Buck Sanders, his work on the videogame turned big screen snoozefest Max Payne argues against both his talent and timelessness. For a movie already confused about its tone, and totally schizophrenic in its storytelling, this is one soundtrack that does little to help in our understanding. In some ways, Beltrami’s blasts of insignificant sound only add to our befuddlement. 

Truth be told, the score for Payne is a series of orchestral farts followed up by unnecessary techno lifts from The Matrix and any other implausible predictable post-modern thriller. Instead of setting a mood and atmosphere, Beltrami gets in, passes a little symphonic gas, and then disappears into the filmmaking firmament. None of the tracks are memorable here. Interchangeable titles like “Deathlab”, “Storming the Office” and “Factoring Max” are like blank canvases occasionally blotted with uninspired sonics. There is no tension or style, no real feeling for the movie’s mindless addiction to slo-motion chaos. Instead, we get a purposeful placing of notes, followed by a close facsimile to something resembling a soundtrack. It’s instantly forgettable - which in many ways reflects the feature film experience flawlessly.

Ernie Davis’s story is inspirational. It’s also perplexing. As an icon, he holds a singular place in sports memory - college or otherwise. He’s the first African American ever to win the Heisman Trophy. It was an achievement his predecessor at Syracuse, the legendary running back Jim Brown, never managed to achieve. He also helped his team win a National Championship, a high tension game played against the backdrop of a racially charged Cotton Bowl deep in the heart of a segregated Texas. But for some reason, his myth has been marginalized, forgotten and faded from the memory of all but the most dedicated football fan. He deserves better. That being said, the cinematic interpretation of his life was supposed to jumpstart his reconsideration. Instead, it ended up flopping, playing like Brian’s Song without the sentimentality or staying power. 

Oddly enough, the soundtrack is even more disconcerting. If you didn’t know that The Express was just your standard feel-good five hankey sports film with the horrendous cloud of racism hanging over its collection of formulaic clichés, you’d swear it was the most dour and disturbing drama this side of Grave of the Fireflies. Mark Isham may have a long history as both a recording artist and helmer of major motion pictures (Quiz Show, Crash, Lions for Lambs, to name just a few) but he completely misses the point here. Instead of being uplifting and generous of spirit, tracks like “A Meeting” and “Don’t Lose Yourselves” sound like funeral dirges retrofitted for a pragmatic purpose. Even events which call out for celebration, like “Heisman” or “Draft”, are unexpectedly downbeat. Isham may have been trying to underscore Davis’ meteoric rise with his doomed date with destiny, but The Express needed more heart to battle the history. This soundtrack offers neither. 

If there is one constant in the Coen Brothers oeuvre, aside from the arcane cleverness and attention to old fashioned cinematic detail, it’s the music of Carter Burwell. Part folklorist, part sage sampler, this amazing musician has guided every one of the boys bravado movie moves, from Blood Simple to their most recent masterpiece No Country for Old Men. While never nominated for an Oscar (his work on both Miller’s Crossing and Fargo deserved at least some minor Academy Award acknowledgement), his themes have become the sonic signatures for the Coens’ complex aesthetic. His most recent collaboration with the filmmakers - the fantastic Burn After Reading - easily reflects the same anarchic attitude the brothers attempted when bringing the surreal screwball comedy to the big screen.

The main approach taken by this unusual film is that all romance is like high espionage. As a result, the Coens create a comedic backdrop in which everything - from extramarital affairs to breaches of national security - is treated within the same ersatz-thriller ideal. Burwell applies the same schematic energy here, such bracing selections as “Night Running”, “Breaking and Entering” and “How is this Possible?” playing like outtakes from a bawdy Bourne provocation. Elsewhere, the composer creates certain themes for specific characters, including a three part piece illustrating the look for love by health club employee Linda and tripwire Treasury agent Harry. Together without other standout tracks like “A Higher Patriotism” and “Carrots/Shot”, Burwell defends his position as full fledged member of the Coens’ creative consensus. It just wouldn’t be one of their films without his amazing musical muse. 

Looking over his resume, composer Thomas Newman has provided some sensational aural backdrops for some equally impressive films. From Pixar’s Wall*E to Todd Field’s Little Children, from Revenge of the Nerds in the mid ‘80s to the upcoming Revolutionary Road, he has a unique ability to capture the sly subtext of the films he is complementing. After working with Sam Mendes and Alan Ball on the Oscar winning American Beauty (he also received a nomination), it’s not surprising to see his name associated with the follow-ups from both men. Road won’t be released until December, but already making the festival and limited release rounds is Towelhead. Alan Ball’s directorial debut, centering on the sexual coming of age of a 13 year old Lebanese girl in Texas, is tough subject matter for a movie. Sadly, Newman’s score illustrates just how off base this entire production really is.

Made up mostly of ethnocentric beats and faux Middle Eastern influences, this lackadaisical soundtrack does little to amplify the sinister and shocking elements contained in Towelhead. Sequences like “Snow Queen”, “Vuoso”, and “Rain & Good Weather” feel barely fleshed out, locked in a slow simmering sonic strategy that barely delivers any intrigue. Even worse, when Newman starts with the polyrhythmic drumming and cultural swatches, he seems to be trying far too hard. How obvious is it that a film centering on an Arab teenager in America would be backed by what sounds like the Disney version of a Syrian sword dance. Besides, this score is miniscule in comparison to other efforts. With only eight tracks and a very limited running time, this feels like something Newman tossed off from the top of his head. Even a movie as miserable as Towelhead deserves better. 

It is unusual to find women working in the mostly man’s world of film scoring. It’s not for lack of talent. Instead, the studio system and their approach to soundtracks apparently still have a very high, and very unnecessary glass ceiling. Rachel Portman has clearly broken through, although not with the kind of commercial and critical respect given to her more masculine counterparts. Working in film since 1982, she’s provided the sonic setup for such interesting efforts as Mike Leigh’s Life is Sweet, the Johnny Depp vehicle Benny and Joon, and most recently, the ‘other’ Truman Capote/In Cold Blood film Infamous. She even has an Academy Award for her work in Emma. Yet it’s clear that as a facet of a film, Portman perfectly matches the moviemakers she’s paired with. Never overstepping her bounds or breaking the tone established, she ends up offering the kind of support that few composers can claim - unobtrusive but totally necessary.

It’s the same with her creative classic revisionism for The Duchess. Featuring Keira Knightley and centering on the scandal plagued life of 18th century aristocrat Georgiana Spencer, Portman’s pieces here sound like found chamber music from a noted master’s overflowing filing cabinet. From perfect little tone poems like “I Think of You All the Time” to more majestic works like “Some Things Too Late, Others Too Early”, Portman’s methods segue perfectly into the noted legends on hand. Indeed, she doesn’t sound out of place among Beethoven or Hayden, both of whom are represented here. Certainly, there is a more contemporary bent to some of the selections, including the suggestively named tracks as “Gee and Grey Make Love” and “Rape”, but for the most part, The Duchess lilts along on the kind of antiquated atmosphere that seems perfect for this kind of period piece. Such a situation brings out all the British in this smart English artist. 

James Horner has had a very interesting career trajectory. Many first noticed him in large part to his steel drum tinged music for the Eddie Murphy/Nick Nolte hit 48 Hours. But there were many facets to this composer’s character, aspects he explored while creating the soundtrack for Star Trek II and III, Aliens, and Commando. By the late ‘90s, however, he had become a more mainstream fixture, earning Oscar nods for Field of Dreams, Apollo 13, and Braveheart. It was another collaboration with James Cameron, that finally earned him Academy gold. Titanic remains the biggest film of all time, and Horner’s score, and the song “My Heart Will Go On”, are now part of cinema history. Oddly enough, that was 11 years ago, and Horner remains a fixture in filmmaking. His most recent work on the Uma Thurman thriller The Life Before Her Eyes, proves how provocative and daring his work can be.

Built around simple piano lines ala Michael Nyman, and yet structured in a way that recalls the moody atmosphere and tension inherent in the storyline, Horner’s music for Life is very haunting. It aches in places, recalling lost memories and painful experiences. Elsewhere, as in the final track “Young Diana’s Future - A Future that Could Have Been” some of his familiar ‘mechanisms of dread’ come to the fore. What’s most compelling about this collection is that it could easily be enjoyed outside the cinematic experience. Almost ambient in the way it approaches its form and melody, Horner really excels in selling a certain sentiment and feeling. You can practically feel the emotion buried beneath the unseen storyline. While The Life Before Her Eyes was not a box office success, this score certainly is a triumph of his talent.

Like Danny Elfman before him, Clint Mansell got his start as part of a rock act. As the former lead singer and guitarist for ersatz industrial badboys Pop Will Eat Itself, he was known to explore all facets of sound. When the group disbanded in 1996, he got a shot at film scoring thanks to his friend Darren Aronofsky. After supplementing the sci-fi surrealism of , he would gain massive fame and obsessive recognition for his work on Requiem for a Dream and The Fountain. Much of his material has focused on the spooky, spatial New Age evocations of tone and environment. But Mansell has been known to break out of that dreamscape mode now and again. He did so with 2007’s Smokin’ Aces, and he does again with his charts for the amiable romantic comedy Definitely, Maybe. While there are times he reverts to the epic, most of the music is a grab bag combination of influences, inflections, and straight ahead instrumental fun.

Sometimes rendered in evocative snippets only, Definitely Maybe is a celebration of all that modern music has to offer. There are nods to the ‘60s, the bombast and Beatlemania. Mansell tosses in Eastern accents, Latin beats, and lots of rock posing. By the time the familiar strains of one track have settled in (“It’s April”, “Panic Stations…”, “Summer’s Over”) we jarringly move onto another composition. There are long form wonders like the horn and fuzz guitar driven “The Candidate” and the beautiful piano solo “The Happy Ending is You”. Toward the end, a trio of tracks - “Brooklyn Bridge”, “Countdown”, and “April’s Story” suggest Mansell’s work on Aronofsky;‘s magnificent immortality allegory. But luckily for listeners here, this is one artist who also acknowledges his previous work. For all its career spanning references, Definitely Maybe is definitely good. Very good.

While his name is relatively new to the mainstream movie scoring department, Alex Wurman has a long and studied career behind the composer’s desk. After nearly a decade writing in relative obscurity, he got a huge break when George Clooney pegged him to create the time traveling treats of the A-lister’s directorial debut, the Chuck Barris biopic Confessions of a Dangerous Mind. From their, he went on to give the Will Ferrell/Adam McKay hit Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy its retro kick. After another collaboration with the pair (Talladega Nights), Wurman went back to smaller films, focusing on such efforts as The Nines and the Simon Pegg RomCom Run Fatboy, Run. The Promotion, his most recent score, is perhaps the greatest nostalgic shout out Carter Burwell never wrote. But thanks to an infusion of sly humor, Wurman’s work stands on its own.

Like listening to a time traveling Esquivel as channeled through an indie rock heartthrob, the work here is stunning in its recall. You literally feel the old ‘50s business model manufactured by films like The Apartment in Wurman’s arrangements. Sometimes, the material maneuvers over into kitsch, as with the feisty “Fight Dance” or the follow-up track, “Masculari Horriblus”. But for the most part, this soundtrack keeps itself low to the ground and very enjoyable. Of course, with any invocation of a certain time and place (although the film is set in our current social clime), things tend to get overly familiar after a while. By the time “I Am Peanuts” and “Four Handed Promotion” roll around, we’ve had more than enough of the sly pseudo jazziness. For all its pointed positives, Wurman’s work on The Promotion is just like the film it defines - fun, if ultimately overstaying its welcome a little.

Mark Kilian’s is a name mostly unknown to film score fanatics. After a time as a TV composer, working on such efforts as F/X: The Series and Jake In Progress, he got lots of recognition for creating the fascinating backdrop for Gavin Hood’s Oscar winning foreign film Tsotsi. Now he’s back with another cross culture creation. Working with renowned Indian cinematographer turned director Santosh Sivan, he provides the sweet, sassy, and quite savory aural environ for the filmmaker’s first English language effort (the nationalist themed Before the Rains). With its exotic mix of ethnic sounds, tone poem pieces, and standard symphonics, what could be a tired bit of traditionalism actually comes across as exciting and quite evocative.

The first three pieces prepare us for the various soundscapes to come. “Main Titles”, “Honey Drives”, and “Hand Lines” all summon the spirit of Hindi culture, a mix of modern and authentic instrumentation taking us into the heart of this complex civilization. There are frequent nods to Islam, with call to prayer cries subtly working in the background. The familiar call of tabla and mukhavina is ever-present, and there are even some aboriginal and other tribal tinges here as well. Around track 10 - “Sanjani’s Struggle”, things begin to turn more mainstream and maudlin. The next few pieces offer the kind of simple piano and string arrangements we come to expect from such soundtracks. It makes Before the Rains a little disconcerting. Where once we had music that dared to combine the elements of all environs, the finish (except for tracks “Coming for TK” and “End Credits”) is devoid of such out of the ordinary flourishes.

Ever since his days as the leader/creative guide for New Wave sensation Oingo Boingo, Danny Elfman has been unusual. His reputation for exploring all facets of a format (pop music, film scoring) has made him a must-have soundtrack composer. He typically brings something fresh and inventive to the mix - as in last years, ambient inspired turn for Peter Berg’s The Kingdom. But there is another complaint leveled against him, one that seems fostered and confirmed by his work on this summer sleeper. Elfman is often accused of being a surreptitious recycler, using thematic concepts and similar sounding cues throughout his oeuvre. His work on Wanted more or less bears this out.

While not as derivative as the above discussion would suggest, Elfman does pull out many of his old neat beat bombastic tricks here. There are the suggestive string runs, the quirky brass accents, and the dark, driving aural dominance. Every once in a while, like in the wonky “Wesley’s Office Life” or fluid “Fox’s Story”, he finds a way to mesh the known with the new. And there’s even an actual song - the rollicking first track “The Little Things”. At other times, like in the action sequence oriented “The Train”, we get the same old identifiable idiosyncrasies. One thing’s for sure - unlike his Explosions in the Sky inspired work from last year, you’d instantly recognize the man’s Wanted ways. Unlike other composers, however, redundant Elfman is still a clear cut above the rest. 

When Peter Jackson’s superb Lord of the Rings trilogy took the critical community (and box office) by storm, Hollywood suits hoped to replicate its ‘lifted from literature’ success. So far, the Narnia movies are the only viable Tolkien take, and even now, this sequel to The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe underperformed mightily, revenue wise. Part of the problem was the timing of the release. Who could have imagined that a certain Tony Stark would soar out of the starting gate to helom May’s monster hit? In addition, it was sort of a shock when Caspian turned out to be so…dull. Whatever worked the first time seemed lost in an unoriginal fantasy film.

Further proof of the title’s journeyman-like mediocrity comes with Harry Gregson-Williams’ overwrought score. Back again for another tour of C. S. Lewis’ allegorical realm, the staid, forced pomposity on display makes for tough listening. Without the movie’s movement to guide the sounds (or visa versa), we are treated to something that resembles endless inserts from a routine Renaissance fair. Between the fake grace of “Arrival at Aslan’s How” to the fighting frenzy of “The Armies Assemble”, everything here follows strict compositional clichés. Toward the end, some ersatz Enya tracks arrive to give everything a cloying, compact conclusion. Just like the source from which it was drawn, the soundtrack to Prince Caspian can’t help but feel overly familiar.

When all is said and done, this latest effort from the geniuses at Pixar may be viewed as its most ambitious, underperforming film ever. Initially thought to be yet another kiddie robot romp, the resulting allegory, focusing on an Earth ravaged by materialism and ecological disaster and two automatons destined to save it, has to be one of the most unusual CG spectacles ever. Between the mockery of couch potato complacency to the last act homage to HAL of 2001 fame, there is much more to this amazing movie than cute as a button machines, awe-inspiring vistas, and bumbling human comedy. Along the way, the creators want to leave lessons that, while perhaps they are too young to process, will become more meaningful once the demographic ages a bit. 

That being said, Thomas Newman’s score is as dense and complicated as the movie it complements. The initial tracks, including an opening slice of Hello Dolly deliciousness, prepare us for the somber, subtle mood of the dead planet material. It’s like a symphony for a global snuff film. By the time we get to Eve’s arrival and the return to the Axion starship, the composer’s gift for satire shows through. His “BNL” track (representing the corporate jingle for the Wal-Mart like marketing monolith at the center of the storyline) is brilliant, as is the midway space ambience. By the end, WALL-E wanders into typical heroics mode, but along the way we are treated to treasures like Louis Armstrong’s resplendent reading of “La Vie En Rose” and another Dolly delight (Michael Crawford’s crackerjack “It Only Takes a Moment”). It’s the sugar on a sonic snack so sublime it leaves you craving more.