CD Reviews: Rollerballs
Rollerball (1975) * 1/2
ANDRE PREVIN, VARIOUS
Varèse Sarabande 302 066 354 2
9 tracks - 38:10
Two teams, clad in futuristic Atari 800-stenciled uniforms, descend
upon the deadly velodrome. The analog scoreboard resets. The feathered,
mulleted fans chant "Jonathan! Jonathan!" as James Caan wonders why the
prop guy couldn't foresee the birth of in-line rollerskates.
In all its cheesy glory, 1975's cult classic Rollerball still
plays out as an entertaining flick. In fact, it's hard to think of a more
categorical example of the disco decade's take on sci-fi art direction.
At the time, this movie was considered fairly edgy and violent, which makes
it almost charming in retrospect as compared to today's standards.
Equally "retro-futuristic" was the musical concept, but unlike the film
itself, the score, especially on it's own, has not aged gracefully. The
idea was refreshing for the time: contrast a hyper-futuristic setting and
Brave New World plot with timeless staples of the baroque and romantic
periods. From the ominous opening of Bach's "Toccata in D Minor" (some
may know it better as the Phantom of the Opera organ riff) through
various classic works by Albinoni, Shostakovich and Tchaikovsky, the result
was in many ways more appropriate and unobtrusive than, say, a wall-to-wall
'70s synth exploration (more on that later -- beware).
The problem with this formula as an album is that it comes off as a
below-average classical sampler. If you want music by the featured composers,
there is no shortage of collections that feature their work in vastly more
complete packages. Which brings us to the only other deciding factor: Andre
Previn. Never before has a composer so fine written so little and had an
album made of it. Not that he's to blame really; the film just wasn't spotted
for a real score.
Previn conducts the London Symphony Orchestra on the classical cues,
and is responsible for the three original cues as heard in the film. Like
the dark underbelly of the pill-popping, pre-disco scene it mirrored, Previn's
glassy yet flaccid fusion-funk is enough to make you choke on your Soylent
Green. It doesn't hurt so bad in the film, but in one's own environment
the shrill, whiny synths are enough to throw even Keith Emerson off his
feed. Did someone say melody? Apparently not. The cue "Glass Sculpture"
sounds literally like an entry-level Casio running out of batteries. Keep
in mind, that single track represents 33.3% of the original score! Put
on "Executive Party Dance" if you want to simultaneously bore to death
or ultrasonically repel vermin (or Keith Emerson).
A positive note about this package is that the liner notes focus mainly
on the artistry of poster illustration legend Bob Peak. The inimitable
visual style he brought to the Rollerball franchise is showcased
in a handful of lithographs inspired by the film. Indeed, driving around
with the cover image of Caan's spiked fist on the seat next to you is about
the only reason to keep this CD around. -- Stephen Greaves
Rollerball ***
ERIC SERRA
Virgin 81216125
18 tracks - 59:13
Rollerball has always been a fascinating concept. A futuristic
motor sport/chase game set in the not too distant future and a contest,
in true gladiator spirit, to be played to the death. When the Norman Jewison-directed
film was released in 1975, the concept seemed to shock in a very real sense,
flagging itself in the same vein as The Exorcist or Don't Look
Now. Now, Rollerball has been remade for a new generation --
an MTV, Corporate, streetwise, apparently unshakable and confident one
that's almost impossible to shock. Accordingly, the approach to the new
Rollerball's score is very different. It's out with Bach's Toccata
in D Minor and some original, if a little lacking, compositions by Andre
Previn -- and it's in with MTV guitars, 21st century progressive rock and
babbling washes of fluorescent techno machines.
Eric Serra's familiar blend of deep moods; huge dramatically lush orchestrations
and pulsating industrial percussion is mostly absent in this score. Instead,
Serra, along with co-writer Nicolas Fiszman, rocks in the most modern of
ways, combining techno and electric overdriven guitar. The influences at
work here range from Peter Gabriel to a Trevor Horn lavish aesthetic to
The Prodigy. The problem, however, lies in a real lack of melodic
conviction, which is exactly what the film requires. Instead, Serra's fusion
of real and synthetic guitars repeatedly babbles around drum loops and
plastic drum machines. (This is a lesson in modern synthetics with little
room for subtlety.) In between, Serra adds quieter mood music with lightly
threatening percussion and moody basslines. But even here, he sometimes
goes over the top, losing his usual understated cool approach and allowing
the music to become teenage wallpaper cliché. -- Simon Duff
MailBag@filmscoremonthly.com
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