CD Reviews: White Oleander and Ghost Ship
White Oleander ** 1/2
THOMAS NEWMAN
Varèse Sarabande 302 066 417 2
19 tracks - 34:40
When my sister-in-law recently finished Janet Fitch's extremely popular
Oprah Book Club selection White Oleander, she turned to me and wondered
aloud: "How in the world did they make a movie out of this novel?" I replied:
"Judging by the reviews, by slapping together a top notch cast and crew
and then letting them work against each other."
The book and movie concern the relationships between a young woman and
her various mothers, both foster and biological. Evidently the amount of
emotional angst generated on screen by these relationships pushed Thomas
Newman in the opposite direction. He has crafted a score with so little
tension that a single pass through the brief album leaves the listener
in a near-comatose state.
Having enjoyed Newman's innovative scoring in the past, I looked forward
to hearing this. Now, after several listens, I am inclined to agree with
the many critics who wondered about the direction of the film. Newman's
score belongs in the Brian Eno school of ambient music; not a bad category
to be in, but a strange choice for such a powerfully emotional story. It
seems to work at cross purpose with the movie, gearing up only at the very
end, when the film is winding down (even "Rollercoaster" is calm, for goodness
sake).
The score is basically monothematic, revolving around the oleander theme
presented in piano in the first cue ("Oleander Time"). It's serviceable,
but also similar in every aspect to the reflective piano theme from The
Shawshank Redemption. It weaves in and around the tonic chord and never
goes anywhere. This simple phrase, repeated several times, recurs in many
cues.
It's actually the other cues -- the ones that don't rely as much on
this theme -- that are the only reason to listen to the album. Playing
with ambient textures, Newman uses subtly shifting tone colors to add interest.
And yes, he uses non-Western instruments throughout including a saz, cavaquinho,
ewi and synthesized instruments. Listen closely to how he balances high
and low with barely any middle-register in "Not My Type"; or the delicate
shifts in the various flutes in "Every Insult." These are small gestures,
most likely lost on an audience in the theater (where there is so much
else to see and hear), but gestures that nonetheless make the album experience
worthwhile.
This is a minor letdown, but I'll still wait in anticipation for Thomas
Newman's next effort. He almost always offers something interest, and I
hope that his future projects are more fruitful in all facets of production.
-- Andrew Granade
Ghost Ship ***
JOHN FRIZZELL
Varese Sarabande 302 066 419 2
39 tracks - 73:55
John Frizzell scored Steve Beck's Thirteen Ghosts, which is pretty
much the same film as their latest collaboration, Ghost Ship --
except this one takes place on a boat. Frizzell now seems to be making
a career out of scoring this very specific genre film: the grim, tautly
wound, claustrophobic sort where the cast members are killed off in reverse
order to the end credits. That said, from The Rich Man's Wife to
Alien Resurrection to this latest offering, Frizzell always does
a credible job. His Ghost Ship score is suitably creepy, and more
subtle than the film. While the overall impression is moody and dark, there
are some surprising, contrasting cues; "The Arctic Warrior" is brightly
epic, and "I Saw a Little Girl" is atmospherically tender. For a score
that's heavy on the melodrama, this is executed with a surprisingly light
touch.
After a while the music does fade into the background -- it jumps out
at you from time to time, sort of the musical equivalent of the monster
jumping out of the closet. The middle of "Meeting the Captain" is one such
"boo!" moment, marking an abrupt shift from ambient, exploratory music.
This marks a turning point in the album, ratcheting up the tension as the
film prepares to go for the gore. After this cue, the bits of daylight
that Frizzell introduces, such as "Francesca's Theme" and the end of "Finding
Gold" are more disturbing than comforting. Especially since the next cue,
"Work To Do," starts off with a similarly light mood before diving into
high-paced scares. The album inevitably makes for an unsettling but not
completely uninteresting listening experience.
However, as with many scores for film that involve a lot of cutting
(pun unintended) and fast edits, the music is often disjointed. No clear
themes emerge from what is, on the whole, a fairly murky block of material.
That's not meant as a negative observation; in fact, given the nature of
the film, murkiness is entirely appropriate. It does mean that the recording
doesn't really stand by itself as a coherent whole, even if its level of
detail suggests that it should. Frizzell's use of strings, in particular,
is decidedly granular, and his favoring of the lower register -- a principal
violist, cello, and bass are credited, but no violinist -- contributes
to this overall effect.
The album's main misstep is the inclusion of a decidedly modern bit
of pseudo-goth, Marilyn Manson-ish dance music that sounds like it was
ripped from the club scene in Blade. It's hard to imagine where
this track belongs -- definitely not in the sequence in the film in which
it appears -- and it shatters the mood established by the previous material.
Program your CD player to skip it, and let the rest of the music creep
you out. Still, Frizzell has a fine ear for atmosphere. -- Genevieve
Williams
MailBag@filmscoremonthly.com
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