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Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest: (Hans
Zimmer and Co.) When
Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black
Pearl debuted in 2003, its immense success on film and on record
took many by surprise. With a trilogy in the making, the second film
continues to follow the adventures of Captain Jack Sparrow and examine
the relationships between the trio of lead characters. Helmed once again
by Jerry Bruckheimer, the production of
Pirates of the Caribbean:
Dead Man's Chest is much the same as the first, including its score.
While Hans Zimmer was only listed as a producer of the first
Pirates
of the Caribbean score, his involvement reportedly included some
composition on his part, but he was unable to take credit for his work
for contractual/legal reasons. Thus, the contributions of Klaus Badelt
and several other Media Ventures graduates were given credit for the
hasty work. It had been completed quickly after the firing of veteran
Disney composer Alan Silvestri, whose ideas for the score did not match
the muscular inclination that Bruckheimer was looking for. So in the
end, Bruckheimer brought in his usual collaborators, and after
assembling a mostly stock, electronically-enhanced Media Ventures-style
score for
Pirates of the Caribbean, their work raised questions
about the definition of swashbuckling music. It was highly polarizing,
with older generations of film music collectors largely writing off the
score as garbage while hoards of younger listeners, many of whom did not
collect film scores, made the album into a best-seller. The longevity of
the original score's top selling status can't be ignored, and has
sparked due debate about modern listeners' expectations and clearly
identified attempts by Bruckheimer and Zimmer to redefine swashbuckling
(or "pirate and high seas") music. Does the bass-heavy,
electronically-aided music by Zimmer for these
Pirates of the
Caribbean scores represent the official end of the swashbuckling
style famously introduced by Erich Wolfgang Korngold and retained with
fantastic success by the likes of John Williams and John Debney in the
modern era?
Those questions will wait for the time being, for the
merits of the score for
Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's
Chest will help determine their answers. Zimmer obviously had more
time for this sequel score, though that didn't stop him from assembling
at least seven ghostwriters to aide him once again in his efforts
(whether or not they actually qualify as "ghostwriters" is another issue
that will wait until later in the review). Whether you like the Media
Ventures style of music for this genre or not, you will notice that
Dead Man's Chest has some significant differences in style and
structure from
The Curse of the Black Pearl. Zimmer expands the
orchestral palette a little farther, uses a variety of rhythmic tools,
and seems to have a more intelligent grasp of thematic integration. In
fact, he even manages to infuse a little more genuine spirit of
character into the score, whereas the Badelt-credited effort for the
original prefers to bludgeon you without trying to make any such finer
points. Zimmer spends significant time establishing new themes for the
film's primary characters, including one for Jack Sparrow in the opening
cut on the album. Zimmer's love for the waltz influences the sprightly
cello theme for this piece, easily the most flamboyant of either score.
A fresh theme for Davy Jones is provided on music box a few cues later.
Interestingly, both performances climax into nearly stereotypical action
levels for Zimmer, with echoes of
Crimson Tide and
The
Rock abounding in their middle sections, negating the intrigue
created by each themes' more instrumentally careful introductions. The
Davy Jones theme breaks into an extremely brutal and deliberate rhythm
complete with driving organ, the instrument that defines much of
Dead
Man's Chest. The third primary new thematic idea in the score is
that of the Kraken, the underwater menace that has inspired Zimmer take
his typically heavy basslines even lower in range. Perhaps suggested by
Captain Nemo and a historical tendency for dangerous creatures of the
deep to be represented by pipe organ, the use of the shadowy organ sound
for the Kraken's theme is Zimmer's most intelligent move in the score,
though even this theme, by its climax, isn't immune to the usual
treatment of pounding synthetic orchestra hits and broad electric guitar
mashings.
The album opens with the character action pieces that
introduce these three themes. Thereafter, the score continues to jump in
style wildly, which is a welcome move after the nonstop action of the
first score on album, though for
Dead Man's Chest, the lack of
consistency creates its own problems. In "I've Got My Eye on You,"
Zimmer returns to the deep choral suspense of
The Peacemaker,
accompanied by deep, churning electronics, before the one heroic
performance of the first film's title theme on this album. Enhanced
percussion and singing sections spur the natives in "Dinner is Served,"
one of Zimmer's most bizarre career cues, though one with necessary
comedy. After a heavy dose of brash percussion, wailing female voice,
and rough throat singing, the comedy comes in the form of one of
Zimmer's favorite, straight-laced classical waltzes. Maybe the most
interesting cue on album is "Tia Dalma," which, after a stereotypical
opening with the "Black Pearl" theme from the first film, tones back the
bass far enough to allow other elements of the performance to shine,
including female vocals, violin plucking, the music box, and various
light percussive effects. The "Turtle" track is the kind of boisterous
accordion and fiddle source cue that contributes to stylistic diversity
in the score, but really only serves to break up the album's
effectiveness. The battles then break out with regularity, with "A
Family Affair" offering both the "Black Pearl" and Davy Jones themes in
heavy, drum-thumping exhibitions over choir and typical Zimmer string
layers and bass enhancements (before the lament of a solo cello takes
the latter theme back to conversational levels). The lengthy "Wheel of
Fortune" cue is a cut-and-paste piece of action music from the first
score and snippets of three primary themes from the current score
presented in succession without much integration. After reminders of the
Davy Jones and Kraken themes, some of Sparrow's thematic ideas from the
first film are reprised. The following "You Look Good, Jack" cue is a
largely uninteresting atmospheric cue for string and synthesizer before
exploding into an electric guitar action outburst of significant
irritation at the end. Zimmer's score ends with the derivative "Hello
Beastie," a cue with heavy influences in choir from
The
Peacemaker as it hints at the first film's theme before oddly
inserting some straight brass-layered material from the closing of
The Da Vinci Code. The score almost dies with a whimper before a
final burst of Sparrow's theme from the first score on cello.
Interrupting the flow of the album with even greater
intensity is a lengthy trance remix of "He's a Pirate" from the first
score, which oddly maintains a refreshing sound compared to the
significantly predictable score that had gone before. It's not entirely
listenable in and of itself, but compared to Zimmer's inability to break
out of his stubborn mold and write something truly original for the
score, the trance beat is at least a splash of cold water in the face.
You can hear what Zimmer was trying to accomplish with
Dead Man's
Chest; he seems to have attempted better character identification
(as made necessary by the film's exploration of them) and added more
stylistic spark through his rhythmic deviation. On a basic level, he has
succeeded, and the result is a score that ironically jumps around in
style too often to be an easily consistent listening experience. Despite
his efforts, though,
Dead Man's Chest fails on two entirely
separate levels, whether you like this kind of music for the genre or
not. First, Bruckheimer and Zimmer's attempt to put swashbuckling music
on steroids for the modern generation still doesn't work if you
subscribe to classical notions of music for the high seas. In short, if
you found the score for
The Curse of the Black Pearl obnoxious in
the picture, then you'll have to do your best to try to ignore it in
Dead Man's Chest. Second, even if you can accept hearing music
from
The Rock and
The Peacemaker in your
Pirates of the
Caribbean films, this music just isn't that good on its own merits.
It sounded great when it first debuted in full in
Crimson Tide...
it was fresh and entertaining. But it's simply overused now, not only by
Zimmer, but by all of his associates in their spin-off scores. It
doesn't matter if this music is for a modern military flick or a science
fiction affair, it has become an all-too-predictable extension of
Zimmer's increasingly one-dimensional bluckbuster style. On a technical
level, the number of Zimmer's self-ripoff mechanisms is starting to
rival that of James Horner, and Zimmer had a smaller palette of sounds
to work with (at least in this action genre) from the start. There's
plenty of evidence in
Dead Man's Chest to back up both the
aforementioned failures described in this paragraph, and in all fairness
to Zimmer, they should be explained.
For those of you who can't dig this
Pirates of the
Caribbean music as appropriate for the genre, there's good reason
for your concern. Supporters of the modern sound will call you stubborn
or pre-programmed, but you've got history on your side. There's a reason
why the original Korngold vision of swashbuckling music has endured
so long. It's been employed by maestros since then, often with great
effect... Why? Because it simply works. There are intangibles about the
soaring effect of orchestral sailing music that stir the imagination
like none other. If you look at the definition of something
swashbuckling, it's "flamboyantly adventurous." In a masculine sense,
Hans Zimmer's current electronically-aided blockbuster style could be
called adventurous. If you're in a technological setting, it matches the
adventure well. And in his new theme for Jack Sparrow in
Dead Man's
Chest, he's tried to capture the flamboyant side of the character's
wit. To be flamboyant, though, you have to be elaborate, ornate, and
resplendent. Its own definition includes "richly colored," a phrase
that dooms Zimmer's score because of the music's inability to resonate
with the brilliant beauty and splendor necessary for the high seas
(because, of course, the masculinity prevents it). If Zimmer wishes to
persist with his deep basslines and limited instrumentation, then a
flamboyant presence is simply not possible. Instead of flamboyance, the
best he can accomplish is a melodramatic sense of adventure, which is
why you hear a cue at the end of
Dead Man's Chest that sounds as
though someone's just disarmed a huge bomb, saved the world, or
discovered the Holy Grail. Especially for those of us who have heard
Zimmer from the start, how can we blindly accept this music for a
historical Caribbean pirate genre when it's already seen its glory days
in scenes where fighter planes are bombing Alcatraz Island and George
Clooney is chasing nukes from a helicopter? Do people really wonder why
the score nearly ruins the film for others? This is by no means an
attack on modern instrumention. There is no reason why an intelligently
incorporated expansion of the traditional swashbuckling palette couldn't
include electronic percussion and even electric guitars. John Debney has
used guitars very well with orchestral ensembles (a la
The Scorpion
King), and he likely would have had no problems sprinkling them
wisely into something like
Cutthroat Island, considered by many
collectors to be the best swashbuckling score of the modern age despite
the film's terrible struggles.
Hans Zimmer's limited blockbuster palette has proven
such a flamboyantly adventurous, elaborate, ornate, and resplendent
score to be impossible. And this brings us to the second problem with
these
Pirates of the Caribbean scores (previewed above). Let's
assume that you accept and enjoy the modernized Bruckheimer and Zimmer
sound for the genre... and let's assume you had no problem with the
first score in its film. For you, the dynamic "yo ho" swing is not
necessary and maybe even outdated. If you look at
Dead Man's
Chest as a stand-alone score, or even just a stand-alone Hans Zimmer
album, and compare it to his overarching body of work, it's derivative,
boring, and occasionally irritating. Zimmer's made it very clear that he
loves the same basslines, the same chord progressions, and the same
instrumentation time and time again. Sometimes, when he throws all
caution to the wind, and produces something shamelessly melodramatic,
like
King Arthur, it actually works as a good listening
experience if you accept it as the steroid-popping kind of popcorn
muscle that it is. In
Dead Man's Chest, he tried some of that but
didn't provide any spectacular new avenue on that line of thought. The
"Hello Beastie" cue rambles on with several stereotypical Zimmer
crescendos, all of which are frightfully old in sound. Much of the fault
for this stale atmosphere exists in the instrumentation and mix of the
music, or, perhaps more accurately, the instrumentation made necessary
by Zimmer's desire for a certain mix. He prefers his scores to dwell so
low in the bassline, often in overwhelming volume meant to convey power,
that the use of dynamic high-range instrumentation is either drowned out
or not even attempted. Nary a woodwind is to be heard in this score. Nor
will you hear higher brass ranges with any decent employment. Even the
violins are reduced to supporting roles, often chopping uselessly behind
broad choral strokes or the monumentally heavier lower string ranges.
Zimmer has used so many horns at once, all in unison, that the effect is
a harsh, nearly electronic sound that also contributes to the bassline
in such a fashion that you can't really determine each time if they are
real or synthesized. The organ in "The Kraken" would be so much more
effective if Zimmer would lose the heartbeat effect by percussion, the
churning bass strings, and the electric guitar, all of which perform in
their absolute lowest ranges and dilute the specialty instrument. How
can you hope to achieve any heightened sense of style when you continue
to use an ensemble so often as a clubbing stick?
Overall, whether you can accept this style of music as
appropriate for the swashbuckling genre or not,
Dead Man's Chest
is a mundane, predictable effort. Zimmer does attempt to broaden the
dynamic range of the score by providing new character themes with
deviations in rhythm and instrumentation from the original. But these
deviations are still well within his usual stylistic parameters,
nullifying the enjoyability of these attempts. If you did not enjoy
The Curse of the Black Pearl, you stand only a minimal chance of
finding merit in
Dead Man's Chest. If you specifically enjoyed
the constant frenzy of activity in the first score, then the sequel
score could very well disappoint you. The battle lines that were drawn
during the debate about the original score will persist, with Alan
Silvestri fans continuing to bemoan his termination from the franchise.
Such people should take aim at Bruckheimer rather than Zimmer, for it
was Bruckheimer's vision of the Hollywood blockbuster that has given
birth to Zimmer's now famous sound and methodology. That methodology of
Zimmer includes the use of ghostwriters, and as mentioned above in this
review, a note about those ghostwriters should be made. It was
speculated by the hapless representative of another soundtrack site that
the seven co-writers of this
Dead Man's Chest score shouldn't be
referred to as "ghostwriters" because they are credited in the booklet.
Indeed, a "ghostwriter" is one who "gives the credit of authorship to
someone else," and these Media Ventures clones are indeed credited. But
are they really? Are their names on the covers of the CD booklet? Are
their names on the movie poster? Are their names listed next to Zimmer's
in the primary credits during the film? Are their names in a
larger-than-minimum font size in the album booklet? And, perhaps most
importantly, are they recognized for the extent of their contributions?
Do we know what, exactly, they wrote? The answer to all of these
questions is no, and that's why they're still ghostwriters. One would
hope that with all these auxiliary composers, the diversity of the
scores would range far better from the usual Hans Zimmer parade of
sounds. And, as with before, it's hard to believe that none of these
people took a clue from the music in the actual "Pirates of the
Caribbean" ride at Disneyland. Unfortunately,
Dead Man's Chest
regurgitates previous Zimmer stock material more often than it invents,
once again leaving
Muppet Treasure Island as Zimmer's most
interesting effort in the genre.
*
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