Filmtracks: The Shadow (Jerry Goldsmith)


Goldsmith

The Shadow: (Jerry Goldsmith) Who knows what guilty pleasures lurk in the hearts of men? The Shadow knows... And apparently director Russell Mulcahy thought he knew as well. Unfortunately, the 1994 adaptation of comic book character Lamont Cranston was a popular failure despite its many redeeming qualities (when compared to other ridiculous comic inspirations on the big screen in the 1990's). The lavish production suffered from a somewhat incoherent plot, but its loyalty to the 1930's setting and the legend of the original radio show (not to mention some outstanding art direction and sound effects editing) have allowed it a limited cult following. The memorable score by Jerry Goldsmith for the endeavor is the type of music that you'd never know about unless you were there to hear it when it hit the theatres (which was unlikely for most of you, considering its concurrent release with The Lion King). In fact, if there were ever to be the need to identify the ultimate "score of guilty pleasure," then Goldsmith's The Shadow could very well be it. The quirky personality of both the film and score, led by the movie's unstated charge to parody the very superhero genre it belonged to, caused the pair to be an undeniable romp for suckers of that kind of film. Aided by the music, the film's highlight is its remarkable layers of sound, whooshing through a Gotham-like setting with a classical, yet electronic touch. It's hard to imagine that such a dominant synthetic edge to the music could function so well in the noir-like streets of the 30's, but Goldsmith infuses his style very well with both the film's lighter plot elements and the impressive sound effects. His music is overblown and silly, mocking everything from Batman to Lawrence of Arabia with a youthful exuberance not always heard in the composer's darker scores.

Just like those who created the wacky story and visuals, you get the sense that Goldsmith had more fun scoring The Shadow than he did for the typical romances and kiddie films he had otherwise been engaged with at the time. That enthusiasm can be heard in the faster than usual tempo of electronic rhythms that Goldsmith employs throughout the score. The title theme for the film is as simplistic and heroic as you can get while also preserving the base concept of duality that runs through the entire score. The duality, of course, represents the masked and unmasked personalities of the Alec Baldwin's mysterious Lamont Cranston, and the idea manifests itself in the music through the constant shifts between major and minor keys, sometimes as frequently as every other measure of music. It was a tactic that Danny Elfman so masterfully manipulated for his classic Batman score, and Goldsmith's theme for The Shadow is largely an exaggerated and extended brass version of the same basic minor/major progression. Since the non-specific time frame of the film (once again, a la Batman) displays numerous elements of a more innocent decade long past, the noble and bold brass theme is a perfect statement of campy triumph during the scenes of comic book heroism. To balance the theme and at the same time satisfy the bizarre, futuristic mechanisms within the film, Goldsmith makes fine use of his usual array of synthesizers and library of sound effects. Heard at the very start of the film is the main characteristic of the electronics in The Shadow: a single, rising tone that reappears throughout the score (perhaps representing the psychological elements of the film's primary villain), often followed by swooshing that resembles passing tires of a vehicle on a wet street (again pulling at the noir style of the film).

Combined with a tingling and bouncing electronic substitution for the bass and high strings during performances of the romantic interlude to this title theme, Goldsmith's synthesizers add a strong sense of continuity to the score. You also get the feeling that Goldsmith and his orchestrators did everything they could to tinker with each orchestral element without causing them to become dysfunctional. The trombones, for instance, perform some striking synth-like slurs in "The Hotel" to cleverly represent the concept of brainwashing, a technique that he would rarely touch upon again in his career. In fact, so successful was Goldsmith in this task that no subsequent performance of The Shadow by another body of musicians has ever been able to capture the same stylish personality. The interlude during the primary theme is a lovely romance motif on strings that only receives true recognition in a couple of tracks. Given that the relationship between Cranston and Margo Lane isn't particularly well developed in the film, the lack of this idea in more cues is understandable (the finale performance in "Frontal Lobotomy" is outstanding, though). Even with all of its strange instrumentation and eclectic performances, Goldsmith manages to create a consistent level of "hero vs. villain" battle within the orchestra. Scattered throughout the score and album are noble performances of the title theme that shook the theatre with power during the film's showings. But also present are the Mongolian-styled outbursts for Shiwan Khan, in which a bloated section of native drums, as well as the normal array of metallic and wooden percussion, rock the film with equal power. No better of an alternating, orchestral battle is there than the one between the grand, brass theme and raw, percussive pounding at the end of "Chest Pains." The actual woodwind theme over these sequences for Khan is completely overshadowed by its underlying rhythm. The "Frontal Lobotomy" finale showcases the Mongolian percussion and theme, the heroic brass title theme, and string-dominated romance interlude all in succession, a fantastic closing to the score and film.

The commercial album from Arista for The Shadow only offered thirty minutes of score, but it has all the essential pieces that you will hate to love and your neighbors will love to hate. There is enough action of significant, stereo-swooshing volume on this album, whether it be noble, pounding, or just downright strange, to cause your neighbors to become irate (even more so than something as masculine as the lion sequences in The Ghost and the Darkness). But it is Goldsmith adventure and fantasy at its most affable, and as bad as the film really is, it's just impossible to put this album too far away. It was rounded out by two dialogue clips (the first of which, with the slogan of the legend performed by Baldwin in a distorted mix, is of perfect length and substance to whip on telephone solicitors at the highest possible volume) and two songs. The Taylor Dayne song (with two performances on the commercial album) is the ridiculously unrelated and misplaced pop song demanded by the studio, and the commercial album compounds the error by separating Goldsmith's opening cue from the rest of the score with an otherwise reasonable vintage jazz piece. The product disappeared from the market quickly (within a year after its release) and has since fallen badly out of print. Never fail, however, do those illustrious Goldsmith fans. An expanded bootleg album with only Goldsmith's score appeared many years later, and the various versions of the presentation typically offer at least an additional 14 minutes of material. While the early packaging of this bootleg suggested that it is a Universal Music-produced promotional item, don't be fooled by its illegal status from birth. It's important to recognize, though, that Goldsmith didn't write a whole lot of original material for the film, so regardless of how much additional music you find on the several incarnations of the bootleg, don't expect to be overwhelmed by the experience.


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When you study the expanded score, you find that there are about 35 minutes of music that is actually unique, with more than seven additional minutes simply being rearrangements and bad final edits of the music into different sequences which best suited the film. The only problem that Goldsmith ever encountered with the commercial album situation is the fact that there is about 32 minutes of excellent score material that he had to condense down to less than 30 minutes for the product. So for fans seeking the bootleg, be aware that you're actually getting only two things: a couple of extra minutes of very good score and the satisfaction of your curiosity on the subject. At least twelve short cues comprise the extra material, and many of them repeat short sequences (0:15 or less in length) from the larger, better structured suites heard on the Arista album. Of note in particular is the "Nightmare" cue, arguably the best short outburst in the entire score and featuring rolling, heavy brass over rhythmic strings and tolling chimes that hint of the intensity of Poltergeist. The tolling bell effect returns over noble brass in "The Coin." Both "Next Time" and "You Are the Shadow!" exhibit a fluffier performance, led by the piano, of the score's main theme. As expected, the bootleg indeed confirms that the title theme is heard more often in the film, but not always in unique performances. Sadly, the main fault of Goldsmith's The Shadow is the failure to adapt more performances of the love theme (or title theme interlude) into the score, and there is no extra performance of that idea on the expanded album. And other than a short, themeless burst of the Khan theme's percussion in "The Palace," there is no additional performance of that idea with its overpowering personality either. Overall, the expanded bootleg is advisable only for seriously devoted fans of this score, and if only Goldsmith could have squeezed the short "Nightmare" cue onto Arista's commercial album, the entire issue would be moot.

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Bias Check:

For Jerry Goldsmith reviews at Filmtracks, the average editorial rating is 3.22 (in 111 reviews)
and the average viewer rating is 3.37 (in 120,813 votes). The maximum rating is 5 stars.