Newman toiled endlessly with ideas for 1917, Mendes rejecting a substantial number of initial takes by Newman on the score during early trial sessions jamming with a few of his trusty instrumentalists. The composer eventually asked Mendes if he could simply write generic rhythm-setting music for the director to use as he shot the film, an approach that was denied. But a fair portion of the final score functions much like one would for a Terrence Malick film, with extended cues of underscore easily interchangeable even though Newman didn't suffer the usual Malick rearrangement treatment in this case. The overarching impression that the score for 1917 gives the listener is a feeling of creative indecision, a director desiring extremes in his soundscape and a composer struggling to assemble a workable, cohesive score via these individual moments of uniqueness. Newman is certainly capable of providing both melodramatic orchestral heft and bizarre, other-worldly soundscapes. And his foray into the James Bond franchise with Mendes allowed him to build some muscle, as Newman says, in his action repertoire. But in the process of providing bits and pieces of all these styles in one score, including Newman's trademark breathy woodwinds, dulcimer, and exotic percussion, the whole is lost. There is no connecting tissue in this music that pulls the lead characters through from start to finish; the awkwardly shifting tones betray them by suggesting that they have no identity outside of the extraordinary events they encounter, and this approach seems cheap. There is a main theme of the film, but it shamelessly follows John Williams' lead in Saving Private Ryan by exploring its lovely dramatism only in one major cue at the end. While this theme is foreshadowed early in the score ("1917"), it provides solace through solo cello and eventually full ensemble depth with stoic French horn accompaniment in "Come Back to Us." It's a gorgeous moment of Newman lyricism, but it has no connection with anything else in the score aside from, perhaps, some fleeting piano representation of the same idea in "A Scrap of Ribbon." The remainder of the score offers extremely stark electronic sound design, not so obnoxious as Dunkirk but definitely in that general mould, and Newman isn't afraid to use synthetic mutilations of specialty instruments, some of which vaguely vocal-sounding, to produce an uncomfortable ambience. This mass of material occupies most of the score and, while sufficient in the film, is an extreme challenge to appreciate on album.

Listeners will encounter little memorable in Newman's electronic ambience for 1917, the rhythms too elusive to carry even marginal interest. Despite Mendes' instruction, these sections are indeed gloomy, and they carry on for seemingly interminable lengths. Fortunately, the director did encourage Newman to allow for a few moments of immense emotional release in the score, and these cues are clearly the highlights. During the fire sequence in "The Night Window," the composer offers one of his most explosive expressions of fully symphonic glory, a singular cue of undulating rhythms for cellos, rumbling timpani, and broad strokes of brass that remind of Newman's phenomenal climax in The Shawshank Redemption. (The underlying motif in that cue is previewed in "Gehenna.") The score's other major relief valve is "Sixteen Hundred Men," and this cue is far less Newman than it is Zimmer. It's really disappointing to hear a composer of Newman's stature rip off a temp track emulation to the degree that we hear here. The popularity of the "Journey to the Line" theme from The Thin Red Line is reaffirmed with this remarkably similar rendition, though Newman does add percussion and brass to the long crescendo (recorded in one take) in an extroverted manner that Zimmer did not. Again, the rhythmic motif in this cue is singular, poignantly accompanying the dizzying, final dash in the story's journey but not building upon anything explored prior. The straight action material in 1917 is surprisingly infrequent, suspense like the hideous electronic noise of "Tripwire" occupying some of this space. Conversely, the action cues stray heavily into John Powell territory, the string and synthetic rhythms, worldly percussion, and brass on key reminding heavily of Green Zone. A better version of this technique is developed late in "Englander," in which Newman creates a more unique and notable brass motif. (Listen for a subtle reference to the brass lines of this moment at 2:20 into "Mentions in Dispatches.") In the end, Newman's work for 1917 is as psychologically exhausting as the film itself and cannot be sustained alone for its whole length. The variance in the score is just too extreme, no consistent demeanor developed for the whole and the moments of catharsis forced cheaply into an otherwise bleak soundscape. That said, the highlights of this score are among the best of Newman's career, especially "The Night Window," and no collector of his work should be without these moments of impressive, symphonic triumph. There is 20 minutes of absolutely superb music, temp-track emulation included, on a 77-minute album, so be prepared to cull four or five cues from the otherwise gloomy, unpleasant whole.  ***   @Amazon.com: CD or Download