: (Hans Zimmer/Various) Professor Robert
Langdon has some pretty damn poor luck when you think about it. Like
Professor Indiana Jones, he shaves years off the end of his life chasing
impossible conspiracies, but unlike Indy, he doesn't seem to have much
fun along the way. In
, Tom Hanks returns as Langdon,
author Dan Brown's expert on religious history, and with the continued
guidance of director Ron Howard, the protagonist is chased, abused, and
betrayed at nearly every turn. The script of the 2016 film is convoluted
and silly, the professor running about the Mediterranean searching for a
hidden terrorist virus that will eradicate mankind. In yet another
Langdon film, he's accompanied by a new piece of eye candy with brunette
hair, but this time she strays towards the psycho bitch territory.
Critics rolled their eyes impatiently while domestic audiences shrugged
it off, though solid international returns for
salvaged
the production fiscally. Also resurrecting ghosts of the franchise's
glory days is Hans Zimmer, armed this time with five or six choice
ghostwriters from his Remote Control music production house. The year
started relatively well for the veteran composer (the children's genre
seems to bring out the only true romantic heart he once exhibited
regularly in the early 1990's), but disillusion with or indifference to
. Zimmer has rolled
over the popularity of his 2000's and 2010's ensemble works into an
apparent interest in not only perpetuating the failed methodology of
group scoring but exploration of new instrumental avenues made possible
by the expertise of his collaborators. By the time of
,
this experimentation pulled Zimmer back to some of his earliest days of
synthetic programming, the composer seemingly content to resurrect the
sounds of the 1980's in fresh ways.
The resulting convergence of classic Moog tones and the
excessive post-processing of today yields some truly frightening and
atrocious results in
Inferno, the striving for innovation
admirable but largely unsuccessful. There is something to be said about
the technical prowess Zimmer's team is attempting to exploit, for the
product of their tinkering does continue to sell albums. But,
ultimately, the journey to synthetic processing glory comes at the
expense of nuanced emotional gravitas,
Inferno remaining as cold
and underachieving as
Chappie and Zimmer's superhero efforts.
Perhaps the greatest disappointment regarding
Inferno is its
degeneration of emotional connection from
The Da Vinci Code and
Angels & Demons. There are plenty of melodic nods to the prior
scores, certainly, but whereas Zimmer reserved some of his best writing
of recent years for those prior scores,
Inferno is an intentional
blast of disorientation and abrasiveness from the composer. He warned
listeners about this move, claiming this score to be "reckless
experimentation" that is "not for the faint of heart." The justification
for this transition exists in the perception by Zimmer and Howard (the
director was fully supportive of the composer in taking this darker
path) that
Inferno has abandoned much of the classicism of the
original character's world and represents instead an apocalyptic,
technological threat. Where Zimmer sees the words "apocalyptic" and
"technological," discordant synthetic musical experimentation must
apparently follow. In his seemingly genuine passion for finding that
grating new electronic manipulation, however, the important element of
humanity is totally lost. The music for
Inferno is soulless
propulsion and simplistic horror and suspense ambience in only Zimmer's
vague voice. There are so many ghostwriters involved here, some of whom
likely pushing this synthetic abrasiveness with zeal, that we begin to
lose, for long sequences, any attempt to emulate the better aspects of a
classic "Zimmereque" sound.
If not for a few nostalgic bursts of 1990's Zimmer
choral depth and the themes from the prior two films in the franchise,
one could mistaken
Inferno for a cheap attempt by some
non-Zimmer-affiliated composer to force Vangelis of the early 1980's
into the post-processing era. In fact, you can hear a shameless
Blade
Runner rip at 1:28 into "Remove Langdon." It's a sad, discouraging
trend that leaves listeners wading through long cues of nearly
insufferable rhythmic noise, badly edited and haphazardly shifting in
direction. So much of
Inferno is just plain awful drivel, and you
have to wonder how long this kind of heartless contrivance (for a film
involving mass death and people willing to commit suicide for a cause,
no less) can be marketed by the Zimmer machine as being innovative at
all. The bulk of
Inferno is really no different from the worst
suspense and chase sequences of the Zimmer team's superhero scores,
reminding of Tom Holkenborg's rather unaccomplished scores in their
advancement of technology and failing to push that experimentation into
any intellectually engaging direction as at least Steven Price has
managed to achieve during the same years. One is tempted to point to
ghostwriters Steve Mazzaro and Andrew Kawczynski for perpetuating this
particular direction of Zimmer's hideousness. Not all is lost in the
hazy befuddlement of
Inferno, however. There is just enough
sunlight from Zimmer's better inclinations to offer some really solid
highlights amongst the muck, and almost all of it exists as some
reference to
The Da Vinci Code and
Angels & Demons. Zimmer
and his team have to be commended for staying true to not only the famed
"CheValiers de Sangreal" theme from
The Da Vinci Code but the
"Science and Religion" theme from
Angels & Demons as well. Both
themes, in fact, are integral to this score and that's an extremely
important choice given the relative lack of new thematic identity
attempted by Zimmer here. The only obvious new theme exists for an
important but not critical character; the Elizabeth Sinskey ally of
Langdon is afforded a theme consisting of pairs of piano notes. The
female lead, meanwhile, receives nothing. Nor do the villain or his evil
plot get the identities they deserve.
More critically, there is no deception attempted in how
Zimmer handles the music for the concepts and characters in
Inferno, and that's a huge mistake and disappointment. Why does
Sienna Brooks receive no musical identity that shifts dramatically
mid-film? Lost opportunities abound. The Elizabeth theme recurs in
"Venice," "Elizabeth," and "Life Must Have its Mysteries," though it's a
weak identity that only engages well when placed in appropriate
counterpoint with the "CheValiers de Sangreal" theme. That theme is
heard in "I'm Feeling a Tad Vulnerable," "Professor," "Vayentha,"
"Elizabeth," and "The Logic of Tyrants" before its updated, heavier
concert arrangement in "Life Must Have its Mysteries," the easy
highlight of this score. The "Science and Religion" theme, meanwhile is
expressed in "Maybe Pain Can Save Us," "Via Dolorosa #12 Apartment 3C,"
and "Our Own Hell on Earth" but is more faithfully reprised with solo
violin in "Beauty Awakens the Soul to Act." Don't expect the solo string
players in this score to compete against the battery of synthesizers.
Even the full orchestral string section is swallowed up in the processed
soundscape outside of "Life Must Have its Mysteries." One exception
remains the hidden highlight of the score in "Venice," a more accessible
cue that includes some stellar rolling piano and marimba rhythms of
suspense in a fantastic tonal atmosphere complete with
Crimson
Tide choir. This cue proves that a film like
Inferno could
have benefited greatly from this kind of tonal but effectively
suspenseful writing. No post-processed evisceration of intelligent noise
was necessary to convey the point of the film. In the end, listeners
will have to decide for themselves about how the relatively "cheap"
sound of
Inferno can suffice. Is it possible that all this
supposedly revolutionary tinkering with electronics is destined to fail
because none of it connects with the hearts of listeners? Should it
bother us that Zimmer and his team, with their infinite resources,
produce a cue like "Doing Nothing Terrifies Me" that would fit right at
home with John Ottman's low-tech but infinitely more intelligent
Point of Origin? At what point does Zimmer step back from his
ghostwriters and realize that the primary purpose of a soundtrack is not
to innovate but rather augment and tell a story through sincere emotion?
You can only hit a person over the head with a brick so many times...
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