By adhering to the Zimmer sound wholesale in Rebel Moon - Part One: A Child of Fire, Holkenborg has completely abandoned any notion that this music would seem like it belongs in the "Star Wars" universe. Rather, it actually comes across as the music that many listeners probably assumed Zimmer would write for the Dune films, a blend of the trademarked overstatement of grandiose brooding, tiresome manipulation of instruments, and tonal new age elements related mostly to extensive vocal applications. Some listeners may indeed consider this a more satisfying science fiction score than Zimmer's Dune music, as it is more simplistically accessible in its highlights. The prominent wordless female vocals are deployed in ways that begged for "Space Enya" references by mainstream reviewers. Holkenborg's creation, while successfully separating itself as far from John Williams as possible, is extraordinarily derivative of other genre entries striving for the same balance of poignant beauty and edgy textures, not achieving either the "advanced" or "futuristic" goals beyond the arrival at this sound for Holkenborg personally. His recording is the musical equivalent of fast food. Its potential tempts you like a fast food restaurant pumping the smell of its burgers and fried foods out its rooftop vents, and it's somewhat satisfying as you consume it. But then, by the end of it, you feel unsatiated, as if your body is telling you, "What is this shit? How about some real food?" That's how the score for Rebel Moon - Part One: A Child of Fire feels. All the intended artistry only leaves you with a desire to hear music with more substance than this soullessly bland atmosphere. The music functions like massive sonic wallpaper with overemphasized, pounding notes for a powerful effect, yielding a narrative that struggles to punctuate an important moment, as in "Little Knives." An orchestra anchors the work alongside expected electronic embellishments, especially in the bass. Brazenly awful sound effects and manipulated vocal noises and whispering in "Ogumo/Cruel Mother" yield some truly obnoxious moments. Specialty instruments include duduk and acoustic guitar for accents, as well as occasional solo percussive force. An awkward Celtic source cue in "Longhouse Dinner" (appended to the album) briefly lightens the mood.

Aside from the base ingredients and occasional peppering with instrumental cameos, the bulk of the "unique" personality of the score for Rebel Moon - Part One: A Child of Fire is provided via string solos and extensive vocals for women, men, and children in what sounds like a nonsensical language. The strings offer little that Zimmer hasn't already attempted, though their inflection here is a bit more folksy, applied in vaguely fiddle-like tones to likely accentuate the agrarian nature of the protagonists' planet. The voices, meanwhile were tailored by Holkenborg to represent different characters, and you hear a wide variety of performance tones from solo and ensemble voices throughout. In many ways, these contributions provide the most attractive part of the mix even if their ultimate application is rather typical and at times lacking any nuance or subtlety. The composer doesn't really rely upon his themes to drive a coherent narrative in the score, developing three ideas throughout but never helping them truly evolve into memorable or leading roles. Interestingly, though, these melodies tend to all begin with five-note phrasing, often repeated, so there is some structural connectivity between them. A main theme leads for the concept and likely the protagonists' planet and society, a secondary theme for the lead character that is punctuated by a solo female voice, and a recurring descending figure most often accompanies moments of agony, suffering, and aspects of galactic political intrigue. The main theme uses its five notes in an ascendant formation, sometimes elongating into elegant secondary, folksy phrasing. Entering at 0:07 into "The Wolf Who Became a Woman" on solo string, this idea is faint and fragmented on that string over wet choral ambience in "Pueri Salvatoris" and resorts to echoing voice at 1:03 into "A Call to Courage," struggling to clarify its secondary phrases but eventually taking a more heroic form at 4:21 with increasingly tonal and grandiose but raw vocals. The theme's secondary phrases emerge out of the action in the latter half of "Ogumo/Cruel Mother" and become tortured on the solo string over melodramatic deep choir at the end of the cue. It interjects in the middle of "A Child of War" in nice variations, struggles in obvious distress on brass in the middle of "Little Knives," and reprises a portion of "The Wolf Who Became a Woman" early in "A Good Place to Die" prior to secondary phrasing that previews the stomping, cliffhanger finish in the cue.

The lovely theme for the lead protagonist's personal journey in Rebel Moon - Part One: A Child of Fire is a more mystical take on the five-note rule, typically supported by solo female voice. That theme opens "The Wolf Who Became a Woman" and serves as an interlude to the main theme throughout the cue. It is disturbed on distant voices early in "Scar Tissue" but regains form at the start of "Horselore," repeating on voice over meandering acoustic guitar before adjoining odd and annoying, Aquaman-like electronic distortion late in the cue. It evolves into a folksy and softer guitar and fiddle idea in "A Child of War," further blending with the main theme's personality, though it returns to "The Wolf Who Became a Woman" personality at outset of "A Good Place to Die." In that cue, the solo female voice continues at 1:53, but the idea goes over the top at 2:49 on brass. The descending motif of repeating five-note phrases for concepts of conflict is previewed at 0:12 and 0:24 into "Prologue Antiphony" on choir and opens "A Call to Courage" in a slightly different format with ominous low strings. It's deconstructed in the gloomy, grinding ambience of "The Burning Mountain" and generates overblown fragments of agony at 2:24 into the brutish "The Salt of Sarrow," which borrows some ascending progressions from "Scar Tissue" as well. This idea returns early in "Little Knives" in a reprise of the opening cue's tone but otherwise accomplishes little more than ambient menace. Among the more unique cues in the work is the elongated, ascending menace throughout "Scar Tissue" even though it fails to apply the descending suffering motif. The two best cues in the score are hidden in its middle. The more fluid, longer lines for the new age vocals and strings in "My Life for Hers" produce an excellent highlight laced with solo boy vocal elegance. (These progressions seemingly inform the late torture of "The Salt of Sarrow.") Also impressive is the compelling climax for exotic male vocals and percussion in "The Weight of Lions." These two cues, and especially the simply gorgeous "My Life for Hers," are among the best recordings Holkenborg has ever provided for the screen, but they cannot save the entire score from effectively workmanlike but loudly soulless mediocrity. The composer cannot seem to modulate the inflection in his music to avoid making every cue sound emotionally overproduced and overemphasized. There is a very alluring suite of easy listening to result from the two positive themes and their variants, but although these moments appeal to the gut, they leave little satisfaction for the brain.  ***   @Amazon.com: CD or Download