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FILMTRACKS.COM
PRINTER-FRIENDLY VIEW 
Review of Robots (John Powell)
FILMTRACKS RECOMMENDS:
Buy it... if there is no limit to your embrace of John Powell's
standard methods for orchestral slapstick comedy, a sound defined
foremost by frenetic pacing, sharp genre shifts, and a healthy dose of
upbeat, rhythmic humor.
Avoid it... if Powell's many equivalent scores have proven this style too inconsistent for your enjoyment, because the composer does surprisingly little to distinguish this entry with uniquely mechanical percussive effects.
FILMTRACKS EDITORIAL REVIEW:
Robots: (John Powell) With its almost-too-human
representation of a world made up entirely of robots, the film
Robots offers a heartwarming story of dreams and inventions while
also laying a heavy dose of animated eye candy on the viewer. From the
same inventors of 2002's Ice Age, the story of Robots
follows the journey of a creative, promising young robot (who, in
customary fashion, kind of looks like his performing voice, Ewan
McGregor) to the big city, where he encounters a host of wild mechanical
characters and fights an idealistic battle against a big robot
corporation (to fulfill, of course, the ideology of the filmmakers).
With Pixar throwing its finest complexities at audiences in the grand
scope that fits the IMAX screens on which Robots was released in
part in 2005, the sophisticated cinematography is countered by wacky
details such as robotic farts, a reminder of the movie's target
audience. Additionally, Robots is living proof that there's ample
work in Hollywood for composers talented in the orchestral slapstick
department of writing. This style of cartoonish symphonic mayhem has
always been considered a difficult task to conquer for any composer, and
yet the resurgence of its demand on the big screen since the late 1990's
has allowed a whole slew of composers to display their
more-than-adequate talents in the area. David Newman, Ed Shearmur,
Michael Giacchino, Harry Gregson-Williams, and John Powell have all
excelled at whipping up a frenzy of light-hearted spirit from an
ensemble, and for Powell in particular, his journeys in this sort of
comedy composition have extended from his well known collaborations with
Gregson-Williams (Antz, Chicken Run, and Shrek) to
his subsequent solo efforts (The Adventures of Pluto Nash and now
Robots). All composers in this genre owe some foundation for
their music to vintage cartoon masters Carl Stalling and Raymond Scott,
but Powell in particular has found his own niche within this general
style by wildly infusing other genres of music into the mix.
Not wasting the opportunity to maximize his sonic contribution to Robots, Powell enlisted a very full-sized Hollywood Studio Symphony, a medium-sized choir, and even added recordings of the Blue Man Group from their New York studios for some extra flair. Approaching a film about cute mechanized characters would lead Powell to the obvious conclusion that the percussion section would get a healthy dose of action, and the sounds of the Blue Man Group play along those same lines. Interestingly, however, Powell largely diminishes the creativity of the percussion section (and the similarly rendered samples of various machine-related noises) after a few early cues. In the end, listeners hear a symphonic score that seems to pull at the emotional side of the characters' humanity rather than truly emphasizing the tinkering sounds of a robotic world. A generic, suburban title theme for strings pleasantly introduces the score and is consistently ratcheted up in intensity as the work progresses. The progressions of this theme, especially when it's presented in slower, wholesome statements, are strangely reminiscent of John Williams' 1970's style. The quality of the robust action sequences from start to finish is heard in Powell's ability to conjure new ideas for seemingly every new robot and situation. A subtheme and rhythm for the Madam Gasket character, highlighted by menacingly deep brass, is perhaps the best developed identity within the mass of frenetic underscore. Other individual elements in the score merit considerable praise, including the mechanical percussion in "Robots Overture" and "Wonderbot Wash," the choral train motif in "Crosstown Express," and a larger, ominous choral attack piece for the ultimate "Attack of the Sweepers." But even within those cues, the choral motif for the train intentionally slurs to a halt in slapstick style, the attack sequence offers a short bagpipe performance without relation to the rest of the score, the "Butt Whoopin'" cue presents its coolness with a short interlude for electric guitar, and the following "Homecoming" cue swaggers in suave style with a Western rhythm. Several bursts of funk are also commonplace, the end of "Bigweld Workshop" representative of a moment when that pizzazz explodes out of a monumental choral statement in obnoxious fashion. Therein lies the problem with a soundtrack like Robots. Its pace is so frantic, its energy is so vibrant, its genre of music is so haphazard, and its thematic and rhythmic focus changes so often that it could possibly drive a person mad when listening to the score apart from the film. If you recall how strangely the gospel finale cue played on the album for Powell's Gigli, then imagine an entire score of such shifts of genre influence and you have basic understanding of the schizophrenic personality of Robots. The same format, of course, exists in Rio and several other forthcoming Powell scores. The composer does manage to tie Robots together with impressive ease, however, with the size of the ensemble, a light-hearted airiness, the loyalty to non-synthetic elements, and a sense of humor serving as cohesive glue for the work. On the other hand, Powell may have missed the boat with an underutilization of the Blue Man Group and other percussive elements. When you think back upon Robots in retrospect, you get the impression that James Horner accomplished a more convincing and memorable old-fashioned mechanized sound with a simple rhythm and woodblock approach in the opening cue of Bicentennial Man. Powell did not allow the robots to define the score to the same saturating effect as John Williams accomplished in his quirky 1981 robot-inspired score for Heartbeeps, nor did Powell integrate sound effects with the same imagination as Jerry Goldsmith did in his similarly-styled, humorous efforts. To that end, despite the wide variety of percussion that Powell did indeed employ in the score from no less than 18 percussion specialists, including the funky guys in the blue paint, Robots doesn't leave the listener with any one spectacular dash of creativity that will keep you coming back to it. In the end, it would seem that Powell was instead looking to offer music that lends the characters of Robots with the human hearts and souls that the mechanical visuals elements could not as easily provide, and thus got squeezed in his attempt to emphasize compassion over form. A patience-testing 44-minute presentation on album will satisfy any Powell or slapstick comedy fan, and while Robots may not have the digestible personality of Antz, the robust highlights of Chicken Run, or the thematic grace of How to Train Your Dragon, it stands well enough on its own feet to suffice. ***
TRACK LISTINGS:
Total Time: 43:51
NOTES & QUOTES:
The insert includes extensive credits and a list of performers
but no extra information about the score or film.
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