Original Scores - A Return to Classicism

I've been a huge fan of movie music for more than 40 years, as my first experiences were with the marvelous scores of Jerry Goldsmith; his music for Patton was the first great original score I remember when I saw this film in theaters in 1970 when I was 14 years of age. Goldsmith was following in the footsteps of classically-oriented composers before him who wrote outstanding scores for Hollywood films of the 1930, '40', '50s and '60s; the composers included Max Steiner, Franz Waxman, Miklos Rosza, Bernard Herrmann and Alex North to name only a few.

Goldsmith, along with John Williams and Ennio Morricone in Italy carried on the glories of the film score written for a full symphony and it has been those three without question that have been the finest composers in Hollywood since the mid-1960s. Goldsmith, who composed such memorable scores as Chinatown, The Wind and the Lion, Poltergeist and L.A. Confidential, passed away in 2004, while Williams, who will turn 80 years old in February, is still composing; his body of work, for films such as Star Wars, Superman, Schindler's List and dozens of others is known to every film fan. Morricone, truly one of the most gifted composers in film history, has delighted film goers with his beautifully melodic themes to such films as Days of Heaven, The Mission and Cinema Paradiso, to name only a few.

There have been others who have treated us with memorably melodic scores over the past few decades; Randy Newman's score for The Natural stands out, while Rachel Portman (Emma, Chocolat), Dario Marianelli (Atonement, Jane Eyre) and Michael Giacchino (Ratatouille, Up) have also turned in some  lovely compositions in recent years.

Yet more and more, we are experiencing a shift away from lush, romantic scores toward those dominated by electronics. Last year when the score for The Social Network composed by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross won the Academy Award as the year's best, it marked a seismic shift in film music; electronic scores had been with us for years, but here was a minimal work that was accepted as one of high quality, a decision that I completely disagreed with, given the unremarkable nature of this work.

I have nothing against electronic scores per se; indeed Goldsmith started experimenting with electronics to add another sound to his work back in the 1960s and some of his best work such as Hoosiers and Gremlins are famous for their use of synthesizers. But Goldsmith utilized electronics in conjunction with the full sound of a symphony; he did not write any full electronic scores, as with Reznor and Ross. Their scores, while moderately effective (their latest score for The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is a better opus than The Social Network in my opinion, although it still isn't what I'd call an accomplished work), don't stand well on their own. While some of the electronic music that Reznor and Ross - as well as a few others such as Jonny Greenwood (I did enjoy his music for There Will Be Blood) - works well for a few moments in these films, they are not scores that can stand alone. One can't even compare listening to the score for The Social Network with the great symphonic scores of Goldsmith, Williams, Morricone and their counterparts.

So while electronic scores are here to stay, I was thrilled to hear so many classic symphonic scores for the cinema of 2011. Here are the three finest from this past year:

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part Two - composer Alexandre Desplat
French composer Desplat has risen to the top of the ranks among film scorers in a very short time, as his first major work Syriana is from 2005. His score for last year's The Ghost Writer was superb, its edgy strings reminiscent of Herrmann's work; overall the score had a drive that added to the unease felt by the characters in this film.

Desplat wrote a fine score for Deathly Hallows: Part One in 2009, but he has outdone himself for Part Two, composing his finest film score to date. He was given the challenging assignment of composing scores for a franchise that had been a success for John Williams, especially with his "Hedwig's Theme", written for Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone back in 2001. Undaunted, Desplat went ahead and composed a score for Deathly Hallows: Part Two that recalls the musical heritage of these films, while at the same time, taking it in a new direction.

Desplat wrote two new themes for this film, "Lily's Theme", a lovely piece with Celtic overtones and a cue called "Statues", one of his prettiest themes melodically. This is a score with lush arrangements for strings and woodwinds, while other instruments such as celesta, harp and trumpet and used in memorable passages. Desplat's cue, "The Resurrection Stone" (#19 on the soundtrack album), is a haunting variation of "Lily's Theme'; this quiet, highly moving and romantic piece features a spare string arrangement that alternates with piano for the theme, backed by a choral section with a lovely solo performance. This works beautifully in the film and on its own and is the loveliest piece of film music I heard in 2011. This is a great score!

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy - composer Alberto Iglesias
The main job of a composer when writing a film score is to heighten the emotions of what we are witnessing on the screen. Goldsmith (and others) said that in so many words and it's a lesson well-learned by Iglesias for this marvelously crafted spy thriller. His theme "George Smiley" (#1 on the soundtrack album), heard under the main titles, is a quiet, haunting theme that successfully sets the tone for this drama; featuring muted trumpet, oboe, strings and piano, this is a moody cue that gets under your skin. This cue ends as quietly as begins, as the mystery of this film begins to unravel. This is a film score that is subdued, never announcing itself - again, this is music that serves the film and does so marvelously. Iglesias has been a solid composer for several years now; I throughly enjoyed his romantic score for The Constant Gardener (2005) as well as his quietly effective music for The Kite Runner (2007). Iglesias also composed a lovely classical piece for string quartet this year for The Skin I Live In  and continues his maturation as a composer with this work.

War Horse - composer John Williams
How wonderful to have John Williams back composing for films again after a three year hiatus. In fact, the maestro graced filmgoers with two new scores this year, this one as well as his highly entertaining and imaginative work for The Advenutes of TinTin (his quirky theme for the wild opening sequence is simply wonderful).

For War Horse, Williams gives us a grand score reminiscent of his "large" compositions of the past. What he does so well is to write memorable themes for any moment in a film, be it a small personal one or one that's more majestic in nature. Compare two cues for War Horse, first the one entitled Dartmoor, 1912 (#1 on the soundtrack album). This lovely Celtic-influenced theme, featuring strings, woodwinds and brass, starts quietly and then builds in texture, as Williams paints the lyric qualities of the English countryside setting in the early 20th century. The cue "Homecoming" (#16 on the soundtrack album) gives us another Celtic theme performed by flutes and strings that is soon followed by a lilting Irish jig, itself eventually followed a heart-wrenchingly beautiful theme for strings that celebrates the reunion of Joey the horse with his young owner Albert as well as the final welcome back on the farm for these two. This section of the score is uplifting and captures the love that Albert has for Joey and that he has for his family and land. This theme made the three year wait for Williams's return to composing for the cinema worth the wait.

There are three other scores from 2011 I want to comment on, as I thought they were also among the finest of the year. The first is the score for Hugo, composed by Howard Shore. Twice an Oscar winner for his scores for the Lord of the Rings trilogy, Shore has composed a lovely, lilting score for Hugo that befits the fantasy and childlike wonder of this film. This is a multi-layered score written for a variety of instruments, including piano and strings and of course, accordion, which seems to be a prerequisite for a film set in France. However, the accordion passages are not cliché-ridden, but gentle and lyrical. There are also some darker passages in this score as well, especially in the track labeled as "Purpose" (#12 on the soundtrack album). This is a wonderful score with a light touch that fits this film like a glove and listening to it on its own instantly takes you back to the particular scenes in the film. Well done, Howard!

Secondly, I want to briefly discuss the wonderful work of Mychael Danna for Moneyball. This is a subtle score, one that you don't notice right away, but one that slowly creeps up on you. Written primarily for strings, there is a great amount of dissonance in the music; as this is a more reflective look on baseball and not the usual pennant-winning-heroics type of movie, this is perfect. There are some electronics utilized in this score, but their use is spare and they are only small ingredients in this work. Rather this is more of a classically oriented, string quartet type of score - one that adds a layer of depth to this film (track #17, entitled "Game 5" is a brilliant example of the composer creating tension through dissonance in the strings - it is heard in the film as we see a pop fly land in an infielder's glove that suddenly ends a baseball season - it's a small gem of a piece).

Finally, kudos to Ludovic Bource for his charming score for The Artist. Of all the films made in 2011, this was arguably the film that most required fitting musical accompaniment and Bource accomplished that very well. I absolutely love his theme "George Valentin" (#3 on the soundtrack), a bouncy, jazzy cue written for piano, xylopohone, clarinet and strings with light percussion that perfectly recalls the essence of Charlie Chaplin's work from the 1920s. Yet this is not a rip-off of Chaplin's music, rather it is a complex set of compositions that perfectly fit the mood of this enchanting film. I have seen many silent films with specially composed scores that were not only wall-to-wall music, but ones that announced themselves and took away from the visuals on the screen. So Bource's score is the best of both worlds, a lengthy score (as needed for a silent film) that perfectly fits the film and one that has much more creativity and subtlety than most scores written for silent films (regardless of being composed for the film's premiere in the '20s or commissioned years later).

So there you have it- 2011 was a year that lovers of classically-oriented film scores should treasure. Let's hope that we can look forward to many more scores such as these in 2012 and coming years.

P.S. Given that Alexandre Desplat had a remarkably busy year in 2011, scoring five different films (The Tree of Life and Carnage were among other works), this is a promising sign that classic scores are returning.

P.P.S The Academy Award nominations will be announced on Tuesday and it seems certain that three of the nominations will go to The Artist, War Horse and Hugo, all well-deserved. That leaves two more nominations and chances are that John Williams will receive one of those for his score for TinTin, which wouldn't bother me. I'm also guessing that as Reznor and Ross won the Oscar last year, they'll get another nomination this time around for Dragon Tattoo. Personally, I hope not, but that's probably how it will go.

That means that the scores for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy and Moneyball would lose out on a nomination, which would be a shame, especially for Potter, as I believe it was the finest score from 2011. Maybe with this category (as well as a few others such as cinematography and editing), there should be a floating number of nominations - from five to ten - as with the Best Picture category. Back in 1945, there were 21 original dramatic scores nominated for an Academy Award; that's probably too many, but why only five? Yes, only one can win each year, but why limit this to five choices? Why not recognize excellence when it's present? For some of these composers, the nomination is an award in itself.

P.P.S. In case you think I am being a bit tough on the work of Reznor and Ross, wait until you read this review at the filmtracks.com site. This critic really can't stand their work!

Two Sides of the Same Coin

"Sometimes it's easier living a lie." - Carl Hanratty (Tom Hanks)

Living a lie is the primary theme of Steven Spielberg's wonderful 2002 film, Catch Me If You Can. On the surface level, this dramatization of how teenage Frank Abagnale, Jr. became one of America's most wanted con men of the 1960s, is about the big lie he lived for several years. But on a deeper level, the film is concerned with the lies between a father and his son, a wife and her husband, a mother and her son as well as a law enforcement officer and his wife and daughter. Ultimately this film has a rather dark message that family values are often hollow and lead us to a road of deception - at the end of the day, how do the lies we encounter in our family lives change our behavior?

Interestingly, the two main combatants of the story, Abagnale (Leonardo diCaprio) and Hanratty, the FBI agent assigned to catch him, have the most honest relationship in the film. Their bond is based on several factors, not the least of which is that neither one can stop what he is doing - Abagnale passing bad checks and impersonating a doctor, lawyer and airline pilot with Hanratty obsessively pursuing Abagnale across the country and even into Europe.

While Hanratty initially treats this case like others he has been involved with in the past, it becomes much more than everyday work for the agent. He soon deduces that Abagnale's behavior is not necessarily prompted by the need to make money and stay a step or two ahead of the law, but in reality to try and save his father from prison. His father had IRS trouble and when his plush suburban house is repossessed, he must move his family into a rather modest apartment. Soon, his wife, bored with her surroundings, cheats on him with one of his friends, no doubt punishing her husband for his lack of success.

Divorce soon follows; this is a shattering moment for the young Abagnale, who is forced to choose which parent he will live with for the remainder of his life (he selects his father, of course, whom he greatly admires). This is a beautifully edited scene by Michael Kahn, as shots of a confused Abagnale in the apartment are intercut with images of him wildly running down a street, away from the family chaos and toward a train station that will offer him a journey that will take him to situations he never imagined.

Abagnale uses his wits to manufacture phony checks and then pass them, making several million dollars illegally. His motive at first is to help his father pay back his debts as well as achieve a better life, but he soon realizes that his father is becoming more distraught as well as a bit unstable. He treasures his father's love and though his father never really abandons him, their relationship becomes frayed.

Missing his father's attention, Abagnale turns to Hanratty, via a series of phone calls, many of them on Christmas Eve. These scenes are among the most touching and deeply felt in the film, as they show the isolation of the two characters, with Hanratty often alone in his dark office late at night and Abagnale by himself in an anonymous hotel room or at a bar. Abagnale contacts Hanratty, not only because he needs someone to talk to, but because he respects his honesty as an authority figure. Hanratty soon welcomes these calls, not only as they help him track down Abagnale, but also as he feels a connection to the teenager; the relationship between his former wife and daughter having been greatly diminished.

In one of the most revealing moments of the film, Hanratty tells Abagnale over the phone that he (Abagnale) called because he had no one else to talk to on Christmas Eve. Hanratty laughs at this and is proud of this sudden discovery, but for Abagnale, this is an affirmation of his loneliness and it scares the wits out of him. Spielberg gives us a reaction shot of a clearly dazed Abagnale that is beautifully composed, with half of his face covering the top of the frame with the phone (out-of-focus) in the bottom half. John Williams' mournful cue, performed here as a saxophone solo, perfectly communicates Abagnale's isolation; this is a turning point for the criminal, who suddenly realizes how his life is not presenting the true freedom he so greatly desires.

Spielberg has always surrounded himself with some of the best technical talent in Hollywood and that craftsmanship is brilliantly on display in this work. Janusz Kaminski, who had become the director's regular cinematographer since Schindler's List (1993), has given us a complex pallette, ranging from the muted browns and yellows of the Abagnale apartment to the kitschy, glowing yellow and orange of Miami and the south in the mid-1960s. Costume designer Mary Zophres performed marvelously here, capturing a large range of looks from the dull colors of corporate world suits to the bright pastel shades of the stewardess uniforms. Kahn's editing keeps this 140 minute film flowing beautifully.

John Williams, who had been composing music for Spielberg's films since Jaws (1975), delivered one of his most distinctive scores that recalled the jazz influences of his early years; the opening theme is a jaunty one featuring saxophone, vibes and even finger snaps! Coming from a composer who wrote so many famous blockbuster themes for full orchestra, this more intimate sound is a nice change of pace. Additionally, the opening theme perfectly suits the wildly inventive animated title sequence that recalls the great title designs of Saul Bass in the 1950s and '60s. (This opening is worth watching in its own right; it was designed by Nexus Productions. I saw this design parodied a few years ago on an episode of The Simpsons - how many title sequences have been so honored?)

There are several excellent performances; Hanks is especially good as the humorless FBI agent who has to put aside his no-nonsense approach for awhile if he is to finally catch his prey; his Boston accent is flawless and you can tell he must have thoroughly enjoyed himself on this film. But it is Christopher Walken as Frank Abagnale, Sr. who steals the show here (he was nominated for a Best Supporting Actor for this role). Walken beautifully underplays his role, moving from self-confidence to utter dismay at his poor fortune in life. So often the actor has gone over the top in his on-screen portrayals and given his image as a unique, slightly oddball individual, no doubt many directors let him do as he preferred. It is to Spielberg's credit to a certain degree that Walken reined things in for this role.

As for Spielberg's direction, it is as subtle and and self-assured as he had delivered to that date (and perhaps since). He is able to find small moments of humor (such as the shot of dozens of model airplanes in a bathtub or the scene where Hanks does his laundry) and glides his camera across sets effortlessly. There is plenty of irony in this story (drying a forged check in a hotel Bible, for example) and the director again communicates this with much less bravado than he had displayed in the past. His direction of the scene when Abagnale is arrested at his mother's new home on Christmas Eve (again, that night!), while Nat King Cole's rendition of The Christmas Song is heard on the soundtrack, is quite touching and sensitive, without the maudlin one might have expected.

Catch Me If You Can is often a light-hearted piece; certainly the mood is often humorous, especially in the middle of the film when Abagnale falls in love with a nurse (innocently played by a young Amy Adams) and then tries to impress her socialite parents. Despite the feel-good way the story resolves itself, this is hardly a film with a joyous message. The repeated shots of Abagnale tearing off a label off various ketchup, soda and champagne bottles point to an unmasking of the truth. Placing a logo on a check will give the appearance of reality, but it is of course, a lie.

The two characters are presented in much the same way - the surface level tells us one thing, but their inner truth reveals something else. In the case of Abagnale, the supposed joy and power of conning others succumbs to a cry for help, as deep down he wants to be caught (hence the retention of his first name Frank for all of his phony identities). For Hanratty, the solemn edge he brings to his work is a mask for the unease and loneliness he feels every day (he cannot bring himself to laugh at his partner's jokes). Catch Me, reads the title, but who is that person?


Photos ©Dreamworks

Scores to Settle

Max Steiner

I've been a big fan of original movie music scores ever since the age of 14, when I saw the film Patton and heard Jerry Goldsmith's brilliant composition. Like most great works of music for the cinema, his score added greatly to the overall quality of the film, especially in the way it highlighted the emotional state of the title character.

Goldsmith was one of the greatest composers to ever write for the cinema and his work was honored with 17 Academy Award nominations, winning one Oscar for The Omen (1976). However, there were a dozen or so scores for which he was not nominated, which I think deserve recognition.

This is not an isolated situation as many other talented composers from Max Steiner to John Williams and several in between were passed over for some of their finest work. For this post, I'd like to call attention to some of my favorite scores that were not nominated for an Academy Award.


Treasure of the Sierra Madre - Max Steiner (1948)
Max Steiner, who came to Hollywood from his native Austria, is a beloved figure in the history of film scoring, so much so that he is known as "the father of film music." He won three Academy Awards for his scores (The Informer, 1935; Now Voyager, 1944 and Since You Went Away, 1946), although he did not win for what is arguably his most famous score for Gone With the Wind (1939). In total, he was nominated for 26 Academy Awards.

Yet it's difficult to believe he did not receive a nomination for his score for The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948), especially when you consider the acclaim for this film, as evidenced by Oscars for director John Huston and his father Walter for Best Supporting Actor as well as a Best Picture nomination. Steiner did receive a nomination that year for Johnny Belinda, but his failure to earn a nod for Treasure is a strange omission.

Steiner's main theme, scored for full orchestra, is bravado and triumphant, moving to a quick tempo after a few introductory notes; it sets the tone for this film's sense of adventure beautifully. I also love his brief dramatic theme for the mountain, which we hear several times. The composer also incorporates Mexican themes, my favorite of which is a jaunty cue played by mandolins.

This is a multi-layered score that shifts moods often (joy, sorrow, weariness). It is an accomplished effort that serves the film beautifully; it deserves to be remembered as one of Max Steiner's finest works.


David Raksin - The Bad and the Beautiful (1952)
Raksin will always be remembered as one of Hollywood's finest composers, if only for his beloved theme to Laura (1944) a composition that has probably been interpreted by more jazz musicians than any movie theme in history. The fact that he was not nominated for The Bad and the Beautiful is as curious as Steiner for Treasure, as this was a very celebrated film, capturing several Oscar nominations.

Raksin's theme that opens this film and is heard in various reworkings throughout, is memorable as having one of the longest melodic lines of any movie theme. It is at once bravura, touching and bittersweet. The first time we hear it, string dominate, while in the brilliant final scene, when the three principals listen to their old nemesis on the phone, Raksin has a solo saxophone play the theme, giving it a racy edge that matches the nervous uncertainty of the scene.

My favorite cue is when the lead actress Georgia Lorrison (portrayed by Lana Tuner) visits the set and her dressing room on the eve of the first day's shoot on her initial film. Raksin introduces the main theme, this time with a solo muted trumpet. This is a brilliant choice as the tone of this music matches her loneliness and unease with making her first movie. Raksin then has the strings swell in joy, as she opens a small gift in her dressing room; just as quickly, the composer introduces a counter theme in a minor chord. This is jarring to the senses and is a perfect accompaniment to the emotional state of Georgia, who suddenly feels her inadequacy as an actress. As her producer Jonathan Shields (Kirk Douglas) rescues her from her self-imposed misery a few days later, we hear the main theme again, this time with a few bars played by a single saxophone; this gives the soundtrack a nice edginess as well as a touch of sexiness.

Raksin not only wrote gorgeous themes for his films, but was also one of Hollywood's greatest orchestrators; his talents are on display in brilliant fashion in this work. How sad that Raksin never won an Oscar and was only nominated for the Academy Award for two of his scores: Forever Amber (1947) and Separate Tables (1955). He deserved better, even if he will be remembered for one of the most famous movie themes of all time.


Bernard Herrmann - Vertigo (1958)



I could write an entire post about how Herrmann, who was arguably the most extraordinary film composer of the 20th century, failed to receive his proper due from the Academy. It is hard to believe that after winning an Oscar for his score for the 1941 film All That Money Can Buy (beating out his superior score for Citizen Kane that year), Hermann was only nominated once (for Anna and the King of Siam in 1946) until 1976, the year after his death, when his final two scores, Obsession and Taxi Driver, were among the final nominees. That means no nominations for such accomplished and memorable compositions as The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1947), a lush, romantic score considered by some critics to be his finest work; The Day The Earth Stood Still, with its use of electronics (1951), the playful The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad (1958) or the haunting score for François Truffaut's Fahrenheit 451 (1966).

Then of course, there is his body of work for Alfred Hitchcock, perhaps the finest collaboration between a composer and director. His highly charged theme for North by Northwest (1959) sets the frenzied atmosphere for that great adventure, while his shrieking violins for the shower scene in Psycho mark one of the most famous musical cues in the history of cinema. Let's also recall his quirky, dark score for The Trouble with Harry (1955), his complex work for Marnie and of course, his apperance as conductor at Albert Hall in the stunning assassination attempt in The Man Who Knew Too Much (1956).

That leaves his score for Vertigo (1958) as his finest work that did not receive an Academy Award nomination. There are two main themes here; the first, which opens the film, is a nervous-edged blend of strings and brass that is at once jarring as well as heart pounding; it is a beautiful match for the kaleidoscopic images of the Saul Bass-desgined main titles and a notable prelude to the psychological trappings of the film. (Hermann continues this mood as the film opens with a chase across rooftops in which one character falls to his death - this is a superb marriage of visuals and music).

The other theme is the famous love theme, also known as "Scene d'Amour." This is a lush, romantic theme with gushing strings that also has minor chords that bring in a mournful, heartbreaking feel. Hermann uses this theme several times during the film with the most memorable being the James Stewart and Kim Novak characters embracing as the Pacific Ocean waves roll and crash behind them. The theme ends with a short burst of brass followed by a quiet passage for strings. It is one of the loveliest and most haunting themes in the composer's remarkable career.

It would be impossible to imagine Vertigo without its music - that is as high a praise as any score can receive.


Rudy - Jerry Goldsmith (1993)
Jerry Goldsmith, as mentioned above, was nominated more than a dozen times during his 40-plus year career; some of his most famous works include his music for Patton (1970), Chinatown (1974), Star Trek (1979) and Basic Instinct (1992).




But there are several other scores from Goldsmith that should have been nominated; my favorite is his score from Rudy (1993). The title theme is a quiet one, with a solo flute playing the sensitive, very pretty melody that heightens the lonely battle the title character must endure to make true his dream of playing for the Notre Dame football team. The theme slowly adds a few voices followed by strings, but it always remains rather subdued and is always poignant. As many themes for sports films are highly charged, this is a unique take by Goldsmith.

The other theme, entitled "Tryouts" is the cue for the spring football practices; this is a masterpiece. We see the early morning mist and the breath coming out of the player's mouths on a crisp, cool spring day and Goldsmith gives us a bright, snappy theme mixing a simple percussion melody soon joined by brass and strings. Startling slowly and quietly, this is perfectly matched to the drills the players go through, such as stepping through the ropes for improved footwork. Here the brass plays the driving theme that immediately communicates to the viewer the intensity of the practices. It's probably likely that you've heard this theme over the years - the NFL used it in some of their commercials a few years back - and it's a perfect moment where the music matches the actions and emotions on the screen.

I never get tired of hearing this score or watching the scenes of the final game, where Rudy finally gets to play. Goldsmith blends the two main themes together and the effect is marvelous!


The Terminal - John Williams (2004)
After 45 Academy Award nominations (and five awards), it's difficult to believe that John Williams would have written anything that wasn't nominated. But there are a few and my choice is his wonderful score for Steven Spielberg's film The Terminal.

Williams is of course best known for his rich symphonic sound, especially as embraced in such epics as Star Wars (1977), Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977) and Superman (1978) and countless other films, from the Indiana Jones series to those of Harry Potter.

But Williams could also write a quiet, more reflective score and that's what we get in The Terminal. This is an offbeat story about a foreigner named Viktor Navorski from the fictional country of Krakozhia who is forced to spend his time in Kennedy airport when his country goes through a civil war - thus he becomes a man without a country whose passport is meaningless. William's main theme has a jaunty lively, almost comical nature, played by solo clarinet which is then joined by full orchestra; it's a nice beginning to this work.

His romantic themes for the "Fountain Scene" and for his cue entitled "Gupta's Deliverance" are in a word, delightful. This love theme is one of the composer's most beautiful compositions and it is especially touching in the latter cue, where the strings play a counter theme that is all about loneliness. When the two main characters (Viktor and a stewardess he met in the airport) kiss in front of the fountain he has built as testimony to how he feels about her - well, love conquers all, doesn't it? What a lovely moment!

John Williams even went so far as to compose a national anthem for Krakozhia for this film - who else has been asked to do something like that? What a fun, original and unpredictable score by John Williams!