“No Time To Die”
From the opening gun barrel turn to the closing credits tune by Louis Armstrong, “No Time To Die,” is a love letter signifying the end of an era, as well as a turning point in a mythically (pre)historic action saga. Weary, weathered, and 15 years his own senior since first inhabiting the role, Daniel Craig’s final super spy outing plays like an operatic eulogy to the cinematic icon. Billie Eilish’s Grammy award-winning credits song is melancholic, mournful, and more nakedly vulnerable than any theme that’s come before it. When the piano notes fade in as 007 leaves his love on the train tracks, it’s the closest the series has ever come to feeling like one of the ‘Before’ films (as weird as that sounds). On the flip side, Hans Zimmer goes all out, bombastically calling back soundtracks such as the outstanding “On Her Majesty’s Secret Service” and more. Specifically, the build-up to Bond spinning out his Aston Martin is a masterclass in musical score/editing synergy as a form of tension building. The climax of the epically strugglesome film is bloated, but the composing work all throughout, specifically the video-game-lite tower climb, plays like a swan song to a landmark movie franchise. -AB“
“The Power of the Dog”
While they often inevitably matter in the grand scheme of historic recognition, we at The Playlist don’t love prioritizing awards potential over craft quality; with Jane Campion’s commanding “The Power of the Dog,” however, it feels like an overdue meeting of two brilliant artistic minds, and potential Oscar statues. Composer Jonny Greenwood’s resolutely plucky score (Phil Burbank is fond of banjos) vivaciously coalescing with Campion’s lonesome frontier horizons—a physical line as uncurrent to repressed machismo hatred. The string work gets harsher as tensions sizzle and rise, and though comparisons to Greenwood’s “There Will Be Blood” score are warranted, ‘Power’ strikes a more somberly sinister chord—a more tangibly felt, salt of the earth texture than PTA’s Kubrickian “dawn of man” opera. Disqualified from 2007 Oscar contention due to doltish technicalities, Greenwood’s “The Power of the Dog” work is also a bit reminiscent of “The Master” in its orchestral self-seclusion—a musical ouroboros bringing the composer’s movie career full circle, reminding us just how singularly striking his creative contributions to cinema have been. – AB
“The Card Counter”
For Paul Schrader aficionados, “The Card Counter” feels like the culmination of a career chasing a specifically lonesome idea, much like “First Reformed”—seen by many as the critic turned filmmaker’s return to form. A spiritual successor to all of his “Pickpocket”-tinged Robert Bresson tributes, “The Card Counter’s” score/soundtrack was composed/curated by Robert Levon Been (better known by his stage name, Robert Turner), son of The Call’s Michael Been, who wrote the music for “Light Sleeper” (and, fittingly, had a small role in Martin Scorsese’s “The Last Temptation of Christ”). Aggressive and melodic, the sizzling synth and booming wallow of the atmospheric “The Antlers”-esque soundscape lulls viewers into a headspace resembling an endless night on the casino floor, light and temperature measured so that time blurs into restless torment, feeding the toxins of shame and addiction. Nightmare torture flashbacks are shot with warped fish-eye lenses as the score deepens in intensity (which is saying something for Schrader). The grim film is not devoid of romanticism however, a Christmas-light-like labyrinth date between Oscar Isaac and Tiffany Haddish being a major highlight—a respite from past pain, and a harmonious reminder of the possibilities of a blank page reinvigorated by lost faith. The final freeze frame paired with the end credits song solidifies that, deep down, Schrader is just a big ol’ softie at heart. – AB
“C’mon C’mon”
Mike Mills turns patience, compassion, and understanding into tangible feelings in his loving American travelogue “C’mon C’mon,” scored by The National’s Bryce and Aaron Dessner (with an assist from Feist). Paired with DP Robbie Ryan’s lush, black and white cinematography, the film’s score feels made up of instruments in conversation with each other, much like the young subjects at the center of the film’s radio narrative. It captures the paradox of life’s competing attentions—the push and pull of responsible parenting—with a hushed resonance, via a soundtrack that’s a crystal clear haze of held back emotions one might be afraid to let go of. As the filmmaker put it “we had to kind of find this gentle sound, this particular melody and set of chords that really holds the specific emotional world, the energy of the music becomes gentle, cloud-like, intimate.” “Happy Sad Empty Full” is perhaps the most aptly named track. “C’mon C’mon” captures a sea of evolving feelings like intimate lightning in a bottle, capturing moments such as walking through the park on a dewy morning before the sun comes all the way out, creating ephemeral moments that you can see, hear, and nearly touch. – AB
“The Sparks Brothers“
Is it a bit of a cheat to include “The Sparks Brothers” on this list? After all, Edgar Wright‘s fabulous documentary about the enigmatic, eccentric, elusive artpop band Sparks, brothers Ron and Russell Mael, is really more of a career-spanning greatest hits playlist that starts at the very beginning of their career (the late-’60s, early-’70s) and goes up until the present day (five decades of super eclectic music that has changed shape, style and sound more than any band in history). Well, regardless, too bad. For one, “The Sparks Brothers” soundtrack, or all the songs used in the movie, if you’d rather just call it that, is incredible in the movie, incredibly used for narrative purposes too, given the fast-moving a whipping, crackling shape and pace, and it’s also just absolutely terrific to look at. Perhaps one of the best elements of Wright’s documentary, other than it being incredibly entertaining, informative, funny, compelling, etc., is that it finally gives Sparks their proper due. They’ve been mentioned in the same breath as David Bowie, Queen, Morrissey, etc. over the years, because by the end of the doc, the film has made the absolutely convincing case (both contextually and visually), that they are one of the unsung greats, 100% worthy of standing in the pantheon with the greatest rock bands of all time. – Rodrigo Perez
