Carter Burwell, “The Banshees of Inisherin”
“Irish” calls to mind stereotypes of leprechauns, drunken revelry (or rivalry, based on either the day or the mood), and skippity-hop piping associated with the country’s music. To these tropes, Carter Burwell and Martin McDonagh both say “no,” and no thank you. In McDonagh’s melancholy and compassionate ode to broken friendships, warring, and extreme measures to find peace, Burwell doesn’t lean into much of that either. Especially early on, Inisherin, a fictional Irish island, has a kind of mysterious, fairytale-like quality, perhaps subtly pointing to the Banshee old lady figure in the movie who presciently seems to know about every tragedy in the film before it happened. Minimalist and keeping to one motif over and over again without ever getting stale, Burwell’s score quietly speaks to the existential anguish its characters face: a man reckoning with the dawning notion he may have wasted his life in pubs, and a more simple man, who just wants to be loved, have a laugh and be friends. McDonagh’s break-up tale offers no easy answers other than the calamity of wounded hurt that often spawns from rejection, and delicate and intricate, Burwell’s softly pattering score isn’t going to give you too many on-the-nose clues either, but it’s still wonderful regardless. – RP
Matthew Herber, “The Wonder”
Experimental electronic artist Matthew Herbert’s musical collaborations with Sebastián Lelio are always terrific, but for “The Wonder,” the Chilean filmmaker’s meditation on spirituality, fraudulence, and a possible miracle, it’s really ethereal and spooky stuff. Starring Florence Pugh as a nurse hired to investigate how a young “fasting girl” can miraculously survive without eating in a rural Irish village, there’s definitely a mysterious quality to the movie. And Herbert leans into this with a ghostly, spectral sound that is just utterly haunting. It’s not quite a horror but profoundly unsettling and disquieting, and it walks the fine line between the unknowable and the secrets we keep among our tight-knit, sometimes too tightly-wound communities. In many ways, Lelio’s film unpacks the curious, peculiar mysteries of people, and human beings, the narratives they tell themselves and us, the contradictions they hold, and the half-truths they sometimes cling to. Herbert manages to communicate this all with an awe-inspiring work of unnerving voices, clipping beats, and grand empathy. It’s revelatory. -RP
Howard Shore, “Crimes of the Future”
Known for his classical “Lord Of The Rings” score and his work with many of the greats, Scorsese, Jonathan Demme, Sidney Lumet, David Fincher, Tim Burton, and more, of course, the composer’s collaborations with fellow Canadian David Cronenberg, go back ages—he scored all but one of his films since 1979. And Shore’s work on “Crimes Of The Future,” Cronenberg’s futuristic human evolution body horror art piece, is magnificent but arguably one of his most different. Full of dread, doom, and existential terrors, the central theme is built off a pulsing, electro-treated cascade of sublime electronics and synths that gives way to something darker, throbbing, and portentous. And Shores score seems to go through that push and pull tension throughout, leaning on rapturous moments of sonically altered, borderline EDM-y synths and an ominous growl, perhaps suggesting the human body is not meant to be perverted and altered like this, and there will be consequences. Its patterns, the ravishing microelectronic waterfall that makes way to deep-bowed strings of death and potential disaster, is sublime. – RP
Various, “Top Gun: Maverick”
The score of “Top Gun: Maverick” is credited to Lorne Balfe, Harold Faltermeyer, Lady Gaga, and Hans Zimmer. But the story basically goes like this. Tom Cruise and co ask Lady Gaga to write a theme song; she does (“Hold My Hand”). Hans Zimmer likes it so much he starts to incorporate much of its soaring themes and musicality into the score for ‘Maverick.’ ’80s music composing star Harold Faltermeyer is there because he wrote the original “Top Gun” theme, and Lorne Balfe is a veteran of Zimmer’s Remote Control Productions, so of course, he’s going to help. For one, one of the greatest moments of cinematic restraint of all time is that ‘Maverick,’ aside from a little bit in the beginning, never ever launches into the full-blown “Top Gun” theme until the very end, savoring bits and teasing pieces of it, especially the gong sound and the ticking, chorus-saturated drum machine beats, throughout. So when it hits at the very end, oh boy, does it ever hit. The rest is crescendoing, building, lifting, so anthemic, a symphonic parting of the skies and rich, radiant light pouring in. Especially within the context of the movie, it’s thrilling, building tension, creating extraordinary stakes, adding a sense of urgency to dog fights, dipping down into quietude, and then soaring sublimely at those supernova moments when you need it most. It’s not always the most subtle ascension (some of it is reminiscent of the way John Murphy’s Adagio in D escalates), but within the movie itself, it’s damn glorious. – RP
Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, “Bones and All”
After “Soul” and “Mank,” two very different scores for what they are known for, Academy-Award-winning composers Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross seemingly proved they could do it all and more than just searing or pulsating electronics. For “Bones and All,” Luca Guadagnino’s blisteringly visceral romantic cannibals-on-the-road drama, the duo seems to lean into the film’s two extremes: the frightening elements of being found out, caught, discovered, unable to control your animalistic unholy desires of eating human flesh (the scorching, moody electronic qualities) and the dreamy, romantic notion of maybe being able to find love amid this madness (sweet nylon-stringed guitar work). The main theme and all its variations, “I’m With You,” is really the emotional piece-de-resistance and arguably the most poignant piece of music Reznor and Ross have ever made. Put the terrifying horrors aside, the amorous yearnings to the corner, “Bones And All” is ultimately a deeply melancholy film about fate and tragedy, about two outsiders living on the fringes desperate to belong, hopeful for love, but knowing somewhere in the back of their mind there is absolutely no place for their kind in the world. The blazing brilliance of “Bones And All” and the haunting score that accompanies it all is depicting two horrifying people and still create a space of empathy for them. The film asks, “why aren’t monsters worthy of love too?” and convinces you they’re right in the process. – RP
