Film Scoring

Yesterday morning, Ed was helping me sort through some old papers that we found in a compartment hidden behind a false brick panel in my study.  Apparently I've lived in the place so long, I'd forgotten all about it.

They're quire realistic

What we discovered was a veritable treasure trove of scores, letters, bank statements, vintage rags, dirty old magazines of various shapes and sizes, and the skeleton of one of those bizarre rat-poodle hybrids that were all over the place back in the '80s.

They don't look any better alive

Of particular note was the score I wrote for the 1955 film The Night of the Hunted, a classic example of American Expressionist film-making directed by esteemed British actor and one-time director Edward Chapman, star of such films as A Yank in Ermine, Inspector Homleigh Goes to It, and The Man Who Haunted Himself.  He decided to take up directing after losing a pub bet to co-star George Formby.  It's a shame he only made one film.

It's a tale of violence, sex, betrayal, and  bluegrass music in the deep south.  The main character, "Deacon," (played by an uncharacteristically tall Peter Lorre) is a wildly violent religious charismatic and comedy banjo player as likely to split your sides with laughter as he is to shatter your soul with sheer, unadulterated terror.  He spends most of the movie chasing these two little kids who unwittingly carry an enormous amount of cash inside of a stuffed porcupine.  Chapman throws the ultimate twist in at the end when Deacon catches up to the kids and tears open the doll, only to find that the cash are actually bills of worthless Reichsmarks their father had brought home from the war.  His hatred and greed melt away in an instant and they end the movie, singing  the American folk classic "Once Upon a Time, There Was a Pretty Fly" together while he plucks away at his old banjo.

Trust me, it's hilarious

Now Chapman wanted me to do the score in that wretched old Americana style which had been my bread and butter in the late 1940's, but by then I'd long moved past that trite nonsense and was a confirmed member of the severe post-war serialist avant-garde.  So I built a 12-tone row based on the previously-mentioned folk-song (distorting it beyond recognition in the process) and used that as my source of pitch material. Then I did something with rhythm that I can't exactly remember -- but it was very strict and sophisticated and I'm sure Ed will be able to explain it in detail once he's had his way with the score -- and scored it for a conventional orchestra minus all the pretty instruments (flutes, violins, glockenspiel, etc.) and with the addition a few tubas.  The result was a dark, deeply disturbing soundtrack that manages to remain unobtrusive because during the comedic bits, it goes silent.  I did not do "funny" music at that stage of my life and I do not do it now either.  I will leave that for the Randy Newmans of the world.

Parenthood was a travesty, by the way.

In any event, Chapman shared with me later the sad news that the copy of the score I'd sent him was destroyed in a freak fire in an oil drum in his back yard and since the release date was near, he hastily replaced it with a far inferior soundtrack by Walter Schumann.  Sadly, the film is currently out of print.  I strongly encourage anyone who reads this to lobby Universal Studios (I believe they have the rights to it now) to re-release it as soon as possible.