Published on Nov 22, 2001
It’s no secret that I’m more of a music person than a film
person. Part of this is just a matter of time; I can easily listen
to CDs while I work, but it’s real hard to write code and watch a
film at the same time. Part of it is financial – namely, I don’t
see motion picture companies scrambling to get my butt into advance
screenings. And part of it is just pure preference; I
really have to be interested in a movie to give up two hours
and about ten dollars.
So it may not surprise you that I have no opinion one way or the
other about filmmakers Joel and Ethan Coen. But I can tell from the
few images I’ve seen of their latest film
The Man Who Wasn’t There that this is a darker film noir
than moviegoers of this day and age are probably used to. This
opinion is further bolstered by the soundtrack featuring snippets
of some of the most beautiful selections of classical music ever to
be penned – if only the full pieces had been highlighted.
The overall vibe of this soundtrack – both from the classical
pieces and newer selections penned by Carter Burwell – is gloomy
and introspective. It’s a potentially dangerous approach, seeing
how the average Joe Consumer wants to feel good when it comes to
music. But this approach works incredibly well with the mood this
picture is supposed to set – so much so, in fact, that the one
up-tempo number, “Nirdlinger’s Swing,” sounds out of place with the
rest of the soundtrack. (Burwell does capture the feel of big-band
swing well with this particular selection; any other disc, and it
would be a highlighted track.)
The classical pieces selected for
The Man Who Wasn’t There are, in a word, brilliant. If
memory serves me right, “Che soave zeffiretto,” pulled from
Mozart’s
The Marriage Of Figaro, was featured in the movie
The Shawshank Redemption. Now, I absolutely, positively
hate
opera – I mean, with a vengeance. That being said, this
particular selection always sends chills up my spine with its
absolute beauty, capturing an essence that modern-day composers
have never been able to grasp. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was an
absolute genius; listen to this selection and try to disprove my
statement.
The piano selections from Ludwig Van Beethoven are just as
stunning, but their power is usurped a little bit by editing. The
selection “Birdy’s ‘Pathetique'” takes part of the best-known
selection from Beethoven’s “Piano Sonata No. 8 In C minor Op. 13”
and does it the injustice of shortening it to fit a particular
mood. (In defense of the soundtrack’s producers, the entire
selection is performed later on the disc.) Let’s call
The Man Who Wasn’t There a “sampler” of Beethoven’s works;
chances are, once you hear the snippets from his piano sonatas and
the piano trio, you’ll want to hear the entire pieces for
yourself.
I can’t say I’m totally comfortable with the way that Burwell’s
music almost segues with itself and the classical pieces; you have
to be paying attention to the CD display to be absolutely certain
at times when one piece has ended and another has begun. But all in
all, this is a well-crafted disc that is less of a vehicle to
promote the film than it is a disc of mood music which could well
spark interest in some of the most beautiful selections of
classical music. No disrespect is meant towards Burwell, as his
pieces help to secure that the dark mood of the film is kept alive
in its score. But the true stars of this soundtrack are the
classical pieces, and they’re well worth your time.