Same Song, Different Movie: Gayne’s Adagio by Aram Khachaturian
Continuing my thoughts from February regarding the use of song in film, “needle dropped” tunes are not officially considered part of a film score — those orchestral, choral, or instrumental pieces some consider background music. I think both are utilized as cues by filmmakers for a specific purpose or to elicit certain reactions by the audience. I’m fascinated by this in general, and movie soundtracks have specifically intrigued me. They represent a convergence of the music and film arts I’ve allocated much time toward. Some movie soundtracks (many my favorites) have incorporated those songs the director or music programmer have showcased in their movie along with the film’s score.
A few filmmakers have made it part of their filmography to incorporate popular song as a regular element in their work. Martin Scorsese, Wes Anderson, and others do this very well. So, I’ve claimed this use of music, whether others like it or not, is very much a part of the movie experience and related to its composition. It is something I continue to watch out and listen for it in my movie viewing. Giving credit where it is due, I never would have started anything like this series if not for my blogging colleague over at Fog’s Movie Review. It was his excellent, Tossin’ It Out There: What’s YOUR Favorite Song From a Movie?, that kicked it all off:
“… there’s a deep connection between the two arts, and sometimes that winds up creating an inseparable bond between the two in the viewer’s mind.”
Once more, I’ve selected a song used in more than one movie. Like the opera aria I noted for the Patrick Cassidy piece in this series, we’re again in the classical music genre. This, another mournful piece, was used in a pair of films by two very different directors and film scorers. Both used the music in equally isolated deep space scenes from two very different sci-fi motion pictures almost two decades apart — I’m referring to the Adagio movement from Aram Khachaturian’s four-act Gayne Ballet Suite. An adagio is the term that refers to the speed the music is played, in this case “slow and stately (literally, “at ease”) (66–76 bpm)”.
2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)
Stanley Kubrick’s eighth film is well-known to both science-fiction and film aficionados (along with a couple of my friends who still find it hard to sit through
). One of its chief distinctions is that the filmmaker famously (or infamously) used classical music pieces from existing recordings for the soundtrack (throwing out Alex North’s score without his knowledge — he only found out after he saw the film’s première screening). Kubrick’s selections had the effect of making the story, with its breakthrough special effects and the imagined future presented, more relative and relatable to the contemporary audience (then 33 years beforehand). The Adagio sequence heralds the entrance of the Discovery space ship and its small crew on their way to the secretive Jupiter mission. It is simply an elegant and evocative piece of music, one used by Kubrick to denote the lonely and tentative existence these people find themselves in the large cold vacuum of space (which is its own reference to all of human kind on the third rock from the Sun). The scene uses music as dialogue (for a film that hasn’t much of it) and it is one of the most cinematic and amazing sequences ever filmed, IMO.
Aliens (1986)
Director James Cameron and composer James Horner had a number of understandable hurdles to overcome in delivering a sequel to one of the more iconic films and scores that closed the previous decade. Alien was all that, plus it delivered one of the best opening movie titles ever put on celluloid. To their credit, they took Aliens in another direction, yet maintained the core to that film and with a clear homage to another sci-fi classic (the one above). Horner’s score is less subdued than Jerry Goldsmith’s, but it’s in keeping to each of their film’s narratives. Aliens‘ opening titles moved to establish Ripley at the long end of her lonely journey from the previous movie’s finale to this point by dropping in 2001′s musical ship analogy by way of Horner’s reproduced tribute to Gayne’s Adagio. The movement segues in when the shuttle appears on-screen in that segment. Perhaps not coincidentally, the adagio commences as the composer’s credit appears. You’ll note his stamp on his piece is more up-tempo while still maintaining a forlorn mood of the music. It’s a tuneful hint to what’s to come and a nice acknowledgment to the ’68 film.
[note: the only video for this title sequence is at the Art of the Title site and is not available for sharing, but you can view it via this link. YouTube does have the represented music track and is embedded below, the quoted section is from the 1:00 mark to 2:19 by the composer on the soundtrack]
[Wikipedia reports James Horner has quoted from this piece of music three times in his scores: Aliens, Patriot Games and Clear and Present Danger. As well, "The Adagio was also used, among other pieces by Khachaturian, in Tinto Brass's Caligula." For that last notorious film, I was probably distracted by other things to notice that particular musical piece
]
Other Posts in the Series
Friday Forgotten Song: Al Hirt’s Flight of the Bumblebee
As I mentioned some weeks ago, I remain a fan of the ahead of its time, little seen, and under-appreciated masked crime fighter TV series from the 1966-7 season, The Green Hornet. More so, the other thing that marked it distinctly was its theme song. The tune used reflected back to a time where such things were important in ways now long forgotten in today’s programming. Decades ago, it was a practice of sort to aspire toward a show’s signature tune to be liked enough that it’d make its way up the pop music charts. The Hornet’s would do just that and influence those that came afterward.
Back then, it wasn’t unheard of for television shows to employ classical music tracks as their theme songs. The Lone Ranger famously used the William Tell Overture as its musical prologue. And the long-time radio program for The Green Hornet, the one that preceded its 60s namesake TV series, used the orchestral interlude for Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov‘s opera The Tale of Tsar Saltan, Flight of the Bumblebee, which was composed in 1899–1900, for its introduction.
This piece has long been enjoyed by classical music listeners (casual or serious) and it remains a popular melody because it’s simultaneously catchy and playful. You can imagine the flight of said large hairy bee as the notes zigzag through your ears and into your head. Despite that, the instrumental tune remains an obvious challenge by those playing it. And for the very same reason it draws listeners, the frantic pace and intricate melody make it so. Wikipedia may have explained why that is best:
“It is not so much the pitch or range of the notes that are played that challenges the musician, but simply the musician’s ability to move to them quickly enough; because of this and its complexity, it requires a great deal of skill to perform.”
However, for the television show version it was significantly rearranged for the television series by Billy May. That noted musician/arranger/conductor gave it a decided kick by incorporating a big band jazz style makeover that was nicknamed “Green Bee“. And with that, The Green Hornet theme became best known for the trumpet solo played by the New Orléans-bred music legend, Al Hirt. If skill with jazz and that particular instrument were ever needed to deliver on a musical piece, one that really demanded it, only someone in stature of this trumpeter and band-leader could carry through with the challenge. And he surely did that.
While Lionel Newman conducted the orchestra in support of the piece, Al Hirt’s solo is so exemplary it pops out and dominates once the song’s opening notes pass. Literally, Al’s virtuoso trumpet quickly pushes everything to the background. While his Java recording from 1964 endures as the trumpeter’s biggest chart hit, it’s safe to say Al Hirt’s version for Flight of the Bumblebee remains just about iconic for the eyes and ears of those old enough to remember the program and its signature theme. So much so, director Quentin Tarantino, in a clear homage to Bruce Lee and The Green Hornet TV program, re-introduced it to younger generations when he re-tasked the song for a transitional sequence in Kill Bill Vol. 1. Needless to say, it’s far from forgotten now.
Same Song, Different Movie: Street Life by Will Jennings & Joe Sample
Continuing my thoughts from last February regarding the use of song in film, I’ll reiterate some that I’ve previously said. “Needle dropped” tunes are not considered part of a film score — those orchestral, choral, or instrumental pieces some consider background music. Still, I truly believe those established songs and specially written pieces are utilized as potent cues by filmmakers to elicit certain reactions by the audience. I’m fascinated by this in general, and movie soundtracks have specifically intrigued me. They represent a convergence of the music and film arts I’ve allocated much time toward (my wife can back me up on that regard
). Some movie soundtracks have incorporated songs the director or music programmer have showcased in their movie along with the film’s score.
A few filmmakers have made it part of their filmography to incorporate popular song as a regular element in their work. Quentin Tarantino, Michael Mann and others do this very well. Hell, Tarantino has been known to throw in dialogue from the actual motion picture as a track for the listener to relive. So, I’ve claimed this use of music, whether others like it or not, is very much a part of the movie experience and related to its composition. It is something I continue to watch out and listen for it in my movie viewing. Giving credit where it is due, I never would have started anything like this series if not for my blogging colleague over at Fog’s Movie Review. It was his excellent, Tossin’ It Out There: What’s YOUR Favorite Song From a Movie?, that kicked it all off:
“… there’s a deep connection between the two arts, and sometimes that winds up creating an inseparable bond between the two in the viewer’s mind.”
Once more, I’ve selected a song used in more than one movie. This particular piece featured one stellar and breakthrough jazz vocal. While it would make inroads onto Billboard’s Top 100 for popular song (reached #36) that year, the track simultaneously climbed up Jazz (stayed at the top for an incredible 20 weeks), R&B (hit as high as #17), and even Disco (#75) charts after its source album was released in 1979. Back then, those of us into jazz fusion were introduced to its original 11:18 cut on FM stations known to play long album takes. The tune would power us “decade survivors” out of the 70s as only it could.
Sharky’s Machine (1981)
The Crusaders‘ guest vocalist, Randy Crawford, on that very LP would make her soulful, memorable entrance into U.S. listeners ears and hearts with this song’s first few emotive lyrics. It is the one and only Street Life, lyrics and music by Will Jennings and Joe Sample. As upbeat and exuberant as the tune comes across, with its vibrant vocal and jazz/funk arrangement, the lyrics are essentially quite downcast. The ‘street life’ it professes is one of loneliness, drugs and prostitution. Director Burt Reynolds in his highly underrated and under appreciated film (at least in my opinion), Sharky’s Machine, employed the track in that sense. For the most part, Reynolds shows unforeseen skill as a filmmaker, here. His tracking shot at the start of the thriller is particularly deft (and observe he’ll reverse it for the closing credits). That scene’s progression (right up to the director’s title credit) has a marvelous flow to it. It employed a refashioned take of that Crusaders song convincingly to set the mood for that entire sequence, with Ms. Crawford reprising her vocal in this version.
Jackie Brown (1997)
Given the credibility and reputation I’ve already laid out for director Quentin Tarantino, it shouldn’t surprise I’d have him in at least one of these articles. And Tarantino may have deployed this song even better in this, one of his more mature films from the 90s, Jackie Brown. Like Reynold’s film, it was adapted from an existing novel, one by Elmore Leonard (Burt’s was by William Diehl). As this film represents those on the other side of the thin blue line, Jennings’ lyrics come into more focus as the protagonist, beautifully portrayed by Pam Grier, is about to employ her gamble with the cops and her gun-runner employer, Ordell Robbie. Her risk to get herself out of ‘The Life’ is itself freeing for the character and it comes across effectively in the sequence. Again, Ms. Crawford’s vocal track, in yet another take with the song, brought that forth as no one else could.
Other Posts in the Series
Friday Forgotten Song: Kyrie by Mr. Mister
Recently, author Joseph Maddrey concluded a wonderful set of articles with his final entry of a quite splendid southwestern trip he undertook and cataloged. His Four Corners Tour series looked, both pictorially and historically, at some decidedly beautiful locations in that region (a number of which were utilized in some classic and iconic films). It a worthy piece of writing and I highly recommend it to my readers. What was almost as interesting was his inclusion at article’s end of a memorable music video from the distinct period of big hair and padded shoulders that was the 80s. Mike and the Mechanics’ Silent Running being that song. Likewise, Joe nailed the catchy nature of that track with his reply to my comment on how well he concluded his series so stylishly:
“Mark my words: That song will be stuck in your head for the rest of the day!”
So true. While I’m older, and thus shaped musically by the earlier decades of the 60s and 70s, I never will be immune to the unmistakable tunes of that period (as my blogging colleague Sci-Fi Fanatic knows only too well). Too much happened, both in the country and personally. Given the vagaries of the universe, I’ve tilted back toward the 80s of late. Just last Saturday, the good folk over at Warner Archive started carrying (by way of the MGM Limited Collection) the rare Sho Kosugi Ninja classic from that era, Pray for Death, in their online store. So I thought to end this week by trying to return the favor to my friends Joe and SFF alike with, hopefully, an equally definitive and haunting track from that same decade. I choose for this Kyrie by the quartet which was a “product of the L.A. session-musician community“ known as Mr. Mister.
Some things to keep in mind about this song, the second by Mr. Mister to hit #1 in the US (the first being “Broken Wings“), care of Songfacts: ”Kyrie Eleison” is Greek for “Lord, have mercy.” It is used as a prayer in both Roman Catholic and Greek Orthodox services. Greek was the original language of the New Testament and it was later translated in to Latin. When this was a hit, very few people listening to Top 40 radio had any idea that they were singing “Lord Have Mercy, Down the Road that I must travel!” The religious significance was mostly lost (Jeff of Charleston, SC offered up that info). The group wrote this while they were on tour with Adam Ant, a year before they recorded it.
When the song debuted (by the way, only a month after Silent Running was released, Joe) in December 1985, my world to that point was undergoing its own seismic shift. The seeds that would break up my penultimate girlfriend of the time, she-whose-name-must-not-be-spoken, and I were well planted by then. Though it didn’t seem like it at the time, that ultimately was a good thing. Songs such as this made the segue somehow bearable. Still, this track, with its initially slow ramp up, manages to unleash a contagious high energy with good style. And it was a testament to that 80s fashion of rebounding back. Its steady drumbeat and keyboard rhythms, accompanied by strong electric guitar strums, along with its telltale vocals and tight chorus, brought out some of the best, or at least well-known, aspects of the infectious pop song-manship department for that musical epoch. I think it was just too hard not to bob your head or tap a toe when this one let loose.
This album was the high water mark for the group’s popularity in the 80s. Whether you buy into Kyrie‘s underlying religious tone or not, a certain breakthrough sci-fi film (one with its own underlying messianic bent) seemed to make that connection. Even if their eras were very different, why else the next decade over did the character of Morpheus greet the newly freed Neo, early on in The Matrix, with the title of the song’s source album as dialogue, “Welcome to the real world.”? Hmm… I wonder. Anyway, it’s a song that I don’t think should or hopefully won’t be forgotten anytime soon. No matter how, it embodied the decade, like Joe’s pick and those that Sci-fi Fanatic periodically highlights. So, gentlemen, make sure to you comb out that mullet just right, and please, be sure to turn up your collar when you give it a listen
. A happy and tuneful weekend to you all.
The wind blows hard against this mountain side
Across the sea into my soul
It reaches into where I cannot hide
Setting my feet upon the roadMy heart is old it holds my memories
My baby burns agem like flame
Somewhere between the soul and soft machine
Is where I find myself again*CHORUS*
Kyrie Eleison
Down the road that I must travel
Kyrie Eleison
Through the darkness of the night
Kyrie Eleison
Where I’m going will you follow
Kyrie Eleison
On a highway in the lightWhen I was young I thought of growing old
Of what my life would mean to me
Would I have followed down my chosen road
Or only wished what I could beOh…Oh…Oh
Oh…Oh…Oh
Oh…Oh…Oh
Oh…Oh…Oh(rinse and repeat to the end)














