Review Summary: The “The Thin Red Line” soundtrack is a masterpiece of multilayered orchestration. Like the movie, it’s introspective, delving into areas of the soul that are usually left alone, and as such succeeds in being a great work of art.
Terrence Mallick entered the realm of filmmaking after studying at Harvard, attending Oxford as a Rhodes Scholar, and teaching philosophy at MIT. He developed a reputation as a reclusive auteur after his the critical success of first two films, “Badlands” and “Days of Heaven”, a reputation that was only further strengthened by his subsequent twenty year absence. His next release, “The Thin Red Line”, baffled critics and audiences alike. As a World War II film it inevitably drew plenty of comparisons to “Saving Private Ryan”, released earlier in 1998. Spielberg created a movie that was realistic, intense, and fitting with to most people’s expectations of what a great war movie ought to be like. Mallick’s film was instead meditative, relaxed, and contemplative: he uses the setting to explore the essence of nature and humanity, to pose questions rather than reinforce preconceived notions.
Such background information is necessary to understand the context in which “The Thin Red Line” was released, and thus to understand Hans Zimmer’s score. Indeed, John Williams’ work for “Saving Private Ryan” provides an excellent contrast. Williams’ music is straightforward; he usually relies on the lush sounds of brass and drums backed by deep strings parts to arouse feelings of patriotism and respect for sacrifice that are appropriate for the film. Zimmer’s music is quite the opposite: quiet, conflicted, and withdrawn.
The sound track of “The Thin Red Line” is not for the faint-hearted. The first four tracks are over seven minutes in length, and it’s not until “Light” that any semblance of serenity or peacefulness enters the scene. “The Coral Atoll” begins with a minute of near-silence. A dark, ominous, and deep sound enters, giving way to a quiet melody line. The strings section slowly draws a dreamy atmosphere that persists for a while before developing into a series of menacing drones. “The Lagoon” makes no effort to relieve the tension. A horrifying voice lets out a terrifying cry before fading into a mourning strings section. Despite the dark tone, both pieces are relentlessly beautiful and transfixing, conveying a plethora of complex, dark emotions that tug at the heart.
“The Thin Red Line” was ludicrously long in its original form (something I, and plenty of others, would die to see), and Mallick had to cut out hours of material to keep the running time under three hours during post-production. As a result, Zimmer never had a hope of composing music to fit directly with the movie. Curious, then, that “Journey to the Line” does just that. It’s played twice during the movie, both in the literal journey to the frontlines and during the pivotal assault on a Japanese encampment. There, Mallick’s camera, often fluidly following individual soldiers as they frantically run about the battlefield, seems specifically planned to correlate with the music. The resulting chaos and slaughter make for one of the most shocking and awing sequences ever filmed. The violence itself is perfectly choreographed, but Zimmer’s music adds to it a layer that embodies the deep human meditation that drives the movie.
“Journey to the Line” is the finest piece on the album, consisting of three distinct movements. The first is a slow buildup with an underlying horn part. The piece’s melody bursts out in the center. The main line, initially played by the strings, fights against other, descending countermelodies, and the musical dissonance comes to a climax as the horns take control. The last three and half minutes are spent recovering in a series of high violin progressions.
“Light” is a calming track made up of gentle string-plucking and whimsical wind melodies. The depth of the complex, interlocking parts is astounding; it’s a gorgeous piece of music.
The central tracks meander through similar quiet, surreal atmospheres. The eloquent sadness of the earlier pieces returns with the moaning “Beam” and the percussion-based “Air”, both of which sound a little too much like simple movie background music. “Air” leads straight into “Stone in My Heart”, a faster piece with its own melody repeated by a beautiful violin solo in the final minute. “The Village” bears a peaceful sound similar to “Light” until the wailing, sorrowful last minute and a half. “Silence” begins where “Light” left off and quickly replays the central melody from “Journey to the Line”.
“God U Tekem Blong” offers something completely different: a Melanesian children’s chorus with limited instrumental backing. An entire album of these chantings is available separately. The innocence of the high-pitched voices comes across like most of the soundtrack: pretty on the surface and strangely frightening underneath.
‘Frightening’ is the perfect word to describe “Sit Back and Relax”. At just over two minutes, it’s one of the shortest pieces. “Sit Back and Relax” lets out the bottom layer of dread prevalent throughout the soundtrack, giving way to dark growls and echoing screeches in a way that’s truly disturbing. Nevertheless, those with the stomach to listen all the way through will find it to be just as hauntingly beautiful as what came before.
The “The Thin Red Line” soundtrack is a masterpiece of multilayered orchestration. Like the movie, it’s introspective, delving into areas of the soul that are usually left alone, and as such succeeds in being a great work of art. It’s an unforgettable album.
