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ReelTalk Movie Reviews
Score Season #66
by Richard Jack Smith

Below are more psychedelic soundtrack reviews of recent and archival releases.

The Crow (Graeme Revell, 1994) ** Mist deforms eccentric spines, the offal of broken farms. Fluttering whiskers yawn in heavenly retribution. Berserker flocks gather near marble bridges. Hark! A spirit lost the measuring chorus of hallowed flutes and jaunty distortions. The mic threw fits of balmy tranquility. Dandruff flecks drown the senses as migratory termites infest a moist man o war. To clink a naive timbre will reduce the term for lively shrinking nests.

Dangerous Beauty (George Fenton, 1998) **** Timely for its "kiss housed in a secret" chord scaffoldings. Although glassy, such silhouettes twinkle with a smear of pink. Ballroom whim displaced for dramatic rank. Officers stand to attention. The orchestral cavalry en route. A rush absent in flow proves openhearted, whimsical and glib despite magisterial rendezvous. Check the sentimental for genuine pleasure and displeasure own these melodies. Notes upward, even hell-bent wrap a middling organ in strands of iridescent amber. Golden complexion: a portrait runny yet smooth.

Dante's Peak (John Frizzell and James Newton Howard, 1997) A slog in the bog. Anonymous transitional filler extolling oppression and depression, Dante's Peak puts nearly all emotions on hold. It's rolling concrete through shelves of apathetic moaning with a vacant sense of urgency. The static earthquake consciously trimmed. Melting melodious mulch a symbol of the unfeeling ash. Bleached nuance as generic texture padding. Horribly horrific highlights! The runaway clock declined in smoke. Slug push to mercenary hazard. Buzzing stasis electrifies numbing catharsis. A stick coated in wax then dunked freely. Acidic oil resumes. Book "barricading mist" on the flight home.

Earth vs. the Flying Saucers (Mischa Bakaleinikoff, 1956) **** The two note signal defies rockets, tanks and guns. Such menace puts all the flavour on stack. A cumulative brood. Sliding fear: a petulant scale bricked and quartered. Chilling bone timbres a half step apart marching in unison, individually christened. Knowing emotional characters unlocks the pendulum. Themes dangle momentarily awaiting the chop. Only the good transcend, morphing ghostlike into portal. Dimensions set by director need plodding and calibrating. Flying saucers were the special lot. Drawing plates in the air, then discovering vocal tenacity unearthed by prom testing. The sweetest kiss might be the longest in waiting, a decades difference between sums. Musically, the surf dismisses generic prose, stifling folderol and doors unlocked. A mind unfulfilled delves further inside the black, a footfall away from treasure or trap. Expect spooky webs and strings which gnaw. Above all, hear what Mischa saw.

Gulliver's Travels (Victor Young, 1939) **** A fun run of melodious shapes, daring cape to perilous heist -- the nook and crannies in caustic spectrum. Free flowing feasts where theme met rhyme, up for a jolly good time. Blistering feet wail as a parting gift to paradise. Humble, unassuming and vast, tokens only for desert appeal. Every spin a new scrabble. Tempo refined and emotion defined, the network governed by creative will, double jointed cartwheels and polite transaction. Fifteen minutes melt inside the ether, a dream awakened by aromatic, noise free lustre. 

Internal Affairs (Brian Banks, Mike Figgis and Anthony Marinelli, 1990) *** Cold conflagration escalates in brittle possession. Keys struck on the beat affront the married man. Jealousy made green. Rhythms both Latin and native confront personal bias. In crisscrossing streams, the diver fell upwards -- his world a zero gravity push. Aching intense pulses decide shaking tree aesthetics. Betrayal on a phone line. Infidelity in a minor key. Often the wary soul hallucinates the blinking eye. Acidic dreams glow in the moonlight of reflective prey. A thought for wounded sun whose aura doubles the rust upon locked away moors. Whispered scales beyond feeling tap Shakespearean feud.

The Last Charge/La Leggenda di Fra Diavolo (Angelo Francesco Lavagnino, 1962) *** The plain orange song as happy as smog at sunset. From hero's entrance to lipstick intimacy, a concert where the beat falls gruff and smooth. Matted features as one swimming in mud, then retreating to clearer meadows. A direct passage between thematic ice and listener reception opts for the bus. Speedy play when lights diminish and the spot brings out a star. The composer noted for romance made headway in dashing immolation, the stakes sideways slender as chips smash the brick. More clever bars affront the lonely heart, a carrier pigeon flew notes in tsunami hall. The dastardly friend wanted to barter, only the ceremony was closed. Traditions upset as new inventions spark plug and test the limits of frozen amphibians. 

The Red Circle/Le Cercle Rouge (Eric Demarsan, 1970) **** Coils calculating clarity, wit and startling vibraphone. Jazz street cadences, the piercing notes clear in the ultimatum. With sinister calm, the serpent measures its smokey clime. Congested, raspy tones spin wilfully into danger. Scarecrow huffing a doomy chant, rattling on all sticks to peer into the misty cruise. 

RoboCop 3 (Basil Poledouris, 1993) ** Rough retro retirement for a plain speaking transaction. The burden of theme offset by heavy chaos and fragmented padding. Rarely worth the penny slot. Marching without purpose near a long deserted battleground where lilies stalk the home of mines. Forgotten in the moment, a fractured faceless facade sinks beneath doodling strings, high end brass and bloated shrines. Rehearsed to the point of inertia, dreams mislaid by compromise undermine brittle thoughts. Sensitivity vanished. Locusts applaud.


When Worlds Collide (Leith Stevens, 1951) ***** Treacle colonies dismembered. Elements unseen, the frenzied coils in hostile, nano sized alchemy. Boom goes the threshold, ticking away footsteps on a patch of azure. Swirling falls and humanity interlinked with cosmic forces. They depart for interstellar knocks and hazards.The waking brass puts to sleep all doubts. Magnetic flowing unilateral waves bulldoze complacency as sharps descend. The orchestra abounds resetting the balance in token catch. Their greedy fingers devour the keys like lost spectral sentinels. Blood curdling harmonies define planetary alignment. A kiss from the passing asteroid. Consider the grain - hard and soft, gritty while dissolving into a kaleidoscope. Hands over eyes in the dark cast shapes - elephants morph into light pyramids, shadowed by curious minds. Biting wash to galactic miniature -- all things made via mason neanderthals who desire steak over wisdom. 

(PHOTO: Leith Stevens)

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