One of the best years for film music was 1982. There were so many highlights, including Blade Runner, Conan the Barbarian, The Dark Crystal, Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid and First Blood. Yet, Ennio Morricone’s The Thing sends signals from another galaxy. By turns eerie and hypnotic, this soundtrack places a firm foothold on classic minimalist tendencies.

Prior to John Carpenter’s fierce science-fiction/horror hybrid, director Christian Nyby presented his own version of extraterrestrial fear. Retitled The Thing from Another World, this 1951 film was based on John W. Campbell’s short story Who Goes There? In the plot, scientific researchers are shocked to discover an alien carcass, which can rejuvenate itself from long hibernation. On top of which, the creature can consume and imitate its victims. For the unsuspecting humans, this leads to a frantic debate over who among them might be a villain in disguise. By all accounts, Campbell’s novella proved to be a masterpiece, shining a light on an atmosphere of global anxiety which, during the Cold War, was front and center in most people’s minds. Suspicions over Communism and the fear of unknown technologies, especially the atomic bomb, have been well documented.

Morricone's interpretation of the film’s inherent dread and paranoia makes for a wonderfully abstract, yet consistent collection of themes. It’s not until “Humanity Part 2” near the end of the disc that the lonely organ, heartbeat motif is revealed. Much like the two-note shark theme from Jaws, this relatively simple construct conjures instant suspense. In context, this track works most effectively over the final scene.

If you approach The Thing from the other side of the looking glass, such instrumentation could be regarded as sound design. Yet, where many scores rely on overlapping drones and unimaginative sampling, Morricone builds his thematic threads from within. He incorporates a bed of atmospheric haze, which underlines prominent tones and dense, organ-led clusters. 

Very quickly, Morricone moves away from Dimitri Tiomkin’s 1951 soundtrack. While Tiomkin allowed his musical players some release or crescendo, Morricone proceeds in the opposite direction. There’s no jump-out-of-your-seat catharsis here. Perhaps this unrelenting wave of atonality turned some people off at the time of release. Adding to which, the film received an unfair Razzie nomination for Worst Score.

An air of uncertainty pervades “Humanity Part 1,” although it’s microscopic in nature. Danger lurks just under the surface, yet it has no face. Around 2:57, a recurring menace motif sets the stage, shape-shifting around the central underscore. As a thematic “germ,” it represents a rising sense of strained equilibrium. Things are going pear-shaped and the music is quick to pick up on it. Ergo, we are about to enter a world where there’s no escape. 

Although large orchestral flourishes are absent from this score’s DNA, Morricone chooses to play out the relative nuances in a synthetic key, which suggests infectious evil. In line with this skin-crawling trend, “Shape” distorts the menace motif in order to evoke a deeper sense of futility. This spiraling adagio (slow musical movement) features some impressive development, often tip-toeing around the proceedings in a similar vein to Leith Stevens’ suspenseful War of the Worlds.

“Contamination” demonstrates a far more outwardly aggressive approach as overlapping notes of dissonance pass through one another. This moment actually reminded me of John Williams’ Raiders of the Lost Ark, specifically the spider motif.

A lingering theme of apathy continues, keeping us on edge as “Bestiality” seems to feed on its own selective breeding cycle of musical ideas. Despair also reigns in “Solitude.” Clearly, bad things are happening in the story now. The rampage has started to spread and the Antarctic researchers are scrambling for answers beyond their technological means. In terms of music, we feel the creature’s presence in every note. Unlike Jaws, there’s rarely a break from this prolonged emotional wrangling.

For the final two tracks entitled “Sterilization” and “Despair,” a funereal tone eclipses all other considerations. Suspense has finally shifted into a hopeless mood.

What I like most about Morricone’s The Thing is how the application of ambient textures transcends its small size. In my opinion, this practice has become the exception rather than the norm. By allowing Morricone to adapt his own symphonic techniques, he achieves something more provocative.