Music Composed by Roque Banos
Rating: ***

While I adore the work of Bernard Herrmann, I usually cringe when I hear a score labeled as “Herrmannesque.” I cringe because whenever I hear this term, I can almost always rest assured that the score will not sound remotely like anything Bernard Herrmann would have written. Rather the term usually surfaces as a justification for music that is either extremely dissonant, dark, brooding, anonymous, or just altogether unpleasant (you would not, for example, hear somebody label a score as Hermannesque because it sounded remarkably similar to the comedic giddiness The Devil and Daniel Webster or the bittersweet romance of The Ghost and Mrs. Muir). So I had sufficient reason to groan upon hearing that Roque Banos’ score for The Machinist was Herrmannesque and braced myself for yet another unpleasant dirge. Within the first few minutes of the score, however, I realized that this actually was rare occasion where the term was entirely appropriate. Banos has indeed constructed an extremely thorough and intelligent reworking of the late master’s subtle mannerisms – he has managed to create a rare suspense score that does more than simply churn malevolently in the background. I still refuse to refer to the score as “Herrmannesque” because I hate that word, but I’m willing to call it extremely “Herrmanny.”

Roque Banos

The film itself is a well executed, if painfully predictable, psychological mystery about a guilt-ridden man’s crippling descent into obsessive paranoia. For such a clear exercise in the Hitchcockian tradition of filmmaking, the decision to reference Herrmann in the music should come as little surprise. But what Banos does with the composer goes far beyond the realm of typical homage. To say that The Machinist is pastiche would be understating it. This is less a tribute to Herrmann than it is an attempt to resurrect him. All of the signature chord progressions and rhythmic preferences are there, as well as the exquisite orchestrations. For despite the thick drones that people associate with Herrmann, his orchestration was always extremely precise, largely because he frequently favored smaller ensembles. Banos has managed to capture this delicacy in instrumentation, and gives his score an appealingly intimate setting that never overwhelms the film. The small ensemble could easily loose steam quickly, but Banos makes good use of Herrmann’s borderline-minimalist sense of forward motion, giving the album a constant sense of momentum. Despite the low-key approach, something interesting is always happening, with blessedly little mulling filler taking up album-space.

The score’s appeal also lies in the attractiveness of the motifs themselves – rather than mine the obvious somber motifs in Herrmann’s repertoire, Banos incorporates the composer’s more seductive and alluring thematic material. The score’s main theme, best heard in “Family Photos,” is roughly an amalgamation of the “Portrait” theme from Vertigo and the main title from Fahrenheit 451, easily Herrmann’s two sexiest creations. As a result, delving inside the mind of the film’s disturbed and paranoid protagonist has a dangerous appeal. And thankfully, the screeching Psycho “shower” strings are not present, although Banos does occasionally import some of that score’s more dramatic portions for the protagonist’s more horrific realizations (as in “Ivan Kills Nikkolash?”)

All of this may give the impression that the score is nothing but pastiche, which isn’t quite true. Banos does give us one binding theme that’s far more pathetic and outwardly tragic than anything Herrmann would have written. The melody appears to be a love theme at first, but it ultimately emerges as more of a guilt theme and lends some much-needed heart to an otherwise entirely distant film. The full orchestral realization of the theme in “Ivan in Jail” is particularly poignant, and meaningfully ties Herrmann’s spirit in with Banos’ own voice.

And sheer effectiveness of Banos’ single deviation from Herrmann leads to the score’s only major drawback. In channeling Herrmann so directly, Banos occasionally gives the impression that he’s more concerned with creating pastiche then he is with responding to the drama in this specific film. That’s not to say the score is ever inappropriate – it always works – but it works the way tracking in music directly from Hitchcock movies would work. It sometimes seems like a stylistic attention-grabbing effect and not like a natural response to the film. Still, I’ll take this over the anonymous synthetic mulling that usually masquerades as deep psychological probing in today’s cinema (for a recent example, look no further than the cheap and insufferable score for Christian Bale’s far more popular cape-and-cowl epic). It’s nice to know that there are still people who can write meaningful music for low-key thrillers, even they need to mine the work of the genre’s undisputed master in order to get there.

Music Composed by Roque Banos; Conducted by Mario Klemens; Performed by The City of Prague Philharmonic; Recorded by Jose Vinader at Smecky Studios; Executive Album Producer: Rick Clark; Availability: In print; Label (Catalogue): Mellowdrama Records, (MEL001); Release Date: November 8, 2005

01. Trevor’s Lair (2′15)
02. Sleepless (2′19)
03. Looks Like Rain (2′51)
04. Mother’s Day (1′14)
05. Miller’s Accident (2′36)
06. Nikkolash’s Game (4′51)
07. Route 666 (2′10)
08. Family Photos (3′10)
09. Miserable Life (1′34)
10. Posted Notes (1′55)
11. Chasing (2′23)
12. Hit ‘n Run Accident (2′28)
13. Underground Escape (2′43)
14. Steve’s Car (2′27)
15. You Are A Liar (1′52)
16. Where Is My Waitress (1′58)
17. Ivan Kills Nikkolash? (4′27)
18. I Know Who You Are (3′16)
19. Trevor In Jail (1′49)

Total Playing Time: 48′18