Music Composed by Serge Franklin
Rating: *****

I generally consider myself fairly knowledgeable as far as film music is concerned, but I will freely admit that up until several months ago, the name Serge Franklin was entirely alien to me. Certainly, if someone had told me that he was a film composer whose most famous work was for a quickly forgotten French TV movie in the early 1990s, I doubt that my memory would have retained the name for more than five minutes. Yet here I sit, writing a 5-star review for this man’s work, something I’m very rarely willing to do. For despite its obscure origins, I cannot help but view Serge Franklin’s L’Enfant des Loups (”The Child of the Wolves”, en anglais) as anything less than a pure masterpiece of the film music canon. It’s a magnificent piece of music that ultimately defies description, but here’s the best I can give you: if you were to take the lyrical beauty of Nino Rota’s Romeo and Juliet, the frosty choral work of John Barry’s The Lion in Winter, the medieval romance of Basil Poledouris’ Conan the Barbarian, and the spiritual earnestness of Georges Delerue’s Agnes of God, then you might have something that comes close to the brilliance of L’Enfant Des Loups. This score is colored with everything that made those scores personal favorites of mine, and joins them on that small shelf where I keep those places I turn to whenever I need to loose myself in a flood of sheer musical ecstasy, vivid emotion, and lush uncompromising beauty.

With the exception of the Agnes of God, the one thing all of those above-mentioned scores hold in common is their medieval/Renaissance period stylizations, a trait that L’Enfant Des Loups shares. Set in 6th Century France, the film tells the story of a young nun who must protect her village and convent from an oncoming winter raid of the wolves who raised her as an infant. That juxtaposition of animal and pagan instinct with early Christianity in a medieval winter setting certainly sounds like the perfect canvas for any masterpiece of film music, and Franklin makes the most of it. Fueled with orchestrations and flourishes that suggest the Dark Ages without being restricted by them, Franklin’s score is propelled by the same thematic contraries and polarities that drive the film. Warmth and lyrical beauty vie with icy apocalyptic fury, spiritual grace struggles to triumph over Bacchic abandon, and compassion fights with vengeance before resolution and ascension finally carry the score to one of the most fulfilling conclusions in recent film music memory.

Serge Franklin

All of these ideas are clearly outlined with bold and multifaceted themes that gradually evolve as the score expands. There are too many excellent themes in the score to effectively discuss all of them in this review, but several strike particularly resonant chords for me. The notion of Divine Wrath is embodied in a theme that comes to life in “Kyrie (Ouverture),” powerhouse choral piece that combines the apocalyptic assault of Mozart’s Requiem with the grand theatrics and propulsive descending arpeggios of Elliot Goldenthal. The theme is generally used for more discreet purposes, but when it explodes into the terrifying “Dies Irae” midway through the score, every hair on your body will be standing on end. Elsewhere, Franklin creates subtler chills, as with the menacing-yet-seductive melody for wordless choir in the entrancing “Apocalypse,” and the erotically charged pagan chant in “Danse des Sacriléges.”

Yet as powerful as the demons in this score are, the real heart of the epic lies in the exquisite lyricism that Franklin creates for the warmer and more human side of the story. A love theme graces us with exuberant joy each time it appears, gaining more confidence with each newfound expression. We hear it first in the understated “Le Cri des Loups,” but by the time it reaches the climatic “Vanda and Albin,” the theme has grown so sublime that you can practically feel its feet lift off the ground. But the theme that ultimately makes the biggest impact is the tragic, soul-destroying melody that serves as the score’s driving force. Harkening memories of Rota’s immortal theme for Romeo and Juliet, the melody is so long and elaborate that it could easily be considered four separate themes, each excellent in its own right. Played in sequence, however, the pieces support, enhance, and evolve into each other with mesmerizing finesse. The first three segments of the theme are clearly outlined with poignant solos for flute and oboe in the opening “Prologue.” As the score progresses, however, Franklin carefully begins to resolve the theme with a fourth segment that ultimately carries the score to a breathtaking finish in the concluding “L’Enfant des Loups”. This particular cue just may be one of film music’s most stunning finales, uniting the “Kyrie/Dies Irae” material with the “Prologue” theme before ascending out of despair and into enlightenment in the score’s final triumphant chords.

The raw beauty, power, and emotion driving these themes would be enough to assure this score classic status, but it’s in the meticulous way that Franklin develops and evolves these themes into his tapestry that gives L’Enfant des Loups the richness of a masterpiece. In his liner notes, Franklin states that he “wanted to humbly apply what was obvious in Mozart’s music since he does not begin a work without knowing which note will be the last” and as lofty as that ambition may sound, Franklin achieves it many times over. There is not note in his score hasn’t been carefully placed with consideration to its place in the work as a whole, in terms of both the technical and dramatic spectrum. And yet the score’s original release only revealed a small portion of this vision. Believe it or not, this is actually an expanded release of an album that was released over a decade ago. A glance at the “previously unreleased” asterisks on the back cover reveal that the original album was missing some of the most important highlights of the score, including the aforementioned “Prologue,” “Kyrie,” and “Vanda and Albin”. Needless to say, if you’re one of the few who picked up that first release, this newly expanded edition from Lympia Records is still well worth your investment. It adds over 20 minutes of crucial material and features a new master of the original stereo tracks that gives us the aural equivalent of stepping directly into an ancient cavernous monastery. The likelihood of such an obscure score getting such first-class treatment must have been miniscule, so we owe a great dept to the people at Lympia Records who had the foresight to make this release take fruition.

And yes, I realize that a 5-star review for a score to an obscure decades-old French television miniseries from a composer you’ve never heard of is probably hard to swallow, but please trust me this time. Even if you’ve passionately disagreed with all of my other reviews, even if you think you’ve just wasted 5 minutes reading through the inane ramblings of a giddy fanboy, even if you only take a fraction of the enjoyment I take from this score – I am still convinced that purchasing L’Enfant des Loups will leave you without a single regret. 2004 has been particularly generous with restored releases of film music masterpieces, with complete editions of Bernstein’s The Great Escape, North’s The Agony and the Ecstasy, and Kaper’s Mutiny on the Bounty revealing constant miracles to the film music community. Franklin’s name might not seem as important as any of these legends, but his score for L’Enfant des Loups is a masterpiece that deserves just as much recognition as any of these more prominent scores. The release has been limited to 1500 pressings, but amazingly, copies are still available as of this writing. Had it been a Varese Club release, I’m sure it would have sold out within days. I cannot urge you more strongly to pick up a copy while you still have a chance – I’ve been sitting on this score for months now, and each new listen only further cements my conviction that as a stand-alone listening experience, Franklin’s score is the finest release of 2004. (Originally posted January 25, 2004).

Music Composed and Orchestrated by Serge Franklin; Conducted by Mario Klemens; Performed by FYSIO Symphony Orchestra and Kuhn’s Choir; Music Recorded by Jiri Zobac; Album Produced by Arnaud Damian and Jean-Christophe Sommer; Label: Lympia Records, (LRCD-4101); Availability: Limited to 1,500 copies; U.S. Release Date: July 6, 2004

01. Prologue (3:44)
02. Kyrie (Ouverture) (1:32)
03. Ecce Como (3:26)
04. Les Amants Du Silence (2:55)
05. Un Enfant Dans La Neige (2:31)
06. Le Cri Des Loups (3:16)
07. Fils Et Royaumes (1:47)
08. Cantique Barbare (1:56)
09. La Peste (1:50)
10. A La Recherche De Vanda (1:51)
11. Fille Des Loups (2:54)
12. Supplique Du Vent (1:48)
13. Apocalypse (2:02)
14. Les Loups Dans Poitiers (1:24)
15. La Peau De La Louve (2:42)
16. Dies Irae (2:32)
17. Maledictis (1:23)
18. Le Psaume Des Psaumes (2:49)
19. Le Livre Des Lumieres (4:21)
20. La Pierre Levee (3:29)
21. O Vos Omnes (1:10)
22. La Revolte Des Nonnes (2:20)
23. La Longue Route (1:59)
24. Danse Des Sacrileges (2:47)
25. Le Convoi (1:54)
26. Vanda & Albin (2:05)
27. Ecce Como (Reprise) (0:59)
28. La Mort De Romulf (3:17)
29. Chants De l’Aube (Epilogue) (3:10)
30. L’Enfant Des Loups (6:24)

Total Playing Time: 76′17