Ennio Morricone’s credits span far beyond the role of film composer, touching upon pop-song arrangement and avant-garde free improvisation. But it’s indeed his scores for the movies, now totaling deep into the hundreds, which have brought him his highest acclaim; if one desires to absorb the possibilities of cinematic composition as art, engagement with Morricone’s oeuvre is a prerequisite, and that one would not err in choosing the soundtrack to The Hateful Eight is testament to his greatness. It’s out now in a splendid 2LP gatefold edition exclusively through Third Man; folks in Nashville and Detroit can scoop up the ludicrously elaborate box set.
The critical response to The Hateful Eight, the final entry in Quentin Tarantino’s bloodily ambitious historical trilogy following Inglorious Basterds and Django Unchained, has been fairly wide-ranging; one area of general consensus is Ennio Morricone’s soundtrack, his first for Hollywood since 2002’s Ripley’s Game. It’s already won a Golden Globe and will be competing for Best Original Score in this year’s Academy Awards, where many have it favored; improbably (though not really), the composer’s never won an Oscar.
Morricone’s finished work eschews the twang-filled atmosphere of his defining contributions to the spaghetti westerns of Sergio Leone in favor of the darker environments of his giallo and horror scores, particularly his collaboration with John Carpenter on his classic The Thing, of which three themes were reused for The Hateful Eight.
“Eternity,” “Bestiality,” and “Despair” surface alongside “Regan’s Theme (Floating Sound)” from John Boorman’s wonderfully wacko Exorcist II: The Heretic, though none are on the soundtrack. As Tarantino borrowed Morricone’s stuff on all of his films since and including both halves of the Kill Bill saga, the reuse of extant material falls squarely into place.
And yet it’s not as simple; just as Tarantino’s decision to set the majority of his 70mm presentation in one room and therefore complicating the “roadshow” tradition The Hateful Eight was partially designed to celebrate, so too does Morricone’s music deviate from the grand sweep typically associated with the epic western.
Like nearly all of Tarantino’s films, his latest is loosely tied to a prior cinematic model, in this case Cut-throats Nine, a hardly remembered late-spaghetti gore-fest from ’72, but the finished movie is essentially a merger of The Thing and Tarantino’s debut Reservoir Dogs additionally combined with a left-field Agatha Christie-styled mystery plot.
In short, it’s a truly strange concoction given substantial depth by Morricone’s inventive and unpredictable contribution; as many gialli were basically sleazed-up murder mysteries he probably felt right at home, and there are certainly moments conjuring his work for Dario Argento. Far more often the score resonates with a blend of edginess and classicism that fits very nicely into the overall thrust: Western revisionism complete with boldness of scale, and in a percentage of theaters, time-tested 70mm celluloid.
Fittingly, there’s an overture, and the “classical” aura comes through strongest in Morricone’s restatements of and variations on a theme, “L’ultima diligenza di Red Rock” (Versione Integrale)” catchy enough that it was released as a single. The focus on recurring melody nods back to the heyday of film scoring, with a few spots even briefly recalling Bernard Herrmann without ever registering as homage. Likewise, Morricone’s working methods get reinforced while never giving the impression he’s simply repeating himself.
Tarantino has again chosen to sprinkle in a few selections of significantly more recent vintage than the epoch depicted on screen; it was frankly a risky (though not necessarily unsuccessful) move in the earlier installments, but the third time has attained an unexpected level of quality, mainly due to The White Stripes’ “Apple Blossom” and Roy Orbison’s “There Won’t Be Many Coming Home.”
Both are excellent; David Hess’ “Now You’re All Alone,” originally from the soundtrack to Wes Craven’s provocation as exploitation flick The Last House On the Left, tellingly highlights Tarantino’s own desire to poke at viewer comfort zones with a sharp stick. Crystal Gayle’s “Ready for the Times to Get Better” appears in the film but not on the soundtrack.
Together with bucketfuls of gore, The Hateful Eight’s prodding is achieved through dialogue, and as on the soundtracks to the director’s other films this one includes a generous helping of spoken passages, plus Jennifer Jason Leigh singing and plucking a version of the Australian folk tune “Jim Jones at Botany Bay.”
As the first Tarantino film to utilize a complete original score, and a strong one from a master in full command of his abilities, this feels like a misstep, especially since the actors’ exchanges are mostly a cavalcade of ugliness; notably, all but two, Leigh’s musical segment and a late-film monologue by Walton Goggins are absent from the box set’s eight 45s, one for each detestable character housed in a metal carrying-case with added accoutrements.
On the other hand, the verbal biliousness falls right into The Hateful Eight’s function as a transgressive punk-styled maneuver. But please don’t get the idea Tarantino is dragging an 87 year old man into a trench of degradation; as a giallo/horror vet he enhanced beaucoup nastiness, and amongst his more uncompromising fare is Umberto Lenzi’s brutal poliziottesco Almost Human and that cornerstone of cinematic bum trips, Pier Paolo Pasolini’s Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom.
The added songs and spoken snippets technically make this a multi-artist affair, but the whole still belongs to Morricone, and the outtakes emphasize how integral his compositions are to the film’s sustained mood (at almost three hours it features a whole lot of buildup); rather than knock out a pasta oater rehash, which is likely what the director was hoping for, his music is well-suited for the sadistic horror-mystery Tarantino delivered to cinemas.
It’s unclear if history will be kind or harsh to The Hateful Eight; while a commercial success, it underperformed domestically and audience reaction was mixed. Crystal clear right now is the major achievement of its soundtrack; it solidifies Ennio Morricone’s stature as a seemingly inexhaustible talent.
Note: The grade below pertains to the soundtrack only. In terms of design and presentation, Third Man’s box set is simply a glorious thing to behold.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A-
