The Film
The premise of the original King Kong, with a giant ape that runs amok in Manhattan, has been imitated several times, especially in the 1950s when the horror film genre benefited greatly from the on-screen destruction unleashed by gigantic dinosaurs, mammoth lizards, huge ants, and various other super-sized creatures.
The 1933 film, based on an original script by Merian C. Cooper and Edgar Wallace, features a movie producer named Carl Denham (Robert Amstrong), who recruits a cast and crew to sail with him to a remote island to shoot a film. Upon reaching the island, they discover a tribe that worships a giant gorilla named Kong. After much turmoil, the beast is subdued and hauled back to New York, where an attempt to feature him as “King Kong, the Eighth Wonder of the World” in a lavish stage show turns to disaster when Kong escapes.
Kong, who has developed an affection for Ann Darrow (Fay Wray), an out-of-work actress that Denham recruited for his film project, captures her and climbs to the top of the Empire State Building. Kong is attacked by pilots, who shoot at him from their airplanes. After Kong falls to his death, Dunham states, “It was Beauty killed the Beast.”
The Music
A primary influence in the scoring of King Kong was the intervention of the film’s codirector, Merian C. Cooper. At a time when scoring at RKO (and at other studios as well) was limited to mostly short bookend pieces played during the opening and closing credits, Cooper authorized Steiner to write a score for Kong that would be heard throughout the film.
Steiner’s score, which employed an orchestra of forty-six players, is based on three primary leitmotifs. The first motif, which consists of three chromatically descending tones, identifies Kong, while a very similar descending pattern of three tones, in a waltz rhythm, represents Ann. The third idea is a rapid-paced four-note idea that underscores several action scenes in the film.
Atop the Empire State Building, King Kong is attacked by machine gun-bearing planes. RKO Radio Pictures Inc. / Photofest © RKO Radio Pictures Inc.
Following the dramatic opening-credit music, based largely on the Kong motif, there is no scoring until, at about twenty-five minutes into the film, the ship nears Skull Island in the fog. Here Steiner employed repeated soft drum sounds, to which harp tones and sustained strings are added, to create an aura of mystery, with unresolved harmonies that evoke the style of the French Impressionistic composers Debussy and Ravel. Ominous brass chords and high-pitched woodwind tones are gradually added to convey a sense of danger in this scene.
Rhythmically driven vocal tones are introduced as some of the ship’s passengers, including Denham, Ann, and first mate Jack Driscoll (Bruce Cabot), prepare to go ashore. When they land on the beach the drumming and vocal sounds get louder; accented string and brass harmonies with shrill woodwind tones are added as part of a tribal dance in which the word “Kong” is chanted repeatedly by natives, many of whom are dressed as gorillas.
When the tribal chief sees the ship’s passengers, the music suddenly stops. As the chief approaches the intruders by walking down a set of stone-like steps, repeated brass chords begin, with the addition of descending tuba tones in sync with each of the chief’s steps. The descending tones continue until the chief stops, at which point the music also stops. When he moves again the tuba tones resume. This is a classic example of a technique that Steiner pioneered called “Mickey Mousing,” in which the music mimics the action onscreen.
In a later scene, Mickey Mousing occurs again when Ann, who has now been abducted by the tribe, is forcibly escorted through a huge doorway in the village’s wall to the outside of the compound and forced to walk up a series of steps to a raised platform equipped with restraints. As Ann and several tribesmen climb the steps the music includes ascending chordal patterns that are again synchronized with their upward moves.
With its almost wall-to-wall music, King Kong represents a pioneering use of music that foreshadows the elaborately scored films that Steiner and Korngold composed at Warner Bros. in the 1930s and 1940s, a period known as the “Golden Age of Hollywood.” In a career that spanned over three decades, Steiner’s score remains one of his most memorable achievements.
Recognition
King Kong received no Oscar nominations, but Steiner’s score would undoubtedly have been nominated if there had been a music award. The music categories were not introduced until 1934, a year after the film’s release.
The film is number forty-three on the American Film Institute’s list of the 100 greatest American movies.
Recordings
National Philharmonic conducted by Fred Steiner (no relation to the composer), King Kong, Entr’acte, 1976, LP. Rerecording of Steiner’s score, released on CD in 1984 on Southern Cross. Male chorus used for the original film’s tribal dance music not included in this recording. ***
Max Steiner, King Kong, Rhino Movie Music, 1999. The original soundtrack, digitally remastered, it includes over twenty-two minutes of isolated music tracks, plus over fifty minutes of the film’s actual soundtrack, with music, voices, and sound effects. A real treasure for film-music collectors. ****
William J. Stromberg, Moscow Symphony, King Kong: The Complete 1933 Film Score, Marco Polo, 1996. John Morgan is credited with score restoration. As with the Fred Steiner recording, no voices are heard in the tribal dance music. ***½
Bibliography
Steiner, Fred. Liner notes. King Kong. Fifth Continent Music Corp., 1984.
Goldner, Orville, and George E. Turner. The Making of King Kong. Cranbury, NJ: A. S. Barnes, 1975.
—LEM
The Film
The popularity of MGM’s spectacular Ben-Hur in 1959 led to a pair of films about the life of Jesus of Nazareth. Both King of Kings (1961) and The Greatest Story Ever Told (1965) were met with scorn by some Bible scholars who had problems with the scripts of these films, despite the sincerity of their intentions. Of the two, producer Samuel Bronston’s King of Kings fared well with both critics and audiences as a vivid attempt by screenwriter Philip Yordan to depict the life of Jesus during a politically turbulent time in Palestine, which was then under Roman rule.
The film shows Jesus (Jeffrey Hunter) as preacher, healer, and leader of a small group of followers, along with scenes of battles between Jewish rebels led by Barabbas (Harry Guardino) and Roman soldiers led by a centurion named Lucius (Ron Randell). Although Lucius is a fictional character, his presence in the film serves as witness to the events in Jesus’s life, from his birth in Bethlehem to his execution in Jerusalem.
A reverent depiction of Jesus (Jeffrey Hunter) and Mary (Siobhan McKenna). MGM / Photofest © MGM
The Music
Miklós Rózsa seemed a natural choice as the composer of King of Kings, since he had scored Ben-Hur less than two years earlier. One major difference between the two scores is that King of Kings is more Jewish than Roman in its conception. Although there are some brass fanfares for the Roman army in King of Kings, the bulk of the music is lighter in its orchestration than its predecessor and generally more subdued in style.
The main-title music begins with a solemn theme that is intoned by strings along with a fifty-voice choir. This theme, which represents Jesus, has a two-part melodic construction. The first segment consists of six tones that remain within a confined pitch range while the second part is a set of seven tones that begins with an upward fifth followed by descending tones. During the main title, the second segment is heard repeatedly with each repetition starting on successively lower pitches. Melodic and rhythmic variants of these two segments appear throughout the film.
One of the most creative uses of the main theme occurs when Jesus begins his ministry by going into the desert, where he is tempted by the Devil three times. Several variants of the Jesus theme appear, including thematic fragments played by an oboe. Wavy high-pitched flute tones add an eerie resonance to the scoring, which also includes a temptation theme, played by a solo violin, that uses the twelve-tone technique. The modernistic harmony used in this scene brings to mind the music that Rózsa had previously conceived for such film noir classics as The Killers.
A second theme is a lyrical idea based on an eight-note motif that is associated with Jesus’s family. It is introduced by oboe, harp, and sustained string chords when Lucius travels through Nazareth and discovers that Mary and Joseph have a twelve-year-old son that was somehow not registered when he was born in Bethlehem. This melody returns several times, including a later scene in which Mary Magdalene comes to thank Jesus for convincing a crowd not to stone her.
A third theme, associated with John the Baptist (Robert Ryan), is based on an eight-note motif that begins with a single pitch sounded four times. When John is baptizing in the Sea of Galilee this theme is prominently featured, along with a moment of the Jesus theme. When Lucius comes to John’s cell after the latter is arrested for insulting Herod and his family, the low strings repeatedly sound this motif’s last four tones.
An ingenious combining of all three themes occurs in a touching scene following Jesus’s baptism when John comes to Jesus’s home to speak with him. The cue begins with the family theme played eloquently by a solo cello with soft string harmonies. A moment of the Jesus theme arrives when the conversation centers on Mary’s son, and then low strings feature the eight-tone motif of John’s theme.
One of the film’s dramatic highlights occurs when Jesus preaches to a large crowd from a high hill (this is known as the “Sermon on the Mount”). During this scene there is initially little underscoring, but at the words “Ask and ye shall receive, seek and ye shall find” the Jesus theme begins softly and gradually increases in volume when sounded by French horns, strings, and wordless voices in an emotionally moving statement. Toward the end of this scene a soaring new theme is introduced (which is also featured in the film’s closing Resurrection sequence). It accompanies the words of “Our Father,” which Jesus teaches in response to a question about how to pray. The new theme gets more intense when the chorus joins the instrumentation.
There are other musical motifs in the score that appear only once. One is a lilting lullaby for oboe and strings that occurs when the three wise men come to honor the newborn child. Another theme is heard in the exotic dance that Herod’s stepdaughter Salome performs for him with the guarantee that she can have anything in return. For the Middle-Eastern-flavored dance music the English horn and bassoon play the melody, accompanied by other woodwinds and drums.
While this score is less grandiose than the majestic music of Ben-Hur, it is tastefully composed and repeatedly illustrates Rózsa’s masterful handling of thematic ingredients. As such, the score of King of Kings should be acknowledged as one of Rózsa’s greatest.
Recognition
King of Kings was ignored in the 1961 Oscar race, but it received favorable reviews by many critics and was one of that year’s biggest box-office successes. Over the years, through repeated Christmas and Easter showings on the Turner Classic Movies channel, King of Kings has become recognized as a classic example of the so-called “biblical epic.”
Recordings
Miklós Rózsa, King of Kings, Rhino Movie Music, 2002. An expanded original soundtrack, it includes the complete score, with over one hundred forty minutes of music. Excellent sound. ****
Miklós Rózsa, King of Kings, Sony Special Products, 1992. Transferred from 35 mm music tracks. Over seventy-five minutes of music. Good sound. ***½
Bibliography
Feltenstein, George, and Miklós Rózsa. Liner notes. Miklós Rózsa, King of Kings Original MGM Motion Picture Soundtrack Recording. Rhino R2 78348.
Rózsa, Miklós. Double Life. New York: Wynwood Press, 1989.
—LEM
The Film
After several years of scoring adventure films starring Errol Flynn, Erich Wolfgang Korngold shifted direction at Warner Bros. by composing music for films with a more contemporary setting. For the film version of Henry Bellamann’s novel Kings Row, Korngold created one of his most memorable title themes.
Bellamann’s novel, which is set in the fictional midwestern town of Kings Row, spans a period from the late 1880s into the early 1900s. Despite the sign at the edge of town that describes Kings Row as “A Good Clean Town,” there is a lot about the town that isn’t very wholesome. Parris Mitchell (played as an adult by Robert Cummings) is raised by his grandmother (Maria Ouspenskaya), who lovingly ensures his educational progress as a medical student as well as his advancement as a pianist. Parris has long had a liking for Cassie Tower (Betty Field), the daughter of Dr. Tower (Claude Rains), whose mentally troubled wife is a virtual prisoner in the family home. While being tutored by Dr. Tower, Parris falls in love with Cassie, but their relationship is thwarted by her instability, which leads to tragedy. The other doctor in town, Dr. Gordon (Charles Coburn), is a cruel man who performs surgeries without anesthetics. Parris’s best friend, Drake (Ronald Reagan), who has a reputation as a ladies’ man, becomes an unwitting victim of Gordon’s cruelty.
Randy Monaghan (Ann Sheridan) and Parris Mitchell (Robert Cummings) console an ailing Drake McHugh (Ronald Reagan). Warner Bros. / Photofest © Warner Bros.
The Music
Korngold used the leitmotivic method on several films, including Kings Row. Every major character in this film is represented by a signifying motif. Parris is identified with the main theme that appears in the opening titles. The Kings Row theme is filled with a sense of grandeur, with several upward leaps in its melodic line that bear an uncanny resemblance to the bold leaps in two John Williams themes that emulate Hollywood’s Golden Age—the main themes of the Star Wars saga and the Superman films starring Christopher Reeve.
Although this theme is the most prominent melody in Korngold’s score, there are several other motifs. Among the most prominent in the early part of the film is the sweetly lyrical theme for Parris’s grandmother that has an almost chamber-music quality, with solos for both cello and violin. This theme occurs up to the point of her death, which occurs as Parris is preparing to leave for Vienna to study psychiatry.
One of the most intriguing motifs is associated with Dr. Towers’s daughter, Cassie. In her moments of fearful stress, the music includes sets of descending tones with string tremolos and unusual harmonies that underscore her fragile mental state. But when she and Parris have an intimate encounter on a stormy night, the music becomes romantically charged, with dramatic thunder and lightning that heighten the passion between the two lovers.
Another noticeable motif is a fast-paced seven-tone idea for Drake. Although he is linked with several young ladies in the film, his motif is more playful than romantic. As with Cassie’s motif, this idea includes a prevailingly downhill pitch pattern.
Midway through the film a new motif arrives. It is a romantic theme for strings that is associated with Randy Monaghan (Ann Sheridan), a lady from across the tracks who befriends Drake in the wake of his failed attempt to court Dr. Gordon’s daughter Louise. This theme becomes very prominent in the second half of the film, in which Drake and Randy fall in love. Randy’s theme is played by strings and is based on a succession of four ascending tones.
After Drake’s fortune is wiped out by a bank president’s theft, he takes a job working for the railroad, but an accident occurs that results in the amputation of his legs. When Randy says she will marry Drake despite his condition, a solo cello begins her theme, followed by a solo violin in an eloquent statement with soothing string sounds as accompaniment.
When Parris returns from Vienna he meets a young woman named Elise (Kaaren Verne), whose father has bought the home where Parris grew up. When Parris looks around the property the Kings Row theme returns in an eloquent slow-tempo statement played by strings.
The next scene includes a clever use of source music. After Elise plays part of Beethoven’s Pathetique Sonata, Parris sits at the piano to give Elise some ideas about interpreting the music. After a few seconds of piano playing, the strings pick up where the piano leaves off without a break. A motif from the Beethoven sonata is then heard as part of Elise’s theme.
The final appearance of the Kings Row theme is worthy of mention. After Parris tells Drake the truth about his surgery, he finds Elise and they embrace. At this point the theme swells to a high-volume level, with a chorus singing words from William Henley’s poem “Invictus.”
This is a very intricately designed score, with motifs that guide the viewer through almost every scene. It may lack the heroic themes that are so prominent in such Korngold scores as The Adventures of Robin Hood and The Sea Hawk, but it is still one of Korngold’s best achievements as a film composer.
Recognition
Three Oscar nominations, including a nod as best picture.
Korngold was not nominated for his score, perhaps due to then-existing rules that limited Oscar consideration to a single film from each studio. That year’s Warner Bros. candidate was Max Steiner’s memorable music for Now, Voyager, which won the scoring Oscar.
Recording
Charles Gerhardt and the National Philharmonic, Kings Row, Varese Sarabande, 1979. Studio recording released on CD in 1985. Includes most of the film’s major motifs, with good stereo sound.****
Bibliography
Korngold, George, and Tom Britton. Liner notes. Kings Row Original Motion Picture Score. Varèse Sarabande Records VCD 47203, 1979, CD.