I love film music.  Let’s just get that right: I love big orchestras telling grand stories with memorable, hummable melodies.  Not just ‘mood music’, but story music.
Sometimes a great soundtrack can get me writing when I’m stuck for ideas: it can stir up emotions that find their way into my stories or make me long for a better world. Â So, in a complete change to my recent focus on Steam Highwayman, let me tell you about a piece of music I love.
Alex North’s soundtrack to Spartacus is a powerful thing. Â It merges one of the most beautiful love-themes with clever orchestration and Roman brutality and imagines a world different to our own. Â The love theme has been adapted and even become a part of the jazz repertoire, but it’s in the context of the movie that it means the most. Â You first hear it when the bitter gladiator Spartacus sees a beautiful slave-girl, Virinia, and first begins to dream that life could be different to anything he’s ever known. Â They enjoy an all-too-brief relationship with a beautiful blossoming of tenderness and freedom before Spartacus is defeated and crucified, along with his rebels. Â In the final scene, the love theme struggles to make itself heard again beneath the Roman cymbals and horns, as Virinia introduces her lover to his baby son – who has been born free.
It makes me cry. Â This might be just a film from sixty years ago, with dated performances and dated production values, but that melody can’t get old. Â It communicates something awful and wonderful – that people have died and are dying to see their children free to live freely.
After all that music, it’s the swell at 2:29 that brings tears to my eyes, just before the Roman theme stomps in.
Real sacrifice like this is both tragic and beautiful: it’s there when an economic migrant makes the journey to Europe in an attempt to provide for his family back in Somalia, or Sudan, or Syria. Â It’s there when those with the ability to leave a war-torn city stay for the sake of those who can’t leave. Â In the movie, the character of Spartacus dreams longingly of a God for the downtrodden: a ‘God for slaves’, and prays that his son one day will be born free. Â By the end of the film, that’s what the music means: that his prayer has not been in vain and that despite his sacrifice, he has not been ignored.
One day I want music like this to accompany my stories.