Musical scores for the big screen, rich enough to be considered complete works in themselves, have been recorded throughout history. Some more, others less, restore film’s oneiric capacity to balance, consciously, the viewer’s unconscious—that which does not just look at the screen but also listens to it.

Below we present the second half of a list with some of the most brilliant film soundtracks of all time.

There Will be Blood (Paul Thomas Anderson, 2007) —Jonny Greenwood, member of Radiohead, surprises us by subtly using a symphonic orchestra to resume the Western genre in another historical context. The music of this film is solid, and it does not cease to speak of the greed that built an empire.

Dead Man (Jim Jarmusch, 1995) —Neil Young’s improv sessions, recorded after shooting what may be director Jim Jarmusch’s best film, represent one of the best post rock albums of all time. A classic live testament of rock and roll, in the fullest sense of the word, regardless of having been recorded in a booth.

Fire Starter (Mark L. Lester, 1984) — Kraftwerk’s contemporary Tangerine Dream made history with unforgettable albums that opened the minds of several generations, and, in combination with what would happen in Detroit, they inaugurated the bases of what electronic music would become. They extended the limits of progressive rock to the point where it was no longer possible to play it with human instruments. Several of their soundtracks attract attention; but in this adaptation of a fairly unknown novel by prolific Stephen King, there is something especially cinematographic about what they do in sequences starring young Drew Barrymore, who can light up a fire with her thoughts, and sometimes without them.

Drive (Nicolas Winding Refn, 2011) —Cliff Martinez creates a tense soundtrack that bestows depth on an otherwise superficial film, accompanied by excellent synth pop songs that also surpass the amusement of the scenes. A soundtrack that will bring back all our memories of 1980s films to accompany, beyond the character’s night journeys, those of the viewer.

Red Desert (Michelangelo Antonioni, 1964) —Giovanni Fusco and Michelangelo Antonioni’s collaboration is comparable to that of Nino Rotta and Fellini: extensive, profound and expressive. One cannot think of their films without their music. Red Desert is the apex the great Antonioni’s work in his exploration of man’s disconnection with his environment, in the common alienation of his age. In the film’s plot we have Giuliana (Mónica Vitti), a bourgeois woman that tries to discover life outside her social class, and her limitations, surrounded by industrial landscapes (which strongly influenced works such as David Lynch’s Eraserhead) ––these sounds jump into the soundtrack and gradually become music that is way ahead of its time, while connecting us to Giuliana’s conflict.

The Silence of the Lambs (Jonathan Demme, 1991) —Howard Shore, David Cronenberg’s eternal collaborator, uses common orchestral elements from Hollywood films, but slowly takes us to a very different place. In the film, to free herself from her past, Clarice Sterling (Jodie Foster) must vanquish monsters; the soundtrack only exists in Clarice’s fears, in an eternal suspense that accompanies us and makes the plot work. If the soundtrack is listened to independently, it is possible to feel the character’s apprehension, the grey and rainy mental landscapes, and perhaps we may find the corpse of an unclad young woman amid the bushes formed by the notes.

Taxidriver (Martin Scorsese, 1976) — Bernard Herrmann, the composer who created memorable scores for Alfred Hitchcock, gifts us the jazz compositions that also make this film one of the best of all time. The soundtrack places us in a very particular New York, while it also connects us with Travis’ strange way of feeling.

Exotica (Atom Egoyan, 1994) —Mychael Danna has several collaborations with Atom Egoyan already, wherefrom emerges his capacity to transmit through music the problems proposed by the director. The powerful Arabian identity is combined with mystery and oneiric resonances so that we are able to see everyday mundaneness with different eyes.

Deep Red (Dario Argento 1975) Suspiria (Dario Argento, 1977) —Goblin is a progressive rock band with electronic hints that created several soundtracks for Dario Argento’s Giallos. Perhaps, when they premiered it, it was strange to see explicitly violent horror films with this music, but soon this style defined and identified the genre that was born with Mario Bava.

Satanic Heart (Alan Parker, 1987) —Trevor Jones composed this atmospheric jazz of darkness. Without the fog that comes from that midnight sax, Harry Angel (Mickey Rourke) would not be as lost in this darker than the night Film Noir. Likewise, the classic blues and gospel complement (also by Jones) situates us completely and terrifyingly in the voodoo revenge of the African American community of the Deep South.

Musical scores for the big screen, rich enough to be considered complete works in themselves, have been recorded throughout history. Some more, others less, restore film’s oneiric capacity to balance, consciously, the viewer’s unconscious—that which does not just look at the screen but also listens to it.

Below we present the second half of a list with some of the most brilliant film soundtracks of all time.

There Will be Blood (Paul Thomas Anderson, 2007) —Jonny Greenwood, member of Radiohead, surprises us by subtly using a symphonic orchestra to resume the Western genre in another historical context. The music of this film is solid, and it does not cease to speak of the greed that built an empire.

Dead Man (Jim Jarmusch, 1995) —Neil Young’s improv sessions, recorded after shooting what may be director Jim Jarmusch’s best film, represent one of the best post rock albums of all time. A classic live testament of rock and roll, in the fullest sense of the word, regardless of having been recorded in a booth.

Fire Starter (Mark L. Lester, 1984) — Kraftwerk’s contemporary Tangerine Dream made history with unforgettable albums that opened the minds of several generations, and, in combination with what would happen in Detroit, they inaugurated the bases of what electronic music would become. They extended the limits of progressive rock to the point where it was no longer possible to play it with human instruments. Several of their soundtracks attract attention; but in this adaptation of a fairly unknown novel by prolific Stephen King, there is something especially cinematographic about what they do in sequences starring young Drew Barrymore, who can light up a fire with her thoughts, and sometimes without them.

Drive (Nicolas Winding Refn, 2011) —Cliff Martinez creates a tense soundtrack that bestows depth on an otherwise superficial film, accompanied by excellent synth pop songs that also surpass the amusement of the scenes. A soundtrack that will bring back all our memories of 1980s films to accompany, beyond the character’s night journeys, those of the viewer.

Red Desert (Michelangelo Antonioni, 1964) —Giovanni Fusco and Michelangelo Antonioni’s collaboration is comparable to that of Nino Rotta and Fellini: extensive, profound and expressive. One cannot think of their films without their music. Red Desert is the apex the great Antonioni’s work in his exploration of man’s disconnection with his environment, in the common alienation of his age. In the film’s plot we have Giuliana (Mónica Vitti), a bourgeois woman that tries to discover life outside her social class, and her limitations, surrounded by industrial landscapes (which strongly influenced works such as David Lynch’s Eraserhead) ––these sounds jump into the soundtrack and gradually become music that is way ahead of its time, while connecting us to Giuliana’s conflict.

The Silence of the Lambs (Jonathan Demme, 1991) —Howard Shore, David Cronenberg’s eternal collaborator, uses common orchestral elements from Hollywood films, but slowly takes us to a very different place. In the film, to free herself from her past, Clarice Sterling (Jodie Foster) must vanquish monsters; the soundtrack only exists in Clarice’s fears, in an eternal suspense that accompanies us and makes the plot work. If the soundtrack is listened to independently, it is possible to feel the character’s apprehension, the grey and rainy mental landscapes, and perhaps we may find the corpse of an unclad young woman amid the bushes formed by the notes.

Taxidriver (Martin Scorsese, 1976) — Bernard Herrmann, the composer who created memorable scores for Alfred Hitchcock, gifts us the jazz compositions that also make this film one of the best of all time. The soundtrack places us in a very particular New York, while it also connects us with Travis’ strange way of feeling.

Exotica (Atom Egoyan, 1994) —Mychael Danna has several collaborations with Atom Egoyan already, wherefrom emerges his capacity to transmit through music the problems proposed by the director. The powerful Arabian identity is combined with mystery and oneiric resonances so that we are able to see everyday mundaneness with different eyes.

Deep Red (Dario Argento 1975) Suspiria (Dario Argento, 1977) —Goblin is a progressive rock band with electronic hints that created several soundtracks for Dario Argento’s Giallos. Perhaps, when they premiered it, it was strange to see explicitly violent horror films with this music, but soon this style defined and identified the genre that was born with Mario Bava.

Satanic Heart (Alan Parker, 1987) —Trevor Jones composed this atmospheric jazz of darkness. Without the fog that comes from that midnight sax, Harry Angel (Mickey Rourke) would not be as lost in this darker than the night Film Noir. Likewise, the classic blues and gospel complement (also by Jones) situates us completely and terrifyingly in the voodoo revenge of the African American community of the Deep South.

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