DIEGONAVARRO

Filmmaker Douglas Schulze’s homage to George A. Romero’s classic Night of the Living Dead features a rip-roaring, polished score by Spain’s highly talented Diego Navarro. Featuring appearances by Sid Haig (who also played in Night of the Living Dead: 3-D) and Courtney Gains of the original Children of the Corn, this new interpretation of the 1968 film concerns itself with a party of thrill-seekers who find themselves inexplicably living out the narrative of the original movie in a Twilight Zone-fashioned nightmare. While Schulze’s modestly budgeted effort will surely retain an afterlife on cable television and video, the film’s real star is Navarro’s innovative music, which flawlessly mixes orchestra and electronics, resulting in an exciting and invigorating listen that rivals many contemporary large-scale studio scores.

Navarro has achieved a rare feat for this entry in the infinite spate of “undead” thrillers (the composer declares, “Mimesis is not a zombie movie—it does not even have real zombies”), a rich and evocative work featuring music that he orchestrated and produced, in addition to performing the electronic supplementation. On the construction of the epic score itself, Navarro elaborates, “Sometimes I used a full symphony, sometimes I combined it with the choir and soloists. I also went the other way and wrote for a small chamber ensemble.... I used an octet in some compositions (string quartet, contrabass, piano, harp and celesta), which then combined with the powerful electronic programming that is constant in most of the score.” This approach results in a suspenseful and warm, dramatic score.

Things are immediately realized in the vivid “Main Title,” which opens the album with whispering electronics emanating from what seems like an alternate dimension. The heartfelt solo lament by vocalist Kristen Brown gives way to a gradual acceleration of ominous strings that mesh with the choir in “Requiem.” Navarro emphasizes melodic symphonics over the more familiar onslaught of electronica inherent in this genre. “The Farm” is tense but far more low key, emphasizing slow strings, moody synthesized stirrings, piano, and dense ambient effects. Agitated percussion closes out the cue, only to return for the “Opening Titles,” given a further sense of largesse with spatial choral performances.

The “Seriously Injured” are provided with a poignant combination of violin and piano to deliver an intimate quality to the protagonists’ hellish dilemma. Piano and morose strings are also prominent in a reflective portrait of “The Haunted House.” Cold, moaning electronics are also key elements, supporting the acoustics nicely. The alien timbres of “Evil Feelings” are articulated with a bleak fusion of icy strings and synths, mixed deftly enough to make it difficult to discern which instruments are on display. Chilling vocal solos and menacing choir herald some unrelentingly grim string and percussion performances during “A Horrible Feast.”

Punctuated by searing percussive blasts and low strings, “Caught in the House” also offers humanistic motions for woodwinds. This tragic feeling is captured in “The Plan,” touched by cottony celesta. An ominous pounding (coupled with voices) augurs the bleak inevitability of doom during “There Is Nothing We Can Do.” Vocals overpower the orchestral forces at play, furthering the hopelessness of the situation. A gnarled, uniquely applied feline-like crying emerges as the piece winds down. A disturbing maelstrom of voices and orchestral/electronic hybridizations jumpstart “They Are Coming,” with a softly thumping heartbeat motif. Curt, dissonant string screeches elevate the fear quotient considerably. As the palpitations accelerate, the cat squeals reemerge more ghastly than before, with ambient structuring and rhythms bringing the piece to a finale.

A brief classical-techno prelude for “The Renegade” quickly recedes to elegiac strings and the thumping cardiac effect. A crackling sawing sound, harp, and voices are highlights of the morbidity that comprises “The Chase.” Mimesis concludes with “The Movies Made Me Do It!” an aptly titled work divided between furious strings and brass pushed to their maximum. A crooked, warped rhythm gnaws away until atmospheric electronica expands and contract enigmatically. Resigned voices cry with a bitter resolve, closing the recording on an unsettling note. The generous running time allows Navarro’s intelligent take on the material to leisurely flow without ever overstaying its welcome.

Inevitably, Romero’s seminal film will continue to inspire future remakes and revisions. However, if more of the scores for such endeavors were as worthwhile as Navarro’s inventive work here, perhaps the new films would be remembered more. The album insert, featuring the movie’s striking poster art as its cover, contains extensive insight from the composer on the experience. Listening to this limited edition is evidence that Navarro will inevitably be assigned to far more ambitious spectacles soon enough. —Christopher Jenkins

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