With the home video release of The Last Jedi, I finally have the opportunity to put my money where my mouth is, because the digital copy of the film includes a score-only version – that’s the visuals, the John Williams score, and nothing else; no sound effects, no dialogue, not even subtitles to walk you through the film. It’s just you and the maestro. I won’t say that it’s the definitive version of the film, and I won’t say that the score-only version will necessarily work for everyone; my sense is that it might work better with a few listens to the score under your belt, because it’ll be easier to notice how the score is playing off the visuals when you have a sense of where the score is going. But I will say that it’s a special treat to watch The Last Jedi with Williams alone in your ears, particularly for those who haven’t been impressed with the Sequel Trilogy’s score work thus far. John Williams is still doing grand work, if only we had ears to hear it.
(I’m going to loosen the spoiler reins a bit, and by dint of talking about the score I can’t help but spoil a few things, particularly character interactions. I’ll keep it to a minimum, but please do watch The Last Jedi; it rises in my estimations each time I see it.)
I know the first question to be answered is, “Does the film still work?” And my answer is a lightly qualified, “Well, yes.” The film was never designed as a silent film, and so there are things lost in... I guess you’d call it translation. But the core of the film is still abundantly clear – a hopeless fight against a shapeless and all-consuming enemy, broken heroes burdened by the legacy of failure and desperately seeking a glimmer of hope (put another way, “looking for hope in Alderaan places”), and a galaxy of far-out critters on the periphery. From the very beginning, the score-only version assuages any anxiety that the film won’t hold up on silent mode; Williams is in full control of the battle sequence, telling a story with his music that complements the visuals and renders any dialogue superfluous. Poe’s theme is a real triumph in these opening scenes, a little faint in the original mix but a true anchor for the audience as he weaves across the dreadnought’s surface.
Indeed, Williams is at his finest during the film’s action sequences. The fathiers scene feels climactic because of how slowly Williams builds toward it – the exuberance of the escape sequence follows a few minutes of quiet strings, a dash of Resistance theme, and just a low background noise. We’re primed for an explosion, and Williams supplies it. (Sidebar: The fat lady sings! This moment on Canto Bight took me aback for a second because I think of her alien yodel as dialogue, but evidently the sound mixers saw that as score.) Later, in the climactic battle on the salt planet Crait, Williams takes over; the reprise of A New Hope’s “Here We Go” thrilled me in the movie proper, and here it’s all the more potent when it’s Rey in the gunner’s seat, strafing at TIE Fighters while Chewbacca pilots through the salt caves. And when Luke emerges from the base, he’s a total badass when it’s just the score accompanying; we don’t need to hear his footfalls (for more reasons than one), nor do we need Kylo Ren’s reaction because it’s all visual with the score supplying the epic scale to the moment.
It’s striking the way a lack of dialogue decenters the visual frame, allowing us to pay more attention to composition and background details. I caught a few small details I’d heretofore missed, including a First Order officer rolling his eyes behind General Hux’s back; I also finally (belatedly) picked up on the significance of Rey quite literally letting down her hair, dropping the bun-based style with which her parents had left her and embracing a new destiny all her own. The score-only version also, ironically, lets the acting shine. Hamill is doing some really interesting things with his faces (especially his intimate moments of grief) that get lost in the shuffle. Daisy Ridley is aces too, shifting her face with very small adjustments to change her performance. We already knew this from the end of The Force Awakens, where she went from fear to timidity to resolve to confidence while extending that lightsaber to Luke, but here she’s very good at reacting to the story as well as playing that ‘oh my gosh, I’m in a Star Wars movie’ optimism which is so central to her character. (Watch her when Luke milks the thala-siren; she starts off awed by the enormous beast before slipping into revulsion and incredulity.) And in the moment when Luke and Leia finally reunite, Williams reprises his underrated “Luke & Leia” theme from Return of the Jedi. Stripped of dialogue, the scene becomes less about the particulars of their reunion and more about their relationship and the long history they’ve shared. It’s perhaps even more heartfelt because the audience brings their deep connection to these characters.
Some parts of the film do work better in a score-only edit. For those who thought that the film erred on the side of too much humor, some of the comedic pratfall bits (especially both of Hux’s) work better without sound effects; Luke chucking the lightsaber over his shoulder still feels a bridge too far for me, but overall the sequences on Ahch-To feel more mysterious – though much of the establishing shots of the island are regularly dialogue-free anyway. A later scene, this film’s “binary sunset” moment remains immaculate, and I’d go so far as to say that it’s a scene that would not work with any other musical cut. We need that emotional echo from the music to match the visual rhyme, tethers to link the beginning of Luke’s journey with his new embrace of his destiny. And on Ahch-To, the moment when Rey and Ben touch hands is electric and more emotional when it’s just the score walking you up to that soft triumphant Force theme.
It’s hard to review the score-only version without falling into a “look at this, look at that” mode (and indeed I’m not sure I haven’t done that). But I do want to point out a few more moments that, even if you don’t watch the whole score-only film, are worth visiting one or two sequences. Snoke’s throne room becomes a mélange of dark side musical motifs from past films, since it’s easier to hear how Williams brings in Vader’s, Palpatine’s, and Snoke’s themes, and it is noteworthy that Williams foreshadows Ben’s turn with a sprinkling of Rey’s theme darkened in heavy brass. Luke’s first lesson really stands out, as Williams gives a master class in moving between evolving tones, flowing from the peaceful to the ominous. And there are a striking number of “mickey mousing” moments in Finn’s fight with Captain Phasma, where the score punctuates specific blows and strikes with compelling precision. (Williams does a similarly neat thing when Rose and Finn are captured, where the music mirrors the march of the stormtroopers behind them; it’s hard not to hear the clack of their boots with the military bum-bum, bum-ba-ba-da-bum on the score.)
In the final analysis, I won’t go so far as to say that the score-only version of The Last Jedi is a better film, but I will say that it makes the film itself stronger by allowing us to see more readily how one of its key features performs in isolation. It’s a rare glimpse into one of my favorite aspects of filmmaking – the sweeping power of a score to amplify a film’s emotional range and perhaps even exceed it – and the opportunity to let our greatest living composer strut his stuff is one that really shouldn’t be missed. If I weren’t already deliriously excited for Williams to close out his saga with the forthcoming Episode IX, a score-only Last Jedi demonstrates how many tricks this octogenarian still has left in his bag.
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