Fallen Angels redux ... and redux!

As I discussed in this blog’s previous post, Dragon’s Domain finally rewarded the patience of those who enjoyed Showtime’s film noir anthology series, Fallen Angels, by releasing the full scores for the initial 1993 season’s six episodes. I concluded that post with the hope that the label intended similar treatment of 1995’s second season; that wish has been granted with the release of Fallen Angels Vol. 2.

Showtime changed things slightly for that final season. 1993’s episodes were introduced by a slinky femme fataledubbed Fay Friendly (a smoldering Lynette Walden), who set up each premise while slithering — in noir-drenched black-and-white cinematography — to a sensuous title theme by Peter Bernstein. The theme continued against a leisurely montage of noir leitmotifs — swirling cigarette smoke, a sparkling cocktail, a gun slipped into a woman’s purse — until the camera glided back to Fay, whereupon she archly set the stage for the playlet to follow. She was greatly missed during the second season prologues, which offered similar smoke-laden montages, but were introduced instead by an off-camera Miguel Ferrer ... hardly the same!

 

Peter’s celebrated father, Elmer Bernstein, contributed the end credits theme employed during both seasons.

 

As Peter Bernstein explained, during an interview excerpted within my earlier post, most of the episode directors initially requested the sultry, smoky saxophone sound that they mistakenly believed was typical of 1940s and ’50s noirs... which, in fact, had moody orchestral scores. The “sexy sax” ambiance actually was common to much later neo-noir films, such as Body Heat (John Barry), Chinatown (Jerry Goldsmith) and Taxi Driver (Bernard Herrmann).

 

Sadly, for fans of that sound, this new disc contains even fewer jazz elements. Peter Bernstein scored only seven of the nine episodes; the other two — “A Dime a Dance” and “The Black Bargain” — employed various bits of source cues.

 

Evan Hunter’s short story “Return,” about a washed-up boxer with marital troubles, is backed by a mournful orchestral theme. Bernstein relies entirely on synth for his brief score for David Goodis’ “Professional Man,” and hearkens back to the 1940s for his orchestral score for Bruno Discher’s “Good Housekeeping.” That said, the latter has one cue — #10 — which builds considerable tension with “ticking clock” percussion.

 

Dashiell Hammett’s “Fly Paper,” which features his unnamed detective The Continental Op, is a Prohibition-era story; Bernstein’s initially playful score evokes elements of Scott Joplin and Kurt Weill, before turning nervous and twitchy. The musical palette is ominous and foreboding in Raymond Chandler’s “Red Wind,” which features Danny Glover handling the author’s famed shamus, Philip Marlowe (who wasn’t in the original short story, which featured a detective named Dalmas).

 

Mickey Spillane’s “Tomorrow I Die” once again is mostly synth, albeit highlighted by a mournful single trumpet theme. Walter Mosley’s “Fearless,” finally, has the strongest jazz elements. Most of the story takes place in a nightclub that features a jazz singer, played by Cynda Williams, who hires a couple of friends to steal her contract from the club’s manager. Bernstein’s vibrant score makes excellent use of trumpet, trombone, slide guitar and the usual percussion trio of piano, bass and drums.

 

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Jazz fans seeking that “modern” noir sound likely will be happier with a couple of albums recently added to my collection.

The first, 2006’s coincidentally titled Fallen Angel, features a septet dubbed the Bob Sneider & Joe Locke Film Noir Project: Bob Sneider, guitar; Locke, vibes; Paul Hofmann, piano; John Sneider, trumpet; Grant Stewart, tenor sax; Phil Hanigan, bass; and Mike Melito, drums. The album features nine (mostly) noir covers — including the aforementioned title themes to 1981’s Body Heat and 1974’s Chinatown — along with a pair of similarly themed originals: Locke’s pensive, melancholy “Fallen Angel” and Hoffman’s similarly brooding ode to lost love, a piano/guitar duet titled “Last Kiss.” Most of the tracks run close to 6 minutes, allowing plenty of space for solos.

 

Sneider’s mournful trumpet opens the title theme to Chinatown, which then kicks into feistier gear and boasts a tasty solo by Locke. Sultry sax kicks off an initially slow reading of the title theme to Body Heat, which then is backed by a 1-2-3-4 vibes vamp behind sax and trumpet solos. Dave Grusin is represented by two tracks: his title theme from1996’s Mulholland Falls — this album’s tastiest track — which again opens with mournful horn against a vibes vamp, and then accelerates into a moody sax solo; and “Hurricane Country,” an interior cue from 1990’s Havana, which is another lovely piano/guitar duet, with both Hofmann and Sneider wandering in and out of the melody.

 

Hofmann’s solo piano kicks off David Shire’s title theme from 1975’s Farewell, My Lovely; vibes then takes the melody against gentle trumpet shading, backed by forceful 4/4 percussion and Hanigan’s lovely walking bass. Jerry Goldsmith’s “Katya,” a character theme from 1990’s The Russia House, is a wistfully nostalgic ode to the story’s ill-advised love affair.

 

The final three tracks stretch the album’s concept a bit. Sneider’s cheerful guitar and Sneider’s trumpet trade Mark Isham’s title melody from 1988’s The Moderns, about an expat American artist living in 1926 Paris; lyrical solos on trumpet, bass, piano and vibes highlight the tasty arrangement of Vladimir Cosma’s “Promenade Sentimentale,” from the 1981 French thriller Diva. Vibes, piano and trumpet wander through “A Farewell to Maria,” one of many somber tracks from the highly disturbing 1993 Polish Holocaust drama, Pozegnanie z Maria.

 

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Locke, Hoffman, Stewart and Bob and John Sneider returned for a sequel three years later — Nocturne for Ava — this time joined by Martin Wind, bass; Tim Horner, drums; and Luisito Quintero, percussion. The latter adds plenty of fire to many tracks, employing all manner of bongos, whistles and other percussive instruments.

The album’s title and theme are an affectionate tribute to actress Ava Gardner, who played femme fatales and damned dames in numerous noir classics. 

 

“I’m poison, Swede, to myself and everybody around me,” her character says to Burt Lancaster, in 1946’s The Killers. “I’d be afraid to go with anyone I love, for the harm I do to them!”

 

As with the previous Film Noir Project album, all of this disc’s 11 tracks run at considerable length, granting plenty of space for solos. Jazz critic Jack Garner’s liner notes also promise that careful listeners will be witness to a murder ... and he ain’t lying!

 

The album kicks off with a mid-tempo reading of Gato Barbieri’s title theme to 1972’s Last Tango in Paris; pensive percussion introduces the sultry melody, backed by bursts of unison horns. Improv solos on sax and guitar follow, along with a furious bongo solo by Quintero. A prologue of shimmering piano and bowed bass yield to Locke’s gentle handling of David Raskin’s classic title theme for 1944’s Laura; the lovely melody pauses for solos on vibes, piano and guitar, and then Locke brings the tune home.

 

Slow bass and piano open a suitably ominous reading of Johnny Mandel’s title theme for 1958’s I Want to Live; Locke introduces the melody, followed by a sassy guitar solo against piano comping, and a vibrant trumpet solo. Bass and vibes return to the melody, to close the track. Slow, sexy piano and vibes alternate with soft bass shading, in a cool arrangement of Mark Isham’s title theme to the 1997 neo-noir Afterglow; sassy unison horns, vibes and piano duel their way through a feisty reading of Duke Ellington’s “Flirtibird,” from 1959’s Anatomy of a Murder.

 

The album also includes three original compositions. Tick-tock percussion and unsettling sax introduce John Sneider’s “Black Dahlia,” inspired by the infamous 1947 mutilation murder; the tune is highlighted by a pensive piano solo against brooding bongos. Solo piano and brushed cymbals introduce the album’s title track, by Locke, which blossoms into a similarly moody anthem dominated by a lengthy vibes solo against a five-note piano vamp. The entire combo opens Hofmann’s “Kiss Me, Kill Me,” which offers sweet solos by bass, trumpet, guitar and sax ... and then suddenly shifts gears, as Locke delivers a hard-charging vibes solo.

 

The set concludes with an occasionally unstructured handling of Marcus Miller’s “Los Feliz,” which Miles Davis played on the soundtrack for 1987’s Siesta. Piano and guitar wander their way through the introduction, followed by another lengthy vibes solo against piano comping; the arrangement definitely evokes the film’s Spanish setting and atmosphere.

Sadly, Locke subsequently turned his attention to other projects and albums. Perhaps some day he’ll deliver a third Film Noir Project compilation. 

Fallen Angels and a wayward Fugitive

I covered Showtime’s marvelous film noir series, Fallen Angels, in my second volume. This anthology show delivered six episodes in the summer of 1993, followed by another nine in the autumn of 1995. Each playlet was adapted from a story by a famed noir author, and was blessed with a phenomenal attention to detail appropriate to post-World War II Los Angeles: a heavily stylized depiction of the city populated by all manner of dangerous dames, no-account gunsels, bent cops and hapless innocents.

The lush, shadow- and blood-drenched cinematography honors the genre’s roots without succumbing to parody, and top-flight stars persuasively chew into hard-bitten dialogue tough enough to break teeth. Very few of the stories conclude happily, and evil occasionally emerges triumphant: par for the course, when surfing hard-boiled waters originally penned by Raymond Chandler, Jim Thompson, Evan Hunter, Cornell Woolrich, Dashiell Hammett, Mickey Spillane and James Ellroy.

 

Alas, the show’s home media options have been minimal: a U.S. VHS version of the first season, and — much later — European and Australian DVD versions of the second season. Both seasons were combined in a single set released in France in 2020, although it’s notoriously difficult to find. 

 

Each episode begins with an introduction backed by a sensuous title theme credited to Elmer and Peter Bernstein. It opens with haunting strings and inquisitive piano notes, followed by Teddy Edwards’ salacious tenor sax; he introduces a melody dominated by a 3-7-3-5 motif, which plays against a leisurely montage of noir leitmotifs: swirling cigarette smoke, a sparkling cocktail, a gun slipped into a woman’s purse.

 

Peter Bernstein also handled the underscores for all 15 episodes: cues that rely heavily on macabre piano filigrees, sinister strings and occasional sax melodies that wander from lonesome to tragic. Unfortunately, none of that extensive music was included in the initial soundtrack album, which featured only the Bernsteins’ title and end themes, alongside a collection of jazz classics by Charlie Parker, Billie Holiday, Benny Carter, Nat King Cole and J.J. Johnson.

 

Happily, almost three decades later, Dragon’s Domain has just gifted us with Fallen Angels Vol. 1, which includes the aforementioned title and end themes, along with numerous cues from each of the first season’s six episodes. The result is 77 minutes of marvelously moody, smoky music ... but not always in the genre — jazz — that most people would expect.

 

“I loved doing that show,” Peter Bernstein recalled, in a 2019 interview, “writing noir stuff, kind of dark ... a lot of fun.

 

“But it was a very interesting experience. I worked with a lot of directors, big-time directors [including Steven Soderbergh, Peter Bogdanovich, John Dahl and Alfonso Cuarón], and more than one of them said to me, ‘Yeah, I want that smoky, noir saxophone sound.’ Well, if  you go back and look at the actual noir films they’re drawing from, there’s no smoky saxophone!”

 

This is true. Despite what most people assume, the classic 1940s and ’50s noirs had moody, haunting orchestral scores ... without the slightest trace of jazz. This mistaken assumption probably results, in part, from later films such as Chinatown and Taxi Driver, where Jerry Goldsmith and Bernard Herrmann — respectively — punctuated those noirsagas with, yes, smoky sax cues. And since Chinatown is set in the late 1930s, well ... Goldsmith’s score likely enhanced a myth that endures to this day.

 

“[The directors] just projected it backwards to other films,” Bernstein explains, in this new album’s liner notes. “So I found myself not doing that, except in a couple of specific instances.”

 

Indeed, only two of this album’s six scores include jazz elements ... but they’re choice.

 

The Frightening Frammis, from a novelette by Jim Thompson, concerns a pair of con artists — played by Peter Gallagher and Nancy Travis — who keep betraying each other. The episode opens with a cool, mournful blend of bass, horns and synth (“How Did I End Up Here”), before easing into some impudent swing. Unsettling unison horns and sly bass touches return in “A Note for Bette,” “Babe’s Story” and “Babe’s Scam”; the latter also features an ominous piano vamp. “Goodbye Mitchie” is highlighted by an appropriately doleful horn, and “The Biggest Heist in the World” reprises the swinging title theme, backed by unison horn fanfares.

James Ellroy cheekily blends fact with fiction in his novelette Since I Don’t Have You; this adaptation finds heavily indebted Buzz Meeks (Gary Busey) simultaneously working as a troubleshooter for reclusive entrepreneur Howard Hughes (Tim Matheson), and as a bagman for notorious criminal Mickey Cohen (James Woods). To make matters worse, both men — unbeknownst to each other — have fallen for the same sultry dame (Aimee Graham).

 

“Perhaps my favorite of the whole bunch,” Bernstein admits, in the liner notes, “since it was so sprawling and fun. It has noir elements, some jazzy elements, and a little bit of modern. It’s big, and it’s got a big orchestral love theme.”

Indeed, this episode’s nine cues run a full 19 minutes. The first (“Howard Hughes”) opens with sly wandering bass, mildly discordant unison horns, and a disquieting keyboard melody. “Mickey Cohen,” in contrast, is introduced with sassy sax that quickly segues into a hypnotic 2-2-4-2 piano motif against cool walking bass; unison horns augment the cue when it slides into swing. That wandering bass becomes a recurring presence in subsequent cues, notably during the climax of “Break In at South Mariposa,” when foreboding horns back an accelerating bass riff. Events climax at a party thrown by schlocky film producer Sid Weinberg (Ken Lerner), who is introduced with an eponymous cue that blends slowly swinging walking bass with smarmy piano filigrees. Cohen’s theme reprises in the final cue, “End of Story,” with an even more impertinent blend of bass, piano, unison horns and — finally — a despondent sax.

 

And here’s a hitherto unknown detail. “[My father and I] were hired as a team,” Bernstein concludes. “It was ‘theme-by, score-by.’ My father wrote a main title and an end title, but they didn’t like his main title. So he said to me, ‘I’m done. You write it!’ 

 

“So I did, uncredited.”

 

Fingers crossed, that this album sells well enough to encourage Dragon’s Domain to produce a Vol. 2, covering Bernstein’s work on the show’s second season.

 

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On a briefer note...

The current issue of Cinema Retro (Vol. 20, #59) includes Nichola Anez’s excellent four-page discussion of 1967’s Warning Shot, a seriously underrated police thriller that star David Janssen made during his hiatus between the third and fourth seasons of television’s The Fugitive. Back then — as opposed to now — actors rarely moved gracefully between television and big-screen projects; TV actors who made the attempt often were regarded as “uppity,” and suffering from delusions of grandeur.

 

(James Garner was a rare exception. He quickly parlayed his three seasons on TV’s Maverick into an enormously successful film career, starting with 1963’s The Great Escape and The Thrill of It All, 1964’s The Americanization of Emily and many, many more.)

 

Paramount’s execs clearly had little faith in Warning Shot, assuming that few people would spend movie theater money to watch somebody they could see free, on a weekly basis, at home, in — as Anez succinctly puts it — “the role with which [Janssen] was identified.” The studio quietly debuted Warning Shot in small, regional markets in January 1967, after which it slowly migrated to larger territories — granted virtually no publicity — before opening in major cities that summer, as the bottom half of a double bill. But nobody noticed; Janssen’s fans cared only for August’s two-part finale of The Fugitive, which would reveal the fate of Dr. Richard Kimble.

Ironically, Jerry Goldsmith's excellent score for the film — an engaging blend of the suspense and action cues that he had been writing for Thriller and The Man from U.N.C.L.E. — suffered a similarly ignominious fate. As discussed in my first volume, Goldsmith wasn’t allowed to produce his own soundtrack album; the assignment went instead to trombonist/big band jazz leader Si Zentner, who reorchestrated the title theme and five underscore cues for a Liberty LP with the catalog-unfriendly title of Si Zentner Plays Music from the Original Motion Picture Score of Warning Shot and Other Themes Composed by Jerry Goldsmith. In fairness, it’s an excellent jazz album, with swinging arrangements by Bob Florence and Donald D. Dimick, but the half-dozen Warning Shot cues don’t convey the film’s complex emotional sweep. Goldsmith’s original 40-minute score had to wait for a 2012 La-La Land Records release, which was superseded by a superior 2019 release by the same label, paired with Goldsmith’s score for the TV series Archer.