• Composed by Michael Giacchino

Four notes. Relentless. Aggressive. Dah-dah-dah-DAAAHHH. (Apologies to less technically-inclined musicians for introducing such complex notation so early on.) Sometimes keyboards. Sometimes growling brass. Sometimes just the timpani. But always: four notes. The four stages of a bat: birth, early life, later life, death. One note for each. The first three – up in the air. The last one – down on the ground. No other animal is like that. Some others could sustain four notes. None could sustain these four notes. Everywhere you go: four notes. Turn left: four notes. Turn right: four notes. Dah-dah-dah-DAAHHH. Four notes.

Martin Scorsese may not like it, but we are in an age where big cinema releases are dominated by comic book movies. It’s been that way for a while. It wasn’t always that way. The music from them can be split into three eras. The first era lasted from 1978 to 1988. That was the era of John Williams. There was actually only one comic book score in it, but it was a big enough one to sustain a whole era: Superman. Bright, colourful – comic. Heroism, romance, thrills and spills. While in quality it may remain the benchmark for all these things, nobody else would ever write a comic book movie score like that again (and nobody ever will). Because in 1989 the second age began and Danny Elfman defined a new generation’s comic book movie sound, with Batman, when his cinematic adventures commenced for the first time.

That second age of comic book movie scores was a bit different. It lasted longer, but it did have a lot more movies in it. Something they had in common: big themes for the heroes. Each one tailored to the character, impossible to imagine on a different comic book hero. Darkness, yes – but lots of bright colours too. All the other Elfman scores – and things like The Shadow, The Phantom – you only needed to listen to a few seconds of any of them – these were comic book movie scores. They couldn’t be anything else.

The third era has two strands. It began in 2005, as did Batman (again). This time it was different. Hans Zimmer may have had another A-list composer alongside him in the credits, but there’s no doubting who was responsible for what people remember as being the sound. And that sound was dark. It wasn’t like other comic book scores. It was like gritty action/thriller scores. There was no heroic theme. There was no particular theme of any kind, actually. It was there for grit, for atmosphere, for realism – because the one thing you absolutely expect of a film about a grown man who dresses up as a bat in order to fight crime is realism.

More followed. And followed and followed. Largely interchangeable, not just with each other but with any other thriller. Themes not needed any more – they are so 1989 after all – absolutely not what the kids want. But OK, even if you take that as a given (and we must, since there is no choice) – but not just no themes – no identities. Nothing individual. Nothing specific for any of these colourful characters – just greyscale.

A branch emerged within this third age though. Largely in the Marvel movies – we did start getting some themes again. But it was as if they were carefully designed to avoid being individual. The themes – the scores – they’re still largely interchangeable, even as some brightness and colour began to re-emerge. Texture, really, did not. None of those themes seemed to really stick with the public. Characters would emerge in all the sequels and have new themes. Most people probably couldn’t tell the difference. There are exceptions – Michael Giacchino managed to give Doctor Strange a distinctive sound, and a theme that did stick. Lorne Balfe did it not long ago for Black Widow. Two scores with a distinctive identity, uniquely crafted for their films. Nothing interchangeable going on there. There are others, too, ably trying to do something different.

And so we come to The Batman. He begins again. Apparently we don’t have to sit through his origin story again. Thank god for that. Into Giacchino’s hands, his musical legacy has been placed. Giacchino burst onto the scene with those brilliant video game scores, a quarter of a century ago. Hailed as the obvious “new John Williams” (words that probably made him proud, and possibly made him shudder at the same time). When he worked more in tv and then film, it became evident that he was not the new John Williams at all – he was Michael Giacchino instead. His stock rose, he joined a load of big franchises. He kept sounding like Michael Giacchino. His music for these big franchise movies is usually big. It’s usually bright, colourful. It’s usually got a big theme or two in it. He usually offers a tip of a hat to what’s gone before in the franchise.

But this is a big, tentpole comic book movie. We’re in the third age of the comic book score. People don’t want bright and colourful. How would Michael Giacchino – one of the most distinctive film composers of his generation, one who seems to build lasting, extremely strong relationships with most of the directors he works with while managing to stamp his own personality over the music for their movies, something a lot of modern filmmakers (and perhaps more pertinently, studio executives) seem to hate – how on earth would he manage to write music sticking within the boundaries of the third age of the comic book score at the same time as doing what he does so well?

Four notes.

Think of the really good Giacchino themes. Doctor Strange’s; Spider-man’s. Any of them, really. Long-lined, sometimes somewhat formal and rigid, other times fluid. But long-lined. Often harmonically complex. Usually a phrase or two that doesn’t go the way you think it will, providing a bit of an edge. You can do those things in the Marvel branch of the third age. But Batman ain’t on that branch. He’s the character that defined this age, musically. So what does he do – try to start a fourth age?

Or maybe – look at that third age and think – OK, I’ll take what’s good – the grit, the darkness – the simplicity of message. But I’ll be damned if this thing is going to be interchangeable with anything. I’ll damn well show you that even within these confines, you can have a score that can sit alongside the top ones from the previous ages. (To avoid confusion – as far as I know those are not words he actually spoke. It’s almost entirely certain that it’s just a load of bullshit I’ve made up to serve my fanboy wish fulfilment. Who cares?)

Four notes.

Over and over. That’s the musical identity. I sat in the cinema recently and the half-hour of adverts before the trailers started were mostly Batman-related. All of them had those four notes. Forget anything else that happened that day, everyone in that cinema went home humming those four notes, and we weren’t even there to see The Batman. And they’re all over this score. Batman’s got an actual identity again from the music. Simple, maybe. But this is the third age. This album lasts for two hours. You’d need a whole colony of centipedes to stand any chance of using fingers to count how many times they appear. It’s relentless. But they’re not just stated, restated. It’s unbelievable how much he does with them. Sorrow – four notes. Fight – four notes. Triumph – four notes. Anything at all – four notes.

There is a longer-lined theme for Batman. It doesn’t get used that much. It’s a supporting act. You probably won’t remember it – even though it’s good. All you’ll remember are the four notes.

There’s a theme for the Riddler, too. It swirls around – hey, like a riddle! – often there’s a wordless female vocal. Yes, we’ve heard that before. Yes, a lot of times. Yes, I still think it’s effective.

There’s a theme for Catwoman. It’s John Barry. Absolutely, it is John Barry. It’s Michael Giacchino, too. Pushing towards sultry, pushing towards light jazz. Beautifully slight. Perfectly judged. If the score had nothing else in it, it would be worth it for the Catwoman theme. I love it.

Those three themes all get their own suite at the end of the album. The Penguin’s in the movie too. Maybe one of the other melodies in the score was written for him. I don’t know. It isn’t out yet. He doesn’t get a suite. But after those three suites we get “Sonata in Darkness”. It’s twelve minutes long. It’s for piano. (It’s a sonata, so it’s only piano.) I assume it’s just for the album (though with Giacchino you can never quite be sure). It goes through all the score’s themes. Four notes – there at the start – there in the middle – there at the end. It flows from one thematic construct to another – always going via the four notes. It’s brilliant. Astonishingly brilliant.

This is a film score written in the age of Zimmer. The third age. I mentioned tips of the hat earlier. The one to Zimmer comes in “Escaped Crusader” – a brief onslaught of an action ostinato that will be familiar. But somehow, Giacchino has written a score for the age that doesn’t just pile relentless misery on top of misery. These things are supposed to be escapist, supposed to be fun. I’m getting distracted: there are other tips of the hat to mention. The screaming, complex, orchestrated-to-the-hilt “Highway to the Anger Zone” – hey, I remember when Elliot Goldenthal used to write music like that. The gothic brilliance of “A Bat in the Rafters” – that one’s going all the way back to the score that started the second age. When Elfman was Batman. The churchbells at the end – I’ve heard them somewhere before in a Batman score. Here – guess what they’re playing. Four notes.

Highlights abound. The incredible little textures in “Riddles, Riddles Everywhere”. The Catwoman theme shines whenever it appears, never more so than in “Meow and You and Everyone we Know”. The emotionally-devastating melancholy of “For All Your Pennyworth”. All three main themes come in “Hoarding School” – it’s a brooding, moody piece, one that’s constructed so well. I’ve already mentioned “A Bat in the Rafters” but I’ll mention it again. Actually, it’s in two parts. It lasts eleven minutes. Ferocious, colourful action music. Quite brilliant.

Most of all – four notes. As simple as that. Giacchino comes up with a new musical identity for the most enduring comic book character of them all. Has he ever written anything better? Well, everyone has his or her own preferences. I don’t think he has. He’s come up with a comic book movie score that leaves all others in this third age trailing in its wake. This character gets rebooted so many times, who knows whether the next time we see him it’ll be the same actor, same director, same composer. Let’s hope it is. Matt Reeves gets something special from Michael Giacchino every time. This is the most special of all.

Rating: *****

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