MOVIE MUSIC UK

Original Review by Jonathan Broxton

Nostalgia for the 1980s is at an all-time high, and at the moment one of its leading proponents is writer-director Kevin Smith. He is five years older than me but, for the most part, we are both 80s kids, and we share an affinity for the movies and music of the era. His latest film, The 4:30 Movie, is an affectionate homage to that decade, a semi-autobiographical romantic comedy drama about a teenager growing up in suburban New Jersey in 1986, who spends his time sneaking into movie theaters with his friends, and embarking on his first hesitant relationship with his high school crush. It stars Austin Zajur, Nicholas Cirillo, Reed Northrup, Siena Agudong, and Ken Jeong, and has been warmly received by critics as Smith’s most personal film to date.

Like Kevin Smith and myself, Bear McCreary is also an 80s kid; he is five years younger than me, but is still part of that same generation, and lately has played his own instrumental part in the 80s nostalgia boom in TV and cinema. He first worked with Smith in 2021 when he wrote the score for Masters of the Universe: Revelation – a score which he described as a combination of Basil Poledouris and Metallica – and he clearly made a positive impression, because he was asked to come back to score The 4:30 Movie too.

McCreary’s stock-in-trade film score style is one of big themes, big orchestras, and big emotions. His most popular works over the last few years, on films like Godzilla: King of the Monsters and The Last Voyage of the Demeter, and on TV shows like Outlander, Masters of the Universe: Revelation, Foundation, and especially The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power, have embraced this style wholeheartedly, but this is not the extent of McCreary’s expertise, and The 4:30 movie showcases a very different side of his musical personality. Instead, rather than relying on epic orchestrations, The 4:30 Movie is a love letter to 1980s synth scores.

Years ago, when I first started listening to film scores, these were my film music kryptonite, but in recent years I have begun to value that sound much more than I did, and now I appreciate more fully the pioneering work that people like Harold Faltermeyer, Brad Fiedel, Vangelis, Giorgio Moroder, and others did at that time. I still feel that, sometimes, those scores work better as album listening experiences than they do in dramatic context – this is especially true of Vangelis – but considering that between them they essentially invented an entirely new sub-genre of film music, and helped define the musical sound of an entire decade, I always appreciate a chance to take a fond look back.

The album starts with two original songs, both of which were written and performed by Bear McCreary with his singer-songwriter brother Brendan McCreary. To say these songs are brilliant would be a massive understatement. They are so good that, had they actually been written and released in 1986, they would legitimately have been chart smash hits in their own right. “24 Karat Case of Love” is a legit banger, steeped in the stylistics and instrumental arrangements of every great 1980s synthpop song, from the use of the iconic drum machines to the perfect saxophone solo; I can hear bits and pieces from so many great artists from that era that it would be pointless to try to list them, suffice to say that the McCreary brothers clearly understand this music deeply, and love it even more. I will say that, as was the case with the song they wrote for This Game’s Called Murder in 2021, Brendan’s vocal performance has more than a passing resemblance to Danny Elfman’s sound with Oingo Boingo, and for me this is a net positive. If this song doesn’t get a Best Song Oscar nomination I will riot.

“Astroblaster and the Beaver Men,” on the other hand, is an absolutely perfect homage to the songs Queen wrote for Flash Gordon in 1980 and Highlander in 1986 – essentially, it’s a mashup between their songs “Flash” and “Princes of the Universe,” with all that implies. It’s stupid, it’s cheesy, it’s over-the-top, it’s hilarious, and it’s brilliant. Brendan McCreary’s vocal impression of Freddie Mercury isn’t bad either. He’s a friend to the beaver men. And the beaver women. And the beaver children. I love buck teeth!

The score’s opening cue, “A Very Unassuming Day,” is essentially an instrumental version of “24 Karat Case of Love” and is a perfect scene-setter, warm and appealing, upbeat and playful, a delicious combination of bouncy and vibrant strings set against the catchy keyboard-driven song melody, but which also has an occasional underpinning sense of pathos and wistfulness that perfectly captures the sensitive personality of Brian, the teenager at the heart of the story.

“In the Pool” is a terrific homage to all those great 1980s saxophone love themes, which acts as a love theme for Brian and his crush, Melody, who he first falls for at a summer pool party a year previously. The sax theme here is not quite the same as the one that features in “24 Karat Case of Love,” but it’s clearly insinuated that they are kindred, and the relationship between the song, Brian’s theme, and this theme is a perfect example of how to link all aspects of a film’s musical makeup.

“Major Murder” is a theme for a 1980s pro wrestler character, and is a propulsive, militaristic, hilariously macho piece which is clearly intended to emulate all those great Mike Post-Pete Carpenter TV themes of the era, especially The A-Team, although I doubt even they would have had a vocalist shouting ‘major murder’ throughout the cue.

“Manager Mike” is the theme for Ken Jeong’s character, the egotistical manager of Brian’s local cinema who loves banning people from his theater and driving in a modified Batmobile called the Movie Mobile. It clearly depicts how Mike sees himself – as the heroic savior of the cinema-going experience – and is a perfect blend of synth action music and driving rock, with occasional dark orchestral and choral outbursts that speak to Mike’s true status as the villain of the piece. Later, cues like the exciting and sometimes Peter Gunn-esque “Banned for Life” and the fantastically rousing “Death to the Moviemobile” revisit the same general sound, with the latter cue underscoring one of the film’s pivotal scenes where the kids trash Mike’s car to punish him for his bullying behavior. I especially appreciate how McCreary works both the saxophone love theme and Brian’s theme into the mix of this latter cue, acknowledging Brian’s strengthening relationship with Melody, and how this helps him and his friends defeat Manager Mike.

“Trailers” is a fantastic trip down memory lane as McCreary pays homage to all the great movie trailer theme tropes of the 1980s: everything from cheerful romantic comedy synths, to wailing buddy-cop saxophones and funk guitars, and spooky and dissonant horror tones in the style of John Carpenter’s Halloween, Harry Manfredini’s Friday the 13th, and Charles Bernstein’s Nightmare on Elm Street. Jerry Goldsmith fans will especially adore the clear homage to Gremlins at the end of the piece, especially that score’s iconic meowing sound effect.

There is a clear sense of depth and resolution in “Friends Don’t Fight,” which at times reminded me of the music one would hear towards the end of a John Hughes teen drama during the pivotal emotional scene. Finally, “Melody’s Melody” features a full performance of the saxophone love theme; I love the way the cue’s fluttering guitars and undulating, bubbling synths have a hint of the classic 1980s pop song “I Ran” by Flock of Seagulls, while also seeming to represent the excitement Brian feels as he walks away hand-in-hand with Melody, firmly set as boyfriend and girlfriend, all his youthful dreams seemingly poised to come true. The almost subliminal synth choir that runs through a lot of the cue enhances this further, teen romance at its finest, and the final statements of Brian’s theme for warm strings and pop keyboards round the whole thing off perfectly.

Something I also want to point out here is the difference between what Bear McCreary is doing here and what composers Michael Stein and Kyle Dixon are doing with their score for the TV series Stranger Things. Both projects are heavily, heavily inspired by 1980s nostalgia, albeit with Stranger Things leaning more towards a sci-fi and horror tone. Both this score and Stranger Things get the sound 100% right – the specific synths and keyboards being used, and the tone of those instruments – but where McCreary’s work excels is in its emotional depth and its actual compositional excellence. Stein and Dixon understood how their music was supposed to sound but effectively stopped at that point, thinking that was enough. McCreary also understood how the music was supposed to sound, but crucially also understood how it was supposed to feel, and that makes all the difference. I’m now thinking about how good a Bear McCreary Stranger Things score could have been.

I cannot recommend The 4:30 Movie highly enough, especially for listeners who grew up in the 1980s, or are fans of that cinematic era. While Bear McCreary absolutely nailed the whole vibe of 1980s mainstream cinema with the sound of his score, he was also able to bring both emotional strength and thematic depth to it in a way that others who have tried the same thing could not, and that’s what really makes it shine. The two original songs that he wrote with his brother Brendan are outstanding, and the whole thing leaves a positive, wholesome, nostalgic impression that I adored.

Buy the 4:30 Movie soundtrack from the Movie Music UK Store

Track Listing:

• 24 Karat Case of Love (feat. Brendan McCreary) (5:28)
• Astroblaster and the Beaver Men (feat. Brendan McCreary) (4:25)
• A Very Unassuming Day (5:14)
• In the Pool (1:27)
• Major Murder (3:44)
• Manager Mike (3:11)
• Trailers (5:00)
• Banned for Life (3:17)
• Friends Don’t Fight (1:47)
• Death to the Moviemobile (6:32)
• Melody’s Melody (6:07)

Sparks & Shadows Records (2024)

Running Time: 46 minutes 11 seconds

Music composed by Bear McCreary. Conducted by XXXX. Orchestrations and arrangements by XXXX. Recorded and mixed by XXXX. Edited by Denise Slenski. Album produced by Bear McCreary.