The Clandestine Marriage is a minor British period comedy, co-produced with
the BBC and staring Nigel Hawthorne and Joan Collins. The film is set in
the mid-eighteenth century and the album offers much that might be expected,
baroque pastiche and English folk-pastoral melody, as well some elements
that might not. The title track opens with harp and wordless vocals by Miriam
leading into an attractively romantic main theme. There are a fair few dances,
the sprightly 'Time Flies', a 'Love Minuet', a 'Rustic Dance', a 'Pageant',
with other cues weaving variations on the main theme. All of which is pleasant,
but almost entirely lacking in both substance and invention, particularly
when set besides recent film music gems for such superior costume comedies
as Rachel Portman's Emma and Stephen Warbeck's Shakespeare in
Love.
The album is marred by the inclusion of two versions of the song 'Secret',
which is as inappropriate as contemporary pop songs virtually always are
in films not set in the last few decades. This is appears as an attempt to
replicate the success of 'My Heart Will Go On', being again a glossy,
artificially produced ballad entirely out-of-keeping both with the film and
the rest of the score, delivered in pseudo-emotional, but comparatively
understated fashion by the mysteriously monikered Miriam. It is more folk
orientated than these things usually are, but in the overproduced way of
Clannad, rather than anything more authentic.
Further damage is inflicted by the inclusion of dialogue on several tracks.
Nigel Hawthorne even 'sings' badly and in character - to mildly amusing effect
in the film but irritating effect on CD - during 'Grand Canal'.
Overall there is too much reliance on variations on main theme of insufficient
strength to sustain the demands placed upon it, and far too much period pastiche
to maintain the interest. As such this is one score where a suite as part
of an anthology disc would be considerably more welcome. These considerations
combined with the unhappy presence of dialogue, plus two versions of routine
pop song, make for a most unsatisfactory listen. Of course the indefatigable
Nic Raine ensures that the whole is thoroughly professional, and the Academy
of St. Martins in the Fields could play this in their sleep. As a souvenir
of the film is passable, but as an independent album it is no more than talking
wallpaper.
Reviewer
Gary S. Dalkin