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From time to time in the early '80s, the company where my father worked would provide employees with cinema tickets. And so one day my progenitor came home with two tickets for the Adriano, a theater at Piazza Cavour where in 1965 none other than the Beatles played, and offered them to me. I rushed to the movie listings in the Messaggero and saw that Conan the Barbarian was showing.
In that 1982, at 14 years old, two days later I went to the first screening to see this film "not suitable for under 14s." In 2018, a theater in Prague held a festival of old films including this one. I went, determined, with the whole family, wife, and kids. After 36 years, the impact remained intact...
It remains, without a doubt, one of my favorite films, and the music is the ultimate soundtrack. The perfection resides in the transitions that Basil orchestrates as if he were present in the chaos of the barbarism, transforming essence into action; those French horns cause your insides to convulse at the immediacy of a disembowelment. Let’s be clear, the first Conan with a distinguished Mister Universe (great Schwarzenegger!) succeeds in stirring up reminiscences in each of us, and the music is the catalyst for distant past experiences, throwing a rope to continue the ascent: "That which does not kill us makes us stronger," and let’s not overdo it with Nietzsche, everyone has their own level.
From the first piece, Anvil of Crom, when the sword is forged, the chills start and won't leave us. Drums, horns, trumpets, violins, gongs, they rhythm an otherworldly massacre. The non-identifiable roots of the music set us free and create no footholds, launching us into unfathomable antediluvian eras. And to think that De Laurentiis and the production originally opted for a hard rock soundtrack. I believe it was only due to Milius’s determination and the challenge that Basil Poledouris faced epically, and let's also consider a favorable alignment of stars, that the project materialized.
It's clear the music composed was already in Basil and in the soul's baggage that brought him to America, though the ancient name remained with him. On the other hand, the Viking director endorsed with visual blows of a (double-bladed) axe the eternalization that the surprising music would bring. Thus, the sonic flow evokes in unison with the images. Everything materializes in function of the music, all movements are subordinate to the soundtrack that tells us the dark side of barbarism. Through celebratory sounds, we find ourselves saying: "I was there too!" Yes, and your arm got severed with a blow... There is a pre-Atlantis classicism in the symphonies as in the shots, material and solemn as if there were no tomorrow. Arnold is Conan!
When you want to abandon your meditation due to motor needs, remembering that reincarnation involves the use of limbs, it becomes essential to use the pre-civilized epic of Robert E. Howard: crushed skulls, pulverized clavicles, severed limbs, guts to the wind, but also introspection of fears: we clean and sharpen our sword, vigilantly awaiting death.
Invisible parasites urge massacres, needing human blood for sustenance. Too young to escape the indoctrination of violence, we try to mythologize virtues of courage and justice: becoming King only by one's strength. The mark of suffering and pain traces Conan's destiny: massacre, the wheel, blood, freedom, revenge, love, death, return from the Beyond: looking at the horizon, seeing one's hand can still clench into a fist, feeling the blood flow, regaining confidence with the sword at one's side.
Doubts and fears no longer have a place: it's time for revenge, the great wheel of fortune has paid dearly for the VIP box and wants to see a spectacular show. We, with them, will not be disappointed. The unequal struggle galvanizes the endeavor, victory is applauded by the Beyond. The flared nostrils of galloping horses on the brink of battle like the horses sculpted by Phidias on the Parthenon's metopes, now at the British Museum because they were stolen by the English.
The exhilarating timeless compositions of Poledouris masterfully pace the story. Valeria returns, golden goddess, and offers her service: "Do you not wish to live forever?" Conan regains his stance and confronts the giant, breaking that sword forged at the beginning of the film by his father. The final blow is marked by the gush of blood (with accompanying liquid noise) that bursts onto the screen with the Cimmerian blurred in the background. Weakness is washed away, the sword of the Fathers has returned within us, we are ready to face that snake Thulsa Doom head-on... This is epic, this is legend, this is catharsis, CROM!... what chills.
And then in 1983, dad played the prank of dying ...and the chills have never been the same. I miss him...
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