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Rating: From Pesaro, seventy-six years old, over two hundred soundtracks composed between 1954 and 2006, husband of Katyna Ranieri, numerous appearances as a special guest in various works of countless bands, Italian and otherwise, the ideal "frontman"—if you can really call him that—of a light music orchestra. In a few words, seventy-six years and not feeling it.
This is the extraordinary résumé of Riziero "Riz" Ortolani, one of the most important, renowned, appreciated, and prolific composers of the Twentieth Century. A man who, despite still working productively today, is surrounded by an aura of legend: a man who has made (and continues to make) music his raison d'être, managing to reinvent himself every time and amaze the immense number of aficionados who have followed him for ages. Yes, because one of the particularities that have made Maestro Ortolani what he is today is the incredible musical flexibility he manages to express in each of his works: from jazz to classical, to electronic, to ambient, to rock, to baroque. And each time, the skill with which these genres are handled and shaped according to the most appropriate needs, consistently invokes cries of miracle: the old man really knows his stuff.
As already mentioned above, in Ortolani's extensive discography, considerable, if not total, importance is given to soundtracks, which more than any other identify the director: ranging from westerns to light comedies, to dramas, to horror films, to theatrical pieces, and even to the spectacular, Tarantino-esque Kill Bill Vol.1 and Kill Bill Vol.2 which, as we all know, are very recent productions. For this imaginative proposal, Ortolani is often compared to other illustrious names with much more than brilliant precedents in the field of soundtracks (Ennio Morricone and Goblin docet, in short).
One of the most famous and at the same time discussed works of Riz Ortolani is certainly the wonderful musical accompaniment to one of the most gruesome and controversial Italian films ever produced: "Cannibal Holocaust", the film by Ruggero Deodato from 1979. For those interested in the technical development of the story and the relationship between the composer from Marche and the director from Calabria, without too many panegyrics, you can watch this mini-interview. For those who want to discover something about the film in question, you can read the review by Happypippo linked above. Remaining in the purely musical field, beyond the "shock content," more or less shareable, of the film, it can certainly be stated that this soundtrack is a beautiful jewel of exquisite brightness, certainly to be rediscovered, which has remained too long overshadowed by the ambiguous intricacies of the burdensome feature film projected over it. Ten different compositions, for a total of thirty-three minutes of real poetry-made music. Thirty-three minutes, in which Maestro Ortolani relies on an orchestra to give a sound, a consistency, a connection, an even stronger impact to the already shocking images of the projection.
The result is nothing short of amazing. The story goes that Ortolani was kindly asked by Deodato himself to actively participate in the development of "Cannibal Holocaust" with, precisely, a sound contribution. The funny twist of the story is that the composer had to work without first having watched the film: without, therefore, the slightest idea of what he would have to score. Only later, with an ecstatic Deodato behind him, after the editing was completed, did he have the chance to watch the entire film. Honestly, I don't know how true the anecdote is: there would be no reason to doubt Ortolani's word, it's true, except that the problem (...problem?) lies precisely in the soundtrack. He couldn't have composed better music than this, there's no question about that, but it's curious how the harmonies perfectly match the director's final vision. Was it just a coincidence?
The main themes of "Cannibal Holocaust" are essentially three: the title track that opens and closes the film ["Cannibal Holocaust (Main Theme)" and "Cannibal Holocaust (End Titles)"], the melody accompanying the stoning of an adulterous Yanamomo ("Adulteress' Punishment"), and the surprise ending involving the four psychotic cameramen ("Massacre Of The Troupe"). To these, we must then add some minor themes, such as "Crucified Woman" and "Drinking Coco". But all the songs, more or less, denote an absolutely superlative and uncommon level of composition. Ortolani often plays with the light/dark relationship of the tracks: sweet and intoxicating melodies clash dramatically with dark, electronic chasms, almost to remind one of the true nature of the film.
Thus the guitar riff, barely hinted at, which introduces the vaporous synthesizers and the cloud of strings in "Cannibal Holocaust (Main Theme)", lending a nostalgic, pleasant, and strongly evocative effect to it all, must deal with the industrial tingles surrounding the aforementioned "Adulteress' Punishment", a macabre little theater that, with its sudden inserts of violas and cellos, saturates the listener's eardrums with dramatic pathos, making them foresee what will happen to the poor woman, and pushing their imagination to the limits of the most paroxysmal emotion. The real one, not saccharine or syrupy, the true emotion and pity, which do not reside in Hollywood, except rarely.
Then, Ortolani goes even further: the dramatic andante, with almost religious tones, of the poignant "Crucified Woman", once again for guitar and strings (listen to believe) goes hand in hand with the carefree dub of "Relaxing In The Savana", where syncopated rhythms, almost from a dancehall, alternate with the notes of a childishly engraved piano, without having the side effect of pseudo-grotesque. On the contrary, the elegance that emanates even from the crudest bass is such as to leave one overwhelmed. Yet again, the whirlwind random of "Savage Rite", a hybrid between "Adulteress' Punishment" and "Massacre Of The Troupe", which underscores the macabre ritual performed on a giant tortoise, introduces "Drinking Coco", perhaps the only half misstep of the record, in that the jazzy pulses emerging from the latent piano are mixed and partly smothered by an acidic Latin guitar, which could well be in the arms of Santana, and by Caribbean rhythms that have little or nothing to do with the film's elaborate mists. "Love With Fun", instead, is a slowed-down variation of the main theme, where the assertive violins gradually fade towards a whirlwind of bongos, marked by an obsessive and tribal rhythm.
And yet, there's something even better. Because the "Cameramen's Recreation" and "Massacre Of The Troupe" combo is a one-two punch for immediate KO, those that hit, swift and sinuous, and leave no hope. The first seems, at times, to be part of Naked City's repertoire: although the melody remains always well perceptible, the funky beats that open it all gradually fade towards pseudo-jazz inserts, heavily contaminated by electronic, that leave the listener disoriented. As if that weren't enough, over the whole looms a cartoonish, lively, and very amusing atmosphere, à la Donald Duck, which certainly wouldn't hint at the approaching earthquake. Because "Massacre Of The Troupe" is a real seismic event: it is the engine of the film, it is the track that most of all exudes the cannibal holocaust, the deviant and morbid killings captured precisely in these scenes, it is the piece that even crowned the trailer of the film. It is the apocalypse made into a note, the roar of justice taking shape and violently unleashing against the ignoble: it is the loop that reverberates oppressively among granite and oily sound walls, it is the insistent sound that crashes against the angular strings, that penetrates the violinist's hand and drives it to the extreme, into the dark and cold tunnel of madness. And there's no mercy for whoever brought all this to life: an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. No compromise.
Regardless of your cinematic tastes and the influence, whether positive or negative, that "Cannibal Holocaust" may have had on you, this is certainly a work to own, perhaps an original, to treasure, to bring out occasionally, to let yourself be seduced and kidnapped by. It is the right but distressing requiem for four kids, who had the sole misfortune of being born.
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