The science fiction film of the 1950s, complete with flying saucers and intergalactic travellers (either friendly or plain monstrous) is usually regarded as something of a cliché of the time – a reaction perhaps to the quick technical advancement that started around that time. But many of these films had political undertones beneath the thrilling, otherworldly setting. Like all art, they mirror the time in which they were created. The Day the Earth Stood Still from 1951 was such a film – a film which works well both as an allegory for current political messages as well as a thrilling piece of fiction. And without doubt this is much owed to the intriguing score by Bernard Herrmann – a highly interesting work with many unusual, and effective, stylistic choices.

When it comes to unusual orchestrations, Bernard Herrmann was a master. His orchestrations often reach far outside the usual symphony orchestra settings, and The Day the Earth Stood Still is no exception. Herrmann here opted to use a brass ensemble of trombones, trumpets and tubas with a large percussion section and double pianos and harps, complemented by a church organ and two Hammond organs, electronically amplified violin, cello, bass and guitar, and, perhaps most importantly, a theremin. The legendary electronic instrument features prominently all over the score, extremely successfully placing an aura of otherworldliness over the music, and its sound, which approaches that of a wordless soprano at times, sometimes raises the music to operatic proportions. As so often with Herrmann, one is amazed by these conscious choices of instrumentation and style which give such an intriguing and unique result.

Not only in the orchestration is Herrmann’s unique compositional touches evident in this score; this is one of those scores that Bernard Herrmann and only Bernard Herrmann could have written. Each note, every passage has Herrmann written all over it. There are moments of the driving, urgent kind Herrmann did so well as well as more atmospheric, calmer writing. There is a lot of driving ostinatos in piano and percussion (the piano use in “Radar” is notable, and reminds vaguely of Jerry Goldsmith’s use of piano in Planet of the Apes seventeen years later) and a rich use of the both sombre and frightening use of the organs. The combination between the high notes of the theremin and the lower register of the organ is effective, giving a feeling of space (“Klaatu”). “Gort” features a short but powerful sequence where heavy brass chords and timpani hit are ornamented by glissandos in the theremin – once again intriguing writing, and the score features a lot of similar cues.

As often is the case with Herrmann, there is no reoccurring thematic material of the normal kind; Herrmann instead bases his music on shorter thematic cells and chord progressions that he inverts and modulates in various ways. This is described in more detail in the liner notes – but even when reading that and listening closely, it is not easy to hear all these musical twists he skilfully inserted in his music to create unity and symmetry. But in truth, strong thematic material is not necessary for music such as this, which in its style carries a personality so strong that it almost makes traditional melodic writing unnecessary. There is such a beauty over all this music – even though it is essentially turbulent and somewhat frightening in its mood. The different instruments are so intricately combined; this is the work of a composer that knew exactly what his instruments could do and what he wanted to accomplish in the music.

Among the highlights of the CD are a more thematic moment however – a beautiful brass choral in “Arlington” and “Lincoln Memorial”. A beautiful violin solo in “Rebirth” is memorable as well. But ultimately, the strong “Prelude”, whose powerful brass chords and driving ostinatos return in “Panic” and “Finale”, is the most memorable moment on the CD – something that stands out in Herrmann’s vast canon.

A word must also be said on the brilliant re-recording. Joel McNeely does (as always) a good, faithful job conducting Herrmann, and Jonathan Allen has done an equally brilliant job as recording engineer. The music is crystal-clear, and even with the usual “concert-hall” recording technique Varèse Sarabande usually employs, the instrumentation is clearly audible. This is especially good in a score such as this, where it is very interesting to hear how the different instruments are used. The whole ensemble has been recorded at the same time, which I always like when they do – there is something more authentic to the dynamics of a recording done like that. Only the theremin had to be separated from the rest of the ensemble when recording, because of the high level of difficulty involved in playing the theremin completely in tune. But that did not stop Celia Sheen, who does the theremin work on the recording, from doing a terrific job with the instrument.

The Day the Earth Stood Still is not particularly easy listening, with its sometimes harsh writing, and it does sometime tend to be rather quiet, moving around among low organ chords, theremin notes and the occasional soft tam-tam crash. But when listening closely, there are a lot of things to be impressed by in this music, and there is always a feeling about it of otherworldliness and awe. The ability to be sparse is important in good film scoring and that is something that many composers seem to forget – but Herrmann did not. The contrast between this score’s larger moments and the more restrained is a great strength of this score. The soundscape of The Day the Earth Stood Still is highly unique and challenging, but also a wonderful listen.