n Dec. 24, 1968, the crew of Apollo 8 recited from their lunar orbit the opening lines of the book of Genesis in a live broadcast to the people of Earth. The following year, perhaps in part as a response to this unprecedented combination of spirituality and science, Jerry Goldsmith was commissioned to fashion a musical piece based on Ray Bradbury's majestic poem "Christus Apollo." A fresh recording of this idiosyncratic number was recently issued by Telarc International, with actor Anthony Hopkins reading Bradbury's narrative and Goldsmith personally conducting the London Symphony Orchestra and the London Voices.
Subtitled "Cantata Celebrating the Eighth Day of Creation and the Promise of the Ninth," Christus Apollo intermingles classical sounds with age-old theological beliefs, inventive science-fiction concepts and an acknowledgement of humanity's at-the-time-burgeoning interest in outer space. Each of the four distinct movements begins with Hopkins delivering a lengthy fragment of verse. The chorus then continues the recitation with orchestral accompaniment. Once or twice within each section, the actor accents the presentation with an emphatic phrase, though most of the key solo passages are performed by mezzo-soprano Eirian James.
Two other creations by Goldsmith are also included on the disc: "Music for Orchestra," a captivating cut penned in 1970 that is, by turns, both aggressive and reflective, and "Fireworks," a flashy piece written in 1999 celebrating the composer's first concert series at the Hollywood Bowl. The liner notes contain a few brief background paragraphs about each tune, along with the complete libretto for Christus Apollo.
A dated work of senseless wonder
Although Goldsmith is renowned today for his movie music, he actually began his career in the 1950s crafting accompaniment for dramatic radio shows. At least one of those early efforts—for an episode of CBS Radio Workshop—augmented a pair of Bradbury stories ("Season of Disbelief" and "Hail and Farewell"). The composer also penned the score for the film adaptation of The Illustrated Man, which premiered the same year as Christus Apollo. Despite such relatively broad experience supplementing Bradbury's oeuvre, this melodic translation of the author's moving poem is surprisingly incoherent and uninspired.
Hopkins successfully captures the nuances of the work in his dramatic, though at times too resonant, performance, just as the music, written in an unusual 12-tone (dodecaphonic) style, utilizes grand strings and vibrant percussion to generate a suitably uplifting air. Nonetheless, the voices of the chorus are so consistently exaggerated that the words are often unintelligible. As a result, rather than advancing the narrative, the chants—especially when combined with the potent orchestra—produce a disconcerting and seemingly pointless hubbub. The pandemonium is further emphasized by Hopkins' stagy, spoken-word interjections, which inadvertently function as expressive respites amid the otherwise bewildering racket.
With its stirring horns and sweeping melody, "Fireworks" ironically offers a greater musical sense of wonder than the more elaborate interpretation of Bradbury's powerful ode. Three decades ago, the overstated
chorus, curious compositional approach and thought-provoking technological, astronomical and theological concerns of Christus Apollo likely seemed quite daring and avant-garde. Nowadays, the piece simply sounds strident.
