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The World, the Flesh
and the Devil

Miklós Rózsa offers memorable music for a largely forgotten apocalyptic film

*The World, the Flesh and the Devil
*Miklós Rózsa
*53:26 min.
*Film Score Monthly
*MSRP: $19.95 CD

Review by Jeff Berkwits

I n 1901, science-fiction writer Matthew Phipps Shiel penned The Purple Cloud, a chilling tale about the last man left alive after a deadly plume of hydrocyanic acid wipes out civilization. This idea may have seemed utterly fantastic at the turn of the 20th century, but 50 years later, following the development of the atomic bomb, such widespread annihilation was a distinct possibility. The World, the Flesh and the Devil, a 1959 film loosely based upon that novel, updates the story with modern trappings—a cloud of lethal sodium isotope gas now triggers the devastation—and depends not only upon solid acting from Harry Belafonte, Inger Stevens and Mel Ferrer, but also a sensitive orchestral score from legendary Hollywood composer Miklós Rózsa.

Our Pick: B+

"Prelude" introduces two of the movie's main motifs: an aggressive melody hinting at humanity's destruction and a hopeful air for the picture's protagonist, coal miner Ralph Burton (Belafonte). The two elements—one relatively bright, the other brooding—play off one another throughout much of the picture, restated in various guises on cuts like "End of World/Exploring/The Dead City" and "Nostalgia." Soft woodwinds phase in a sweet leitmotif for the lone woman (Stevens) on "Sarah Appears," with the arrival of Benson Thacker (Ferrer) prophetically signaled in "The Third Man" through an inventive reiteration of the film's most menacing theme.

A few unused pieces are also included among the 20 compositions. Dark tunes such as "Disaster," which would have accompanied a cave-in scene, and "Snodgrass's Suicide" were dropped from the completed work, with alternate versions of "Sarah Appears" and the unsettling "Alone" presented alongside the renditions ultimately heard within the production. The liner notes comprehensively outline the plot while providing a partial biography of Rózsa and a detailed breakdown of each track.

Moving melodies flesh out the picture

When a film spotlights only a single actor for much of the story, often the emotional state of that individual is in large part revealed by the supplementary music. The arrival of other people consequently causes turmoil not only within the lead character, but also throughout the score. For nearly half of The World, the Flesh and the Devil, Burton is the only person onscreen, and the soundtrack splendidly captures his myriad feelings. Notwithstanding a few banal moments, Rózsa has crafted an admirable array of cues that truly convey the full range of sentiments—from anger and anguish to anticipation and adoration—experienced by the resourceful survivor.

"Escape" is a powerful piece that indicates Burton's resolve and foreshadows his confusion and frustration. As the trapped miner digs through tons of rubble, quivering violins and low horns dominate, bursting into a tremulous climax when he triumphantly emerges onto the deserted surface. The mood brightens with "Dummies/Light/Shadow Dance," a brisk, jazz-imbued sequence that suggests his relatively upbeat mood when pilfering a pair of department-store mannequins and getting the electricity working at his new Manhattan apartment. On "Spring Fever" and "Friends Again," tender moments between Burton and Sarah are augmented with quiet woodwinds and sweet strings, just as "Crossroads" and "Showdown" furnish far more turbulent, noisy tones during confrontations with the troublesome Thacker.

Rózsa does occasionally employ some cliché elements, such as a wavering vibraphone on "Amnesia" to suggest mental distress, yet, on the whole, the score remains surprisingly fresh. Most fans probably aren't familiar with The World, the Flesh and the Devil—it came out only seven months before On the Beach, an equally serious though much more celebrated post-apocalyptic adventure—but this CD definitely proves that, at the very least, the movie's music deserves to be remembered and respected.

Over the past few years, Film Score Monthly (FSM) magazine has issued a wide range of vintage SF motion-picture soundtracks, including many (like this one) that were previously unavailable in any format. There are one or two other labels that offer similar products, but few have the consistency and quality of FSM's discs. They're fun to hear and review, and I hope there'll be many more to come. — Jeff

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