A Sterile Companion

The soundtrack is inherently flawed. A broken, crumbling piece of art unable to stand on its own two feet, its sole objective to enhance its visual counterpart. Few have risen above the depths of being a simple companion piece and have come to be revered as their own creation, separate from its big screen accompaniment. It’s far more difficult for a soundtrack to become a classic than it is for an album, as they are forced to create a mood for something which is not present when only listening to the record itself, and the primary measure of success or failure on the part of a soundtrack should be whether or not it accomplishes the goal of conveying a mood or tone. On the soundtrack for Arrival, Johan Johannsson succeeds in creating an inquisitive and ominous mood but falls short of creating a classic standalone piece.

Both the film and its soundtrack rely on fluctuations between suspense and a sense of awe. Many of the tracks feature dark, heavy synth work that does a wonderful job communicating the uncertainty that is forever present within the film. There’s a palpable sense of unease as the distant whining choruses are pushed forward by a bass-y rumble that permeates the listener’s chest cavity. The vocals are strange and foreign, much like the threats and beings that are met by the film’s characters. There’s an ever present air of mystery surrounding the soundtrack and the movie as well that push it from being more than just an afterthought, which is a fate suffered by far too many film scores. Though the main theme of the soundtrack may be unease, there is an undeniable sense of wonder and triumph present in many of the tracks, specifically on the closing track “Kangaru”, which reprises vocals from “Heptapod B” and mixes them with a swelling orchestra and bright synth work to capture a feeling of accomplishment that penetrates beyond the confines of onscreen successes and bleeds out into reality. These elements blend together to build a stunning background piece that would serve as wonderful accompaniment to any lonely night drive or stormy evening.

Yet for all the triumphs of this album, it’s hard to feel as though there isn’t something missing, something inherently lacking, that forces the record into a less complete state of existence. This problem again stems from its status as a film score. The tracks on this album are beautifully, almost surgically successful at building an atmosphere to accompany their parent film, but this success pulls away the soul from the art. To listen to this album on its own and expect a truly compelling listen is the same as taking a single ingredient from a recipe and expecting it to taste as good as the final dish. The soundtrack is a seasoning, a spice to accompany a visual product, without the other ingredients its moody production begins to flirt with overbearing, the tracks bleed together and build no imagery. A mood and feeling are built and obsessed over, but without the image to go with them it comes across as blank, soulless, and dead.

This soundtrack is still listenable on its own, as a background, as something lingering in the silent space between storms and long night drives. It is not the record to be pored over obsessively time and time again, flipped over endlessly to see the needle glide across its glossy black surface one more time. It is a concentrated mood, a counterpart, a companion, but it is never a leader or driving force, and while it is one of the most palatable and successful soundtracks of the year, it’s understandable sterility bars the door against its run for a classic status.