Mr. Cellophane

In a location adjacent to a place in a city of some significance, what comes out of my head is plastered on the walls of this blog.

Monday, July 06, 2020

Ennio Morricone (1928-2020)

What can one say about, inarguably, one of the most prolific and uniquely talented composers to ever work in film? Who knows, but it is truly astonishing that Ennio Morricone could write as many as 500 scores in virtually every genre one can think of and yet (with, I presume, rare exceptions; I haven't heard them all), none of them sound like each other.

The haunting whistle and trumpet of L'Arena. The peppy excitement of So Fine. The beautiful gloom of White Dog. The noble heroism of The Untouchables. The crazed madness of Exorcist II: the Heretic. The idiosyncratic oddness of his spaghetti Westerns.

Let's face it: people more talented than myself will eulogize him much better than I ever could, so let's just let his music speak for itself:









Arrivederci, Maestro.

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