Uploaded March 2011 | Updated September 2026, 2 weeks ago
There can be no discounting of the ongoing popularity of the film Braveheart, even more than a decade after its debut. The Mel Gibson epic, telling a romantic version of the Scottish legend William Wallace and his people's fight for territorial freedom, was an outstanding success at the time of its release in 1995, although the true sign of the film's legacy is its continuing, almost cult-like following many years later. Despite its graphic violence, disturbing methods of killing, and themes of romance lost, the film's quirky sense of humor combined with arguably Gibson's career performance to float the legacy with a maddening stream of interest. The same crowds that flock to the film's bandwagon often discover James Horner's score along the way, and these Braveheart junkies have caused the composer's music to reach phenomenal sales levels on two commercial albums. Profits from Horner's score on the Decca/London label outweigh all three of Horner's concurrent 1995 album releases on MCA Records (Apollo 13, Casper, and Balto) combined. And yet, the two most interesting aspects of Horner's music for Braveheart is its general lack of masculinity in the gravity of its performances and the systematic, obvious statements of typical "Hornerisms" with greater frequency, arguably, than many of his other works. The lack of genuine power in this score, especially compared to a work like Legends of the Fall, is a more nebulous curiosity, but the repetitions of style are as blatant as ever. As he has clearly stated, Horner is inspired by traditional Celtic and Scottish influences in his works (sometimes inserting them when not necessary, and some of his fans have become downright sick of particularly the Irish elements in non-related situations). Naturally, Braveheart would give him the opportunity to pour the latter ethnicity on with all of his romantic power, though the composer continued to blur the lines between cultural sounds, successfully counting on the fact that most listeners won't realize the inappropriateness of the application. After all, if Jerry Goldsmith could use pan pipes for Under Fire (set in Nicaragua), then Horner may as well pull from the Andes region as well and insert a Kena flute into William Wallace's fight for freedom. In the end, does it really matter?
Both mainstream listeners and a healthy portion of Horner fans will argue that Braveheart is the composer's best work of 1995 and thus deserved to win Academy Award that year. Horner's supporters split their votes between this score and the more inspirational Apollo 13 that year, thus allowing the likeable but inferior Il Postino by Luis Bacalov to steal away the statue. Debates about the merits of Braveheart and Apollo 13 will continue, pitting patriotism versus romanticism. Technically and dynamically, Apollo 13 is the more memorable work. On album, Braveheart suffices as a strong background listening experience, with several lengthy passages of lush, but subdued underscore. The first Decca/London album contained a full 77 minutes of Horner's most significant material from the film and continues to be a sales juggernaut. As mentioned before, the final three cues are the main attraction, with Horner's suite of material for the "End Credits" often performed by orchestras around the globe.
(filmtracks.com/titles/braveheart.html)
There can be no discounting of the ongoing popularity of the film Braveheart, even more than a decade after its debut. The Mel Gibson epic, telling a romantic version of the Scottish legend William Wallace and his people's fight for territorial freedom, was an outstanding success at the time of its release in 1995, although the true sign of the film's legacy is its continuing, almost cult-like following many years later. Despite its graphic violence, disturbing methods of killing, and themes of romance lost, the film's quirky sense of humor combined with arguably Gibson's career performance to float the legacy with a maddening stream of interest. The same crowds that flock to the film's bandwagon often discover James Horner's score along the way, and these Braveheart junkies have caused the composer's music to reach phenomenal sales levels on two commercial albums. Profits from Horner's score on the Decca/London label outweigh all three of Horner's concurrent 1995 album releases on MCA Records (Apollo 13, Casper, and Balto) combined. And yet, the two most interesting aspects of Horner's music for Braveheart is its general lack of masculinity in the gravity of its performances and the systematic, obvious statements of typical "Hornerisms" with greater frequency, arguably, than many of his other works. The lack of genuine power in this score, especially compared to a work like Legends of the Fall, is a more nebulous curiosity, but the repetitions of style are as blatant as ever. As he has clearly stated, Horner is inspired by traditional Celtic and Scottish influences in his works (sometimes inserting them when not necessary, and some of his fans have become downright sick of particularly the Irish elements in non-related situations). Naturally, Braveheart would give him the opportunity to pour the latter ethnicity on with all of his romantic power, though the composer continued to blur the lines between cultural sounds, successfully counting on the fact that most listeners won't realize the inappropriateness of the application. After all, if Jerry Goldsmith could use pan pipes for Under Fire (set in Nicaragua), then Horner may as well pull from the Andes region as well and insert a Kena flute into William Wallace's fight for freedom. In the end, does it really matter?
Both mainstream listeners and a healthy portion of Horner fans will argue that Braveheart is the composer's best work of 1995 and thus deserved to win Academy Award that year. Horner's supporters split their votes between this score and the more inspirational Apollo 13 that year, thus allowing the likeable but inferior Il Postino by Luis Bacalov to steal away the statue. Debates about the merits of Braveheart and Apollo 13 will continue, pitting patriotism versus romanticism. Technically and dynamically, Apollo 13 is the more memorable work. On album, Braveheart suffices as a strong background listening experience, with several lengthy passages of lush, but subdued underscore. The first Decca/London album contained a full 77 minutes of Horner's most significant material from the film and continues to be a sales juggernaut. As mentioned before, the final three cues are the main attraction, with Horner's suite of material for the "End Credits" often performed by orchestras around the globe.
(filmtracks.com/titles/braveheart.html)




![WHOLE WIDE WORLD (1996) - Hans Zimmer & Harry Gregson-Williams - Soundtrack Suite
Hans Zimmers credit may headline The Whole Wide World, but in truth the score was written by up-and-coming composer Harry Gregson-Williams, who later proclaimed Hans didnt write any music for [this movie]. In fact, he heard my score for the first time at the premiere. Zimmers fingerprints are nevertheless smeared all over The Whole Wide World bass-heavy synthesizers and bombastic arrangements are just two of his signature moves borrowed wholesale by Gregson-Williams, who also dabbles in a series of melodic contexts spanning from lush romance to epic action to Latin-inspired dance.
When a young man points to the horizon and crows to his date that he ordered up a magnificent sunset just for her, you know you are not in the 1990s but back in some innocent long-ago, eons before the Weather Channel turned climatology into couch-potato entertainment. The Whole Wide World, which includes more than one such florid declaration, is set in the mid-1930s, in West Texas, to be precise.
The character doing the ordering is Robert E. Howard (Vincent DOnofrio), the pulp fiction writer best known for creating Conan the Barbarian. His companion is Novalyne Price (Renee Zellweger), whose 1985 memoir, One Who Walked Alone, from which the film was adapted, remembers her stormy friendship with Robert, who died by his own hand at the age of 30.
Wonderfully acted by Mr. DOnofrio and Ms. Zellweger, the movie, directed by Dan Ireland, is a deep, gently touching study of the relationship between two strong-willed individuals with big dreams and plenty of open sky under which to call them up. Novalyne, an aspiring writer, is a salty, down-to-earth young schoolteacher with a restless heart who knows how to stand up for herself. Ms. Zellweger, memorable in in Jerry Maguire, gives the character a blunt, twangy authenticity.
Robert is a self-absorbed fantasist whose lurid adventure yarns are his escape from a world in which he doesnt fit. Inside the drab rural farmhouse where he lives with his ailing mother and incommunicative father, he conjures up a make-believe life of heroic derring-do and erotic adventure that shocks Novalynes puritanical sensibility.
The movie follows a volatile relationship that involves dates for movies like The 20th Century and that reaches its peak in an impulsive and dramatic kiss on a windswept bluff. The relationship begins to dissolve after Robert announces with characteristic grandiosity that he is not the sort of man to be tied down, and Novalyne, quite sensibly, draws back and begins dating someone else.
Where films about writers tend to shy away from examining the creative process, The Whole Wide World finds comedy in Roberts intense involvement with the typewriter. The first time Novalyne visits him at his home, she hears him from afar excitedly bellowing the words he is committing to paper. Scenes like these evoke the adrenaline rush that every writer feels during a creative streak when words and images are clicking into sentences and paragraphs. But the difference between almost every other writer and Robert is in the degree of his passion. Instead of finding a comfortable energy level and flowing with it, he becomes maniacally carried away.
The movies view of this disturbed young author finds just the right balance between affection and pity, admiration and criticism. Robert is a mamas boy under the spell of a seductive, sickly mother (Ann Wedgeworth) who is slowly wasting away from an unidentified illness. His slavish devotion, at once selfless and neurotically dependent, exacts a steep psychological price, and he is prone to violent tantrums. In the films most unsettling scene, he becomes so enraged when his car wont start that he grabs a knife, rushes into a cornfield and furiously slashes away at everything in sight.
But in Mr. DOnofrios finely shaded performance, Robert is as much a charmer as he is a problem child. He has a winning streak of gallantry, and his enthusiasm and mental energy can be dazzling.
The Whole Wide World focuses so intently on Novalyne and Roberts friendship that it pays only cursory attention to the world around them. The other people in their lives are shadowy fringe figures. For all the characters tumult, the emotional journey that the movie follows feels somewhat flat. When, at the very end, the tone of the film turns stickily sentimental, you can feel the movie awkwardly trying to sum itself up with a grand gesture.
But how many movies have you seen lately that portray a complicated relationship between intelligent young adults exchanging thoughts about life and art who really listen to each other? The Whole Wide World does exactly that, and its no mean feat. WHOLE WIDE WORLD (1996) - Hans Zimmer & Harry Gregson-Williams - Soundtrack Suite](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/vEtywcQGeXo/mqdefault.jpg)





