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'The Beach' is not a desert island disc
I think Danny Boyle is a great director, and I like his work. His true talent, however, lies in his ability to transform books into movies into soundtracks, all the while keeping true to the original vision. After Trainspotting, I couldn't listen to Brian Eno without imagining myself swimming through subtropic toilet worlds, or hear Underworld without seeing wall-crawling infant zombies. Sure, these kinds of juxtapositions are starting to wear thin, as movies start to look more like music videos and vice-versa, but it's still great when someone matches just the right scene with just the right music—resulting in some indelible visionary thing which defines a generation and all that shit. And that's what I like about Danny Boyle.
And that is why I will forgive him for this sad, lonely bastard of a soundtrack. Just look at the names on the "featuring..." sticker—Leftfield, All Saints, Moby, Underworld, Sugar Ray, New Order, Blur, UNKLE, Orbital—all shepherded, supervised, and executive produced by the celebrated house DJ Pete Tong. "This should kick ass!" you think to yourself. You couldn't be blamed for expecting another inspired techno-pop extravaganza, perfect for long car trips, impromptu social gatherings, or hookups. But for the most part you would be wrong.
First, Leftfield gives us one of their stark analog beatbox workouts; nothing amazing, but a fitting ode to the whole modern world commentary which opens the movie. Following this is a series of tunes which establish the "tropical paradise" thing; All Saints' "Pure Shores" sounds like an overproduced rip-off of a Pepsi commercial, complete with glib happy beats and breathy female harmonies; Moby's "Porcelain" flows in a similar vein, just moodier. The highlight in this part of the album actually comes from Sugar Ray, which covers Eno and John Cale's "Spinning Away" over some tropical-sounding guitar spankery, just because it is a pretty song.
The thematic turning point comes with Blur's "On Your Own," which sets a punk form over fast chaotic drum 'n' bass style programming. I imagine this is where the island people start going crazy and becoming violent. The album accordingly descends into realms of the dark, the artsy, and the perverse. Hardfloor's "Yeke Yeke" weds ethnic chant-songs with trancey beats and busy acid bass lines, while Barry Adamson's "Richard" puts warped machine music with affected war sounds and a soldier's monologue. Gunshots everywhere! Leo is wounded! Help!
The real problem is that all the electronic tunes are too acoustic, and all the acoustic tunes are too electronic. Perhaps this is meant to be some clever and insightful commentary on the nature of man's relationship with technology. I don't know. I'm sure I'll come to appreciate The Beach better once I've seen The Beach. Maybe I'll even read The Beach. But right now, the nearest reference point is Trainspotting, the idea of which was borne out of Trainspotting, and The Beach is decidedly worse than Trainspotting. It doesn't completely suck, but rather lacks that special Boyle something which I had hoped it would have. (London)
—Eugene Chung
All materials © 2000 The Yale Herald, Inc., and its staff.
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