Björk: Selmasongs

As an album, Selmasongs, named for Björk's character in the movie, is beautiful but uneven. It is also very short, consisting of just seven songs. The tracks bear Björk's trademark guileless, futuristic sound and the sparkle of her blithe, soaring voice with that accent that makes her sound like she's speaking baby-talk—plus a heavy dose of orchestral strings and flutes and horns. The first track, a maudlin instrumental overture that could just as easily have been part of the Jurassic Park score, sets the tone.

This is not just a Björk album. It is a soundtrack, not to a movie but to a musical. The Selmasongs don't play in the background of von Trier's film. Instead, they're sung by the cast; every time a song begins, the movie's colors grow brighter, a dance troupe assembles out of nowhere, West Side Story-style, and Selma enters her fantasy world. This is not done without irony: at one point in the movie, Jeff (Peter Stormare) tells Selma he's always wondered why characters in musicals burst into song the way they do. Sure enough, a few minutes later Jeff bursts into song.

Selmasongs' status as cast-recording-cum-Björk-album puts it in a strange position: it is more conventional than Björk and less conventional than, say, Oliver. Its dual role gives it a double meaning. If you listen to the album first, as I did, you will find it striking, but inconsistent and fleeting. Then you will go see the movie and the album will become something else entirely. Rather than a collection of songs, it is a programmatic narrative; rather than a series of expressed emotions, it is a person's individual story. The brightness of the melodies soon takes on an edge of nearly unbearable pathos. I can't tell you why without spoiling the movie, but I can tell you that track three, "I've Seen It All," made me cry.

Imagine "Sixteen Going on Seventeen" without The Sound of Music, and you'll understand what's wrong with Selmasongs as an album alone. The song would still be lively and flirtatious, but it wouldn't have the sense of urgency the film's plot lends it, and its presence on the same album as "Do-Re-Mi" would be a thematic puzzle. Standing alone, Selmasongs is a collection of pretty, naïve little Björk numbers. Particularly lovely are "I've Seen It All," a duet with the important Thom Yorke of Radiohead singing in lower-than-usual range, and "New World," which echoes the theme of the overture to chilling effect. But they aren't about what you think they're about before you see the film. In context, they are perfect for Dancer in the Dark, and the movie is perfect for them.

Björk, who does an excellent job as an actress in Dancer, may never star in another movie—rumor has it the feisty Icelander was a terror to work with. At least she picked the right one. Dancer in the Dark is an important movie for many reasons; one of them is its innovative score. Selmasongs, while not a fantastic album, is an important soundtrack. (Elektra)

—Molly Ball

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