Minority Report: Steven Spielberg’s 2002 film is about as dense visually as its complicated plot and multiple twists. A modern day take on film noir, you’ll see a lot of shots contrasting light and shadow, mirroring the viewer’s sometimes unclear stance on the morality of what’s going on. In the year 2054, three ‘genetic mistakes’, the precogs, can predict murders long enough in advance to send a police squad to prevent them. But are they altering the future by stopping it from happening? Much of Minority Report leaves the viewer to take their own side on the issue.
This somewhat unique plot device was capitalized on by composer John Williams, by now his 19th collaboration with Spielberg. Most of Minority Report’s score is mixed atonality, with rare diatonicism coinciding with a theme for the protagonist himself and his family. Much of the writing is deliberately disturbing, matching Spielberg’s often dark sense of humour. Williams does well to maintain an overall level of consistency, permeating the film with rambling bass at one end of the spectrum, occasionally shrieking winds and strings in the other, all the while painting a bleak picture of the future despite the apparently ‘perfect’ system. Indeed, it’s when things start to go wrong that the plot gets interesting.
The music of Minority Report can mostly be classified into a few broad categories: the somewhat typical action content, the psychologically dark and uneasy material, and the family theme which instills a sense of longing. Often the line is blurred between the first two, and the level of tension created is formidable. This is especially prevalent in the first sequence in the film, where the viewer is treated to a demonstration of pre-crime in action.
“Pre-Crime To The Rescue” is a good representation of the album, starting with low bass meanderings accompanying the gathering of evidence. By the time the police officers reach the location, viewers are already tense with the clock ticking down, but the pace keeps quickening, building right up to the last instant. It is at T = 0, the moment where the future becomes the present, where a curious musical thing happens:
(It’s impossible to tell exactly what notes are sounding, and which are overtones, due to the nature of the synth sound. The second example occurs later in the film, found at 4:55 in “Leo Crow… The Confrontation”.)
This phenomenon happens at multiple instances during the film, a musical representation of a time paradox. It’s quite effective; just when the pressure couldn’t get any higher, you’re treated with something even more mysteriously puzzling. Above are two examples of this phenomenon, the first of which appears in the excerpt below at 0:36. The following transcription accompanies a scene where the protagonist, a pre-crime officer, runs into a house and grabs the murderer literally in mid-swing. Afterward the suspect is taken away while the ensuing trauma is dealt with.
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(You can imagine the calibre of the players in that the string section stayed pretty much together. Notice how the phrases come across when heard quickly—a lot more clearly than the apparent mash of random notes on paper.)
A curious shift to diatonicism happens as the suspect is apprehended (bar 37). Why the change? This moment makes sense because attention is drawn to the emotional consequences, which up to this point have been absent. Rounding off the scene this way once again enforces the somewhat questionable morality of the whole premise. (As a side note, about 20 seconds of music is missing in the film version, likely a result of a last-minute editing decision. Thankfully, I was able to cut-and-paste the soundtrack version to match.)
Minority Report instills a healthy amount of creepiness if you allow yourself to be caught up in the story. It was generally not well received with critics, likely due to its slow second half. Nonetheless, the production values were as good as any Spielberg film, well-polished from start to finish. The concepts proposed in Philip K. Dick’s short story—which the film was based on—are as relevant today as they were in 1956.
So there is this great game called Music Catch that came out on the internet a while ago. It’s pretty much your average flash game, except for the fact that so many people were taken with the in-game music. It turns out that this song is called “Before Dawn”, written by Isaac Shepard, who himself authored the Music Catch game.
