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"A magical combination of sound and image."
Bill Mousoulis, Senses of Cinema MIFF Daily Reports, 2004"... most interestingly, Philip Brophy's sonic “intervention” to Philippe Garrel's silent film of 1968 Le Révélateur, (which marks) the breach between Garrel's original film and the new entity that emerges through Brophy's score."
Rolando Caputo, Senses of Cinema, MIFF Report, issue 33, 2004"We can only wonder how Philippe Garrel would respond, but I sense this is the music he might have chosen."
Robert Lort , Realtime No. 72, 2006
"A magical combination of sound and image. From its Joy Division-inspired opening, through to its appropriation of David Bowie's “Heroes”, the score is charged with emotion and filled with mythic and poetic grandeur. Which suits Philippe Garrel's original film – with its strange, beautiful, “performance art” images – down to a tee."
Bill Mousoulis, Senses of Cinema MIFF Daily Reports, 2004
"(This year's Melbourne International Film Festival programming included) ... a radical flank with many admirable political documentaries; a focus on the Middle East (including the excellent work of the droll Palestinian artist Elia Suleiman); and demanding, rewarding, unique films such as Travis Wilkerson's An Injury to One and Philippe Garrel's psychodrama Le Revelateur (1968; in a live music performance by Philip Brophy, as Aurevelateur)."
Adrian Martin, The Age, Melbourne, August 6th 2004
"Is there not a kind of “sonic haunting” taking place in the vogue for live score accompaniment to old films? This year there were Ernesto Maurice Corpus's scores to Tod Browning's classic The Unknown (1927) and the Australian film The Man From Kangaroo (Willfred Lucas, 1920), In The Nursery's score to the remarkable Japanese avant-garde film A Page of Madness (Teinosuke Kinugasa, 1927) and perhaps most interestingly, Philip Brophy's sonic “intervention” to Philippe Garrel's silent film of 1968 Le Révélateur, and, to mark the breach between Garrel's original film and the new entity that emerges through Brophy's score, the event was titled Aurévélateur."
Rolando Caputo , Senses of Cinema, MIFF Report, Issue 33, 2004
"Over 2 nights the Brisbane Powerhouse presented the live film music of Philip Brophy, the second night featuring a score for Philippe Garrel's controversial silent film Le Révélateur (1968). Brophy's background includes work as film director, sound designer, lecturer, film programmer and curator. He is probably best known for his visceral Cronenberg styled feature Body Melt (1993). The first night's focus on Japanese animation, with vibrant colour and slick sound design attests to the stark contrasts in Brophy's encompassing versatility. His multi-lateral approach to media is perhaps summed up in his statement, "I become [the media] in order to unbecome myself."
The soundtrack grants us unimpeded access to the emotional interiority of film and thus easily assumes semantic dominance, hence the challenges confronting the score composer. In Dolby Digital 5.1 surround sound, Brophy commendably takes up the challenge of providing a score that goes beyond Brian Eno-esque clichés and the ever prevalent insert-Arvo-Pärt-here.
The rarely screened Le Révélateur is a hauntingly apocalyptic film composed in stark black and white contrasts of a man, woman and neglected child in psychological crisis. Reputedly the entire cast and crew took LSD before shooting; the eyes of the woman as she descends the staircase holding the rail with both hands makes this apparent. The characters, as though trapped in a box, avoid making any connection; like silent puppets they stare out at a bleak world. The now less tangible political context of the film was its birth in Garrel's traumatic internalisation of the Paris riots of May '68, the resulting deflated ambitions and unrealised dreams and the consequent police crackdown and the dispersal of militants, propelling Garrel to Munich where he began filming.
In Brophy's soundtrack the selection of music is historically decontextualised from the film's 1968 origins; beginning with the violent and sinister eroticism of the Velvet Underground, it forward tracks through 70s German Krautrock to David Bowie and Joy Division. The harsh discordant guitar chords provided live by Dave Brown are thematically linked to Garrel's 10 year romance with Nico (of the Velvet Underground). The savagery of menacing, pulsing, jagged edged sounds merges seamlessly with the stripped back and raw cinematic imagery. The cross-fading oscillation between over-exposed whites and an impenetrable darkness is recomposed in the auditory realm via the contrast of shrill explosions of electric guitar with the brooding darkness of the bass. A parallel dialogue between the gruesome aversions of the parents and the hopeful playfulness of the child is suggested in guitar versus keyboard. The protagonists' persistent closeness to the ground--on their knees or hiding in the grass--is emphasised by scraping, rumbling and granular sound textures. In an additional original move, a female voice is added to the soundtrack coinciding with scenes where the woman turns to face the camera.
Brophy's soundtrack emulates the stylistic structure of the film; the circular tracking shots of the camera correspond with the child tramping in circles, which correlate well with the repetition and looping of Krautrock. In one scene the child becomes a voyeur, watching his parents violently confront each other on a miniature theatre stage; the silence of the film is now embellished by wailing, distorted guitar. In the latter half of the film the child resolves his anguish, this is marked not only by his escape from the forest, but also his swapping the ever present doll for a can of fly spray. In Brophy's soundtrack this development is signposted by the introduction of a cover version of David Bowie's Heroes--perhaps forever embedded in the cinematic psyche with flight since its use in Christiane F as the 'sound' junkies flee from the police through the corridors of an emptied shopping mall. We can only wonder how Philippe Garrel would respond, but I sense this is the music he might have chosen.."
Robert Lort, Realtime No. 72, 2006
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