CHALLENGING THE PERCEPTION OF EVGENY GALPERINE: Music, the Search for Meaning, and Luc Besson (Part III)
Evgeny Galperine. Photo by Craig McDean / kcrw.com
On the eve of the release of the «intelligent» Hollywood blockbuster Kraven the Hunter — the sixth installment in the Spider-Man Universe franchise — film critic Andrei Alferov sat down with one of the leading contemporary French film composers, Evgeny Galperine . Their conversation explored the nature of film music, Galperine’s childhood in Kyiv, his experiences with antisemitism, and the lifesaving role of cinema in his life. Topics included finding the keys to others’ cinematic stories, Luc Besson’s complex personality, the frozen sexuality in the Emmanuelle remake, Hollywood’s intellectual blockbusters and series, and the maturity of a film composer.
A. A.: What have you come to understand about the nature of female sexuality while working on the remake of the iconic film Emmanuelle (2024), with its sophisticated, fragile, and teasing music?
E. G.: It was an ode to liberated female sexuality. But in the case of the Emmanuelle remake, we faced the challenge of not only the cult status of the original film but also the iconic music you mentioned. That «teasing» melody (laughs) truly became a part of popular culture and remains etched in the memory of generations.
I remember one of the producers approaching me at a party even before filming began, saying, «You need to find a melody that becomes as popular as the one in the original film», I tried to explain that perhaps our goals would be entirely different, but he wouldn’t listen.
In truth, the Emmanuelle remake carries a completely different message. If the original with Sylvia Kristel is seduced and liberated, the new film is, on the contrary, about the process of repression. It’s a story about how people, entirely focused on themselves, their careers, and their well-being, lose the ability not only to form close relationships but even to enjoy sex, which could have provided an escape.
The protagonist is a woman who has everything but is utterly incapable of feeling pleasure, including sexual pleasure. And the male partner in her story suffers from the same «illness» — apathy, impotence. In my view, it’s a brilliant reflection of today’s world.
Finding a musical solution for such material wasn’t easy. At first, I drew inspiration from the setting of a bizarre hotel reminiscent of a parallel world in the tradition of David Lynch, where its inhabitants engage in absurd and unsettling debauchery. But it soon became clear that the old cinematic codes no longer worked.
That’s when the motif of frozen female sexuality emerged — the music expresses what she longs for: sensuality, emotion, and trembling anticipation. All of this is present in the music. A desire for awakening.
A. A.: Does the release of your solo album Theory of Becoming (2022) mean that working on film scores doesn’t give you enough creative freedom?
E. G.: Probably, yes. When you spend your whole life composing music for other people’s films, sooner or later, you feel the urge to say something of your own, to step beyond the confines of cinema. It’s neither good nor bad — it’s just the way it is.
Take Morricone, for example. He spent half his life tormented by the fact that he couldn’t compose music outside of cinema. He had a wealth of contemporary classical and avant-garde music, but it failed to resonate with professionals or audiences. He was tied to radical musicians from the Gruppo di Improvvisazione Nuova Consonanza, who aimed to develop post-war European avant-garde music. Echoes of this collaboration could be found in his «new music» — avant-garde, atonal pieces. They weren’t exactly suitable for a concert hall, but paired with a gripping film scene, they worked brilliantly.
I completely understand Morricone now. I, too, have felt that I can and want to say something personal outside the context of cinema. Sometimes, the music you want to write is too complex, too unique, or too avant-garde for a film. In cinema, the director tells their story, and you realize you have your own story to tell independently.
Up until I turned forty, I thought film music offered everything I needed. The constant change of films, genres, the chance to compose electronic, symphonic, or experimental music — it was perfect. But around the age of forty-five, I felt there was something else inside me that I wanted to express. That’s how I began working on Theory of Becoming, not knowing which label would release it or how it would be received.
When the album was almost finished, I sent it to various labels. Some praised it, while others didn’t understand it. These days, atmospheric music that can be played in the background sells best. Modern life is so fast-paced that people often can’t focus on just one thing.
A positive response came from the German label ECM, founded by Manfred Eicher in the 1970s. It was unexpected and very gratifying. The album was received wonderfully, and I got a lot of praise from listeners who know how to truly engage with music without distractions. That matters because my music isn’t background — it pulls you out of the everyday.
Now, I’m working on my second album. I don’t know how long it will take, as it’s a challenging process, especially alongside composing for films and a busy life. But I hope to finish it in a year or two. It will bring something new yet still stay connected to people and listeners.
A. A.: What do you mean?
E. G.: You see, there is no music without a listener. It’s important to captivate people, even considering their diminished ability to focus on an artistic piece for an extended time. I sometimes struggle to concentrate on something for long myself, so I understand that it’s something we need to overcome.
A. A.: Your music captivates not only regular listeners but also great masters whose attention is often unreachable. For instance, Martin Scorsese seriously considered including compositions from Theory of Becoming in his film Killers of the Flower Moon (2023). How does it feel when such legends take notice of your work?
E. G.: Yes, one of the pieces from the album, This Town Will Burn Before Dawn, was indeed a contender for Scorsese’s film. Initially, there were discussions about it becoming one of the themes or even playing over the end credits.
Scorsese was familiar with our (mine and Sasha’s) work and had meaningful conversations about us with his music supervisor, who knew our compositions. We started corresponding, and I sent him that music while still working on the album. He really liked it.
Although Scorsese didn’t promise anything, it was clear that he was seriously considering it. At one point, he even asked for additional versions of the piece. But ultimately, it became clear that the film’s score would be composed by Robbie Robertson, Scorsese’s longtime friend and collaborator.
Robertson, founder of the Canadian group The Band, was not only an extraordinary musician but also Native American — his mother came from a Canadian Indigenous tribe. This was his final work, as he passed away before the film’s premiere at Cannes.
It was undoubtedly the right choice by Scorsese. The film tells a powerful, harrowing story, and Robertson’s music, steeped in Indigenous traditions, became a vital element, resonating as if told from the first person.
My music wouldn’t have fit the film. It’s too intellectual, too modern, and didn’t suit the primal, almost primitive world of 1920s America. Initially, it might have worked conceptually when the film was still in development. But once editing began and the story took shape, it became clear that my music could only echo the narrative.
In a way, This Town Will Burn Before Dawn is that echo. When I composed it, I was thinking about the story, my conversations with Scorsese, and the book Killers of the Flower Moon. That book — a piece of investigative journalism — shook me even more than the film itself. It resonated with contemporary events: the annexation of Crimea, mass unrest in America, and mobs sweeping everything in their path.
This piece, inspired by a story from the past, also reflects today’s madness and the monstrous regression we are experiencing.
A. A.: At what age does a composer reach creative maturity?
E. G.: I think creative maturity is the moment when you develop your own language. And that language emerges through experience — both creative and human. Once you finally discover your language, your voice, you begin to uncover its possibilities and expanses for yourself. It’s entirely possible that there are several levels of this «maturity» still ahead…
Photo provided by Evgeny Galperin
