It’s hard to believe the first Italian film in CinemaScope and 4-track stereo (and winner of the Grand Silver Plaque in Berlin, and Jury Special Prize in Cannes) isn’t available on DVD, but perhaps Alhambra’s CD might solve the problem, pushing someone to free up the film for home video or TV distribution.

Angelo Francesco Lavagnino’s score actually enjoyed a number of releases during the fifties, spanning the original MGM LP, vocal theme renditions by Mick Micheyl, and arrangements by Michel Legrand.

The original mono MGM LP from 1957 featured roughly 28 mins. of score, but some of the cues featured sound effects (rowing, splashing, and other water movements), and the fidelity was pretty flat and shrill in the high ends.

Alhambra’s CD was mastered from the composer’s own stereo tapes, and sounds pristine, due to the label’s top-notch engineering. Many of the score’s sonic nuances – striking currents of bass tones (“Volcanoes / The House of God”) subtle tones, chimes, and delicate orchestrations – come through crystal clear, and one can relish the smooth transitions in cues like “The Wedding,” where shimmering xylophone and flutes engage in a dreamy dialogue of tones, echoes, and gentle rising of clarinet. “Temple” is equally stunning, with vibes and intersecting harmonies affected by a dominant, ethereal chorus. Lavagnino creates exotica through selective instrumentation, and the vocal parts are weirdly pliable, creating a slight Polynesian-styled melody without sounding clichéd through a Westernized filter.

Within the nearly hour-long score are dreamy cues, evocations of Polynesian ceremonial sounds, slight allusions to other ethnic cultures (South Asian, Asian), and a deliberate sense of propelling the listener on a lengthy, otherworldly journey.

It is easy to brand The Lost Continent as exotica, but there’s much more at work in this stellar score. The film was reportedly plotless, and its three directors (Enrico Gras, Giorgio Moser, and Leonardo Bonzi) created sequences linked to the primary theme of cultural ties from a missing land bridge between Australia and Asia. Lavagnino’s role was to glue the scenes into a mystical trip, and there’s little doubt the film was an attempt to ride on the success of Cinerama travelogues, as well as CinemaScope films designed to show-off foreign locations instead of plot and characters.

Much like Robert Flaherty’s documentary films, score was a primary ingredient, and the richness of Lavagnino’s music was tied to montages of differing cultures, religion, and dance. Lavagnino’s music has an inherently dreamy quality, and in his best work he was less reliant on themes, and seemed to relish creating atmospheric music that plunged a listener (or cinemagoer) into a locale as deep as possible.

Limited to 500 copies (why so few?), Alhambra’s CD certainly compels repeated listening, and the booklet contains solid liner notes and plenty of vintage campaign art, plus a discography of other score and cover theme releases.

Alhambra’s other related CD is Empire of the Sun / L’impero del sole (1955), the first of co-director Enrico Gras’ two-part travelogue series.

© 2008 Mark R. Hasan