I think an interesting experiment would be to watch the film with the original music, then watch it with the new music, to see how they compare.

Scott

< Philip Glass is not your usual Hollywood hired hand. Sometimes erroneuosly referred to as a minimalist composer, the prolific Glass is anything but, which is why he is such an interesting choice to write an original score for a classic film that never had one.
Universal recently released Todd Browning's 1931 Dracula on video (14.98) with a newly written score by Glass. It's performed by the acclaimed string ensemble the Kronos Quartet.
Glass, who has written everything from operas and symphonic works to ballads, has too often been given short shrift by classical critics who dislike his repetitive style, overlooking his use of rhythm and dynamics to create music that is just as moving as any from long-dead classical icons. Luckily, as his body of work has grown, so has Glass' prestige. The recent premiere of his Symphony No. 5 (Choral): Requiem, Bardo, and Nirmanakaya in Salzburg, Austria, met with strong praise.
Glass' choice of films to score is as interesting and eclectic as the composer's music. He has worked with directors Martin Scorsese (Kundun), Paul Schrader (Mishima), Errol Morris (Thin Blue Line) and Godfrey Reggio on Koyaanisqatsi, a dazzling cinematic feast that relies totally on Glass' score. In addition, you probably heard Glass' music in The Truman Show last year. Not a bad group of films to spend a couple of evenings viewing on video.
As for why he decided to score a 68-year old horror film, Glass explains by saying that "many films have been made on Dracula since... however, none are equal in eloquence or the sheer power to move us."
Glass was being a bit kind. Dracula was served well by director Browning's strange sensibilities and Bela Lugosi's alternately mesmerizing and hammy performance. But Browning was no great shakes as a director.
To be fair, Browning, like most directors at the time, had not yet come to grips with the sound era. Dracula, which was based on a stage play, moodily creaks along, punctuated by creepy shots - whether a close up of the distorted face of Lugosi or a slithering snake - that makes your skin crawl a bit.
Glass' evocative new soundtrack points up the strength and weaknesses of the film. (The original film did not have a score, though bits of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake were used sparingly). At times, Glass' sweeping music clashes with the slow-moving action, making it more apparent how hamstrung Browning was by the awkward way sound was recorded at the time; other times Glass' music will enliven a scene, such as the trip up to Castle Dracula. At its best, Glass' music, while maintaining his distinctive sound, meshes with the macabre nature of the film.
Tampering with a supposed "classic" will rankle some film buffs the way colorization did, but there are differences.
Dracula came out in that in between era when sound systems were still being installed in many theaters, and it was actually shown as a silent film in some places. The film's lack of a score was due more to primitive technology than choice.
And now there is more than cinematic curiousity and camp for reasons to watch Dracula: a provocative soundtrack.
Film purists may call it a trick, but it's really a treat. >

But, back to your point, yes, I too would call Glass a minimalist. Some of his work, anyway.

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