Ennio Morricone - The O2, London 05/02/15

Despite only recently returning to touring after spinal surgery last year, Il Maestro strides to centre stage with remarkable purpose for someone of his vintage. After a modest nod toward his already-won-over audience, he launches the Czech National Symphony Orchestra into “The Strength of the Righteous” a dark, chugging theme from The Untouchables, Brian De Palma’s underrated Prohibition drama. A leftfield opener I’d say, but what more would you expect from the man who snuck the musique-concrete ideas of Stockhausen and his ilk into the mainstream via low-budget Euro-westerns (more of which a little later).

The scores are arranged into 15 or 20 minute suites, and both selection and arrangement of the music is immaculate throughout. I wonder for a moment whether the 86-year-old works with a younger, finger-on-the--pulse musical director – as Brian Wilson does with Darian Shanaja – but quickly dismiss the idea. A man who has written over 500 original scores clearly has a pretty good idea of how to bring choose and present different compositions for maximum impact. “The Strength of the Righteous” segues into a series of the greatest themes from “Once Upon A Time In America”, the evening’s first nod to Morricone’s most celebrated collaborator, Sergio Leone. “Deborah’s Theme” in particular is vintage Ennio – an aching overture of romance and sadness. It's just a shame that Celine Dion's horrific version from a recent tribute album lingers in my mind whenever I hear it now.

The second suite is the least consistent of the night thematically although there's certainly no drop in quality - when Morricone played the same songs in his last visit to London, he called it "Scattered Sheets". It is an eye-opening showcase of his versatility as a composer. From the triumphal pomp of “H2S” to the sinister bounce of “The Sicilian Clan”, from the lush, brass-led bossa nova of “Love Circle” to “Come Maddalena” an epic fuelled by cantering bass arpeggios and tubular bells that Goblin fans will devour. None of these movies were blockbusters, either in the UK or elsewhere for that matter, but they are treated with awed reverence by musicians and audience alike. No other film composer has written as many pieces of music that have so categorically outlasted the movies they scored.

Sergio Leone’s singular westerns have certainly stood the test of time and Morricone closes his first set with a celebration of the works that established his career. He could easily have filled the whole concert with these songs. It’s a bit of a shame that some of the quirkier compositions miss out - "A Fistful of Dollars" or "My Name Is Nobody" perhaps - but there can be no complaints with any of these choices really. The somewhat muted introduction of "The Good, The Bad & The Ugly" is brushed aside as we quicken towards a glorious crescendo replete with the choir’s layered incantations and unhinged fanfares, saluting Morricone’s surrealist take on the classic Hollywood western score. "Once Upon A Time In The West" and "A Fistful of Dynamite" are both perfect elegies for turning points in American history, somehow captured better by a diminutive Italian than any of his Stateside contemporaries. The latter, a personal favourite, feels a little rushed but I’ll forgive Il Maestro since he has a fair amount of material to plough through tonight.

And "The Ecstasy of Gold", taken from the hair-trigger endgame of The Good, The Bad & The Ugly, is next. Widely considered his masterpiece, it’s impeccable tonight. Built around a basic structure of little more than three notes, Morricone ekes out every last ounce of tension. As that simple melody builds and builds, drops out to return to the circular piano motif, then builds some more, the depth of sound produced is again magical. Here the strings really hold court, ascending impossibly with the dazzling green-frock-clad soprano’s imposing lead vocal. Thankfully this is the last piece before the interval, as even the healthiest of hearts need a break and a large glass of Italian red after that.

Not long into the second half, Morricone raises the roof again. This time it’s at the opposite end of the spectrum, as the delicate piano intro of “Cinema Paradiso” invokes an incredible amount of intimacy for such a cavernous arena. When it’s joined by sighing strings and soprano sax, we're reminded that although that film was about a child’s love affair with moving pictures, music and sound were just as crucial to its success.

Morricone was loved just as much by politicized filmmakers like Gilo Pontecorvo and Elio Petri as he is by the mainstream, partly due to his eager embracing of avant-garde influences. An interesting selection of examples follows, beginning with the angular piano runs, desperate brass and snare drum rattles of "The Battle of Algiers" – perfectly encapsulating the confusion and horror of Pontecorvo’s panic-stricken, revolutionary tale. "Investigation Of A Citizen Above Suspicion" and "The Working Class Goes to Heaven" both come from Petri movies and again showcase the more out-there side of Morricone. The latter in particular, with its harsh white noise samples punctuating a more traditional march is thrilling to hear in this environment. "Abolisson" (from Burn!, another sweaty, intense Pontecorvo picture) sees out this segment nicely, with the choir getting to let their hair down, turning the titular chant into a joyous round, accompanied by a unique combination of stately pipe organ chords and tropical percussion.

"Abolisson" proves to be an ideal precursor for the final portion of tonight’s retrospective – a selection of pieces from The Mission, Roland Joffe’s vivid tale of Jesuit priests attempting to bring Christianity to native South Americans, in front of the ferociously beautiful backdrop of Iguazu Falls. “Gabriel’s Oboe” is the delicate, crowd-pleasing calm before the storm. Soon the bongos of "Abollison" are back with a vengeance as we move into the tumultuous roller-coaster of “Falls/On Earth as it is in Heaven”. It’s difficult to get across the power and passion of this crescendo, but suffice to say I was silently praying for it to never end.

And still that’s not finito, as Morricone returns to take the choir through a rousing version of “Here’s To You” from Sacco E Vanzetti, for which Joan Baez wrote the words and younger generations will more likely remember from Wes Anderson’s re-appropriation in The Life Aquatic. This defiant hymn for the oppressed still rings true though, and it’s touching to see many people singing along with the English words - a language that Morricone himself has never spoken. By this stage in the evening it’s also clear that there’s a large contingent of his compatriots in attendance, judging by the increasing cries of ‘Maestro!’ and ‘Bravo!’ that thankfully break any illusions of this being a polite, run-of-the-mill classical concert. All these platitudes are quietly brushed away by the unassuming Roman, as he takes us through reprises of “Ecstasy of Gold” and “On Earth as it is in Heaven”, both just as incendiary as earlier on, just as they will always be.

It could be argued that there are composers who have produced wider-reaching scores - John Williams, Jerry Goldsmith, John Barry perhaps - but for his combination of experimentation and melody, romance and dissonance, sadness and idiosyncrasy, Il Maestro is and always be the greatest of all time. It’s an honour simply to be in the same (very large) room as him tonight, let alone being able to bask in the beauty of his music. Grazie, Ennio.