On the surface, Steve Hoover’s documentary Almost Holy could be a feel-good story. Its protagonist, altruistic Russian priest Gennadiy Mokhnenko, rescues and rehabilitates homeless, drug-addicted youths from the streets of the Ukraine. Judging solely by the soundtrack, though, it sounds like a horror movie. With half its songs made by brothers Leopold and Atticus Ross (the latter a partner with Trent Reznor in scoring David Fincher films) and the other half by Bobby Krlic (aka the Haxan Cloak), Almost Holy’s music is heavy, pounding, and at times purely bombastic.
It turns out that Mokhnenko himself has a dark side—some reviews of *Almost Holy *suggest his savior tactics verge on abduction—that dovetails with all these ominous sounds. But regardless of their role in the accompanying film, the songs on *Almost Holy *work as worlds of their own. The producers craft dense environments with reverberating drones, soaring synths, and heartbeat-like rhythms. A few approach the melodramatic foreboding of John Carpenter. But the music of *Almost Holy *is less about narrative than atmosphere.
That’s in keeping with both the recent soundtrack work of the Rosses and Krlic’s last effort as Haxan Cloak, which Pitchfork’s Nick Neyland called “more soundtrack than regular album.” Nobody here delivers anything unexpected, but all three play well to their strengths, which overlap significantly. The echoing, apparitional tones of Krlic’s cavernous “Pharmacies” and the brittle “Coursing” show his knack for turning alien abstractions and discordant textures into moving music. The Rosses’ contributions are more conventional but just as effective, especially “Punching Bag,” which morphs from metallic sheen into a grinding pulse, and the harrowing dissonance of “Distance.”
*Almost Holy *only falters when it drifts toward the generic. That’s a danger with any soundtrack, since music that has to serve multiple purposes can easily get reduced to a common denominator. In opener “One Block Further,” the Rosses’ rote piano chords and default beat resemble library music filed under “dramatic techno.” But more often, conventional tropes work in the producers’ favor. Take Krlic’s closer “The End,” which plays like an obvious denouement, as rising, choir-like tones cascade into a bombed-out climax—and yet, every moment is tense and gripping. Like the rest of Almost Holy, the idea may be familiar, but the execution is compelling.
