David Julyan’s Bloody Brilliant Score for ‘The Descent’ [Terror on the Turntable]
Welcome to Terror on the Turntable! In this monthly column, join Rachel Reeves as she explores the powerful and unholy alliance between horror films and their scores. Covering only scores released on vinyl, it’s a conversation about the intersection of music theory, composer style, film history, and the art of deep listening. So, light the candles, put on your headphones, and get ready to drop that needle. The sacred ritual of listening to music on wax is about to begin. For this installment, Rachel crawls through David Julyan’s score for The Descent.
As temperatures rise and the global condition dumpster fire continues to burn, some interesting movies have been migrating to the forefront of the general horror conversation. One such movie is Neil Marshall’s 2005 masterpiece, The Descent. Originally a summer release in the US and UK, the film’s association with the season makes sense. This, coupled with the political war on reproductive, trans, and LGBTQ+ rights currently raging in the United States, has made the film’s robust emotional undercurrent and all-female cast resonate in new and powerful ways.
More than just a horror-adventure creature feature, The Descent explores (pun intended) some heavy topics. Grief, friendship, anger, ego, emotional transformation, and control are all touched on in one way or another. While the film’s killer practical effects, dual endings, and taut tension often make headlines, the subtle emotional discussions bubbling beneath the surface ultimately solidify it as a horror classic. Although many factors contribute to this balance of horror and heart succeeding, one that never gets enough credit is the score by English composer David Julyan.
Marshall’s Musical Muse
For Julyan, his involvement with The Descent began long before he even became aware of the project. Marshall turned to Julyan’s music for sonic inspiration as both writer and director for the film. As Marshall’s intimate story of six thrill-seeking friends looking to reconnect on a caving expedition developed, it was Julyan unconsciously setting the mood.
“When I was writing the script for The Descent I needed dark brooding menace, and so I became obsessed with David’s incredibly haunting and atmospheric score from Christopher Nolan’s 2022 feature film Insomnia. Something about that music just triggered everything I was hoping to achieve with this little horror movie… David’s music, played on repeat for weeks on end, really helped guide that script and shape it into the final movie.”
Neil Marshall
And, Julyan’s early impact on the film didn’t stop there. While editing the film, Marshall again turned to Julyan’s music and used it as the temporary score. A hugely influential element, temp scores can impact everything from pacing, shot choices, sound design, and tone. So, when the time finally came to hire a composer, Marshall decided to shoot his shot. With so much of Julyan’s music laying the foundation, he was the obvious (but ambitious) first choice. But, as Christopher Nolan’s go-to composer at the time, Marshall thought there was no way Julyan would say yes. And then he did.
The Calm Before the Storm
Before the cave, crawlers, and claustrophobia set in, Marshall takes the time to establish The Descent’s cast of characters. Centered around a group of women bonded by their love of adventurous outdoor activities, it’s fitting that we first meet Juno (Natalie Mendoza), Beth (Alex Reid), and Sarah (Shauna Macdonald) as they gleefully navigate a rapid-filled river. Accompanied by the track “White Water Rafting,” Julyan effectively establishes and colors the tone of the trio’s relationship.
As their smiles and laughter break through the seething roar of natural noise, slow and steady chord progressions, muted horns, light percussion, swelling strings, and a fluctuating key add critical layers of information. The music’s peaceful and collected delivery instantly relays the genuine connection these women share. Almost deceivingly calm, Julyan sonically captures the picturesque joy radiating from their faces while lightly hinting at something darker.
Just like the subtle look that lingers just a little too long between Juno and Sarah’s husband Paul, these small but deliberate musical decisions carry a weight that only grows heavier with time. This quick but crucial theme is one that Julyan returns to multiple times throughout the film—musically embodying the bond the group shares. And specifically, through Sarah’s eyes.
As the whole group of women meets up at the cabin, the track “The Mountains” unfolds. Although utilizing a modified theme, it plays in the same thematic sandbox. Not only does its recurring presence center the women and their friendship as the film’s heart, but it also expands and evolves to fit the larger group, Sarah’s profound loss of her husband and child, and the shifting friendship dynamic and situation.
“The mood of The Descent changes a lot during the course of the film, and I did try to allow several themes to reoccur. I don’t think of The Descent as a horror film. It’s got an emotional story at its heart. I basically used that story to try to tie the moods from the beginning and the end of the film together.”
David Julyan
No Turning Back
Once the women enter the cave, it becomes an official character in and of itself. Since Juno so arrogantly hid the cave’s uncharted status and difficulty from the rest of the women, there’s an initial beauty and awe tied to its presence. This false reality is reinforced through the track “Into the Cavern.” However, everything changes once the intrepid explorers shimmy their way through an uncomfortably tight and twisty tunnel.
Paired with the tracks “Down the Pipe” and “The Tunnel Collapses,” these intensely scary scenes gain strength through some brilliant composing choices. For one, a series of electronic elements become utilized. Embuing the cave with an almost supernatural and otherworldly atmosphere, diversifying the instrumentation at this moment further separates the women from their environment. Like the Earth itself humming around them, low, droning tones rumble beneath a simple, ambiguous melody. The literal proximity of the notes played in the tune and the slight, synth-y echo beneath it emphasizes the dangerously tight quarters and the cave’s oppressive presence.
With Sarah becoming the last group member to make the harrowing crawl, fear and anxiety overtake her. Stuck, both literally and figuratively, panic sets in. By casually building tension through dynamic instability, atonal dissonance, and the fluid integration of orchestral elements, Julyan mirrors this face-off between Sarah and her fear in the music. Although Beth does her best to calm and motivate Sarah, it’s the tunnel’s collapse that ultimately gets her moving and seals the group’s fate. Then, punctuated with a chaotic burst of brass, percussion, and screeching strings, the shit officially hits the fan.
Forced to find a new way out, the crew crosses gaping caverns and discovers unsettling signs of a former human presence. Intact but rattled, the undeniable direness of their situation amplifies the group’s paranoia and discord. Then, just to drive this fact home a bit more, Julyan makes a cheeky nod to John Carpenter’s The Thing through perfectly executed synth pulses in “Cave Paintings” and “Bone Dam.” There’s no longer any use denying it; the women are not the only ones skulking through the shadows.
Rock Bottom
As the women’s declining situation begins to spiral, Julyan’s score beautifully juggles the film’s two strengths—horror and heart. With tracks like “Bone Dam,” “The Lair,” and “The Crawlers Attack,” eerie vocals, nerve-shredding strings, pulse-pounding percussion, reverberating dissonance, and shocking onslaughts of orchestral noise reinforce the hits, falls (sorry Holly), and fear. Drenched in darkness, the unpredictability of the crawlers and their appearance is genuinely creepy as fuck. Meeting this challenge at every possible moment, in every possible way, Julyan delivers. Offering full aural support to the cinematography, writing, performances, creature design, and editing, Julyan’s music is the blood-red cherry on top that completes the crawler cake.
But what about the heart? As we’ve discussed, what makes The Descent special is Sarah’s emotional journey and that of the women in her sphere. As the women separate, they each confront their own particular hell scenario. For sisters Sam and Rebecca, it’s losing each other. For Beth, it’s trying to help a friend kill a crawler only to get a climbing pick thrust through her throat and being left to die. For Juno, it’s being said friend with the climbing pick. And, oh yeah, having your other friend discover you were sleeping with her now-dead husband. So this critical moment of realization for Sarah and Juno marks a turn for both.
In “Sarah Finds Beth,” the full range of Juno’s misdeeds comes to light. Once again returning to the now-familiar melody, Julyan strips the instrumentation down slightly to create a palpable feeling of intimacy. This, coupled with careful alterations to the melodic progression, gives the moment a powerful sense of sadness and heartbreak.
Having now lost more than she could have ever imagined, Sarah transforms. Marked by an unintentional baptism of blood and viscera and a fight with an angry crawler mama, she emerges determined and angry. Then, with a mighty scream, she tears her agency and self-control back from the grief that’s held it hostage long enough. In a final (brutal) showdown with Juno, this dramatic and empowering shift culminates with “The Descent.”
Evolving the friendship theme to match this change in dynamic, “The Descent” becomes darker, bolder, and more robust. As a broader range of horns, percussion, and melody combine, the feeling is one of both triumph and tragedy. Though still recognizable and unquestionably tied to Sarah, a new sense of power, resolve, acceptance, and closure becomes conveyed. Regardless of which ending one prefers or accepts as fact, the music works. This is Sarah in her final form, which is as devastatingly tragic as it is empowering and beautiful.
In the liner notes of the score’s vinyl release, Marshall describes the music for The Descent as “poetic pain.” And, to be honest, that description is perfect. Beautiful, achingly sad, terrifying, and tense, The Descent is a challenging emotional cave to go spelunking in. However, by embracing the beauty in the story’s darkness, Julyan ultimately strengthens the film’s message and intent. By elevating the heart just a smidge above the horror, both elements become stronger. Now more than ever, this deliberate approach is a refreshing reminder that the horror only wins if you let it. Even in the darkest of caves, it’s never too late to emerge from the depths and fight back more vigorously than ever.
Crate Digging
Although initially released in 2006 on CD through Cooking Vinyl (the format and label name irony is not lost on me), it wouldn’t be until 2022 that Julyan’s score for The Descent would see a proper vinyl treatment. This egregious error was rectified in style thanks to the UK label Burning Witches Records. Featuring new artwork by John J. Pearson, new liner notes from Marshall and Julyan, three lobby cards, and new, slightly tweaked cuts from Julyan himself, it’s an extraordinary release. And still available in a variety of vinyl color variants to boot. Check out their site here to snag a copy for yourself.
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