Set on the island of Capri in 1914, with the world on the cusp of war, the 2018 film Capri-Revolution follows a young peasant woman as she traverses the gulf between her traditional family and a bohemian artists’ commune in the mountains. Apparat’s soundtrack (which won a prestigious David di Donatello Award, Italy’s equivalent of an Oscar) navigates its own divide: the one between the German musician’s electronic roots and his more recent forays into acoustic composition. Like his 2013 album Krieg Und Frieden (Music for Theatre), his score often balances on the edge between chamber arrangements and digital manipulation, with melancholy liturgical chants haloed in endless reverb and digital glitches lapping against meditative organ swells. Without the falsetto vocals of his solo work (save for the heartbreaking closer, “Aracneae”), Capri-Revolution is never quite as all-out emo as Walls or The Devil’s Walk, but it is nevertheless shot through with an uncommon depth of feeling that elevates it above the merely atmospheric. And the most striking passages—like the fingerpicked guitar of “Paestrum Neruvola,” which shimmers through digital processing before abruptly giving way to a bottomless, pitch-black well of ambient reverberations—suggest that Apparat’s compositional prowess is moving into an exciting new realm.