Jenkins is a genius -- of business. The piece is expertly calculated to entice audiences into shallow pseudo-feeling, much in the manner of the movie scores from which it so liberally steals (e.g., Batman, cathedral scene). The musical development is minimal to non-existent, replaced by a grotesque mania for repetition. Everything, large and small, happens twice at least, without musical rhyme or reason. As salesmanship, however, that's first-rate, making sure no customer, no matter disinterested or bored, can possibly lose track of the trite, flashy, pointless sound effects.
That such sure-footed nihilism is yoked to a mass on the horrors of war is an amoral atrocity, on the order of having Madonna sing love songs. That so cynical a take of these profound matters could achieve the success it has is a sad sign of how little we understand compassion.