Post by StevePulaski on Feb 12, 2018 23:48:13 GMT -5
Wild Man Blues (1997)
Directed by: Barbara Kopple
Directed by: Barbara Kopple
Woody Allen plays his clarinet in concert in various cities in Wild Man Blues.
Rating: ★★★½
NOTE: Part of "Woody Allen Mondays," an ongoing movie-watching event.
I'm not going to pretend that Barbara Kopple's Wild Man Blues should be on the top of everyone's list of documentaries to see. It's very wayward, it's sometimes too consumed by its subject to turn away from even the most banal details of his life, and it's exactly the kind of piece that's inspired by a passion for the medium and the desire to do a little bit of fan-service as well. But I enjoyed it. As a look at Woody Allen's personal and musical life, it provides invaluable access, and also strives to paint a picture of his relationship with his new wife Soon-Yi Previn, a relationship largely reduced to sensationalized headlines and late-night fodder to this day.
Kopple — who would gain more notoriety and acclaim for her future documentaries, Harlan County USA and Dixie Chicks: Shut Up and Sing — follows Allen, his band, and Previn as they embark on an international jazz tour. On top of being a jazz enthusiast, some might be surprised to note that not only is Allen a passionate musician, but a traditionalist of the genre intent on keeping the esoteric sounds of New Orleans orchestra in the public sphere. He and his band play to several hundred people in Paris, Madrid, Geneva, Vienna, and Bologna, and Kopple follows them as well as the roaring legion of devoted fans they attract. After almost every show, the self-described "claustrophobic" Allen is swarmed by dozens of loyal lovers of his films and his music, and, despite his nebbish nature, he stops to greet and thank every one of them.
For over 30 years, Allen has strove to keep the genre of classic, 20th century New Orleans jazz alive in the hearts of Europeans, taking his clarinet and devoted team of musicians along with him for the turbulent but rewarding ride. He's got the trust and assistance of his band director, Eddy Davis, who also breaks out his banjo on special nights, and is afforded considerable help by percussionist John Gill and trumpeter Simon Wettenhall, who transcend their role as background musicians by fighting their way to the foreground for some songs. Allen's dedication to keeping jazz, particularly the New Orleans subgenre, alive stems from the fact that even its birth-city has neglected its complexities. The improv-heavy, polyphonic music which takes cues from a flurry of bluegrass and ragtime instrumentation, provides a distinctly different sound to what people commonly know and interpret as jazz; think Miles Davis but even looser and more freeform.
Just as rewarding as the extended sequences of Allen's concerts are the intimate moments we see between him and Soon-Yi, and they are a lot more ubiquitous than even I expected. The film opens with Allen trying to rest on a flight to Paris, his attempt at slumber largely hindered by the presence of a dog; Allen acts in the presence of the mildest canine with the kind of neurosis you'd expect from him and nothing less. An especially memorable instance comes when him and Soon-Yi indulge in a peaceful gondola ride, where Allen quaintly admires all the passersby snapping pictures and waving at him upon recognition. "They won't pay 10 cents to see my movies," Allen tells Soon-Yi, fresh off another box office bomb in Everyone Says I Love You at this time, "but they'll say 'hi' to me on a gondola ride." Almost as charming is the way Soon-Yi is so visibly immune to her husband's quips and nervous expressions of grief, anxiety, or sarcasm. She accompanies him the best way she can and that's by being there to listen to him expound his woes until he realizes he's worshiped in these locales like he's an American rock-star just outside of Sound City.
Throughout Wild Man Blues, Allen reiterates how much of a stark contrast his life in places like Paris and Rome as opposed to his home-state of New York. Early in the documentary, he mentions how his life back home is more linear: he can walk to shoot his films, go get something to eat, and go for a mind-clearing walk all within the area in which he lives. With that, his life is reserved, whereas overseas, he's given unconditional love by just about everyone and it's love he's not used to experiencing, especially in the context of this time in his life.
Wild Man Blues is a lovely ode to a bygone genre and a casual, naturalistic portrayal of Allen's alternate life. It's an affectionate account of his relationship with his wife, shedding all the mystifying elements of a much-publicized relationship. It also benefits from editor Lawrence Silk's decision to structure the film as a lax tour moreso than a hectic, chronology-obsessed account of Allen and his band's various performances during a lengthy stretch in 1996. The film concludes by showing Allen with his parents, who spend their ten minutes of fame knocking their son down a few notches (as if he was ever too narcissistic to begin with), reminding him that he wouldn't be where he is today without the sound upbringing they gave him. As loose as the film is, following up the emotionally intoxicating rollercoaster Allen was on for several months with a parental lesson in providing their offspring with a deeper sense of humility not only echoes the kind of fun diversion Allen would employ in a film of his own, but further affirms the whimsical side of this film, a quality Wild Man Blues owns from start to finish.
Directed by: Barbara Kopple.