Sunday, February 25, 2024
An Artist Puts Herself in Her Work in Robert Morgan's Stopmotion with Aisling Franciosi
Wednesday, February 21, 2024
Love Is a Sleigh Ride to Hell in Ethan Coen's Lesbian Crime Caper Drive-Away Dolls
Sunday, February 11, 2024
It's Just Me and the Boys: Isaac Julien's 1991 Queer-Punk Anthem Young Soul Rebels
Saturday, February 3, 2024
Stranger Flashback: Beware of Mr. Baker
BEWARE OF MR. BAKER
(Jay Bulger, 2012, US, 92 minutes)
Instead of a hagiography filled with kind words from old chums, boxer-turned-filmmaker Jay Bulger's documentary, Beware of Mr. Baker, revels in opportunities to present drummer Ginger Baker in all his asshole glory.
It's a disrespectful, attention-generating approach that suits its cantankerous subject like one of his fashionable sheepskin coats from the 1960s. According to an IMDb user who caught the film at a London screening, the "fractious Q&A...ended with shouting, swearing, recriminations all round, and Jay Bulger seemingly storming off stage."
About Bond, Baker says, "He was a fat guy" (everyone was fat compared to Baker).
Unfortunately, Bulger films himself as if he were part of the profile—no wonder Baker, who now lives in South Africa, smacked him in the face with his cane in the instantly-infamous opening sequence. When you've got a larger-than-life subject at your disposal, get the fuck out of the way. Let the guy narrate, let his friends and enemies narrate oral history-style, or drop the narration altogether (the better documentaries don't need it).
After that unsteady start, Bulger rights the ship by stepping aside and letting the 73-year-old musician tell the story in his own nicotine-stained drawl, starting with his childhood in war-torn Britain. The minute he heard jazz drummer Max Roach, he says, he found something "I could relate to." When he wasn't getting into brawls, he was tapping out rhythms on his desk until he found his way to a drum kit, and that was the beginning of that.
Alongside the archival material, Bulger adds expressive, painterly animated sequences to bring the past to life. It's a wise move, since the semi-abstract look of the art aligns with Baker's interest in jazz and African music.
By 20, he was a husband, a father, a heroin addict, and the percussive anchor in a series of increasingly popular outfits, including Alexis Korner's Blues Incorporated and the Graham Bond Organization. At this point, other speakers enter the fray, like singer-bassist Jack Bruce and Rolling Stones drummer Charlie Watts. While Baker praises Bruce as a "fucking brilliant player"—until he switched from stand-up bass to bass guitar—he dismisses strutting front man Mick Jagger as a "stupid little cunt."
Femi Kuti appears in the film to talk about Baker's association with his father.
From there, Baker talks about Cream, the power trio he formed with Bruce and guitarist Eric Clapton. The band made a significant impression on Neil Peart of Rush, Bill Ward of Black Sabbath, and Stewart Copeland of the Police, who are all effusive in their praise. Baker sums up Cream's appeal succinctly: "We were fucking good." (He's right; they were.)
Alas, the tension between Baker and Bruce, who amassed more writing royalties, would eventually reach a breaking point, after which he and Clapton segued to Blind Faith with singer-keyboard player Steve Winwood and bass player Ric Grech. Though that outfit had an even shorter run, Baker calls Clapton "the best friend I've got on this planet."
Bulger concludes by documenting Baker's drum battles with jazz legends Elvin Jones and Art Blakey, his work with Nigerian dynamo Fela Kuti, and his obsession with polo ponies, who appear to have received more attention than any of his wives and children. Yet there's something strangely endearing about the man. Though he insults Bulger throughout the film with pithy lines, like "For fuck's sake" and "Don't try to be an intellectual dickhead," his bone-deep respect for the drums always shines through.
Dave Segal liked it, too.
Beware of Mr. Baker, which premiered in Seattle at SIFF in 2012, plays the Grand Illusion Cinema through Mar 7. Vivendi Entertainment releases the DVD on May 14. Image of Ginger Baker from Rotten Tomatoes.
Stranger Flashback: The Music and Movies of the L.A. Rebellion at Northwest Film Forum
The L.A. Rebellion, which Stranger staffer Charles Mudede wrote about here, was an African American film movement that took place primarily in the 1970s and 1980s (Mudede will also be participating in the Cinema Salon that takes place this Saturday at the Northwest Film Forum at 6pm).
It wasn't about music, but music was part of it. Unlike the funk-powered blaxploitation films of the era, these filmmakers turned to blues, jazz, and gospel to ground narratives about community and work—or lack thereof.
To describe funk as a more commercial genre wouldn't be quite fair, but the L.A. Rebellion directors weren't thinking about radio airplay, drive-ins, and soundtrack recordings in the same way. Curtis Mayfield's Superfly soundtrack, for instance, still remains better known than the 1972 drama for which he did some of his finest work (or maybe that's just me; I have the record—my Dad had the record—but I still haven't seen photographer-turned-filmmaker Gordon Parks, Jr.'s movie).
The L.A. Rebellion series, which runs March 1-24, began at the Northwest Film Forum with screenings of films I'd seen before, like Julie Dash's Daughters of the Dust and Charles Burnett’s My Brother’s Wedding, and films I couldn't work into my schedule, like Haile Gerima's Bush Mama, but I found time for Saturday's Cinema Salon and Billy Woodberry’s Bless Their Little Hearts, for which Burnett was in attendance (he was also at Friday's screening of My Brother's Wedding).When an audience member asked about the music in 1984's Bless Their Little Hearts, on which he served as writer and cinematographer, Burnett admitted that he didn't know the details (I heard what sounded like a Nina Simone song at one point, but didn't recognize the rest of the uncredited material).
Burnett then recounted his experience with his first film, 1977's Killer of Sheep, which was held up for 30 years due to music rights issues. For Seattle Film Blog, I wrote, "The use of Paul Robeson songs on the soundtrack, including 'The House I Live In' provides a link with the silent films of Oscar Micheaux." Once the film cleared those hurdles—after six years and $150,000—Milestone made it available for home-video and theatrical screenings (the DVD includes My Brother’s Wedding).
Given the chance to do it again, Burnett says he would've cleared the rights first, except both Killer of Sheep and Bless Their Little Hearts were student films, even if their quality belies those origins. It's not too surprising that young directors in the 1970s, even two associated with UCLA's prestigious film program, wouldn't know all the ins and outs of music licensing (or have the means to pay someone to sort it out for them). One way or the other: Burnett refused to remove even a single song.
At the Q&A on Saturday, Fantagraphics co-founder Gary Groth declared Killer of Sheep's living room scene, in which Stan (Henry Gayle Sanders) and his wife (Kaycee Moore from Bless Their Little Hearts and Daughters of the Dust) dance to Dinah Washington, as one of his favorites. He also praised the (more volatile) kitchen scene in Hearts, in which Moore proves she should've been a bigger star. Burnett acknowledged that he didn't know why some actors hit it big, while others didn't, concluding somewhat enigmatically, "She was an interesting woman..."I haven't seen the other films in the series, so I can't speak to their use of music, but Larry Clark's Passing Through revolves around an ex-con saxophone player portrayed by Nathaniel Taylor (fresh off a run as as "Rollo" on Sanford and Son). The 1977 film, which screens this Friday in a new 35mm print, features a Horace Tapscott score, a performance from the Pan African People's Arkestra, and musical selections from Eric Dolphy, Charlie Parker, John Coltrane, and Sun Ra.
Not to be confused with the Larry Clark who made Kids and Wassup Rockers, this Clark has another estimable music credit to his name: he helped to shoot Mel Stuart's utterly amazing Wattstax, which captured Richard Pryor, Isaac Hayes, and the Staple Singers at the height of their musical and comedic powers.
The music continues when author, musician, and A&R guy Pat Thomas (Listen, Whitey! The Sights and Sounds of Black Power 1965-1975) returns to Seattle for the final Cinema Salon on March 23. Pat is a friend who always has something of interest to say, and in this case, he'll be exploring the connections between the Black Power movement and the L.A. Rebellion. He's also been living in Los Angeles for the past year while working on a book project for Fantagraphics. Pat will be joined by Black Panther member Ron Johnson and Seattle University professor Gary Perry.
For more information about the series, please see the NWFF site. Images from Charles Burnett's Facebook account (early portrait), Establishing Shot (My Brother's Wedding), and Movie Poster Shop (Killer of Sheep).
Monday, January 22, 2024
From Canada with Love: Remembering Director and Producer Norman Jewison, 1926-2024
In a 2009 interview with The Los Angeles Times, he credited the success of 1965's The Cincinatti Kid with Steve McQueen for allowing him to move away from light comedies, like Send Me No Flowers with Doris Day, to the big-screen dramas that were his true calling (Jewison inherited the former after producer Martin Ransohoff gave Sam Peckinpah the sack).
Jewison went on to direct best picture winner In the Heat of the Night with Sidney Poitier and Rod Steiger, The Thomas Crown Affair with McQueen and Faye Dunaway, Rollerball with James Caan (which inspired an inferior 2002 remake), Jesus Christ Superstar, A Soldier's Story (with Denzel Washington, who would return for The Hurricane), and Moonstruck, which won Oscars for Cher, Olympia Dukakis, and writer John Patrick Shanley.
Unapologetically liberal, Jewison once said, "The movies that address civil rights and social justice are the ones that are dearest to me." Consequently, he had his detractors, like Andrew Sarris, who criticized his "strained seriousness," and David Thomson, who dismissed his work's "hollow prettiness," though Ephraim Katz praised his "superior craftsmanship," notwithstanding a career "that zigzagged between mediocrity and excellence" (and even Thomson found Moonstruck "charming"). The Hurricane (1999), a stirring account of wrongly-imprisoned boxer Rubin Carter, also took hits for some minor alterations to the historical record.
Despite his time in Southern California, Jewison never lost touch with his Northern roots, and founded the Canadian Centre for Advanced Film Studies in 1986. In 1999, he accepted the Irving G. Thalberg Award (nominated three times for best director, his movies won 12 Academy Awards). He also wrote a well received memoir, This Terrible Business Has Been Good to Me.
In addition to his many directorial and production efforts, Jewison deserves credit for mentoring Hal Ashby, who edited The Russians are Coming, the Russians are Coming, In the Heat of the Night, and The Thomas Crown Affair, winning an Oscar for the latter before making 1970's The Landlord, a film Jewison had intended to direct until Fiddler on the Roof came calling.
Norman Jewison was married to Margaret Ann Dixon for 51 years until her death in 2004 and to Lynne St. David for 14 years until his death on January 20. He leaves behind three children; Michael, an associate producer and location manager, Kevin, a camera operator, and Jennifer, an actress.
All images from Britannica. Top left: Norman Jewison (right, with camera) and Sidney Poitier (left) during filming of In the Heat of the Night (1967). © 1967 United Artists Corporation with the Mirisch Company. Center: Steve McQueen and Faye Dunaway in The Thomas Crown Affair (1968).