Beating the heat with some cool jazz

The Newport Jazz Festival starts today, and since I can’t be there, I thought I’d rewatch the timeless documentary “Jazz on a Summer’s Day” shot during the 1958 Newport Jazz Festival and directed by Bert Stern.  

What I love about this documentary is how romantically it captures the town and people of Newport and the wonderful footage of the crowds attending the festival. Stern, a 28-year-old professional photographer shooting his first feature film, used the latest 35-mm Kodak color film – a departure from the frequent black-and-white films featuring jazz artists. Of course, there are some remarkable performances featuring several dynamic artists, but the footage of the artists seems more scattered to me and often isn’t as interesting as the coverage of the audience.

The film begins with shots of Newport, well-known for hosting the America’s Cup boat race for many years. The 1958 race was taking place at the same time as the jazz festival, so there are some great shots of the massive boats in action on the vast waters of the Atlantic. There’s a ubiquitous ragtime jazz band playing loud and proud as they are being driven around town in a convertible throughout the movie, an enjoyable break between the daytime performances.

The highlights of the first day’s performances for me were Thelonious Monk and Anita O’Day. Monk was fairly understated but clearly having a good time with his signature “off-key”-sounding melodies on the piano. And I suspect they weren’t ready for O’Day when she came out in an outfit I remain obsessed with to this day because of how classic it looks. It was a simple black dress, a stunning black hat with white feathers around the brim and white gloves. She slowly eased into “Sweet Georgia Brown” and by the end of the song she showed the crowd she really knew how to swing. (And won me over completely – I promptly downloaded two of her albums after I saw this movie.)

The fashions stood out in the audience as well, particularly accessories that were clearly a sign of the times like hats. There were hats of all kinds at the outdoor venue, and cat’s eye sunglasses must have been all the rage because it seemed like every other woman was wearing a pair.

I was also impressed by a more significant aspect of the audience – the integration. At a time in our nation’s history when I would assume the crowd would be segregated, blacks and whites sat alongside each other at this event appearing as if they are not even aware of any civil rights battles being waged. Stern explained in his separate commentary for the film that his distributors knew the film would have trouble being placed in theaters in the South for that very reason. But it was refreshing to see that at least in that spot in the country at that moment, everyone was welcome and respected and having a good time with each other, not just in their own camps.

There is some terrific footage of the townspeople in their local haunts and houses – making messes with beer deliveries, dancing on rooftops and cavorting in windows. It looks like these well-to-do people really know how to party even in daylight. As the day transitions into evening, the ragtime band winds down its antics around town, and with the sun setting, Stern gets a lovely shot of them actually standing still and performing on some rocks at the edge of the beach.

The next phase of the documentary covers the evening performances Stern and his crew filmed. The performances included Dinah Washington, Big Maybelle, Chuck Berry, Chico Hamilton, Louis Armstrong and a finale of Mahalia Jackson. I was annoyed by the camera work during Dinah Washington’s performance of “All of Me” because you don’t see much of her, at least not at the beginning of her set. Stern shows more of the audience – probably because they are dancing nonstop, which is a good thing – but I wish there had been more balance between the stage and the crowd. The crowd kept dancing all through Maybelle and Chuck Berry, then Chico Hamilton came in and cooled it down with a mellow but moving set.

What can you say about Louis Armstrong beyond the obvious – he’s a magnificent entertainer. He did several songs and engaged in quite a bit of banter with the host on stage that enchanted the audience. But the topper turned out to be Mahalia Jackson, which is why Stern let her be the last performer in the documentary.

Columbia Records executive George Avakian was in charge of the sound recordings, and he tried to convince Avakian not to include Jackson in the final cut because she was a gospel singer. Fortunately, Stern knew better. It was clearly important to him to show the impact her voice had on the crowd, and in this case I didn’t mind him spending a lot of time focusing on them instead of the artist (plus there was more balance this time). The power of her hymns, including “The Lord’s Prayer,” was reflected on every face Stern photographed. I also loved seeing her reaction to this group of people she assumed would not fully relate to her type of music. She was near tears when she said after the audience’s first ovation, “You make me feel like a star.”

When I first saw this documentary, I assumed that Stern had filmed the most significant acts at the festival, but after listening to the commentary this time around, I was dismayed to learn that he missed out on filming some of the best performers there.

Apparently, he left those choices up to Avakian, and Avakian wasn’t keen on trying to make arrangements with other record companies. I also read on Jazz.com that since Stern was not a jazz aficionado, he didn’t know who he should fight to try to film and who he shouldn’t, so he deferred to Avakian. Whatever the complications, it is very nearly tragic that there is no footage of the orchestras and bands of Duke Ellington, Lester Young, Dave Brubeck, Sonny Rollins, Horace Silver, Marian McPartland, and the act that would’ve meant the most to me to see perform, the Miles Davis Sextet, which included John Coltrane, Cannonball Adderley and Bill Evans. I could cry.

But at least we have the wonderful performances Stern did manage to immortalize on film as well as the engaging moments in the town of Newport. Whether you are attending this year’s Newport Jazz Festival or not, whether you love jazz or not, I highly recommend this slice-of-life in 1958 among the culturally savvy set enjoying good times with good music.

The restoration of Amy Winehouse

Amy Winehouse

When I first heard Amy Winehouse’s breakout hit, “Rehab,” I was not impressed. I’m not fond of the 1950s sound that was being emulated, and the basic defiant lyrics were sending a simple message that seemed pretty unhealthy to me. Although I never judge a music artist by one track, I didn’t rush right out to hear the other songs on Winehouse’s “Back to Black” album, even though so many people whose musical taste I respected were completely in love with it.  

It was around six months later that I was riding in my niece’s car, and she started playing Winehouse’s first album, “Frank.” From the first track – “Stronger than Me” – I was hooked. Every song resonated with me, especially the lyrics. And because I am a tremendous jazz fan, I was excited by Winehouse’s interpretations of jazz standards, especially on the deluxe edition of “Frank.” Her love and respect for jazz immediately took her to the top of my list of current favorite female vocalists – a space she shared with Lizz Wright.

But even though Winehouse was one of my favorite musical artists, I foolishly took her voice for granted until my mother heard a Winehouse song in my car and asked, “Who is that? She can really sing.” My mother does not hand out such compliments casually, and she’s from the old school, when people really did sing. As I answered her I thought, “She’s right. Amy really can sing.” It may seem absurd, but her incredible voice was not even the first thing that registered with me when hearing her music. It was the totality of the lyrics, music and voice. I also loved that she was a musician – even writing an unexpected love song to her guitar called “Cherry.” And she was all about the band, passionately railing against the use of “fake” instruments in her music.

Thanks to the media, everyone knew Winehouse was a troubled artist, but that often comes with the territory for the great ones, and I hoped she would somehow overcome her demons, outpace her self-destructive nature. Sadly, she did not, and the road to her untimely demise plays out logically, albeit senselessly, in the documentary “Amy,” released last weekend.

The best thing about the documentary for me was hearing her vocals on so many unreleased tracks. I was blown away by her cover of “Moon River” from when she sang with the National Youth Jazz Orchestra in London as a teenager. Many superlatives have been used to describe her singing style, but even though her poignancy comes across in her studio releases, hearing her on the outtakes and in live performances in the film was deeply moving. Director Asif Kapadia displayed the lyrics for many of the songs as she sang, which I thought was an effective way to ensure the audience was conscious of her brilliant lyrics especially since her delivery would never be described as crisp.

Kapadia was blessed with a lot of footage and commentary from all the major players in Winehouse’s life, including her family and closest friends. Watching this film, I was able to appreciate her love of her craft and her work ethic when she was allowed the time and space to create. I saw the obsessive love she felt for her husband and the toxic concoction of their relationship unfold to a nearly lethal end. I learned how desperate she was for boundaries in her youth as well as her father’s love and acceptance. I was impressed with how self-aware and endearing she was with her real friends, even when she screwed up, and with her genuine respect and admiration for her idols like Tony Bennett. I was appalled but not surprised by the media’s efforts to devour her. And I was amazed that this beautiful, talented woman was so determined to evade her suffering with even more suffering, so much so that her heart finally just stopped.

I made it through most of the documentary in a mode of clear-eyed consumption, but the final 20 minutes, particularly the footage of her when she won the Grammy for album of the year, kicked off the water works. It was wonderful to see her happy in that moment, proud to be hearing her name called by Tony Bennett, and then it was crushing to hear her best friend say that Winehouse swept her backstage to tell her how boring that indelible experience was without being high.

The film sugarcoats nothing yet flings no judgments - at least not at Winehouse. The commentary conveys the honest helplessness of those who love someone in the throes of addiction, and the images show the expressiveness of an artist trying to be herself and fend off her vulnerability while under a microscope. I often complain about the intrusion of video cameras in people’s lives, but I’m grateful the filmmakers had so much footage of Winehouse in her element during moments when she wanted the camera to be there. It captured her mischievous spirit and raw talent, and she in turn captured our hearts.  

The word rehabilitate means to restore to good health or condition. Some critics are saying this movie is restoring Winehouse’s image after all the bad press she received in her last few years that seemed to make a mockery of her. But I don’t think her image needed restoring for the people who appreciated her gifts. In that regard, she was right – she did not need to go to rehab. She desperately needed rehab for her personal afflictions, but she was restored to her best self every time she was immersed in her music.

"AMY" documentary HD trailer

Because she is passionate

Orson Welles called her “the world’s greatest actress.” She worked with the likes of Welles, Louis Malle, Francois Truffaut, Wim Wenders and Michelangelo Antonioni – some of the finest directors of the 20th century. I am describing French actress Jeanne Moreau, and I'm doing this short spotlight in my "Because" series because she is passionate. I'm also doing it because, as part of its Summer Under the Stars film festival, Turner Classic Movies is devoting the entire day Friday, Aug. 8, to Moreau, and I had the pleasure of writing the intros for the primetime line-up.

Up first for the night at 8 p.m. is “The Trial” – the only one of the evening I haven’t seen. It was interesting to learn about how director Orson Welles came to make the movie in my research. It was the first film he’d done with complete autonomy since his epic directorial debut, “Citizen Kane.” And he only did it because it was on a list of films the producers were willing to finance. It is based on a Franz Kafka novel about bureaucracy, tyranny and persecution – as so many Kafka works are. Moreau has a small part as the mysterious neighbor of the protagonist, played by Anthony Perkins. She was able to get some advice out of Welles about her desire to direct films herself someday. He advised her to wait until the need to direct became more painful. She starred in a few more films for Welles and in 1976 made her directorial debut with “Lumiere.”   

Up next is one of my favorite Moreau films and one of her most famous roles – even though she’s only on the screen for a short time. It’s “Elevator to the Gallows” directed by Louis Malle. Malle is often credited with “discovering” Moreau because her career began to take off after “Elevator to the Gallows,” in which she plays a woman who has convinced her lover to kill her husband. [I give her an honorable mention for her performance on my list of cinema’s top femme fatales I posted recently.] But Malle denied the credit for Moreau’s cinematic ascendence – saying she was already a well-known stage and B-movie actress in France when he cast her in “Elevator.” There’s a killer score from Miles Davis that makes Moreau’s scenes wandering around the streets of Paris looking for her murderous lover make her seem like the coolest, yet most vulnerable femme fatale ever.

Moreau in "Jules and Jim"

The third film of the night is the one that made Moreau an international sensation – her seminal performance in a landmark French New Wave film – “Jules and Jim.” She plays the free-spirited, tempestuous Catherine, the central figure in a love triangle between her and two very different best friends – the shy Jules, played by Oskar Werner, and the outgoing Jim, played by Henri Serre. She captivates the audience as effectively as she captivates her two suitors. Director Francois Truffaut said in his biography, “In all my 20 years of cinema, the filming of ‘Jules and Jim,’ thanks to Jeanne Moreau, remains a luminous memory, the most luminous.” 

The fourth feature will be a provocative melodrama that sparked a landmark Supreme Court decision on obscenity – Louis Malle’s controversial “The Lovers.” Moreau plays a bored, wealthy wife and mother dealing with a massive mid-life crisis. She handles it as movie’s expect people to handle such milestones – embarking on a torrid affair with some random archeologist who helps her when her car breaks down. The extended sex scene they share was what caused all the uproar in 1959 when it was released, resulting in censorship bans in the U.S. (expected) and in several European countries (What!). When an Ohio theater manager was arrested for showing the film, the case made it all the way to the Supreme Court, where the majority surprisingly decided the movie’s artistic merit outweighed any obscenity charge. By today’s standards, the movie probably would’ve gotten away with a PG-13 rating. There is some nudity, but at the time, just the shots of Moreau’s face experiencing such illicit pleasure were enough to send the upright, forthright squares into a tizzy. Of course, the controversy did nothing but make the movie more successful at the box office, but many critics were praising the film from the beginning – especially Moreau. The New York Times gushed, and I’m paraphrasing, that Moreau seemed to be living, not playing, the part.

Check out the movies tonight on TCM starting at 8 p.m. EDT. I’ll wrap this up with one my favorite quotes from Moreau, one of my favorite quotes ever –

“Like every human being, I have everything in me – the best and the worst.”
– Jeanne Moreau

More recommended Moreau

"La Notte" (1961) - Director: Michelangelo Antonioni

"Diary of a Chambermaid" (1964) - Director: Luis Buñuel

30 years of 'Purple Rain'

I go way back with Prince. As far as I can recall, my first encounter was hearing “I Wanna Be Your Lover” on the radio. But I didn’t go full-on Prince fanatic until “1999” was released. I count it among one of my great triumphs of youth that my best pre-teen friends and I were able to convince our parents to let us go see his concert on his “1999” tour as long as my big sister was willing to take us. (Don’t judge them; they had faith in our maturity and were tired of hearing us whine and beg!) It was a great – and provocative – show that included The Time and Vanity 6 as opening acts.

When “Purple Rain” was released, I was completely obsessed with the man and his music. So I was thrilled to know his music would get the widespread attention and recognition it deserved. I knew from the moment I saw the trailer it was going to be a phenomenon (see comments below). Over the subsequent years, I went back to hear what I’d missed on Prince’s first four albums (which I was too young to listen to when they were originally released). And by college, I considered myself a Prince aficionado – tracking down whatever unreleased tracks I could find (“Old Friends 4 Sale” remains my favorite among them) and relishing every opportunity to lord my knowledge of his body of work over others. 

One of my favorite things about Prince songs is that for many of them there is an extended version (12” LP) that is so incredibly more awesome than the original release. And that’s saying something because the original release is always pretty tight on its own. By the time “Purple Rain” was released in 1984, I knew to look forward to the B-sides as well (I won’t bother to explain B-sides for the youngsters – the little dears). And the singles from “Purple Rain” had some great ones: “17 Days” (opposite “When Doves Cry”), “God” (opposite “Purple Rain”), “Another Lonely Christmas” (opposite “I Would Die 4 U”), and, of course, the ever-funktabulous “Erotic City” (opposite “Let’s Go Crazy”). 

I grew up to this music and could talk all day about it, but I’m writing about the movie – which was electrifying because of the music, particularly Prince and the Revolution’s phenomenal stage performances. Prince stars as the Kid, a rising musician at the Minneapolis club First Avenue. His love interest – Apollonia (should’ve been Vanity). His rivals – the much too cool for school Morris Day and The Time. His cross to bear – his dad’s failed music career and his parents’ abusive relationship (His dad was played by the wonderful Clarence Williams III.). It wasn’t an acting tour de force, but it didn’t have to be. It was all about the music, so the only performances I’m elaborating on here are Prince’s musical performances.

“Let’s Go Crazy”

“Electric word, life. It means forever and that’s a mighty long time.”

I will always remember my reaction to the trailer for “Purple Rain.” You just know when something is so earth-shattering it has to take off, and from his voice over the opening chords of “Let’s Go Crazy” to the crescendo into that unforgettable synthesizer riff, I was hooked along with the rest of the world. The images of him on the stage, on his motorcycle, fighting with his dad, making out with Apollonia – it all worked.

The song was the perfect opener for the movie, showcasing just how talented this “kid” was and why we should care what happened to him. One of my favorite parts is when he plays the piano with his toes, but the ultimate is the guitar riff at the end. Growing up in a house with musicians, I appreciated all types of music, and I was particularly thrilled to see a black man who was a rock star for my generation (which came to be known as Generation X).

“Take Me With U”

“To be around you is so all right. You’re sheer perfection. (Thank you!)”

This was my least favorite song on the soundtrack, and not just because Apollonia couldn’t sing. It was a bit too sweet to me, but still melodically lovely. In the movie, the song got the montage treatment because Apollonia was still an unknown in the story, and the Kid wasn’t about to put her on stage with him. Yet she couldn’t help being charmed by him even as he was dragging his feet on helping her make her singing dreams come true. The montage served the purpose of the requisite falling-in-love-to-music moment in the movie.

“The Beautiful Ones”

“You make me so confused. The beautiful ones you always seem to lose.”

“The Beautiful Ones” put all of Prince’s seductive powers on display, and it was clear that Apollonia was riveted from the first “Baby, baby, baby …” The best part, as is so often the case with Prince’s “biggest” songs, is the breakdown at the end. I wasn’t fully riveted until he screeches leading into the climax, “Baby, baby, baby … listen to me. I may not know where I’m going babe …” I knew from my experience with soul and gospel music that when someone says, “Listen to me,” what comes next is going to move you beyond anything that came before it. When someone with soul gets to the point of telling you to listen, you want to listen. And Prince makes it worthwhile – laying it all out there on the stage until he just collapses. It is beautiful.

“Computer Blue”

“Until I find the righteous one, computer blue.”

The “Computer Blue” performance was touching because the Kid incorporated his father’s music into the song. I also liked the simple theatrics he employed during the performance with his band mates, especially how he leaned into his guitar solo for that part of the song. But it wasn’t just about that poignant part of the song. The whole thing was great – from Wendy and Lisa’s speaking intro to the verses everyone can identify with at one time or another – “Where is my love life?” Haven’t we all sought the righteous one? – to the final scream that lets Apollonia know she has been spotted with Morris.

“Darling Nikki”

“I knew a girl named Nikki. I guess you could say she was a sex fiend.”

At this point, the Kid is not so happy with Apollonia as she has turned to Morris to get her career going. He feels betrayed even though she had been honest with him and had no interest in Morris personally. Instead of sharing in her excitement, he turns her away, potentially into Morris’ arms, and pens this dynamic tune to humiliate her. “Darling Nikki” was such a marvelous performance because you could tell he was really having fun with it. And the music worked so perfectly with the lyrics. This is the one that sent the parents of the world into a tizzy, which I suppose is bound to happen if you write a song about a sex fiend. The chords at the end after the verses are done and Apollonia flees the club are truly electric. And hearing those chords echo through the backstage as the Kid heads to his dressing room made it feel like I was there.

“When Doves Cry”

“Dig if you will the picture of you and I engaged in a kiss.”

“When Doves Cry” also received the montage treatment in the film. And like, “Take Me With U,” it was not my favorite track on the album, although I did appreciate it. It was the first single and video from the album, and it clearly reflected the themes at this point in the film – his troubled relationships with his girl, his family, and the club owner. All very illustrative, but I actually preferred the seemingly random musings on the back of the album cover.

“I Would Die 4 U”

“You’re just a sinner I am told. I’ll be your fire when you’re cold. I’ll make you happy when you’re sad. I’ll make you good when you are bad. I’m not a human. I’m a dove. I am conscience. I am love.”

“Baby I’m A Star”

“Everybody says nothing comes too easy. But when you’ve got it, baby, nothing comes too hard.”

With “I Would Die 4 U” and “Baby, I’m A Star” everything is all happiness and light again after things blew up with the previous three songs. The former solidifies his newly reconciled bond with Apollonia, while the latter puts the world on notice that his formidable talent is here to stay. The energetic performances exert an infectious feel-good vibe, and I couldn’t help leaving the theater feeling like a star myself.

“Purple Rain”

“Baby, I could never steal you from another. It’s such a shame our friendship had to end.”

What I remember most about the “Purple Rain” performance is how nervous the Kid appeared at the start and when he leaned over and kissed Wendy near the end. Was he no longer going to be a jerk to her and everyone else at times? Of course not. But at least for that moment and with that song, he got it. It’s a beautiful if predictable ballad that still carries a kind of elegant weight. I’ll never fully understand the lyrics, but the best explanation of the spirit of the song is in the wordless “oohing” that he and everyone else repeat at the end.