Louis Armstrong's Black & Blues

 

King Oliver's Creole Jazz Band

Armstrong with his mother and sister

Armstrong and Lucille

Director Sacha Jenkins

LOUIS ARMSTRONG’S BLACK AND BLUES               B                                                       USA  (106 mi)  2022  d: Sacha Jenkins

My only sin is in my skin, what did I do to be so black and blue.                                     —“(What Did I Do to Be So) Black and Blue,” Fats Waller, 1929

Sacha Jenkins is an American documentary filmmaker, a pioneering hip-hop journalist and cultural historian who profoundly shaped how hip-hop, graffiti, and black culture has been documented and celebrated, who died a year ago from complications from a rare and progressive neurodegenerative disorder.  Shot by Ed Lachman, this is another film that relies heavily upon archival material, much of it from preeminent Armstrong scholar Ricky Riccardi, director of research collections at the Louis Armstrong House Museum in New Orleans, where throughout his life Armstrong was a prolific writer, avidly tapping out thousands of pages of handwritten notes on stationery from his touring days, writings that explored everything from his musical philosophy to the trauma of Jim Crow segregation.  Lovingly called “Satchmo” or “Pops,” his personal letters reveal an intensely private anger regarding systemic racism, where he frequently bemoaned the indignity of playing in venues and staying at hotels where he, as an internationally celebrated star, was legally prohibited from entering.  In this way, the film offers an interiority of Armstrong that has rarely been known or seen, as we’re so used to seeing the smiling face of his showbiz persona.  Perhaps the biggest surprise, however, and most disappointing, is how the majority of the film accentuates his singing instead of his playing, yet Armstrong is a legendary jazz trumpet or cornet player, especially during his Hot Five or Hot Seven recordings of the 1920’s, where it was staggering how good he was, literally inventing the art of the jazz solo, but never developed that same reputation for his raspy-throated singing, though he is one of the inventors of scat singing.  It’s hugely disappointing, especially considering how accomplished he was so early in his life, standing out above all others, developing a legacy as a founding father of jazz, and one of the first internationally known or recognized stars, serving as a cultural ambassador for the United States.  But in the budding era of television in the 50’s and 60’s, Armstrong was seen on plenty of TV shows, one of the first blacks to be accepted by white audiences, yet he was often seen patronized by white talk show hosts, where he seemed to bear no relation to that earlier version of himself, instead viewed as an Uncle Tom in the radical coming-of-age of the Civil Rights era, where openly defiant civil disobedience became part of the black experience.  At the time of his death in 1971, Armstrong was viewed as one of the most famous black entertainers of all time, which is not the same as being one of the great performers of jazz, one of the first to accentuate the art of improvisation.  

Born in the black Storyville neighborhood of New Orleans, a legalized red-light district where music and entertainment were prominent sidelines, Armstrong spent his youth in poverty, the son of an absent father and a mother who occasionally resorted to prostitution, living in a rough Back o’ Town neighborhood known as The Battlefield, filled with working-class families, gamblers, and hustlers, where as a child he met the great jazz cornet player Bunk Johnson, one of the early pioneers of jazz.  Supposedly, after firing a pistol in the air, he was arrested and sent to what was known as the Colored Waifs Home for Boys, a reformatory where Armstrong developed his cornet skills by playing in the band, marching in parades, and playing music at other venues across the city.  A remarkably self-taught and original musician, Armstrong listened to the early sounds of jazz from bands that played in brothels and dance halls, where he saw King Oliver performing, who soon took him under his wing to become his mentor and teacher.  Oliver sent for him from Chicago to play second cornet in Oliver’s Creole Jazz Band, one of the most influential jazz bands in the early 1920’s, but made sure he always stood at least fifteen feet away so his sound didn’t drown out his solos.  It was there that he met the female pianist Lil Hardin, who he would marry, but she urged Armstrong to come out from under Oliver’s shadow and develop his own style, where he immediately switched to trumpet, suddenly responsible for some of the greatest recordings in jazz history, where it was positively uncanny the amount of talent he displayed between the years of 1925 to 1940, where no other jazz musician was able to transcend the music industry for so long.  World War II seems to be the dividing line in his career, as he was solidly a black entertainer in the earlier years, written about extensively in black newspapers, and mobbed by ardent fans when he walked through black neighborhoods, where he went from being praised as a black cultural hero to being denounced as an Uncle Tom.  Following the war, he became, in effect, a white entertainer, steadily losing his black audience.  The film addresses this situation in the words of Wynton Marsalis, a fellow New Orleans jazz trumpeter who was familiar with the Uncle Tom reputation of Armstrong, which cost him a lot of respect by black musicians who saw that as the worst thing a black artist could do.  It was the father of Marsalis who sent his son a 1928 recording of Armstrong’s West End Blues YouTube (3:16), and it was only when he attempted to emulate the sonic range and meticulous phrasing of the notes that Marsalis realized just how difficult it was, suddenly gaining profound respect for his “electric virtuosity,” claiming “It was not a simple-minded happiness, it was a transcendent joy.”

Perhaps the biggest criticism of the film is just how conventional it is, which is a major distraction, never really distinguishing itself artistically, using a standard format to release lifelong biographical information, mostly told in chronological order, much of it through Armstrong’s own private audio diaries, personal home recordings, and unseen archival footage, as Armstrong was obsessed by reel-to-reel tape recordings, leaving behind about 700 of them, taping conversations with his friends and family, conversations with himself, where he spoke his mind, cursing prolifically on tape, expressing himself in a frank manner, with American hip-hop rapper Nas reading many of his diary entries.  So in effect, it’s a story told by Armstrong himself, as we hear his own personal reflections about the events in his life, suddenly hearing the fomenting anger at the continuing discrimination he faced, revealing a different truth, that he adopted this accommodating persona as a professional survival tool, using it as a shield to mask deep, personal pain.  His frustration with the Eisenhower administration’s inaction during the 1957 Little Rock school integration crisis (The Little Rock Nine) led him to fiercely condemn the President as “two-faced” in recorded interviews. Armstrong learned to demand better treatment for blacks in his business contracts, indicating that if he couldn’t stay there, he wouldn’t play there, offering an avenue to discuss race and racism in a direct and more authentic manner.  To help articulate this point, the late actor Ossie Davis was also inclined to believe Armstrong was pandering to white America, but he shares a personal experience where he learned more about what Armstrong was like behind the scenes, loyal to a fault, and always looking out for those less fortunate, helping out in any way he could, which was often substantial monetary contributions.  White managers and record company executives made a fortune off his talent, as they took heavy percentages of his earnings, denied him royalties, and subjected his bands to devastatingly low pay, where there was little he could do about it, even performing at gunpoint at one point, so he hired a mob-connected white manager, Joe Glaser, to protect his life and stop getting ripped off.  This is the underside of the predominately white music business that he lived through.  Armstrong’s kind demeanor and generosity are explored in depth, living with his beloved fourth wife, Lucille, in a humble Queens home for decades, a simple life free of pretense or grandiosity, where there’s a special warmth in the way he sings one of his signature songs, Louis Armstrong - What A Wonderful World (At The BBC) YouTube (2:24).

2017 Top Ten List #6 Wonderstruck

Director Todd Haynes on the set

Director Todd Haynes with Ed Lachman shooting on the streets of New York

WONDERSTRUCK              A                    

USA  (117 mi)  2017  ‘Scope  d:  Todd Haynes                    Official Site

We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.

Premiering in competition on the second day at Cannes, the film received little fanfare in a less than stunning field, yet once again it appears the critics missed the boat, as it’s literally an astonishing effort, one of the more highly accomplished and best directed films seen all year, arguably the best edited, featuring a truly remarkable production design from Mark Friedberg, coming on the heels of one of Haynes’ most acclaimed films, 2015 Top Ten List #6 Carol, we are witnessing a director at the peak of his creative powers.  Shot by the irrepressible Ed Lachman, among the best in the business, with writer and illustrator Brian Selznick adapting his own children’s novel, the film bears some similarity to Martin Scorsese’s Hugo in 3D (2011), which was also an adaptation of a Selznick novel, though Scorsese directed his film so that 12-year olds could see the film, while this feels as if children are not the target audience, if only due to the gravity of the material, though there’s nothing in it that’s inappropriate for children.  The fact that it’s a children’s story may have turned many adults off, thinking it’s not heavyweight material, but they’d be misguided, as this is one of the more dramatically compelling films seen all year, where it’s like an homage to curiosity, drawing implications from stored memories, especially preserving things over time, finding hidden meanings in the messages they convey, which inflames and literally enlarges a child’s imagination.  What’s perhaps most surprising is the artistic sweep of the film, which can be breathtaking, where the technical precision is impeccable, combining two stories from different time periods into one, with abandoned lives forced to search for what’s missing, where the power of discovery can feel enthralling, particularly the vibrant energy captured on the streets of New York City, which have rarely been seen with this kind of expressivity.  The other surprise is how cleverly Haynes uses deafness as a key element, allowing him to slip back into the black and white silent era, while seamlessly moving back into the modern era where moving pictures tell the story, using the conventions of the silent era, image and gesture, to convey meaning, with silence an interesting motif for missing parents in the intersecting lives of two kids across a broad extension of time, much of it visually intoxicating, with choice music by Carter Burwell along with a several recognizable period pieces.  This may be the only film that advances the storyline using written notes to a deaf person that are read aloud, much like a storybook might be read to a child, creating a strange intersection between cinema and the literary world, actually honoring and celebrating the written word.    

Ben (Oakes Fegley) is the 12-year old son of a single mother, Michelle Williams, in an isolated rural setting of Gunflint Lake in northern Minnesota in 1977, offering many clues in just the opening few minutes, including a nightmare involving wolves, a curious quotation attributed to no one in particular (though it’s Oscar Wilde), but also a late-night moment when he can’t sleep, wandering into his mother’s room, where she’s sitting alone having a cigarette, listening to a David Bowie record, David Bowie – Space Oddity [OFFICIAL VIDEO] - YouTube (5:05), with Ben wondering about his absent father, wishing she’d tell him something about him, while she calmly tells him now is not the time, though this sounds like a common refrain, as if he’s heard it many times before.  This moment is significant on many levels, as it occurs again later but under different circumstances, with a few changed details, as now Ben’s mother is gone, feeling particularly abandoned and alone from her death, searching skyward for unanswered questions, when suddenly a freakish accident from a bolt of lightning causes instant, yet permanent, hearing loss.  The address of a used book store written on a bookmark found in an old book from his mother’s bedroom, an exhibition catalogue called Cabinets of Wonder, leads Ben on a series of clues, along with a secret stash of money, sending him on his way to New York City on a bus in search of his missing father.  In a parallel black and white silent film story set in 1927 in Hoboken, New Jersey, Rose (Millicent Simmonds, a first-time deaf actress) is a 12-year old deaf girl born to a wealthy but punitive father, James Urbaniak from Hal Hartley’s Henry Fool (1997), who makes paper models of skyscrapers in her room, but decides to run away to New York City carrying a newspaper clipping about a famous actress, Lillian Mayhew (Julianne Moore).  Her arrival to the hustle and bustle of the crowded streets of New York is an experience similar to that of so many immigrants who don’t speak the language, who are instantly lost, pushed aside, and rudely ignored by everyone walking by, mad at anyone who slows them down.  Despite the difficulties, including an afternoon visit to a movie melodrama, Daughter of the Storm, a Lillian Mayhew tearjerker with the theater advertising its transition to talking pictures, she finds her way to the theater for an afternoon rehearsal where the famous actress, looking exactly as she did onscreen in the movie matinee, angrily locks her up in her dressing room, forcing her to escape out a street-level window. 

Both of these stories are beautifully interwoven, displaying the director’s master craftsmanship, especially the arrivals at the ferry landing and Port Authority Bus Terminal, which are spectacular recreations, with Haynes shooting what amounts to a love letter to his beloved city of New York, as it has rarely been shown with this degree of affection for the teeming humanity that lives there, interjecting color and energy to a story that is exquisitely told, unraveling like a storybook, showing astonishing range, continually delivering a series of unexpected events, creating what amounts to a treasure chest of memories and lingering hopes, all thrown into a mix of what amounts to a city-wide treasure hunt, with both characters searching for what’s missing in their lives, following what they hope are promising clues that feel more like stabs in the dark.  What’s interesting is that both children are clearly moved by hidden secrets, a newspaper headline about an actress appearing in a play in New York inspires Rose in much the same way a dusty old book seizes Ben’s imagination, with both acting on their instincts.  Both are drawn to similar locales, where the film brilliantly explores the American Natural History Museum and the Queens Museum through a child’s impressionable eyes, where each exhibit is like seeing it for the first time, literally coming to life in their minds, where movies project a kind of magical allure.  At one entryway Rose walks inside the Cabinets of Wonder, which at the time was on full display, yet she brings a strange inquisitiveness inside, plagued by lingering doubts, continually targeted by over-anxious security guards that vehemently lecture her (but can’t be heard or understood), asking herself a perpetual question, “Where do I belong?”  Ben, on the other hand, is unleashed into the city streets to the electronic music of Deodato, Deodato - Also Sprach Zarathustra HQ audio - YouTube (9:00), suggesting the experience is an awakening, with Haynes revealing layers underneath the layers, striking out at his first destination, as the bookstore is boarded up, instead finding a friend, Jamie (Jaden Michael) who takes him under his wing, as his father works at the museum, so he knows all the hidden passageways, including a secret room no one else knows about.  This unorthodox friendship inside a museum is reminiscent of the interior observatory scenes with James Dean and Sal Mineo in REBEL WITHOUT A CAUSE (1955), as Jamie, like Mineo, is desperate for a friend, any friend, literally clinging to Ben who’s on another mission, bolting to a new address provided, as the initial bookstore visited moved around the corner.  What awaits inside is like unlocking the key to his own curious mystery, as a whole new world awaits.  Becoming more emotionally driven by the end, reaching a remarkable crescendo, Julianne Moore makes an impressive appearance late in the film, where one of the astonishing secrets is a full-scale model of the City of New York, initially commissioned for the 1964 New York World’s Fair, which mirrors the paper models of skyscrapers that Rose kept in her bedroom.  This film has more small delights than one could ever possibly expect, where the film is a cherished expression of the resilience of the human spirit and the undiscovered worlds we can encounter, concluding with a children’s chorus recorded in the mid 70’s which eerily bookends the film, The Langley Schools Music Project - Space Oddity (Official) - YouTube (5:27).