 Round Midnight (1986) Dexter Gordon stars as Dale Turner, a fictional jazz legend who finds acceptance and happiness in Paris but is never quite able to shake a deeper melancholy and really step out from his addictive lifestyle. Turner is taken in by a longtime fan (Francois Cluzet) whose awe in even being around the saxophone giant at all translates to a rejuvenated sense of inspiration for both men – Gordon's character finds liberation in the deep realization of how much he has touched people's lives, and Cluzet's is driven to work hard to support his idol, finding levels of personal satisfaction in his life he had previously not revealed to himself. The film is told in a somewhat non-linear style, evoking impressionism as a visual as well as an aural aesthetic, using scenes and dialogue to create a portrait that does not really begin to be visible to the viewer until the second hour – it takes off quite slowly, but is thoroughly engaging once it has made itself more apparent. Like the French art it alludes to and the jazz music it celebrates, the film is constructed with a deceptive simplicity that actually has many layers. Whew, that was one of the most unabashedly pretentious series of paragraphs I've churned out in awhile. All supposed intellectualism aside, Round Midnight is a very good movie, perhaps a bit overrated (especially Dexter Gordon's notably stiff "performance" – nominated for an Academy Award for some reason), but very rewarding despite its flaws. Jazz fans will generally love it, seeing echoes of the lives of Bud Powell and Lester Young (to whom the film is dedicated) in Gordon's character, and especially enjoying the supporting cast, in which almost all the musicians are played by the great Blue Note artists from the 60s. For me, it was sheer pleasure to see Bobby Hutcherson walking around in a bathrobe, and to see Herbie Hancock cutting loose on a straight-ahead blues tune on an upright piano during a party scene. Other cameos are turned in by Freddie Hubbard, Wayne Shorter, Tony Williams, John McLaughlin, Ron Carter, Cedar Walton, and Billy Higgins, giving the film an added layer of meaning and enjoyment above the plot itself. Hancock and Hutcherson actually have fairly decent sized roles (though definitely peripheral ones), and Hancock scored the film. The music is wonderful throughout (though an out-of-context use of "Watermelon Man" early in the film seems anachronistic), and it's notable that all the music is played live. It's so refreshing to see a film about music that doesn't feel compelled to dub every single note and then synch the visuals to it (see Minnie Driver's miserable lip-synch in The Governess for an indication of how bad that can be; or, conversely, see her nipple later in the film). The music very much captures the essence of the era Tavernier is evoking, the late 50s Parisian scene that Gordon in particular was no stranger to. Visually the movie is somewhat dank, with the exteriors seeming a bit too "set"-like and the interiors without luster. The subject matter really wouldn't call for vivid technicolor, I suppose, but parts of the movie seem flatter than they need to be because of the lack of interesting coloration. Or perhaps it was the creaky old VHS copy I was watching, which clearly had not been rented from my local video shack since 1986. Ha, remember 1986? Peter Gabriel was hilarious!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Most of the performances are great – Francois Cluzet is very charming as a single parent who befriends his jazz musician idol, sort of recalling Dustin Hoffman from Kramer Vs. Kramer with all the quickly-flashed smiles balanced with a pervading tension. Gabrielle Haker as his daughter is hugely appealing, one of the best and most real child performances I've seen. Gordon is extremely interesting to watch, and his mannerisms so cool, that it's easy to ignore the fact that he's a terrible actor. A lot of times it seems like his pregnant pauses are merely masking his fumbling for a line, but then who knows, he may be the best actor ever, who am I to say? The Academy liked him. (Sarcasm--50% off while supplies last!) Apparently he drew a lot from his own life and his memories of the men that inspired the film for his performance, improvising a lot of lines and writing new lines himself. His performance overall is really intriguing, though I wouldn't say it's technically "good." (And I'm not just saying that because my lover recently told me I'm "not technically good in bed.") Martin Scorscese turns in either a good performance of an annoying role or an annoying performance of a realistic role as a sycophantic New York agent, really more of a cameo than anything else, but important to the plot. Round Midnight is a love letter to jazz and jazz musicians, and to a specific era and place where jazz really defined the —ugh, do I have to use the word zeitgeist—um, "cultural atmosphere." (Whew! That was a close one!) The film's closing, which depicts Hancock and Co. years later at a concert for thousands of fans, paying tribute to "Dale Turner," is a bit more optimistic about jazz than history has borne out—indeed, the very idea of thousands of people turning out to see anyone play traditional jazz nowadays seems itself anachronistic, but it's a memorable moment. It has a sort of tacked on quality, but this doesn't hurt the film, which is a bit wayward anyway—much like a jazz solo, not necessarily brilliant, but definitely taking you on a journey to where you didn't know you'd be. It's a recommendable film for a lot of reasons, none of them being that it's a classically "great" film, but it's a great jazz film, impressionistic yet grounded, cerebral yet poignant, and much more authentic than Mo' Better Blues or some shit like that.
Review by Melle Terrell |