(Review by Russell)
There can be few, if any, jazz
musicians who could generate such interest well over a quarter of a century
after their death than Miles Dewey Davis. The final screening of a week-long
run of Stanley Nelson's documentary film was a sell out just as several other
screenings were earlier in the week. Miles Davis: The Birth of the Cool attracted
considerable interest and as your correspondent made his way up to the third
floor screen met one acquaintance who had seen the film the previous evening
and two others who were about to take their seats in the auditorium.
To begin at the end...as the credits
rolled a seemingly interminable list of sources of archive stills hammered home
the fact that there had been little in the way of live action. Sharp editing
flashed innumerable, largely black and white, images of Davis across the
screen, images from his childhood through to the Birth of the Cool period to
Kind of Blue and on to the great sixties' quintet and the key date - for some -
of 1968/69 when Miles plugged-in and some fans switched-off.
Advance fears that Davis' words being
'voiced' by Carl Lumbly (spoken in an approximation of the man's famous
whisper) would some how be a distraction were allayed. The many talking heads
spoke lovingly, some reverentially, Stanley Crouch the one dissenting voice
with regard to Miles' electric period. Ron Carter, Herbie Hancock, Wayne
Shorter, all said their piece, frequently recalling, direct to camera, Miles'
fondness for expletives.
Francis Taylor spoke, often with a
tear in her eye, of her years with Miles and, along with others, documented the
racism he endured (he would rail against it to his dying day) and the ill
health and drug use which dogged the Prince of Darkness.
At five minutes short of two
hours Miles Davis: The Birth of the Cool is, perhaps, half an
hour too long. More in concert material with less talk would have been welcome
but, that said, anything about Miles Davis adds to the
legend.
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