Jazz at Film Forum: Jazz on a Spring Day, with Ellington, Armstrong, Shaw, etc.

Duke Ellington was ahead of his time, envisioning a place for jazz in proper culture, much like what Wynton Marsalis has established at Jazz @ Lincoln Center. He also enjoyed the company of beautiful women. As a result, probably no jazz artist more carefully groomed his public image than Ellington. In retrospect, we might wish many of his colleagues had been as far-sighted. We all know Ellington was a genius in many ways, but the far-reaching significance of his “Duke” persona comes through loud and clear in Jazz on a Spring Day, a collection of vintage jazz short subjects starring the likes of Ellington, Louis Armstrong, Hoagy Carmichael, and Cab Calloway, which screens this Monday as part of a special celebration of jazz at Film Forum.

Ellington’s cultural stature only continues to grow over the years, but filmmaker Fred Waller’s contributions have been largely overlooked by the jazz critical community. However, it is most definitely worth noting three of his films are represented in Film Forum’s Spring Day, including the artistic highpoint, Symphony in Black: a Rhapsody of Negro Life. An early forerunner to Ellington’s Black, Brown, and Beige; Symphony is a suite-like meditation on the struggles and triumphs of pre-Civil Rights era African Americans. Often quite impressionistic, Waller’s film reflects a WPA aesthetic and features vocal contributions from Billie Holiday and solos from Ellington stalwarts Johnny Hodges, Lawrence Brown, Ray Nanton, and Barney Bigard.

Waller also helmed the Ellington short A Bundle of Blues, which is a straightforward performance piece, but it shows the Duke leading the band, with his signature élan. Although Ellington’s band book was already well stocked with originals, the unlikely centerpiece of Bundle is Harold Arlen’s “Stormy Weather.” Still, it is a good vehicle for Ivie Anderson’s voice and provides Waller with the opportunity to experiment with rain-drop swipe effects.

In contrast, Waller’s third selected film, Cab Calloway’s Hi-De-Ho is the sort of low comedy Ellington had the sense to avoid. At least Calloway plays a trickster rather than a minstrel and it concludes with on a slightly surreal note that does not feel very 1930s. However, when it comes to unfortunately dated representations of jazz greats, Aubrey Scotto’s Rhapsody in Black & Blue is the hardest to get one’s head around. When a fed up wife whacks her jazz-listening fool of a husband over the head, he wakes up in a fantastical jazz world of bubbles, where he reigns as king and is serenaded by Armstrong wearing a notorious leopard skin. Still, the tunes are vintage Satchmo and the straight acting appearance of blues vocalist and independent label trailblazer Victoria Spivey as the irate wife lends it further historical notoriety.

Romance is even more problematic in Dudley Murphy’s St. Louis Blues, the only screen appearance of Bessie Smith. Despite some Porgy/Runyonesque trappings, it is one of the darkest films of the program. Poor Smith plays a woman who falls for the wrong rake and keeps letting him take advantage of her time and again. Dramatically, she makes you feel her pain and of course she owns the song. Bizarrely, Mr. W.C. Handy himself gave it a Fred Waring like chorale arrangement, but it cannot bury the power of her voice.

Things get even more tragic in the third Ellington short, Murphy’s Black and Tan Fantasy. Again, Ellington is portrayed as a dashing and artistic sort of fellow, notwithstanding the two embarrassingly clichéd stock characters who attempt to repossess his piano in the opening scene. The show will go on, but the price will be dear when the ailing Fredi Washington literally dances herself to death trying to ensure his successful Cotton Club opening. It is a striking performance that evokes Camille and Eurydice. Probably best known for directing Paul Robeson in The Emperor Jones, Murphy is another filmmaker ripe for a critical re-evaluation.

The simply but aptly titled Hoagy Carmichael is essentially another straight performance film, but viewers can also see how it contributed to his wry, laconic image. Jack Teagarden, then fronting his own big band, was the perfect choice to back Carmichael and trade good-natured barbs with the singer-songwriter. Likewise, a shockingly young and fresh-faced Artie Shaw swings his band, while a narrator explains it to us in Leslie Roush’s Artie Shaw’s Class of Swing, which logically includes “Nightmare,” arguably his greatest hit after “Beguine.”

A bit of a ringer, rumba bandleader Don Aspiazu directs himself in Jazz A La Cuba, another uncluttered performance piece. Technically, Aspiazu never really pulled off the jazz-Latin fusion he aspired to (that would have to wait for Dizzy Gillespie), but his band has a catchy beat that you can dance to.

Sure there is the occasional awkward reflection of the times in which they were produced, but overall the short jazz films screening at Film Forum are a whole lot of fun and they swing like mad. In some cases, they will inspire viewers to rediscover artists like Anderson, Washington, and Teagarden, while reconfirming just how great Ellington, Armstrong, and Shaw truly were. Recommended for fans of short films and classic jazz, the Jazz on a Spring Day shorts screen this coming Monday (6/8) at Film Forum.

Duke Ellington’s Sophisticated Ladies: Broadway in Movie Theaters

Don’t call the Ellington Orchestra a ghost band.  At least it wasn’t in the early 1980’s.  The maestro would still recognize most of the members, especially the leader, his son Mercer.  Though the Ellington patriarch had gone off to the great bandstand in the sky, the family business was still going strong, thanks to a Broadway show featuring Ellington’s most popular songs and the band, under Mercer’s direction. More of a revue than a musical per se, Sophisticated Ladies ran for 767 performances at the Lunt-Fontanne.  Captured live in-performance in 1982, Ellington’s Sophisticated Ladies (trailer here) makes its big screen debut in all its restored and re-mastered glory, courtesy of SpectiCast, beginning this Wednesday at participating theaters.

If there is one theater Sophisticated Ladies tries to evoke, it is the Cotton Club.  Our first clue is probably the big neon sign hanging from the back of the stage that says Cotton Club.  However, the production conceived by choreographer Donald McKayle and directed for the stage by Michael Smuin is not pedantically faithful to the era or venue. Ellington’s final theme song, “Satin Girl” duly finds its way into the program. Also conspicuously anachronistic is the multiracial company of hoofers who dance to Ellington’s classics together, which would have been a major no-no during the Cotton Club’s heyday—so some things really aren’t how they used to be.

On the other hand, the immortal appeal of Ellington’s swinging standards comes through loud and clear.  Ladies actually starts with the “Sophisticated Gentlemen” performing a relatively minor piece of Ellingtonia, “I’ve Got to be a Rug Cutter,” but it sure is a handy vehicle for some tap pyrotechnics.  Likewise, “Music is a Woman” has never been excessively covered, but it is a nice up-tempo introduction for Paula Kelly, who looks terrific in flapper fashions (some might also recognize her, or perhaps not, from her trailblazing appearance in Playboy).

In a related development, one of the Ladies’ few missteps is a Josephine Baker-esque “jungle” style rendition of “The Mooche” that is probably quite true to the show’s Cotton Club roots, but has not aged well.  The band still sounds great on it.  Terri Klausner then commences torching up the old chestnut “Hit Me with a Hot Note and Watch Me Bounce” something impressively fierce.  Kelly, two gentleman admirers, and a red piano keep the sassiness cranked up to the max with a “Love You Madly/Perdido” medley.  It is elegant, but also pretty darn hot.

Phyllis Hyman starts “It Don’t Mean a Thing” in an unusally diva-ish bag, but it segues into show-stopping tap showcase for the gents.  The video crew really shines during these big dance numbers.  Clearly, multiple cameras were involved, mostly captured the company in full Astaires, with a few close-ups of their flying feet thrown in for good measure.  The jitterbuggers take over during “Cotton Tail” and they don’t skimp on the air-steps.  The rendition of “Solitude” is a bit miasmic for jazz tastes, but Kelly cranks the energy level back up with a duet-medley of “Don’t Get Around Much/I Let a Song Go Out of My Heart.”  Unfortunately, a killer “Drop Me Off in Harlem” is slightly barred by a dated Chinese caricature.

For hardcore Duke fans, “Diminuedo in Blue” leads into the intermission, but without the “Crescendo,” probably because nobody would want to try to replicate Paul Gonsalves’ epic solo.  Oddly, there is nothing representing the Sacred Concerts, which seems like a lost opportunity, but so be it.  Considered the star, Hyman specializes in ballads like “In a Sentimental Mood” that are all very nice, but Kelly steals the show out from under her with saucy twists on favorites like “I’m Beginning to See the Light.” There is also good reason why she is the featured dancer for the pseudo title song, “Sophisticated Lady.”

The choreography of McKayle and Smuin (with a tap assist from Henry LeTang) translates well to the screen.  In fact, the dance sequences are distinguished by an exuberance that remains fresh and appealing thirty-some years later.  The cats in the band sound great too, but they are mostly stuck behind a gauzy curtain for most of the show (at one point future Lincoln Center mainstay Joe Temperley can be positively id’ed, but few others get even fleeting face time).  The current Broadway production After Midnight does a better job in this respect, featuring the Jazz @ Lincoln Center affiliated band clearly on-stage, even giving them their own front-and-center number.  It is a great show, but if you cannot make it to New York, there is considerable crossover between the two productions’ choice of tunes, so keep an eye out for Ladies.

Indeed, there is both timelessness and nostalgia to be found in Sophisticated Ladies.  Most of Ellington’s songs sound as vital today as they did in the 1930’s and a few outliers are nicely rehabilitated by the Sophisticated Ladies and Gentlemen.  Yet, when the camera pans the audience, we see folks dressed to the nines for Broadway.  The men are wearing suits at the least, with a fair smattering of tuxedoes out there. Those days are gone, but the music swings like it always did.  Highly recommended for fans of Ellington and Broadway, Sophisticated Ladies will have limited screenings in select theaters nationwide, beginning December 4th until the 18^th, depending on the schedules of participating locations—including this Wednesday (12/4) at the Chelsea Cinemas in New York.

Faded Glory: Cabin in the Sky

Even if you have heard Duke Ellington’s band play “Things Ain’t What They Used to Be” thousands of times before, you are still likely to feel a jolt of energy when they launch into it in Vincente Minnelli’s Cabin in the Sky. Though his appearances in the classic MGM musical are brief, Ellington made the most of them. Simply being in such a high-profile studio project was a significant milestone at the time. From the 1920’s through the early 1940’s, nearly every film intended for an African-American audience was produced independently by entrepreneurial filmmakers like Oscar Micheaux. That makes Cabin in the Sky (trailer here) one of the few studio ringers in the Lincoln Center Film Society’s current retrospective series, Faded Glory: Oscar Micheaux and Black Pre-War Cinema.

Even though Cabin is the screen adaptation of the Harold Arlen-Vernon Duke Broadway musical, it is a film jazz enthusiasts ought to see for the cast alone, including Ellington, Louis Armstrong, Ethel Waters, and Lena Horne, in her first substantive screen role. It tells a Heaven Can Wait story of Little Joe, a small-time gambler who suffers an untimely demise, but is granted a six month reprieve to straighten-up and avoid spending eternity in a very hot climate. He might be tempted by the fast life, but his wife Petunia, played by Waters, is a truly devout woman. However, the forces of darkness, led by Lucifer, Jr., are not about to relinquish their claim so easily, calling in their secret weapon, the temptress Georgia Brown, played by the perfectly cast Lena Horne.

Even though Cabin was considered progressive at the time for its portrayal of serious, sympathetic African-American characters, many contemporary commentators take umbrage at its persistent racial stereotypes. While that is certainly fair to an extent, there remains much of enduring value in Cabin. In addition to some stirring music, the Christian themes are presented in a respectful, legitimately heartfelt manner. (In a case of life imitating art, Waters would perform extensively with Billy Graham’s ministry late in her career.)

Although some of the arrangements in Cabin are overly sweetened with strings, Ellington’s band swings hard. Featuring stalwarts like Ben Webster, Johnny Hodges, Ray Nance, Lawrence Brown, and Sonny Greer, they tear through “Things” and “Going Up.” Waters also gives near definitive performances of the standards “Happiness is a Thing Called Joe” and “Taking a Chance on Love.” However, we only hear a brief solo from Armstrong, as he revels with Lucifer, Jr.’s minions.

Frustratingly, Cabin is nearly as famous for what was left on the editing room floor as what was released on-screen. For years we were denied Horne’s “Ain’t It the Truth,” because the sight of her singing in a bathtub was considered too risqué. An Armstrong instrumental take of the same song was also excised, editing out what in retrospect would seem to be the most commercial scenes of the film.

Cabin very clearly illustrates how differently the two jazz greats managed their images. While Ellington’s band plays at a nightclub associated with sin and vice, Ellington himself is as dapper and sophisticated as always. Instead of mugging for the camera, he swings the band, period. Armstrong however, is stuck wearing devil horns in a supporting comedic role.

Granted, Cabin is in many ways imperfect and dated, but it is also a film of enormous historical significance. It also features some of the most entertaining numbers in the MGM musical catalog. It screens at the Walter Reade Theater on Monday (2/16) and Wednesday (2/18).

Jazz Score: Anatomy of a Murder

Many reviewers considered Duke Ellington’s soundtrack an awkward fit for Otto Preminger’s courtroom drama Anatomy of a Murder. However, both film and music are of unusually high quality, and work together in ways not fully recognized by such critics.

Jimmy Stewart plays Paul Biegler, the former district attorney of Iron City, a small upper peninsular Michigan town, recently defeated in his bid for re-election. We quickly learn Biegler, in a departure from Robert Travers’s source novel, is also a jazz enthusiast, whose records collection goes “from Brubeck to Dixieland.”

Biegler accepts a difficult client in Lt. Manion, a hard case Army officer with anger management issues, accused of murdering the man who raped his flirtatious wife. His investigation takes him to an Upper Michigan roadhouse, where Duke Ellington appears as the bandleader Pie Eye. Biegler even sits in for some four-handed piano, clearly proving he is indeed a jazz kind of guy. Anatomy is a film that deftly handles some very delicate subject matter, with the help of powerful performances from Stewart, Ben Gazzara as Manion, and Lee Remick as his wife, Laura.

The majestic blues of Ellington’s soundtrack are completely at odds with our impressions of small town white America, but it is precisely this dissociative effect which serves the film so well. Viewers first meet Biegler driving home through his familiar town, returning late at night from a long fishing trip, as the Ellington Orchestra swings hard in the background. In effect, it sets Biegler apart from his community—an alienation any former DA reduced to scuffling for divorce cases is likely to share.

James Stewart is perfectly cast in a role that capitalizes on his everyman image, but gives it a twist. Though a decent person and an underdog, Biegler is no saint. We see him subtly lead Manion into adopting an insanity defense and watch as he navigates the grey areas of his legal defense. When his associate asks about the case, he frankly replies: “I’m making a lot of noise and Dancer [the prosecution] is racking all the points."

After a grueling trial, we hear Biegler teasing out some blues on the piano as he waits for the jury to come in, courtesy of the off-screen Billy Strayhorn, Ellington's writing and arranging partner. According to Chris Fujiwara’s The World and It’s Double: the Life and Films of Otto Preminger Strayhorn made a characteristic effort to fit the music to Stewart’s personality. Fujiwara reports:

“‘He asked me to play something I liked,’ said Stewart, who had studied piano and played with a jazz band as an undergraduate at Princeton. ‘What I think he did, you see, was write something for me that I would have played myself.’” (p. 242)

The soundtrack for Anatomy of a Murder is an enduring classic of Ellingtonia. Whether it is Johnny Hodges’ sweet alto on the suggestive “Flirtbird” or Cat Anderson’s high notes on “Upper and Outest” heard over the film’s ironic closing scene, Ellington demonstrates his inspired ability to compose for particular sidemen that marked his remarkable career. Anatomy is arguably one the greatest soundtracks ever, and the rest of the film is also quite good. It screens tonight and the 26th at MoMA as part of the Jazz Score series.

Jazz Score: Paris Blues

What is the best pairing in Martin Ritt’s 1961 Paris Blues? Easy: the combination of the music of Duke Ellington and Billy Strayhorn with the trumpet of Louis Armstrong. The worst pairing? At the risk of heresy charges, it must be said the casting of Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward was a mistake. It screens tonight as part of the MoMA’s Jazz Score series, so you are invited to judge for yourself.

Paris Blues could have been great. It is based on Harold Flender’s book (currently out-of-print), which, though not stylistically remarkable, did address some interesting issues. It centers on Eddie Cook, an African-American alto player (in Flender), who falls for a visiting American tourist. Cook faces two conflicts. He plays traditional New Orleans hot jazz, while many of his colleagues try to push him towards more modern bop-oriented styles. At the same time, his new lover wants him to give up the expat life and join her in America to campaign for civil rights.

Newman and Woodward are on the cover of my old movie tie-in mass market, but you won’t find anyone who looks them inside. According to Krin Gabbard’s Jammin’ at the Margins, Ellington committed to scoring Paris with the understanding that the central romantic relationship would be an inter-racial one between Newman and Diahann Carroll, but by the time cameras rolled, Newman and Woodward were the safe romantic leads.

For jazz audiences, Paris is also problematic for its treatment of the music itself. Newman’s Ram Bowen (a name Boogie Nights could have used) seeks musical validation through recognition for his classical compositions. Paris leaves little doubt as to its musical hierarchy—classical is up and jazz is down.

In effect, the music of Ellington, Strayhorn, and Armstrong is at war with the very film it is in. Which faction wins? Given the lameness of the Newman-Woodward relationship, it is no contest. Early in the film, Louis Armstrong, essentially playing himself in the role of Wild Man Moore, arrives at the train station, received by throngs of Parisians like a conquering hero. As the film closes, the Ellington band starts on a mournful note, but they suddenly rise up in revolt, ending on a defiant high note.

Although Cook’s moldy fig vs. bop conflict is not retained from the novel, Sidney Poitier and Carroll do debate whether Cook should stay in Paris living a relatively comfortable expat life, or return to America to pursue their relationship and progress in the civil rights struggle. Their scenes together are the best written in Paris. Of course, the greatest attraction in Paris is the music the film does not fully appreciate. It screens tonight and Wednesday at MoMA.

Duke Jams

At the Côte D’Azur with Ella Fitzgerald and Joan Miró/Last Jam Sesson
Duke Ellington
Norman Granz Presents/Eagle Eye Media

Edward Kennedy Ellington was known as the Duke long before he led his famous band. Some people just know how to live and he was one of them. Jazz producer and impresario Norman Granz was another, so when they collaborated on a French Riviera concert film, good things were likely to happen. Granz later filmed an all-star quartet session that produced the Big Four album shortly before Ellington’s death. Collected together on a two DVD set with an unwieldy title, the Côte D’Azur and Last Jam Session films capture the inspiration of an American giant.

Of the two, the French sessions are probably the strongest, but both are historically significant. The Duke sets the scene with a recorded introduction extolling the virtues of the bikinis and gambling of the Riviera, as well as the modern art of the Maeght Foundation. We see Ellington tour the museum grounds with Joan Miró like two old friends. With bassist John Lamb and drummer Sam Woodyard, Ellington gives an intimate concert for Miró. Granz cleverly intersperses shots of the institute’s sculpture including that of Giacometti and Miró with that of Ellington’s trio in performance. “Kinda Dukish” reminds us of Ellington’s swinging attack on the piano, often overshadowed by his remarkable talent as a composer and bandleader. We also hear an impromptu creation “The Shepherd” and see it adapted for the full band at a later rehearsal.

The Antibes-Juan Les Pins concert is a nice mix of Ellingtonian classics like “Creole Love Call” and “The Mooche” as well as newer compositions like the majestic “Such Sweet Thunder.” Trains were a recurring motif in Ellington’s songs and “The Old Circus Train Turn-Around Blues” was a new example that ought to be more of a standard (it appears only Scott Hamilton has recorded it since).

The climax of the concert comes with Ella Fitzgerald’s entrance. She had just heard of her sister’s death earlier that day, but swings “Satin Doll” and “Things Ain’t What They Used To Be” hard. Her lovely rendition of Billy Strayhorn’s “Something to Live For” obviously takes on added meaning.

The Big Four session is captured on the second disk, featuring Ellington in an all-star quartet, with only one previous bandmember, drummer Louis Bellson, on hand. Together with Ray Brown (Ella Fitzgerald’s former bassist and husband) and Joe Pass on guitar, they play some great music and thoroughly enjoy themselves. Though recording in the studio, it has a late night jam session feeling—hence the title Duke: the Last Jam Session. It is fun, with some wonderful music, but a tad ragged at times (particularly early in the session), befitting the jam session moniker. The French sessions would be a better introduction for Ellington neophytes, whereas, established fans will enjoy watching the Duke talk and joke between takes as they listen to playbacks.

Ellington was a true American original and these sessions capture him still at the height of his powers. Both the creative longevity and prolificacy of the man are staggering. Associating Ellington with Miró is altogether fitting and proper, with Granz presenting the Duke in an elegant and respectful context. It is great to have this footage available.

Granz and Mili: Improvisation

Norman Granz Presents Improvisation
Directed by Gjon Mili
Eagle Eye Media

Albanian Gjon Mili was an accomplished still photographer for Life magazine, so revered in Albanian-speaking regions, that in recent years a school for photography in Kosovo would be named in his honor. Mili also filmed what many regard as the greatest jazz film ever made—the 1944 Warner Brothers short Jammin’ the Blues, which would be nominated for a short film Academy Award. Six years later Mili and his collaborator, producer Norman Granz shot footage for a sequel that was assumed lost for years. It has been collected with Jammin’ and other Granz-produced concert footage of note in the new 2-DVD set Improvisation.

Improvisation is a historic film for several reasons, not the least being a sequel to Jammin’ the Blues. It also contains some of the only existing film footage of Charlie Parker in performance, which takes on added significance as his only recorded musical meeting with Coleman Hawkins (at least that we currently know of). One factor complicating the release of Improvisation was the difficulty of synching the film with the audio. Improvisation was shot in Mili’s photo studio, which was not sound-proofed. This required the audio track to be laid down in a separate studio, prior to the filming. As a result, there is a certain roughness to Improvisation. Mili never edited a final cut, so his ultimate vision remains unknown. However, Improvisation faithfully collects and collates his images with the fantastic recorded music, perhaps not seamlessly, but the overall effect does not distract from the music.

The music itself is amazing. Clocking in around fifteen minutes, the restored Mili sequence features the likes of Parker, Hawkins, Hank Jones, Lester Young, Bill Harris, Ray Brown, Buddy Rich, Flip Philips, Harry “Sweets” Edison, and Ella Fitzgerald. It starts with Jones’ lovely intro to “Ballade” (also used over the DVD menu) before Hawkins full-bodied tenor enters, caressing the melody before handing off to Bird. Hawk and Bird were actually a natural pairing, as Hawkins was evolving towards something much like bebop just as Parker burst forth onto the scene with his innovative approach. One can see the regard Bird has for Hawkins in Mili’s video. In fact, this rare footage does much to humanize Parker, too often mythologized for his extremes. Here, Mili’s camera captures his sensitivity and his enjoyment of his colleagues and their music.

Young and Edison are the two returning musicians from Jammin,’ getting their say on “Pennies from Heaven” and “Blues for Greasy.” Again, Improvisation can stake a claim to history, showcasing the titans of the hot and cool schools of tenor sax, with Hawkins and Young, respectively.

Of the additional performances on disk one, the Ellington is particularly noteworthy. “Blues for Joan Miro” was improvised for the Spanish artist at the Fondation Maeght Museum amidst a exhibition of the artist’s sculptures. With Sam Woodyard on drums and John Lamb on bass, the maestro demonstrates a rhythmic, percussive keyboard attack which might surprise some. Ellington never ceases to amaze.

The second disk contains silent rush footage and stills of the session by photographer Paul Nodler, giving further depth and context to the Mili sequence. The highlight of disk two though, unquestionably is the original Jammin’ the Blues. It hardly needs reviewing. The opening shot of Young’s porkpie hat should give chills to any jazz lover. It is also notable for a smoky rendition of “Sunny Side of the Street,” from Marie Bryant, a vocalist then in-between a stint with Ellington and an extended European sojourn, who should have been recorded much more than she was.

In Improvisation, two of Mili’s three short films are collected. (The third Jammin’ for Mili featured the Dave Brubeck quartet.) As such it is of historical importance. It takes on added significance as a rare document of Charlie Parker in live performance. The additional live footage of Ellington, Count Basie, Ella Fitzgerald and Joe Pass are no small value-added bonuses. Improvisation is a heck of a collection, continuing Granz’s mission of presenting the improvised music with respect for the improvising artists.

A Duke Named Ellington

A Duke Named Ellington
Council for Positive Images

In his youth, Edward Kennedy Ellington would play in the streets of Washington, D.C. as the former president Teddy Roosevelt sometimes looked on. Late in his life, Duke Ellington would befriend Pres. Nixon, then occupying the White House, who would award him the Medal of Freedom while hosting Duke’s seventieth birthday party. In between a very public life was lived by a very private person. Ellington was indeed an American master, so he was a fitting subject for the PBS series of the same name. Originally aired as an installment of Masters in 1988, A Duke Named Ellington is now available on DVD.

While Duke Named does cover the basics of Ellington's career, it is more concerned with his music, than simply stringing together a list of dates and places. While they do miss some important elements of the Ellington story, like his innovative use of Jimmy Blanton’s bass, the focus on the music serves their subject well, showing the confidence to include some performances in their entirety, like “The Opener,” “Chelsea Bridge,” and “Solitude.” In effect, filmmaker Terry Carter is content to let Ellington’s music speak for itself, as opposed to Ken Burns’ Jazz, which would show a short excerpt, and then cut to a talking head to tell viewers how brilliant it was.

Duke Named features extensive interview footage with band members including, Clark Terry, Jimmy Hamilton, Russell Procope, Louis Bellson, Cootie Williams, and vocalists Herb Jeffries, Alice Babs, and Adelaide Hall. (Leonard Feather serves as the designated commentator, which might be a drawback for some.) Most milestones in the Duke canon are covered, including the “Black Brown and Beige” suite, and “Creole Love Song,” featuring Hall, described as “the first wordless jazz vocal.”

Duke’s deep religious conviction is often overlooked, but Ellington’s Sacred Concerts are given their due here. Jeffries provides perspective, telling his interviewer: “he also, in my mind’s eye, was truly a very Godly human being.” Perhaps even less known were his ballet collaborations with Alvin Ailey. The River, commissioned by the American Ballet Theater is featured, and the music is certainly interesting, if the least Ellingtonian sounding in its brief clip, perhaps for the strings. (It would be fascinating to see the entire work released.) Another Ailey collaboration “Night Creature,” most definitely has that Ellington swing.

Duke sidemen repeatedly make the point that Ellington composed for the musician’s personality not their instruments. In fact, we get to know their personalities more than that of the maestro himself. This is not to fault the film, which makes an excellent case for Ellington’s genius. It is well put together by producer-director-narrator Terry Carter, perhaps best known as Col. Tigh on the original Battlestar (which should give it additional cred with sci-fi geeks out there).

Ellington, who moved so many with his music, still defies attempts to delve beneath the surface of his persona. He projected a suave, debonair image, while privately he was devout individual, dedicated to his mother and sister. The depth and extent of his work though, is still inspiring musicians and listeners. With its archival interview footage of Duke himself, his sidemen, and some excellent, uninterrupted performances of his band, Duke Named is a worthy introduction to an American genius.