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.
