From
Afro-Cuban percussion to Brazilian bossa nova rhythms, jazz listeners are
unusually open to international sounds. That is even truer of jazz musicians. Anyone
who plays jazz is going to encounter some opposition in their careers, so they
can easily identify with other musicians facing their own struggles. Multi-reed
performer Kirk Whalum uses his Civil Rights-era Memphis childhood as a jumping
off point to understand the hardships and triumphs experienced by several
global musicians with whom he records new music for the project documented in
Jim Hanon’s Humanité, the Beloved Community, which is now available on DVD for your last-minute holiday
shopping needs.
Whalum
is pigeon-holed as a “smooth jazz” artist, but his great mentor was the fiery
Texas Tenor, Arnett Cobb. Yet, Whalum explains his greatest influence was and
continues to be the empowering voices of the gospel singers he grew up
listening to as the son of a minister. Regardless, he has chops, as well as the
flexibility to play with a variety of artists from around the world.
Frankly,
some of the best sequences in the film involve Whalum’s memories of 1960’s
Memphis, particularly his time spent at the Lorraine Motel, which was a center
of the local African American community before it became known as the site of
the Martin Luther King assassination. Subsequently, Hanon follows Whalum and
English trumpeter (and associate music producer) James McMillan as they
collaborate with musicians in South Africa, Nigeria, Kenya, the UK, Indonesia,
and Japan. By far, their best-known musical comrade is Keiko Matsui, who also
gets tagged with the “smooth” label, but that does a grave disservice to her wonderful
touch and elegant melodies.
Indeed,
many of the musicians profiled in Humanité
have faced serious trials, including depression, poverty, and in the case
of McMillan, caring for a physically challenged son. They all make music
together that sounds quite distinctive and life-affirming, even if your tastes
range more towards the acoustical bop-based spectrum of jazz. Unfortunately,
Hanon has a weird habit of imposing the recording of their Humanité tunes over montages of performance footage that clearly
and distractingly do not psych-up. (Several times we see but do not hear Whalum
playing flute or soprano saxophone, which is a bit of a Chekhov’s gun problem).
Clocking
in just under 70 minutes, Humanité is
relatively brief, but it nicely illustrates how music can be a healing force,
for the individual and society. It should also lead to a wider appreciation of
Whalum’s music and that of his colleagues (especially Matsui), even though
Hanon’s questionable approach often leads to viewer disconnect. Still, the
music and the message have merit. Recommended despite misgivings over its presentation
style, Humanité, the Beloved Community is
now available on DVD.
