The Blues Under the Skin, Featuring Mance Lipscomb, Sonny Terry & Brownie McGhee, and Other Legends

The original, real-deal blues musicians made vast fortunes possible, because R&B, rock & roll, and soul were built on top of their music. Yet, they often lived modestly, sometimes even in poverty. It is clear poverty was part of what Greek-born French documentarian Roviros Manthoulis was looking for when he started filming his blues documentary in America. To make his point regarding the underclass, Manthoulis added a fictional hybrid component, but the music he documented is the reason to rediscover the newly restored The Blues Under the Skin, which starts its first proper American theatrical release today in New York.

Freddy and Hattie Feester could be considered Manthoulis’s ill-fated Frankie and Johnny. After his release from prison, Feester wants to go straight, but nobody will give the ex-con a chance. Living off his wife so damages his pride, he slowly turns abusive. Neither are musicians, but they are certainly familiar with the blues world. He spends most of his time drinking in neighbor dive-clubs and, awkwardly, they both live with his mother, who was once a blues piano player, somewhat in the mold of Sweet Emma Barrett (who was more jazz, but you get the idea).

Although the grim Feester vignettes are filmed in color, they are stylistically reminiscent of Shirley Clarke’s The Cool World, but less compelling. If anything, these segments come across as somewhat condescending. Many black Americans struggled like the Feesters, but they carried on anyway, rather than lashing out in acts of domestic violence. Fortunately, the music makes up for the dramatic misfires.

There are some terrific performances from true legends, including Sonny Terry & Brownie McGhee (the greatest duo in American music, who tower over the likes of Sonny & Cher, Jan & Dean, and Hall & Oates) who deliver two standout performances, including a “John Henry” that is somehow profoundly bluesy and infectiously finger-snappable. Yet, nobody is as eerily powerful as Mance Lipscomb, whose “All Night Long” instantly transports viewers to the lonesome fields and railroads tracks of rural Texas.

Furry Lewis and Bukka White, whom some fans might have recently seen in The Blues Society also appear here—and it is always a pleasure to hear them. It does not get more legendary than B.B. King and Buddy Guy, but Manthoulis captured them in performance before they were nationalized recognized institutions, with clubs named in their honor. Plus, Roosevelt Sykes delivers the barrelhouse side of the blues with his rollicking “Runnin’ the Boogie.”

Even though Robert Pete Williams recorded on several prestigious specialty labels, he is probably the one musician in Under the Skin who most deserves wider recognition, so Manthoulis deserves credit for including him. Plus, it turns out Amelia Cortez, the thesp playing Feester’s mother, could belt out a credible “Someday Sweetheart.”

It is a shame all these vintage performances have been essentially unseen and unheard for so long. Manthoulis filmed the blues artists after the peak of the Blues Revival boom, but they are all still at or very near the peaks of their expressive musical powers. Highly recommended (but just for the music), The Blues Under the Skin opens today (7/12) in New York, at the Maysles Center.