If Ahsen Nadeem had set out to make a film about the Dalai Lama, His
Holiness would have made him feel like the most import person in the world
during his interview. Instead, he set out to document Kamahori, a monk from an
unusually severe and spartan Japanese monastery on Mount Hiei, who cannot talk
to him because of his vow of silence—and probably wouldn’t have given him the
time of day, if he could. However, there is one frustrated, heavy metal-listening
monk who will talk to him. Regardless, Nadeem certainly needs a good talking-to
throughout his documentary, Crows are White, which screens during the
2022 Camden International Film Festival.
Nadeem
is personally conflicted, because he loves a non-Muslim woman, whom he will
soon marry, but he is afraid to tell his strict Islamic parents (who happen to
live in Ireland). As he pursues the silent Kamahori, viewers soon suspect he is
really trying to divert himself from his real and pressing problems. To some
extent, he finds an understanding friend in Ryushin, a low-level monk stuck
with all the monastery’s most mundane duties. For Ryushin, monastic life is a
family tradition. He is frustrated in his desire to do good works, but cannot
leave while his parents are still alive.
After
Nadeem marries his fiancée and three years pass, it becomes obvious he is
really the subject of his film. Initially, Nadeem does not inspire confidence
as either a subject or a filmmaker. Honestly, I hereby absolve anyone who
checks out after his cellphone starts ringing during one of the monk’s most
physically demanding ceremonies. Seriously, that kind of unprofessionalism is
just disrespectful. However, those who stick it out, might start to warm to Nadeem,
if they accept him as a serial screw-up.
This French television interview with Thelonious Monk recorded in December 1969 is a
lot like the Orson Welles snow peas radio commercial. There is a good reason it
was never released (except for the musical footage), but it wasn’t Monk’s fault.
It was the interviewer who made an idiot of himself. Monk doesn’t take his guff
in the unseen footage Alain Gomis fitted together into the short (65 minute) documentary,
Rewind & Play, which screens during the 2022 Camden International FilmFestival.
Henri Renaud really should have known better. He was a jazz musician himself, having
recorded with Roy Haynes and Zoot Sims, so it was not as if he didn’t respect
the music. Renaud wore many hats, including producer, critic, and general gatekeeper,
vaguely something like Gunther Schuller, but he was a terrible interviewer, as
Gomis (who previously directed the terrific and jazzy DRC-set drama Felicite)
shows us in excruciating detail.
At
first, he just seems a little uncomfortable, which is fair. Monk would certainly
be an intimidating interview subject, but eventually his incompetence gives way
to disrespect. In this case, Monk’s taciturn public persona serves him well. In
fact, Renaud’s disastrous interview perfectly illustrates why Monk would adopt
such a notoriously inscrutable public façade.
At
least Renaud also asked him to play. You can hear Monk’s brilliance on his
classic standards, like “’Round Midnight” and “Crepuscule with Nellie.”
Frankly, viewers will just want Renaud to shut up and let Monk play. It is
worth noting the music from this aborted television special was eventually
released on its own, as a solo concert, without any of the cringy chit-chat.
