Branagh’s Rockin’ Death on the Nile

Who knew Hercule Poirot had such hip taste in music? It came as a surprise to him too, but he really grooves to Sister Rosetta Tharpe. Technically, she is called Salome Otterbourne, but she plays electric guitar and her repertoire includes “Rock Me” and “Up Above My Head.” However, she is not completely Sister Rosetta, since she might possibly be kind of slightly interested in him too. Regardless, Poirot will have to concentrate on the bodies that start piling up in director-star Kenneth Branagh’s Death on the Nile, which releases Tuesday on DVD and BluRay.

Like Branagh’s Wallander, his take on Poirot is decidedly sadder and, in this case, even tragic. Screenwriter Michael Green punches up Dame Agatha’s popular novel by giving the Belgian sleuth a rather heartbreaking backstory, flashing back to Poirot’s service in WWI. The truth is, it does help explain why Poirot is so fastidiously Poirot.

Regardless, Poirot finds himself in Egypt, along with newlyweds Simon Doyle and Linette Ridgeway-Doyle, who met at a Salome Otterbourne gig (that Poirot also happened to attend). At the time, Doyle was engaged to Jackie de Belfort, Ridgeway’s dirt-poor best friend. Since then, Doyle traded up to the heiress. De Belfort took the news quite badly. In fact, she has chased the happy couple every step of their Nile cruise honeymoon. Her stalking has grown so unhinged, Poirot agreed to give her a fatherly talking-to. Despite his concern, Ridgeway-Doyle is soon bumped off, but it happens after De Belfort is sedated, following a violent altercation with her former fiancé.

That leaves Poirot with literal boatload of suspects (all aboard the S.S. Karnak), all of whom have motives. Naturally, the elite detective proceeds to investigate, with the help of his old friend Bouc, substituting for David Niven’s Col. Race in the 1978 film. Several of the supporting characters have been reconfigured and assigned different jobs and stations in life, but the fundamental murder mystery remains the same.

However, the music is way better this time and Branagh maybe even makes better use of the grand Egyptian settings. He is a more neurotic Poirot than Ustinov ever was, but he also develops some unusually bittersweet, ambiguously romantic chemistry with Sophie Okonedo’s Otterbourne.

Say Amen: Rejoice and Shout

How hip a blues guitarist was Sister Rosetta Tharpe? Well, she was one of the primary influences on a kid from Tupelo, Mississippi named Elvis. Yet, she was not really a blues or R&B artist, but a Gospel singer. By profiling trailblazers like Tharpe, director Don McGlynn and producer Joe Lauro celebrate the rich legacy and diversity of American Gospel music in Rejoice and Shout (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York at Film Forum.

Rejoice opens on a true high note, as a young member of the Selvy Family of Gospel singers belts out a powerful old-time religion rendition of “Amazing Grace.” The film then proceeds to backpedal, explaining where the music came from. Yes, it is rooted in the plantation experience of African Americans, but the story of Gospel’s development is more complicated, involving entrepreneurial figures like Thomas A. Dorsey. A reformed bluesman, Dorsey penned and promoted scores of Gospel standards, often popularized through performances by the great Mahalia Jackson.

Frankly, it is pleasantly surprising how intelligently Rejoice addresses the actual music. It is particularly effective illustrating the complexity of the arrangements and the syncopated jazz influences of the vocal ensembles like the Golden Gate Quartet. More to the point, many people will probably be surprised how much fun this legitimately sacred music truly is.

Of course, the music is the thing in Rejoice. To their credit, McGlynn and Lauro unearthed some remarkable rare footage, ranging from sound film that predates Al Jolson in The Jazz Singer to some totally cool video of the Edwin Hawkins Singers performing “Oh Happy Day” during a stadium concert. Still, Rejoice never forgets the music’s raison d’être, allowing former 1970’s Gospel superstar turned everyday preacher Andraé Crouch the time and space to speak eloquently of the glory and power of God.

Unfortunately, Rejoice largely runs out of steam once it hits the 1980’s, following Crouch’s main segment. Arguably, the more contemporary fusions of Gospel and pop lack the power of the previous seventy-some years and the artist profiles are more perfunctory, but that is quite late in the film. McGlynn also tosses up a partisan airball with the already clichéd conclusion of Obama triumphalism, cheapening an otherwise admirable survey of some genuinely stirring music.

Despite some third act slack, Rejoice is an entertaining and educational music documentary. In addition to Gospel devotees, jazz, blues, and soul fans will also find much to enjoy in the music and in the way it is presented. Quite well assembled overall and rather swinging, Rejoice is indeed recommended when it opens this Friday (6/3) at New York’s Film Forum.

Shout, Sister, Shout

Shout, Sister, Shout! The Untold Story of Rock-and-Roll Trailblazer Sister Rosetta Tharpe
By Gayle F. Wald
Beacon Press
978-0-8070-0984-0

In 1998 the U.S. Postal service issued a four piece gospel commemorative set, featuring Mahalia Jackson, Clara Ward, Roberta Martin, and Sister Rosetta Tharpe. Unlike the other three singers, Tharpe had a profound influence outside of gospel as an instrumentalist. While she has obviously not been forgotten, Gayle Ward argues she never received her proper due in her biography Shout, Sister, Shout!

Much Wald’s telling of Tharpe’s story involves her blurring of boundaries. For jazz and blues fans, that category cross-pollination is often attractive, but in the gospel world it can be problematic. Despite her gospel roots, many first discovered Tharpe during her time with the Lucky Millinder outfit. Wald writes of her debut with band:

“‘When Sister Tharpe opened up at the Savoy with Lucky Millinder’s band people just went wild,’ [jazz and r&b pianist] Bill Doggett recalled. ‘Everybody just loved Sister. Because she knew how to mingle with people, and she just had that, the charisma. Of course they weren’t calling it (that) then, I guess they were just calling it “show business,” but that’s what it really was. Sister really had it.’” (p. 58)

Wald clearly positions Tharpe as an under appreciated fore-bearer of rock-and-roll, making a convincing case. She quotes those closely associated with the likes of Jerry Lee Lewis and Elvis Presley:

“‘Elvis Loved Sister Rosetta Tharpe,’ says Gordon Stoker, who clocked thousands of hours with Presley as a member of the Jordanaires. ‘Not only did he dig her guitar picking—that’s what he really dug—but he dug her singing too.” (p. 70)

For all Wald’s efforts to build Tharpe’s historical reputation there is an odd section (p. 88-90) dealing with rumors regarding her sexuality, which seem gossipy and out of place. While some people are quoted passing along rumors of a relationship between her and her gospel singing partner Marie Knight, according to Wald:

“Marie rejects these stories about Rosetta and herself as so much hokum. The gospel world is full of liars, she says, and it’s best not to believe the rumors and gossip other people pass off as truth.” (p. 89)

When making the musical case for Tharpe, Shout is on solid ground. Wald also gives deserving credit to her mother, singer and evangelist Katie Bell Nubin, who only recorded one album, Soul, Soul Searching, but made it count, backed up by no less than Dizzy Gillespie and his band. Most of Tharpe’s recordings are already available on CD, but if this book can help spur a reissue of Nubin’s LP (which I can attest is quite good) that would be a happy event. Regardless, Shout gives an overdue ovation to an artist whose recordings and influence straddled musical boundaries.