Three stars. Rated R, for relentless profanity, nudity, drug use and flashes of violence
By Derrick Bang
Following an astonishing prolific
decade of studio work — with 32 (!) albums released on Prestige, Blue Note and
Columbia during the 1950s — Miles Davis hit mainstream acclaim with 1959’s now-legendary
Kind of Blue, followed in quick
succession by Sketches of Spain and Someday My Prince Will Come, the latter
inspired by his wife Frances, who was pictured on the LP cover.
 |
| Don Cheadle's performance as Miles Davis is so spot-on that it's eerie, down to the smallest details. Alas, the film that surrounds this superb acting isn't nearly as satisfying. |
Those forever remained the go-to
albums for many of Davis’ most enthusiastic fans, much to the jazz
trumpeter/composer’s ongoing annoyance. He hated looking back, and he
absolutely hated being “defined” by his 1950s/early ’60s sound; God forbid that
one should even pigeonhole his work by calling it “jazz.”
“Jazz is an Uncle Tom word,” he
famously said, during a December 1969 Rolling
Stone interview. “It’s a white folks word.” When pressed, he insisted that
rock and jazz both deserved to be termed “social music.”
Like most truly inquisitive
artists, Davis thrived on exploring and challenging music’s very essence and
form. His output during the latter 1960s and early ’70s became increasingly
outré, unmelodic and challenging for even the most patient listener: wild,
harsh, flamboyant, unrestrained — granted, always technically proficient —
dissonant and cacophonous.
As if he were trying to be provocative, and daring
people to dislike the result.
The same can be said of Don
Cheadle’s aggressively weird “cinematic reflection” on Davis’ life and career
... or, at least, some portions thereof. This project obviously is a labor of
love for Cheadle, who directed, stars, co-produced and co-wrote the script (the
latter credit shared with Steven Baigelman, Stephen J. Rivele and Christopher
Wilkinson).
The result is, by turns,
celebratory, random and maddening: as gleefully bizarre and uncompromising as
much of Davis’ latter-day music. To be sure, the film is anchored by Cheadle’s
flat-out astonishing portrayal of Davis: less an acting challenge and far more
some sort of full-immersion experience, as if the actor somehow figured out a
way to “wear” Davis, like a suit of clothes.
From the raspy voice to the smug,
condescending attitude and flashes of hot-tempered anger; from the often clumsy
gait that seemed so unusual, contrasted with the always loving embrace with
which Davis handled his horn ... it’s positively spooky.
Whether Cheadle’s riveting
performance is sufficient compensation for the bizarre narrative style, though
... that’ll be up to individual viewers.
