I have to confess to knowing next to nothing about the subject of this free-wheeling take on the life and times of jazz trumpet legend Chet Baker, to the extent in fact that I was unaware he was a singer of note too. Let me declare straight away I'm no jazz buff so a lot of the names dropped here and even some of the music featured also meant little to me but armed with my little knowledge and knowing its inherent danger I wanted to look in on this unusual man's career. Of course this portrait takes on more piquancy with the knowledge that within a year of its release, the man himself had died, falling from a hotel window in Amsterdam at the age of only 58.
It has to be said that in latter-day interviews and footage with Baker, he looks considerably older than that. Much is made in the film of his facial deterioration from his James Dean-type heartthrob looks of the mid-50's to his lined and grizzled physiognomy of the late 80's just before his death.
Fashion photographer Bruce Weber made the film in black and white no doubt to befit his subject's cult iconic status and and also to better blend the later narrative with the monochrome press and video footage from Baker's early years. One major irritation was the lack of identifying name-titles for many of the interviewees here, plus the non-chronological narrative, no doubt cut in a deliberately "jazzy" fashion, also confuses at times. These interviews are arranged in no particular order it seems, especially as they are intercut with newly-filmed footage of the later Baker interspersed with irreverent shots of him goofing about on the beach, cruising around in an open top car or going on the dodgems at a carnival with his younger and still adoring family and friends, although earlier women in his life are markedly less adulatory.
Some of his own tall-tales, such as how he lost his teeth, a crucial thing for a trumpeter, are debunked by others around at the time as actual witnesses and it has to be said with his slow, stoner delivery to questions he's not the most riveting interview subject I've ever seen. The most direct question in the movie is the one that gets the most honest answer when his aged mother replies in the affirmative when asked if she considers he has failed her as a son. Elsewhere, we learn he got himself discharged from the army, was a guy you couldn't turn your back on if you were out with your girl, spent time in jail and he also admits to hitting women when he was younger, a crime which many keyboard warriors always bring up to the detriment of say, John Lennon, of whom I am a fan, despite his later peace campaigning. So should Baker be exonerated as he seems to be here for this and other sins, not least by the film-maker himself? I'm not so convinced as Weber in this extended love letter to Baker.
The music, while admittedly unfamiliar to me, reinforced the semi-stoned, beatnik atmosphere which hangs over the film like a fog. I personally prefer his trumpet-playing to his idiosyncratic singing style, but there's no denying his ability to put himself into a song and seem to live it while he sings it, I just wish he'd stay closer to the actual melody of the song sometimes.
Mr Baker was a complex kid for sure and not an altogether likeable one at that. That said, he does come across as occasionally self-effacing and there's no denying his musicality. He seems quite happy with the stylised way he's depicted here but I'd probably conclude by saying that it's the director who more gets lost in his subject than Baker in his musical life which was the lasting impression I got from this film.
It has to be said that in latter-day interviews and footage with Baker, he looks considerably older than that. Much is made in the film of his facial deterioration from his James Dean-type heartthrob looks of the mid-50's to his lined and grizzled physiognomy of the late 80's just before his death.
Fashion photographer Bruce Weber made the film in black and white no doubt to befit his subject's cult iconic status and and also to better blend the later narrative with the monochrome press and video footage from Baker's early years. One major irritation was the lack of identifying name-titles for many of the interviewees here, plus the non-chronological narrative, no doubt cut in a deliberately "jazzy" fashion, also confuses at times. These interviews are arranged in no particular order it seems, especially as they are intercut with newly-filmed footage of the later Baker interspersed with irreverent shots of him goofing about on the beach, cruising around in an open top car or going on the dodgems at a carnival with his younger and still adoring family and friends, although earlier women in his life are markedly less adulatory.
Some of his own tall-tales, such as how he lost his teeth, a crucial thing for a trumpeter, are debunked by others around at the time as actual witnesses and it has to be said with his slow, stoner delivery to questions he's not the most riveting interview subject I've ever seen. The most direct question in the movie is the one that gets the most honest answer when his aged mother replies in the affirmative when asked if she considers he has failed her as a son. Elsewhere, we learn he got himself discharged from the army, was a guy you couldn't turn your back on if you were out with your girl, spent time in jail and he also admits to hitting women when he was younger, a crime which many keyboard warriors always bring up to the detriment of say, John Lennon, of whom I am a fan, despite his later peace campaigning. So should Baker be exonerated as he seems to be here for this and other sins, not least by the film-maker himself? I'm not so convinced as Weber in this extended love letter to Baker.
The music, while admittedly unfamiliar to me, reinforced the semi-stoned, beatnik atmosphere which hangs over the film like a fog. I personally prefer his trumpet-playing to his idiosyncratic singing style, but there's no denying his ability to put himself into a song and seem to live it while he sings it, I just wish he'd stay closer to the actual melody of the song sometimes.
Mr Baker was a complex kid for sure and not an altogether likeable one at that. That said, he does come across as occasionally self-effacing and there's no denying his musicality. He seems quite happy with the stylised way he's depicted here but I'd probably conclude by saying that it's the director who more gets lost in his subject than Baker in his musical life which was the lasting impression I got from this film.