Jazz an einem Sommerabend

I think you can enjoy this film on a few levels.

First, it's a great chronicle of mid-century music. Although nominally a jazz festival, producer George Wein put Berry, a rock 'n roll star, and Jackson, the leading gospel singer of her day, on the roster, probably to attract a larger crowd.

The images are superb. If you're over 50, you probably recall Bert Stern's photography. It was a pinnacle of mid-century advertising (the Smirnoff ad shot in the Egyptian desert with the pyramid, inverted, in a refreshingly cool vodka martini glass with a twist). It was his stills of Sue Lyons in Stanley Kubrick's version of Lolita that everyone remembers. Almost everyone has seen his iconic nude photo shoot of Marilyn Monroe ("The Last Sitting").

Here you have the still photographer's sensibility brought to a documentary. You can see the same thing in Ken Burns' earlier works for the same reason. The tight shots of the performers using very long lenses (something that was not yet common in film but was emerging on TV at the time). The long, languid, at times voyeuristic shots of the audience. The Festival was taking place at the same time as the America's Cup trials. Stern shot some of this from a Piper Cub (inexpensive to rent and almost as slow as a helicopter), and there are some long cutaways to this footage. At times, the images on the screen resemble the LP covers of the era – the original "Miles Ahead" cover, for example, featuring the beautiful (white) model on a sailboat (which Davis despised).

The mono sound is surprisingly good given the circumstances, probably because the audio track was engineered and recorded by Columbia Records, which was there to record its artists. They used then-state-of-the-art studio microphones rather than the more durable lower quality ones you'd typically see in a concert setting in those days. Yes, sound recording technology is better today.

Second, you can appreciate the back story of making the film. Today, people in their 20s and 30s making documentaries probably have no appreciation of how tough it was to pull off this project. Today, high definition video cameras and tape can be had for a tiny fraction of what film cameras, 35MM stock and processing cost in those days. Sound synchronization is a given. Today, for a fraction of the cost of a Moviola you can assemble your A and B rolls and soundtrack on a computer, without having to pay extras for optical effects or sound processing. You no longer have to assemble and keep track of miles of film and mag stripe audio reels, as well as handle the negative with loving care. It's all there on your hard drive and you get unlimited do-overs. Aram Avakian, the editor (also a photographer and filmmaker), was at it night and day for months and months largely by himself. (Woodstock, by contrast, had a large team of editors and assistants.) Avakian, as much as Stern, is responsible for the film (the two share the director's credit). Also, trying to sync up the images from all those different cameras with the soundtrack had to be challenging and I'm guessing it must have required a lot of work and inspired work-arounds to get it looking as good as it did.

Not to mention just how audacious it was for Stern to put the money up for shooting it himself and how he managed to get a large number of professional cameramen to help out. Since he didn't have enough money to shoot (or even light) everything, Stern used George Avakian, a legendary producer at Columbia Records and Aram's brother, to cue the film crew to turn on the lights and start rolling when he thought a number would be worth shooting.

After scouting the location, Stern was so unimpressed by the Festival's cruddy venue (the local high school athletic field) he decided not to make the film, only to have his mind changed by the person sitting next to him on his flight back to New York. He originally planned to create a story line around the festival. Luckily, it proved impossible to film the hokey stuff they had written.

Third, it's an authentic look at mid-century America. When I was growing up in the 60s, I used to look at back issues of Life magazines of the 30s and 40s. At first to "goof on" at the earnestness and corniness of the ads and the stories. But then to appreciate the nuances of living everyday life in the decades before I was born, which you could glean from leafing through those pages. "Anonymous history" is infused in the film. The kid holding several empty soda bottles is probably there at the festival because sneaking into an event like this and picking up empties was an easy way to earn some money. In those days, the deposit you paid on bottles was much larger in real terms than today.

Shows like "Mad Men" do a decent enough job of picking up some of the atmospherics of this time (usually by showing people smoking cigarettes like madmen), but this is the real thing. The clothes, especially, but also in the gestures and the way people move. And then there's the White/Negro thing in this film. There wasn't the kind of overt racism in Newport, Rhode Island that you would find in the south but there was definitely separateness. Remember, in 1958 Amos 'n Andy was still being shown on TV, and only white people were in TV ads. The two groups are integrated in the movie, but this wasn't typical. Stern was told that he probably couldn't distribute the movie in the south because of this.

In all, a real gem for anyone who loves jazz. A must-see for anyone who likes, makes or wants to make documentary films.

This is a wonderful document of the 1958 Newport Jazz Festival and archetype for the concert film, with captivating interludes of visual poetry. As close as one can get to traveling back through time, watching the audience is as much fun here as watching the performers. You can recognize this film as a source of inspiration, perhaps, for the pretensions behind projects like "The Last Waltz," and one certainly gets a sense, given the caliber of the performers gathered onto a single stage, of the magnitude of this event without it ever being forced. The intimacy remains intact. And in contrast with the somber beat of "The Last Waltz," the sun shines on everything here. A joy.

Anita O'Day singing "Sweet Georgia Brown". Dinah Washington warbling "All of Me" while also playing the xylophone. Chuck Berry playing guitar rocking to "Sweet Little Sixteen" while also doing his famous duck walk. Thelonious Monk on the piano. Gerry Mulligan with his band. Louis Armstrong and Jack Teagarden dueting on "Rocking Chair". And Mahalia Jackson ending the program on "The Lord's Prayer". All those I've cited are highlights of what I've seen in this great documentary of the Newport Jazz Festival of 1958 which ran at the same time as the America's Cup boat race of which some of that is also shown. And seeing all those shots of audience members having the time of their lives were also fine visually especially when one was seen singing along with one of Sachmo's songs. The whole thing was an overwhelming treat to watch so all I'll now say is Jazz on a Summer's Day is highly recommended.

Maybe 'cause I'm not a jazz afficionado but am an inveterate people watcher I had the exact opposite reaction to Pres. Washington below. Absolutely loved the crowd shots! A real potpourri of late 50s, left wing/avant garde America where the young men all look like future Kennedy era hipsters and the gals resemble various incarnations of Sylvia Plath. As for the music I'll agree with the pres that Satchmo is pretty damn hard not to like. And I'll see if I can rustle up some Anita O'Day on You Tube. Give it a B. PS...How in the world did rock 'n roll, in the form of Chuck Berry, ever crash this jazz bash?

An exhilarating bullseye of music and spirit and a masterwork in aesthetics and observation.

Absolutely not a minute is wasted. Every decision of whether to show the performers, the audience, or the moments where it cuts to different scenes around the neighborhood (which could each function as a perfect short film on their own) all feels cohesively motivated in serving as a perfect testament to universal human joy and enthusiasm for creative spirits. The eye for capturing people in unguarded, emblematic moments serves as a fantastic precursor to Monterey Pop and Woodstock (as well as Neil Young's Weld but people aren't ready for that conversation yet) and its spirit was later taken to great effect by Jonathan Demme.

I get the sense that a great deal could be written about the larger cultural contexts that contributed to an object this pure and awesome being preserved, but for me its most inspiring as a testament to sensitive and committed people being on their absolute A-game for every aspect of production. This includes the people behind the camera having an acute sense for the perfect moments and angles to capture (and the showcase of lighting perfection from shot to shot, especially in such a free-form documentary setting, is absolute insanity), to the people responsible for the preservation of the film itself being so rich and beautiful, to the editors having an exacting sense of rhythm and kineticism (and making consistently creative and surprising choices among what must have been an intimidating amount of fantastic footage to curate), to the performers who each and every one of them manage at least one spellbinding and memorable moment (Anita O'Day being a total BEAST of a performer, Chuck Berry using a clarinet player to stunning effect, and Satchmo ascending to god form and winning music are just some of my favorites and I'm sure you'll have your own because every performance serves as a unique, full expression).

I cannot overstate what a revelation this film is, from the performances themselves to the cutaways to the life surrounding the festival, these are transcendent moments that form this fusion of music and image that feel like all of human existence was made in order to converge to this place and time, which is now available immaculately forever.