Wild Man Blues

"Wild Man Blues" is a truly entertaining documentary about Woody Allen touring through Europe with his New Orleans Jazz Band. Every Monday they use to play at Michael´s Pub in Manhattan. It took a long time until Mr. Allen was persuaded to leave New York and to play in European concert halls, he knew too well that people would come to see him and not because of his inspired clarinet soli. Director Barbara Kopple accompanies him during his concerts and even into his luxurious hotel suites. Not unexpected it turns out that Mr. Allen has strange travel habits. The best moments of the film are when the people that always surround Allen never cease to to express their admiration for him, just like they do in his movie "Stardust memories"(1980) which was a disaster. His fans realized that this satire was directed at them and they recognised themselves in the characters of "Stardust memories". Kopples film reveals that Allen has learnt to live with them. He reacts with a warm smile and a little bit of sarcasm when every day he is told a dozen times "you are the greatest, I love your movies, mostly your earlier and funny ones, why can´t you go on making funny movies...". However, "Wild Man Blues" is a very funny film.

Woody Allen and the New Orleans Jazz Band set out on a tour of eighteen cities in seven countries in Europe. Accompanying them is Barbara Kopple, who has been given total access to the musician and filmmaker Allen as he does the shows and the time in between. The end result is a documentary that takes in Allen's love for this rather `crude' form of jazz but also allows for some insights into his personal life, his relationship with Soon Yi and his famous obsessions and neuroses.

I bought this film as a Woody Allen fan and as someone who, while not a fan, certainly enjoys a bit of old fashioned jazz music on a hot sunny night. For both these reasons I enjoyed this film, even though the description of it as a `documentary' is maybe not the most fitting as it implies a certain amount of probing into the subject. Rather than digging, Kopple basically just seems to point the camera and leave it running. She doesn't really ask any questions of Allen or his family and seems content to let him and his companions just talk freely - it made me wonder how many countless hours of footage she must have shot to come up with what she uses here. So if you are looking for insight in Allen then you won't get it here. Likewise, if you are looking for a great deal of discussion or insight into the music then you'll be let down; in this area Kopple also mostly just films the band playing.

That is not to say that the film is bad, because it isn't, but there isn't a great deal of substance to it unless you are Woody Allen fan. As a fan, there isn't a great deal of insight into Allen's life or situation - the conclusion we are left with is no more of an understanding than we started with, that he is a witty little man who is filled with little complexes and neuroses while also being a very private person. The value of the film is that we actually get to see that during the course of the movie. Allen is funny and quite relaxed but a `real' documentary would have pushed harder into the darker issues of Allen's life - many viewers will be annoyed by how the film just accepts Soon Yi without ever really asking any questions or even hinting at the many issues behind their relationship.

Overall I enjoyed this film but then I like Woody Allen's humour and was interested to seeing if his onscreen personae is similar to his real life character. However it isn't really insightful and it is only a scene near the end with Allen and his parents (yeah - I was surprised they were still alive too!) that gives a little background and is interesting. A light, witty and quite enjoyable film but I can't imagine that anyone other than fans of Woody Allen and jazz will get a great deal from this.

If you thought you had be Jewish or from New York to fully appreciate Woody Allen, this movie proves otherwise.

Documentarian Barbara Kopple took her hand-held camera on Allen's '96 European tour, in which he and his jazz band played a whopping 18 concerts in 23 days. She photographed him everywhere but in the "john": in airplanes, hotel rooms, lobbies, receptions, backstage, onstage, in the streets--everywhere.

His deadpan quips and jousts buoy up what would have been a conventional travelogue. You're never sure whether Allen's being serious or satiric, but one finds one's self laughing at nearly all his comments. He's just an amusing guy.

For comedic reasons, it certainly helps that Woody has one of the funniest faces around--even without his "vanishing creme and beauty gel" he comments is amongst his toilitry. As to his tour, this is a chance to see and hear what's been talked about for years. That is, an example of Woody's playing in that certain lower Manhattan pub where he's tooted his "licorice stick"--even being loyal to that group one year rather than bothering to go pick up an "Oscar."

Playing the clarinet since age 15, Allen admits to practicing two hours daily--a "must," he says, "just to keep the chops in shape." It also helps that his playing is "only a hobby, to have fun." Judging from his New Orleans style jazz performance, he's probably being quite honest.

But he also seems to be bringing some extra-musical attributes to his concerts--a whole range of associations with his past creative efforts. All the laughs, pleasures, joys, frustrations, and sorrows associated with his total body of work seem to be reprised as he--now a genuine icon--stands there, slim of body, pouring his heart out in every selection.

Ably assisted by musicians on the trumpet, trombone, drums, piano, banjo and bass, Allen is clearly the star, appearing in a strictly all-musical format. There are only a few words of introduction and closing sentences from him. The rest is ninety minutes of pure music.

How remarkable are his European followers! They simply love and adore him. They mob him outside his hotel, backstage and through the streets as he walks, taking endless photos ("It's the same photo," he quips). They wave ecstatically at him as he takes gondola rides in Venice. The staid English stand and cheer at the end of his London concerts. Nationalistic Parisians drool over his weak attempts to greet them in French.

Europeans also love the more esoteric Allen films, like "Interiors," which flopped in the US. There's no doubt: Woody Allen is an overseas hero. An added final bonus is Allen with his mom and dad in their NYC apartment, they obviously proud of but publicly reserved about their son's accomplishments. "In spite of the fact that you beat me daily," Allen quips to his mom.

We're fortunate to have this 105-minute documentary for posterity. It may prove increasingly valuable as time goes on.

This is a documentary account of Allen's tour of Europe with his New Orleans jazz band. Barbara Kopple directs effectively and seems to have the ability to be there at the crucial moment without the scenes looking staged or faked. I do not know if the film is a deliberate attempt to counter the bad publicity Allen received over his affair with the teenage Soon-Yi. Certainly the now 27 year-old Soon-Yi appears to be the dominant one of the partnership like a kindly but strict mother controlling the behaviour of her naughty child. I particularly enjoyed the breakfast scene in Madrid where she gently scolds Allen for not showing sufficient appreciation to the members of his band. She orders Spanish omelette because it seems to be the appropriate thing to have and then makes Allen eat it because it tastes like rubber. The final scene is fascinating with Allen and Soon-Yi back in New York visiting Allen's parents, both in their 90s. Both parents are dismissive of Allen's achievements and his mother confesses that she wanted him to marry a nice Jewish girl.

Allen's clarinet playing is variable. He seems to be having trouble with his reed throughout the tour. On good nights he sounds like a reasonable George Lewis imitator, on a bad night in Paris he could barely coax a note out of his instrument. The audiences loved him apart from a bejewelled invited audience in Rome that clapped politely and sat wearing bemused smiles throughout the performance

I really love this movie. Woody Allen appears as a very nice man. Other comments are very right, referring to his movie Stardust Memories. I think it's a little bit sad that all these people wants to see him because he's a famous actor and director, and not because of the music he and his partners seems to love so much. That happens to be my favorite kind of jazz (Jelly Roll Morton! Yeah!) and the band are doin' it in a very attractive way. This movie should be just about music.