Phil Ochs: There But for Fortune

This movie was a stunning and stirring tribute to two things: 1)The beloved (and neglected) musician, Phil Ochs, and 2)The oft- tributed 1960's. Weaving the topical songwriter's biography through the fascinating history of his time helps to make sense of the indelible stamp which that decade left on our souls. Appropriately, it doesn't end well, but it does capture that "we can change the world" empowerment that may presently and forever be rekindled.

Here you will find beautiful music(but seldom the whole song) and filmed insights into the early Greenwich Village folk scene, the riots at the 1968 Democratic Convention, the assassination of the Kennedy's, and as Phil embraced the world-at-large, the CIA-backed coup that helped install South American dictator, Pinochet. Here is understanding for that phrase, "the personal is political and the political is personal."

The real power-punch is that once you know his songs.. The themes are regrettably still relevant after 40+ years ! Sample these lyrics (from 1965), "We own half the world, Oh Say Can You See. And the name for our profits is democracy. So like it or not you will have to be free. Cause we're the cops of the world." Well, one update is necessary.. Because of those imperialistic policies we no longer own half the world.

If only Phil were with us now I have no doubt he could have similarly and poetically explained the financial collapse, the tea party, Citizens United, Iraq and Afghanistan, and the Wisconsin attack on unions. His manic-depressive curse was to perceive the world through a deeply felt lens of social justice which filtered out media distortion and political complexities and distilled the truth into a tune you could hum. Many "protest singers" of the time attempted this but nobody did it better.

"Liberty and Justice For All"......

Originally from El Paso, Texas - Phil Ochs (December 19, 1940 – April 9, 1976) was a protest singer and songwriter who was known for his sharp wit, sardonic humour, earnest humanism, political activism, insightful lyrics, and distinctive voice. He wrote 100s of songs in the 1960s and 1970s and released 8 albums.

Ochs strongly believed that his generation would change the world. He performed at many political events during the 1960s counterculture era, including anti-Vietnam War and civil rights rallies. Ochs described himself as a "left social democrat" who became an "early revolutionary" after the protests at the 1968 Democratic National Convention in Chicago led to a police riot, which had a profound effect on his state of mind.

This "There But For Fortune" documentary is definitely a worthwhile look at the man and the era in which he stood for in American history.

This is about the life of 1960s folksinger, Phil Ochs. He discovered folk music and politics at Ohio State University in the late 1950s and began to blend the two. He grew up in the Jewish family of a failed medical doctor who suffered from bipolar disorder and depression after his military service in World War II.

Phil Ochs wrote and sang very topical protest music on many themes--unions, racial discrimination, and ultimately the Vietnam War. He began writing music and singing extensively in 1961 and 1962 in New York City and became part of the folk music world there. He had quite a distinctive voice and wrote more explicit protest music than more popular performers like Bob Dylan who were more interested in the creativity of their music.

After the 1968 Democratic National Convention, he began to lose his way through alcoholism and the same bipolar issues that had afflicted his father. He committed suicide by hanging in 1976 at the age of 35.

This is a remarkable documentary that is unflinching in describing the ascent and then the disintegration of Ochs' life. The story is told by many of Phil Ochs' musical friends, as well as his family, wife, and daughter. Many of his songs hold the documentary together.

Many of us are familiar with such songs of the sixties as "I Ain't Marching Anymore," "There but for Fortune", "Love Me, I'm a Liberal," and "When I'm Gone" without remembering that the author was Phil Ochs, a singer/songwriter whose name is hardly recognized today. Kenneth Bowser, in his documentary Phil Ochs: There but for Fortune, makes sure that we find out. The film traces Ochs' rise from his beginnings as a young performer in the Greenwich Village folk scene in the early sixties to his prominence as a protest singer in the ongoing struggle against war, racism, and injustice. An artist who developed a sizable following, Ochs' self-inflicted death in 1976 at the age of 35 was a tragic signpost of the end of an era.

Though the documentary breaks no new ground, its format of photos, live concert footage, and personal interviews keeps it lively and interesting, although the quick snippets we hear of Ochs' songs make it difficult to fully appreciate his talent. Interviews are conducted with Phil's brother Michael who acted as his manager, folk singers Pete Seeger, Judy Henske, and Joan Baez, actor Sean Penn, activist Tom Hayden, journalist Christopher Hitchens, and others, but not seen is Ochs' prominent contemporary, Bob Dylan. Bowser reveals that Dylan had a falling out with Ochs when Bob unsuccessfully tried to steer Phil away from what he considered to be his one-dimensional approach to song writing and urged him to express more of his personal feelings.

As a consequence, Dylan, to put it mildly, is not spoken of highly in the film and his estrangement with Ochs continued until Bob joined Phil years later for a benefit concert for Victor Jara, a Chilean protest singer who was brutally murdered by Pinochet. As has been repeated often, the sixties was a time when young people truly believed that energy and idealism could change society, only to be disillusioned when powerful forces in and out of government tipped the scales in favor of political assassinations and military adventurism. As a frustrated protest movement splintered and gave way to the political theater of the Yippie culture personified by Jerry Rubin and Abbie Hoffman, and the Weather Underground began a campaign of setting off bombs on government property, Phil Ochs career began to slide.

The murders of John and Bobby Kennedy, the democratically-elected Chilean Socialist Salvador Allende, and the killings at Kent State, hit him very hard as did the continuation of the senseless war in Vietnam. Ochs also continued to grapple with alcoholism and the bi-polar disease inherited from his father. His downward spiral was exacerbated when he was attacked while walking on a beach in Dar es Salaam in Africa, causing him to lose strength and range in his singing voice. Ochs' behavior took on bizarre aspects when he appeared at a concert in Carnegie Hall dressed in an Elvis Presley gold suit, shouting at his audience, "We need to turn Elvis Presley into Che Guevara." Though Ochs was not a major artist in the mold of Bob Dylan whose lyrics reverberated with poetry and breadth of vision, much of his work was important and inspiring, a singer who reflected his times and gave it new definition. He was "a young man with many reasons why" but when he was no longer young and the causes he fought for were foundering, his grip on reality started slipping and he knew that he would no longer "suffer from the pain when he was gone." When Dave van Ronk sang "He was a Friend of Mine" at Ochs' memorial concert, the words of Eminem could be heard saying, "And when I'm gone, just carry on, don't mourn. Rejoice every time you hear the sound of my voice."

I went originally to see this documentary because I loved Ochs music - even played some of it badly at one time - but feared it might simply be a 'trip down memory lane'. But the film is so much more than a bio of Ochs and his music or - thank god - just an exercise in nostalgia. It really captured the power and significance of the historically altering events of the 60's - both for the country and for individuals. I wish everyone - especially young people - could see it. Ochs comments in the film that Nixon used the stereotype of a drugged out-of-control protester to present the masses with the false choice of himself or 'those'. Of course that strategy of fear and false political choices is not unique to Nixon - always existed and still does. Nonetheless,it still saddens and angers me that conservatives have succeeded so well in shaping the historical lens that most people see the 60's through now. Most people today simply think of drugs, sex, rock-and-roll, and self-indulgence when they think of the 60's. Lost is any mass knowledge of what happened in Birmingham, or to martyrs like the Philadelphia Three, or the work of thousands of sincere people like Ochs who fought for fairness. The film captures this split - how the 60's was really two segments - and just as Ochs lost his way after Chicago - so did the nation. I don't have a problem with the fact that there wasn't more musical footage of Och's music in the documentary. There was enough to present his music and place in the folk scene of his time. Other sources can fill in more of his music - and hopefully people who aren't familiar with his music will do that. One documentary cannot be three films - i.e. personal bio, musical compilation, and historical analysis. It needs to have a focus and point of view. And,for me, this film captured the power and impact of his music, and how his personal life followed - sadly - the country's loss of trust and hope.