In the Court of the Crimson King: King Crimson at 50

Greetings again from the darkness. King Crimson was founded in 1969 and to this day, no one can properly describe their music. Even co-founder and band leader Robert Fripp avoids labeling the music and instead states, "King Crimson is a way of doing things". Documentarian Toby Amies takes on the challenge of examining the band after 50 years.

While most associate guitarist Fripp as being the face of the band, he himself claims that it's an ensemble and always has been. But then he also describes the years 1969 through 2013 as "wretched", and that only with this most recent iteration has found satisfaction. At a minimum, Fripp is a perfectionist, and it's likely he is also a tortured genius who constantly strives for different, more, and better. He makes for a frustrating interview, and director Armies shows him mostly in various short clips, while letting current and former band members offer their opinions.

Co-founder Ian McDonald's zoom interview is the most touching. Taking place shortly before McDonald's passing in 2022, he breaks down and says, "I'm sorry Robert", for leaving Fripp and King Crimson after only a year. Obviously, there was some bad blood between the two men, even after so many years. McDonald went on to co-found the band Foreigner in the 1970's before taking on a solo career. Fripp remained with King Crimson and pursued his idea of what a band should be.

Former King Crimson bassist Trey Gunn explained being in the band was like "a low-grade infection", while current drummer/keyboardist Bill Rieflin thrived with the band. Rieflin was performing with Stage four colon cancer and countless other health issues, yet viewed making music as what he was meant to do, right up until his passing during filming of this documentary. Numerous other former members are interviewed and the comments range from annoyance to reverence. Current singer/guitarist Jakko is cautious about what he says so as not to cross Fripp. He cracks, "you're irreplaceable ... like the last bloke." It's a unique band playing unique music - a style where each world class musician plays their part based on what fellow band members (usually 8 including 3 drummers) are playing. The result is often a peak experience for the audience, even those who have attended many shows over the years. There is an interesting segment featuring a nun who is also a devoted fan of the band. She compares it to religion, and between the immersive music and Fripp's commentary, we can't help but put this in terms of philosophy, psychology, religion, and even a cult-like atmosphere. Always impeccably dressed like a British gentleman, Fripp's obsessive discipline and demanding ways, leave us with a better feel for the band, while being no closer to offering a label of description. This is not your parents' music documentary ... even if it happens to be your parents' favorite band.

In theaters November 3, 2023 and VOD beginning December 1, 2023.

This promises to be much more (a clever history) than it is (a fawning backstage tour of a current show), and had opportunities to be a) a deeper history of the band and b) wittier. Anybody who has watched Robert Fripp's home videos (of him and his wife covering a wild assortment of rock and pop tunes) knows he has a sense of humor, likes rocknroll music, and can be quite amusing and self-deprecating. The documentary focuses (much of this is connoted by editorial choices, as we frequently see Fripp walking away to do something more important) on the peeved, obsessive Latin-professor aspect of Fripp, which, while real, isn't the whole enchilada, and without being complicated by the rest of his experience and personality, the impatient-professor schtick is interesting for about 70 seconds. The film-makers lined up most of the surviving members of King Crimson from the last 50 years and got them narrate about 1.2% of their experience of the history of the band. The film spends more time lavishing its camera's eye on, I am not kidding, roadies and tech-men tinkering with equipment backstage for a current show, as they field inane questions, and mutter responses as good-naturedly as they can in the circumstances, rather than on any sort of evolutionary (or crisis-based) story of the bands called "King Crimson." About 30% of the film is such backstage or empty-house tedium--this doesn't develop into a concert movie. So there are at least two main categories of "lost opportunity" here: this isn't a concert film; this isn't a history of the band. Yet the film-makers also lined up, among many members of Crimson over the years, Ian McDonald and Michael Giles, the original reed and drum section of the band--their appearance gives hope that origins and musical anecdotes (how was the song that gave the film its title made, e.g.?) are forthcoming. McDonald and Giles may not have another opportunity to narrate the early history of the band. They left the band after its first two Lps to make a funky, major-key (in contrast to Crimson's dark heft) record (still famous; it was frequently sampled in hip-hop), a classic of its 1970-moment, and unmentioned here. Nope, no time for history from these players. Pete Sinfield, the band's original lyricist is on camera for about 30 seconds and obviously could have been a trove of witty history; after a funny note on Greg Lake (the band's original singer, pre-"Emerson, Lake, and Palmer") as a young man (the only mention of Lake in the whole documentary, though the band's current singer was obviously hired largely because he can do a spot-on Lake imitation), Sinfield vanishes; John Wetton, the singer and bassist of what I think is the most interesting (mid-1970s) version of the band, is not mentioned. Bill Bruford and Adrian Belew (former long-term band members), are, gratefully, allowed to speak at some intelligent length, but again, in bits that convey the quality of working with Fripp, not how their versions of the band came together. I have yet to see any film that explained how this band evolved, somewhat like a transformer toy, throughout the 60s, 70s, and 80s. In 1972, e.g., there were two completely different versions of Crimson (one in the spring, on tour in the USA, and another, the Bruford-Wetton version, that toured England in the fall) of the band, both quite good, and both entirely different, though they played many (not all) of the same songs. The documentary lavished too much attention on the stage-preparations of this current, grandiose cover-band version of Crimson (a three-drummer, + keyboard, + etc. Version of the band) as though it were a church of Fripp service, while it could have narrated more history about each significant version of the band.

As a lifelong fan I have been waiting for a good documentary about one of my favourite bands - or any documentary for that matter. Again a cliché is proven right on the (easy) money: good things come to those that wait.

I never thought I would get this close to this most hermetic of bands and especially not to the Hermit In Chief: Robert Fripp. This film proves once and for all he's not (only) a cantakarous old sod, but also a deeply funny and intensely emotional man. And as a guitarist, one can only stand in awe of his dedication to his craft.

Seeing a whole host of band members from the recent to the distant past speak of the band that in every instance changed their lives - for better, for worse or both. It is truly heartwarming that Bill Rieflin, who during the making of this documentary had stage four colon cancer, is made into a focal point all on his own. Not only the life of a band, but also the lives of the band members come to light.

Even if you have never heard of King Crimson, you will be entertained by this well constructed documentary, filmed unflinchingly up close, and the quality and hilarity of the interviews, conducted in such places as on a stage, in a dismal van and at a candlelit dinner table. Deep earnestness and light-hearted taking the piss are around every corner. Just like in life, really.

A worthy tribute: irreverent, spiky and funny. So do take a seat in this Court and bow your heads to the majesty of King Crimson.

I knew nothing about Crimson King.

I had listened to a little bit of their music and it told me nothing, so I never paid any more attention.

After watching this film, I can proudly say I know very little about the facts, names, impact, etc of the band.

I feel I know what drives the band, what they are trying to do, what cost it comes at, and even maybe what they get out of it.

And I quite like that was the take of the film. I can learn all the data in Wikipedia if I'm so inclined; I can listen to their recordings any time I want; this film fills a different gap.

I'm still not keen on what they create and how they dress it up. But it doesn't matter. This is not a film for fans, it's a film for people who care about a craft whichever that craft might be.

Reading the reviews I realised that many people who saw this expected it to be your typical film of the bands history, it's ups and lows and tales from the road. If that's what you're looking for, this isn't for you.

If you want to see what it means to be fully committed to your art and vision, you're going to love it. It's hard to watch sometimes and it makes you wonder is this all necessary, it makes you angry at some people and it makes you feel sorry for some. There's also rare kind of beauty in it.

If you already know the bands history and the central members of it but you want to get inside the band, this is for you. If you expect it to be something else, it'll be a letdown.