Scott Joplin

The man who gave us the Maple Leaf Rag and the Entertainer, Scott Joplin, once said that he would not become known until fifty years after his death.

He wasn't off by much--it took fifty-six. In 1973, Marvin Hamlisch used the then-largely unknown Joplin's music in the movie "The Sting," spurring a ragtime revival and a renewed interest in Joplin specifically. Joplin's work received long-overdue attention from music scholars, and he was awarded a posthumous Pulitzer for his body of work, some fifty known rags, waltzes, marches--and one opera, Treemonisha.

This movie rode the wave of his renewed popularity, but plays so loose with the facts of his life that we end up knowing little more about him. Billy Dee Williams is a superb Joplin, as is Art Carney as his publisher, John Stark. But the movie either ignores or glosses over certain details, such as Joplin's longtime friendship and collaboration with Scott Hayden. Hayden is not even mentioned in the film, which prefers to focus on Joplin and the tragic, unsung musical genius Louis Chauvin, who Joplin barely knew. Chauvin in his prime would compose beautiful rags on the spot, never to be heard again, because he could not write them down. The movie implies they were friends from the earliest days, which they were not. They did collaborate on one piece, "Heliotrope Bouquet", when Chauvin was dying and no longer able to play--this the movie gets right.

It also touches on the growing animosity between Joplin and Stark, but this too is sugarcoated. The movie implies they reconciled, which in reality never happened.

Yet the movie is worth seeing if only for one thing--the wonderful, brooding music of a man for whom recognition was long overdue.

Scott Joplin (Billy Dee Williams) grew up in a musical family. After his mother's death, his father kept his music in church and nowhere else. He runs away and starts playing in a bordello. He would become one of the greatest composers during the ragtime era. He would be dead in 1917 at the age of 48 from syphilis.

The movie becomes a long downhill slide after an early run. Billy Dee Williams delivers a reserved performance and then some overdramatic work. Both of which results in a dour-noted tough watch for the second half. It feels rather flat and the pacing becomes slow. I don't know if this is all strictly true. The movie could be well-served with some dramatic fictionalization to make a more compelling film. It is still interesting history and worthwhile material.

I love watching films about historical figures that have made positive and memorable contributions to the world. I especially like such films about figures I'd never heard of before. Even though this movie came out in 1977 I'd never heard of it or Scott Joplin for that matter. And what's so funny is that when the movie started I was thinking, "They're using the same music as The Sting." Little did I know that The Sting was using Scott Joplin's music.

Scott Joplin as a biopic was not as creative as the man himself. It was slow and even uninteresting at times. I'm happy to know of him and his work I just think this docudrama lacked something. I don't know if it needed more conflict, more drama, or just a more compelling figure--I just know it lacked something. I would never call it a bad movie and I'm still glad I watched it.

Whenever I try to conjure the zeitgeist of America during the time of Teddy Roosevelt, (a favorite pastime among US history buffs), it is this guy's beguiling, sad yet jaunty music that I hear and not Sousa's bombast. In other words, Joplin was a certified genius and certainly deserved better from Motown than this cheap, tinny, Universal back lot production with the Hollywood Hills in the background of shots purporting to be Sedalia Missouri, which was relatively flat last time I checked, and snow so fake it looks like director Jeremy Kagan sent a gopher out to a party store on Lankershim Ave with orders to scour the Yuletide aisle.

Perhaps the film's biggest sin, though, is its relative dearth of attention to ragtime music which Joplin is acknowledged to have fathered. Not only, as a previous reviewer noted, are none of Joplin's compositions played all the way through but in the key scene when Joplin's friend and sometimes creative collaborator, Louis Chauvin, is dying, (of the same syphillis that would kill Joplin), what music do they choose to honor him with?...the blues! Which Joplin had absolutely nothing to do with birthing! I'll be kind to Kagan here and pin the blame for this story abomination on scenarist Christopher Knopf.

So, a not very satisfying life story of the King of Ragtime. I will say, however, that Billy Dee Williams delivers one of his better acting jobs in the title role, managing to capture the aura of melancholy, warmth and formality that comes through in Joplin's music. Clifton Davis is also quite good as Chauvin. With his less disciplined, more fun loving persona he is a nice contrast with Williams' seriousness. Acting beyond these two is fairly "meh" with the most unusual and unwelcome sight of Art Carney kind of phoning it in as music publisher and Joplin patron/friend/ adversary, John Stark. Although, considering that Carney is given a lot of the script's stiff, declamatory "Can't you see what a genius we have here!" dialogue, maybe it's Knopf on the horn. C plus.

I agree with the previous 2 reviewers, but I feel Joplin is still largely unappreciated within the USA. His music will last like that of Chopin, Verdi and the other sublime masters. I have been a professional musician for over 50 years and find Joplin's music as addictive as Bach or Mozart, especially since I am an American with classical, jazz and ragtime chops.

Any producers that can read this might consider a movie of Joplin's opera, which I have heard live and still get chills from thinking about it. In the same vein, the great American composer, Louis Gottschalk is also not widely known and appreciated. Gottschalk out ranked Chopin in Paris, France at one special time in the history of music. Perhaps the Indie film folks might also consider a film on Gottschalk, who was larger than life as was Joplin.