Business Stationary Mart - Wild Man Blues

Barbara Kopple has a reputation for truth seeking, winning an Oscar for her exploration of union violence in "Harlan County, USA", but "Wild Man Blues" lacks her early incisiveness. Despite her through-the-keyhole approach, Kopple's eye yields no unguarded moments. Instead she offers a prim and proper tableau--stagy and self-consciously sexless-- of the couple's daily life. Though they hold hands in public and snuggle in a gondola, only one scene suggests that Woody and Soon-Yi actually share a bed.

Conspicuously lacking in dialectic, this documentary is unable to facilitate any intelligent discourse on what is presumably the topic at hand: jazz. Woody Allen--filmmaker, intellectual and aesthete--has always drawn on the art of music with a sublime touch. The soundtracks for "Manhattan" and "Stardust Memories" are paragons. He is considered, and deservedly so, a jazz aficionado. What, then, accounts for the specious treatment of jazz in "Wild Man Blues"? Referring to Dixieland jazz only cursorily as "primitive", "un-cerebral", "crude", "like taking a bath in honey", Woody Allen denies us access to his comprehensive knowledge of music and Barbara Kopple does nothing to draw him out. Instead, she focuses on the ostentatious continental parade that was the 1997 tour. Private jets, ultra-lux accommodations and chauffeur-driven Mercedes purposefully serve to isolate the clarinetist from his band mates, a gulf that is not bridged when they finally cross paths in a Madrid green room. Allen takes the posture of puppeteer rather than participant and the resultant music is predictably stale and soulless. But then "Wild Man Blues" is hardly about the music.

This film has a separate agenda and its secret weapon is Soon-Yi. Convivial, energetic, the model of a modern young woman, Soon-Yi emerges as the film's bright spot, effectively its subject. Though a betrayal of Woody's beloved jazz, "Wild Man Blues" achieves its purpose: to overturn the public perception of Soon-Yi Previn as an exploited child. It establishes Woody and Soon-Yi in socially palatable roles-she as a confident, articulate, adult woman; he as having something to learn from her.

"Wild Man Blues" is an elegant and efficient little white lie that simultaneously exonerates and charges Woody Allen: exculpated as a corrupter of youth but indicted as a filmmaker who is not committed to the truth. Barbara Kopple is his cellmate.

Woody Allen has always been more widely appreciated in Europe than in the U.S., so it's no surprise that the concerts quickly provoke the kind of fan hysteria usually reserved for rock stars. This star however is clearly not comfortable with his fame. Whether he's giving a tour of his lavish hotel suite or prodding at an unexpectedly dry omelet, the director seems profoundly ill at ease and sometimes--when trapped by a crowd or harassed by a particularly persistent photographer--he appears to be both frightened and angry at the way celebrity shapes his life. The pressure to be funny on cue is the bane of any comedian's life, of course, and for Allen the seemingly endless round of receptions and parties is something to be endured, not enjoyed. In the face of this, the mutual support and affection shared by Allen and the woman he introduces as "the notorious Soon-Yi Previn" comes across as both genuine and absolutely necessary. When they are together, he is at his funniest, and his least guarded.

What persuaded such a private artist to allow such a documentary to be made? Perhaps it was a desire to celebrate his love of music, something that appears to sustain him as much as his relationship with Soon-Yi. He may refuse to bob his head and tap his feet to please his audience, but when he launches into a soaring solo we finally see Allen at ease, transported by the thrill of playing jazz. --Simon Leake