A Poem is a Naked Person

Director: Les Blank

The late great Les Blank (1935-2013), director of Burden of Dreams and Werner Herzog Eats His Shoe; was one of cinema's distinguished documentarians. Though his relatively recent passing is a significant loss to cinema, it is a distinct pleasure to discover a previously unreleased gem from his vault: the 1974 film A Poem is a Naked Person. The film nearly perished in obscurity until his son Harrod fought to clear the film's legal entanglements, thus paving the way for its 2015 release. I am extremely fortunate to have seen the film in its very limited theater circuit but I strongly urge docu-filiacs and Les Blank fans to make the effort to see it if it happens to be playing in a fifty mile radius of one's town. The film is not only one of year's best docs, but one of the year's best films.

Though the film's principal subject is rock legend Leon Russell, the documentary encompasses the Oklahoman rural and urban culture of the early 1970s. Russell, an Oklahoma native, is captured in live footage, in the recording studio and his everyday life, which was colorful in its own way.

It is strange to consider that a film made forty years ago by a respected documentarian is only being seen now for the first time. Though the connective tissue between every image in the film and Russell's music may not be obvious, both create a fascinating context of time and place. Like Russell's music, which is a rich composite of disparate influences; rock, country, blue-grass, the blues, etc., the film is also the sum total of disparate images of events and everyday people who are at times bewilderingly idiosyncratic.

In the opening shots we see homes along a narrow river in rural Oklahoma and some of the local culture. We also see Russell's river-side studio being constructed and later we're taken inside as the building nears completion. We see what will eventually become an indoor pool and an artist inside it, preparing to paint a mural. He walks along the pool bottom and at first it is difficult to ascertain his actions as he stoops to scoop objects into a container. As the camera edges closer, we see the artist is actually trapping small scorpions. One can appreciate the natural surrealism of the scene. More extraordinary are the following shots. We see the artist apply the first strokes of paint, leaving us to ponder its design. The subsequent wide-shot is of the completed mural, which reveals a dazzling array of color; a menagerie of marine life beautifully rendered. Unfortunately we never see the pool filled with water but the sequence tells us the film will be more than just footage of Leon Russell's performances.

But we expect to see and hear Russell perform and we do. Few people can sit at a piano and make magic like Russell or cover such expansive, sonic ground. We hear so many different influences and from a rich, American musical tapestry. In studio footage, Russell is seen recording with country-western star George Jones and later Willie Nelson but his music never seems to be fixed on one particular style or genre. Russell's performances are hardly relegated to the stage. We see him play the piano for a friend's wedding. He turns the wedding march into boogie-woogie in a moment of extemporaneous playfulness.

The live concerts are dynamic. A lively version of I'll Take You There is one among several covers of which Russell assumes proprietary control. Off the stage, in conversation, Russell seems like a thoughtful person who weighs his words before expressing them.

We meet more oddballs, including a sky-diver who toasts Les Blank by downing champagne before taking a bite out of the glass and chewing the shards. Elsewhere, we see men releasing geese into a crowd where eager hands grasp at the birds. We also watch a building in Tulsa being demolished as spectators look on. Blank's film is a poem in its own right; a happy marriage of music and seemingly unrelated images, captured almost haphazardly.

We can thank Harrod Blank for his efforts to have his father's film released. The thought that the film might have otherwise mouldered in oblivion in a warehouse or on a dusty shelf somewhere in the world is too much to bear.

The stunning mural in the swimming pool is a perfect metaphor for Blank's film; a collage of fascinating visuals though Blank's work has the added advantage of lovely sounds. His film is a poem and one for which we can be grateful.

I have to say that the audience at the screening I attended applauded the film enthusiastically. That doesn't happen often after movies but I also must say the it is deserving of its spirited response. We can thank the Blank family for this treasure; the father for making it and the son for ensuring the world could see it.