One More Time With Feeling (3D)

Director: Andrew Dominik

It seems like I just blogged on a documentary about singer Nick Cave; 20,000 Days on Earth; Iain Forsyth and Jane Pollard's excellent 2014 film, which blended fact and fiction. But having seen director Andrew Dominik's film; One More Time With Feeling, it's apparent one can never have too much of Nick Cave, whose music and personality seem endlessly fascinating. You might think the 3D in the title is a typo but it isn't. Dominik chose to film in 3D--an unusual visual approach to music-documentary film-making--but it's a bold and welcome artistic choice, as the film movingly demonstrates.

Dominik, director of the excellent The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford also chose to film in black and white, which seems entirely appropriate for a film on Nick Cave, whose dark, introspective music seems well-suited for a visual palette of hues. We see Cave with his collaborator Warren Ellis and band The Bad Seeds, as they record tracks for an album in a studio.

Cave's moody music; truthfully unsentimental, shares space with voice-over readings of his lyrics, which are no less somber than his visceral, offbeat melodies. Though we see him often in the studio, with technicians, band-members and musicians scattered about, Dominik also takes the time to interview Cave outside the studio.

Though the film is mostly documentary, Dominik deliberately dissolves the wall between objective reality and fiction as we see him orchestrating Cave's actions in a few scenes. A post-credits message alerts the audience to Dominik's creative deception.

The decision to use 3D is very odd. I didn't expect to be handed 3D glasses prior to entry to the theater but like most movies in this visual format, you cease to notice it after a few minutes. One exception is a scene where a musician's violin bow seems to exit the screen; a moment where the extra dimension was very conspicuous.

More interesting was the black and white, which created striking, visual textures. An instance of such takes place while Cave is at the piano. While he sings and plays, the camera is situated in front of the piano, where it lovingly captures its highly reflective surface, The highly polished surface looks as though it were coated in many layers of lacquer, which looks great in black and white.

But beautiful cinematography aside, Cave's words and music are the real draw. We often hear his poetic renderings of his lyrics, spoken in voice-over. But we also hear his voice-over at other moments, such as a session at the piano, where his voice seems ill-prepared for the demands of a song. While he struggles to find the notes, we hear him reproach himself in voice-over for not being ready, as if we were inside his head.

As the film moves along, what slowly emerges is the sad and tragic fact of his son Arthur's death; a terrible loss he and his wife learn to cope with. Dominik is able to coax Cave into speaking candidly about his son's passing and the painful process of recovery. Not one to resort to comforting platitudes, Cave's thoughts are those of someone looking for an explanation; something to make his grief comprehensible.

Cave is also forthright about his music. Though a casual listener might find the raw emotion in Cave's songs to be alienating, he insists his aim is to connect with listeners.

By the film's end, one is left feeling sadly reflective but also something akin to a lovely, opiate-stupor. One More Time With Feeling is a perfect collaboration of beautiful images and powerful music. Dominik's camera manages to make the spatially-limited studio seem expansive and maze-like, as if its secrets were never-ending. We get terrific over-head shots and ones that circle; allowing us to sometimes see Dominik's tricks, such as the camera-track that forms a ring around Cave's piano.

This is not your standard music documentary but something more ambitious and transformative. I left the film feeling both elated but also somber, which might seem highly improbable to someone who hasn't seen Dominik's documentary. This is a film for Nick Cave fans and the uninitiated alike, who will both find the music poignant and the visuals stunning. 3D or 2D, the film's power can be easily articulated, no matter the format.

20,000 Days on Earth

Director: Iain Forsyth, Jane Pollard/With Nick Cave, Ray Winstone, Kylie Minogue and Blixa Bargeld

You may or may not be familiar with Australian rock legend Nick Cave and his band The Bad Seeds but one response the film 20,000 Days on Earth might elicit is a hunger to know more about him and his music.

How to categorize the film is problem. Is it a documentary? A docu-drama? A narrative film? What clouds the issue is the writing credit, which reads: written by Nick Cave, Iain Forsyth and Jane Pollard, which suggests not all of the film is objective (if that term really applies to any film). But as we see in the film, a kind of narrative shares space with that which is documentary.

Nick Cave's career spans some 35 years and though his formitive musical years could be classified mostly as punk, other styles have crept into his sound, like blues and jazz.

Much of the film is set in Brighton, England, where we see Cave recording songs for an album in both a studio and in a house.

We also see what is a deliberately contrived interview which might also function as therapy session, with Cave answering questions posed by someone who could be a journalist or a therapist. When the interviewer/therapist asks Cave what he fears most, the musician cites the loss of memory. Remembrances and memory figure prominently in the film. While sitting with the interviewer, Cave recalls a time in his early childhood, where his sisters dressed him up in girl's clothing. After seeing his son parading around the house, Cave's bewildered father admonishes him about becoming a man.

But remembrances aren't relegated to a single interview; bandmates and friends in Cave's life also share memories, such as his guitar player Warren Ellis. In one scene, Cave and Ellis volley enchanting stories about their experiences with singer Nina Simone. Before a performance, the singer asks Cave--in a manner that can hardly be called amicable--to introduce her. He descibes her as being particularly nasty but is keen to mention her powerful, spellbinding performance.

One of the film's many eccentricities are several separate conversations between Cave and friends in his car. Among the interlocutors are British actor Roy Winstone, Cave's fellow country person Kylie Minogue and Bad Seeds guitarist Blixa Bargeld. As Cave drives, each conversation sheds light on some aspect of his artistic past and his creative methodology. The camera first frames both Cave and the respective friend as they chat, then only Cave. When the camera returns to both conversationalists, we see only an empty seat beside him or behind him. The here-then-gone-again effect creates a startling illusion, as if the conversations only exist as memory rather than what we perceive in the moment. The camera trick fogs the drama/documentary boundary; leaving us with something fascinatingly surreal

As Cave sings in the studio, we hear some of his lyrics, which are darkly poetic. Later, when we see him perform the songs live, we are able to see how his words, music and performance merge to create a hypnotic effect on the viewer and listener. Abetting his performance is Cave's signature look; suits that suggest a Elvis/Aleister Crowley cross-breed, characteristic jet black hair and a brow that gives him an angry, malevolent appearance.

At another point in the film we see archivists combing through Cave's collection of photos and clippings from his career and life. Photos from the bands early days mingle with several from his youth. It is particularly amusing to see Cave in a boyhood photo; his characteristic, furrowed brow already apparent, while what look like disgust and contempt are communicated in a snarl.

When discussing his reasons for choosing Brighton as a place in which to record, Cave talks about the mercurial weather; its unusual variations; meteorological phenomena he hasn't seen elsewhere. When he talks about how he feels his moods control the weather he says "the weather can be controlled; it's my mind that can't."

We finally see some of his live performances late in the film; how he entrances an audience-- especially young women--while the effect is no less mesmerizing on the movie audience.

The 20,000 days in the title refer to the number of days Cave has been alive. To him, the significance of the number relates to the precious few he's lived. The number also serves to inspire; to discourage him (and maybe us) from frittering life away.

It is almost a relief to see Cave arrive home one day to sit with his children, eat pizza and watch Scarface on television. The scene lightens the broody film with a moment wonderfully mundane; a refreshing counterpoint to his shadowy stage personality and music.

We might be tempted to say we've learned much about Cave but it would be foolhardy to do so. It is quite apparent the man has chambers and passages in his psyche and soul we could forever explore without ever detecting a border.

Iain Forsyth and Jane Pollard--as well as Cave himself--have given us a sketch of a fascinating human being; one presented as both narrative and documentary. I left the film wondering why I hadn't troubled myself to know more about him more before. I had better make haste in doing so because as the film title subtly suggests; the ephemera in our lives are hopelessly measured in a paucity of days.