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Calle 54
review by Dan Lybarger, 8 June 2001
Sometimes it takes a flop to
lead a filmmaker to something more rewarding. When Spanish director
Fernando Rodríguez Trueba (Belle Époque) was working on his
stateside debut, Two Much, he incorporated Latin jazz in the
soundtrack. Gradually, he sought to do more with the music, and Calle
54 is the frequently happy result.
An engaging sampler of Latin jazz
and its permutations, the film features a variety of well-shot and
edited live performance clips, all of which were shot and recorded
in a studio on 54th street in New York. For beginners, Calle
54 introduces viewers to several of the prominent names in the
genre including the late Mambo King Tito Puente and Gato Barbieri,
who composed the score for Last Tango in Paris. For
connoisseurs, he offers the rare treat by setting up the first and
possibly only duet to be played by two of the giants, pianist Bebo
Valdés and bassist Cachao. Despite their advanced ages and mutual
fame, the two had never played together before.
The idea of simply watching
musicians play, without the aid of MTV-like gimmicks may seem like a
dull idea for some, but Trueba has picked a lineup of players whose
performance styles are oddly photogenic. Valdés’s son, Chucho, is
a towering, burly man whose delicate piano playing contrasts his
hulking size. Trueba’s camera follows Brazilian pianist Eliane Elías
lovingly and gradually reveals that shoes are not part of her
elegant attire (she operates the pedals with her bare feet). He also
includes Chano Domínguez, whose music fuses Flamenco traditions
with jazz and even brings some of the dancers with him into the
studio. He also shows signs that making such sweet, funky sounds can
be strenuous. Trumpeter Jerry Gonzales’s hands, like those of the
percussionists, are covered in bandages, and a look of immense
relief comes over his when his segment ends. Trueba’s graceful
orchestration of the visuals is no small feat. Despite the
improvisational and therefore unpredictable nature of the music,
Trueba’s camera is always in the right place and the cutting from
shot-to-shot moves seamlessly.
Comparisons between Calle 54
and Buena Vista Social Club, Wim Wenders’ look at veteran
Cuban musicians, are inevitable. Both have great tunes and feature
performers whose vitality belies their longevity. Shot on film, Calle
54 has more stylish images and more polish. The previous film,
however, had a stronger narrative. Wenders’s film focused
exclusively on a group of Cuban players who teamed up with American
guitarist Ry Cooder and his son, drummer Joachim Cooder, Trueba’s
movie collects musicians from around the globe. Some players like
Puente and Gonzalez are Yanks, whereas others fly in from Europe to
take part in the film. As a result, Calle 54 seems a diffuse
between the performance segments. Wenders allowed a viewer to really
know the musicians, especially singer Ibrahim Ferrer, and as a
result their concluding concert in New York becomes poignant because
we see all the struggles they have made to reach that point.
Trueba’s voiceover, on the other
hand, is more enthusiastic than enlightening. His gushy comments are
easy to tolerate because the quality of the sequences he has
assembled backs them up. Whereas, the previous film gave a fairly
vivid portrait of the societal forces that helped shape the music,
Trueba, working with a broader subject matter offers mere hints. To
be fair, these hints are often intriguing. Puente emphatically
acknowledges the debt he and other Latin jazz musicians owe to
beboppers Miles Davis and Dizzy Gillespie. Both he and Gonzales
explain how Gillespie’s willingness to play with them helped
establish their legitimacy. Gonzales also recalls how ethnic
tensions in the Bronx led him to name his band “Fort Apache.”
It’s also fun to listen to Barbieri and big bandleader Chico
O'Farrill briefly recall their careers. An elaboration of any of
these stories could make a good film in itself. Still, the
disjointed flow is a worthy price for such a diverse selection of
fine performances.
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