All Alone In the Theatre Suite
by Brian Hughes
One great thing about seeing a Jazz documentary is that you know it must have been created out of love, for if CD sales are any indication, Reminiscing in Tempo will not make a lot of money at the box office. And that is a shame, for it should. It should be seen by as many youngsters as we could round up. They should know that Rock, Rap, Hip Hop, and R&B all came out of the Blues and Jazz. And that the original bad asses were men like Fats Waller, Thelonious Monk, Miles Davis and the elegant Edward Kennedy “Duke” Ellington. As his rhinestone bespectacled sister points out in the documentary, directed wonderfully by Gary Keys, the one weakness Duke had was the ladies. So you see, Duke was quite the player in his day. And a player in more ways than one.
As I purchased my ticket at The Quad Cinema theatre, I asked the ticket man if they were seating for the 2:45 show. He asked his cohort if number three was ready for seating and she shot back, “Sure it is, there was only one person at the 1:00 show to begin with.” And I would soon find out that I too would be the only person seeing the 2:45 show. I felt fortunate I went. The foot stomping I did during renditions of Take the A-Train and The Mexican Suite were well worth the price of admission.
The film is centered on a party that Duke’s sister, Ruth Ellington Boatwright, throws every year to celebrate the legend’s birthday. Many of his fellow band members, as well as critics and admirers show up to play music and reminisce about their friend. Al Hibber talks about growing up poor and blind in the south, and how he wanted desperately to sing for Duke. His father told him he hadn’t a chance. Sure enough, he landed a spot as Duke’s vocalist in the mid 1940’s.
What amazes me when I watch this film is Duke’s great speaking voice, his impeccable dress, his wit, and his tireless touring schedule and work ethic. Duke always found a place to write. One of his reed men, and oldest friend, Harry Carney, use to chauffer the Duke around from gig to gig, and Duke would be writing a suite right next to him in the passenger seat.
But the moments I waited for were the times they spoke of his relationship with Billy Strayhorn, who wrote the great song Lush Life, as well as Take the A-Train and many others. Billy was selfless. He didn’t care who took the fame for his song, as long as it was done right. He and Duke thought so much alike that they often couldn’t tell which part of a song was Billy’s or which one was Duke’s.
Dr. Billy Taylor also offers up some great examples on the piano of Duke’s wonderful, yet simple use of notes to create lasting and beautiful melodies. In a similar scene, Taylor talks of how, at Billy Strayhorn’s funeral, a slow and moving version of Take The A-Train was performed, and he then goes on to play that version quite touchingly. It was very interesting to hear that song played at such a slow tempo.
The editors Jessica Schoen and Judi Stroh did a marvelous job inter-cutting different versions of songs: from versions played at the party to versions caught on film played by Duke and his band. They also did a nice job with the touring footage shot in Mexico during the 1968 Olympics, inter-cut with the band playing at a concert hall in Mexico during the same trip. By the way, as Gary Keys mentions in the film, this is the only place you will see or hear Duke’s Mexican Suite in its entirety, written solely for Duke and the band’s trip to the 1968 Olympics.
Two interesting anecdotes worth mentioning here are when Duke was asked why he didn’t speak up more about racial intolerance and Black Power, and the beauty of black people and culture, he retorted with: “I wrote Black Beauty in 1928.” I also think it is very telling that he decided in his last years to devote his music to his personal God as a way of thanks for all that was given to him.
As far as the look of the film, don’t expect much. The party sequences are shot on low end video, and all the footage, which is extremely rare by the way, is grainy and dark, but WHO CARES! – the sound is great, and that’s what matters when it comes to Duke and his band. All of Duke’s regular band mates are represented here: Johnny Hodges, Russell Procope, Cootie Williams, Paul Gonsalves, and others. You’ll learn much about Duke and his artistry, as well as the times he lived in. And I think it is fitting that many people won’t go see this film: mainly because Jazz requires some work out of us, and in our fast paced society, we are not willing to put the time in for a 20 minute Jazz suite. I know I’m quick to put a Pop or Rock song on rather than Black and Tan Fantasy, but we should put the effort in. Jazz is music we as Americans created. It is ours. It is the story of African American people and their struggles, and chronicles our rich and warped history with foot stomping joy, and mournful swaying horns.
As I purchased my ticket at The Quad Cinema theatre, I asked the ticket man if they were seating for the 2:45 show. He asked his cohort if number three was ready for seating and she shot back, “Sure it is, there was only one person at the 1:00 show to begin with.” And I would soon find out that I too would be the only person seeing the 2:45 show. I felt fortunate I went. The foot stomping I did during renditions of Take the A-Train and The Mexican Suite were well worth the price of admission.
The film is centered on a party that Duke’s sister, Ruth Ellington Boatwright, throws every year to celebrate the legend’s birthday. Many of his fellow band members, as well as critics and admirers show up to play music and reminisce about their friend. Al Hibber talks about growing up poor and blind in the south, and how he wanted desperately to sing for Duke. His father told him he hadn’t a chance. Sure enough, he landed a spot as Duke’s vocalist in the mid 1940’s.
What amazes me when I watch this film is Duke’s great speaking voice, his impeccable dress, his wit, and his tireless touring schedule and work ethic. Duke always found a place to write. One of his reed men, and oldest friend, Harry Carney, use to chauffer the Duke around from gig to gig, and Duke would be writing a suite right next to him in the passenger seat.
But the moments I waited for were the times they spoke of his relationship with Billy Strayhorn, who wrote the great song Lush Life, as well as Take the A-Train and many others. Billy was selfless. He didn’t care who took the fame for his song, as long as it was done right. He and Duke thought so much alike that they often couldn’t tell which part of a song was Billy’s or which one was Duke’s.
Dr. Billy Taylor also offers up some great examples on the piano of Duke’s wonderful, yet simple use of notes to create lasting and beautiful melodies. In a similar scene, Taylor talks of how, at Billy Strayhorn’s funeral, a slow and moving version of Take The A-Train was performed, and he then goes on to play that version quite touchingly. It was very interesting to hear that song played at such a slow tempo.
The editors Jessica Schoen and Judi Stroh did a marvelous job inter-cutting different versions of songs: from versions played at the party to versions caught on film played by Duke and his band. They also did a nice job with the touring footage shot in Mexico during the 1968 Olympics, inter-cut with the band playing at a concert hall in Mexico during the same trip. By the way, as Gary Keys mentions in the film, this is the only place you will see or hear Duke’s Mexican Suite in its entirety, written solely for Duke and the band’s trip to the 1968 Olympics.
Two interesting anecdotes worth mentioning here are when Duke was asked why he didn’t speak up more about racial intolerance and Black Power, and the beauty of black people and culture, he retorted with: “I wrote Black Beauty in 1928.” I also think it is very telling that he decided in his last years to devote his music to his personal God as a way of thanks for all that was given to him.
As far as the look of the film, don’t expect much. The party sequences are shot on low end video, and all the footage, which is extremely rare by the way, is grainy and dark, but WHO CARES! – the sound is great, and that’s what matters when it comes to Duke and his band. All of Duke’s regular band mates are represented here: Johnny Hodges, Russell Procope, Cootie Williams, Paul Gonsalves, and others. You’ll learn much about Duke and his artistry, as well as the times he lived in. And I think it is fitting that many people won’t go see this film: mainly because Jazz requires some work out of us, and in our fast paced society, we are not willing to put the time in for a 20 minute Jazz suite. I know I’m quick to put a Pop or Rock song on rather than Black and Tan Fantasy, but we should put the effort in. Jazz is music we as Americans created. It is ours. It is the story of African American people and their struggles, and chronicles our rich and warped history with foot stomping joy, and mournful swaying horns.
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