Much like "Buena Vista Social Club" and "Standing in the Shadows of Motown," this documentary shines a spotlight on musicians' musicians who have been forgotten or overlooked. Less stylish and polished than those hit docus but no less heartfelt, "The Last of the First" looks at a group of New York-based jazz artists who are, in the words of one observer, "architects of the swing era." In their 70s, 80s and 90s, they still swing, and director Anja Baron's affection and respect for these surviving pioneers pervades the film. The right distributor could carve out a niche run for this warm portrait. It screens June 23 and 24 at Los Angeles Film Festival.
Baron chronicled the final years of the Harlem Blues and Jazz Band, whose members began their careers working with such giants as Fats Waller, Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington, Count Basie, Benny Goodman and Frank Sinatra. The group has gone through several incarnations since it was formed in the 1970s by Albert "Doc" Vollmer, an orthodontist who put his passion for jazz into action, giving underemployed musicians a way to pay the bills and stay young. The docu's intimate verite footage shows Vollmer's gentle touch as road manager, booster and all-around father figure to his elders. He shepherds them downtown to a weekly gig and to prestigious engagements overseas, where American jazz artists have always found more adulation than on home turf.
Historians and fellow musicians contribute appreciative comments, but the band members themselves are the docu's compelling and spirited life force. "Retirement can kill you", says octogenarian Al Casey, the revered guitarist who is the last surviving member of Waller's band. After helping each other negotiate a treacherous staircase down to a Paris club full of avid fans, Casey and saxophonist Bubba Brooks seem to defy gravity when they begin playing. At 95, Larry Lucie still teaches young guitarists at a community college -- and works out at the gym three times a week. Johnny Blowers, 91, can lose himself in a rapturous -- and strenuous -- drum solo. And when singer Laurel Watson croons, it's clear why she was in contention for some of the same big-band jobs as Billie Holiday.
When a series of trying events hits the band hard, the musicians prove resilient. Among the unforgettable scenes Baron has captured is the moment when, minutes after hearing of the death of one of their bandmates, the Harlem Blues and Jazz Band launches into a memorial improvisation of "You Made Me Love You". Sublime.
Baron chronicled the final years of the Harlem Blues and Jazz Band, whose members began their careers working with such giants as Fats Waller, Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington, Count Basie, Benny Goodman and Frank Sinatra. The group has gone through several incarnations since it was formed in the 1970s by Albert "Doc" Vollmer, an orthodontist who put his passion for jazz into action, giving underemployed musicians a way to pay the bills and stay young. The docu's intimate verite footage shows Vollmer's gentle touch as road manager, booster and all-around father figure to his elders. He shepherds them downtown to a weekly gig and to prestigious engagements overseas, where American jazz artists have always found more adulation than on home turf.
Historians and fellow musicians contribute appreciative comments, but the band members themselves are the docu's compelling and spirited life force. "Retirement can kill you", says octogenarian Al Casey, the revered guitarist who is the last surviving member of Waller's band. After helping each other negotiate a treacherous staircase down to a Paris club full of avid fans, Casey and saxophonist Bubba Brooks seem to defy gravity when they begin playing. At 95, Larry Lucie still teaches young guitarists at a community college -- and works out at the gym three times a week. Johnny Blowers, 91, can lose himself in a rapturous -- and strenuous -- drum solo. And when singer Laurel Watson croons, it's clear why she was in contention for some of the same big-band jobs as Billie Holiday.
When a series of trying events hits the band hard, the musicians prove resilient. Among the unforgettable scenes Baron has captured is the moment when, minutes after hearing of the death of one of their bandmates, the Harlem Blues and Jazz Band launches into a memorial improvisation of "You Made Me Love You". Sublime.
Much like "Buena Vista Social Club" and "Standing in the Shadows of Motown," this documentary shines a spotlight on musicians' musicians who have been forgotten or overlooked. Less stylish and polished than those hit docus but no less heartfelt, "The Last of the First" looks at a group of New York-based jazz artists who are, in the words of one observer, "architects of the swing era." In their 70s, 80s and 90s, they still swing, and director Anja Baron's affection and respect for these surviving pioneers pervades the film. The right distributor could carve out a niche run for this warm portrait. It screens June 23 and 24 at Los Angeles Film Festival.
Baron chronicled the final years of the Harlem Blues and Jazz Band, whose members began their careers working with such giants as Fats Waller, Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington, Count Basie, Benny Goodman and Frank Sinatra. The group has gone through several incarnations since it was formed in the 1970s by Albert "Doc" Vollmer, an orthodontist who put his passion for jazz into action, giving underemployed musicians a way to pay the bills and stay young. The docu's intimate verite footage shows Vollmer's gentle touch as road manager, booster and all-around father figure to his elders. He shepherds them downtown to a weekly gig and to prestigious engagements overseas, where American jazz artists have always found more adulation than on home turf.
Historians and fellow musicians contribute appreciative comments, but the band members themselves are the docu's compelling and spirited life force. "Retirement can kill you", says octogenarian Al Casey, the revered guitarist who is the last surviving member of Waller's band. After helping each other negotiate a treacherous staircase down to a Paris club full of avid fans, Casey and saxophonist Bubba Brooks seem to defy gravity when they begin playing. At 95, Larry Lucie still teaches young guitarists at a community college -- and works out at the gym three times a week. Johnny Blowers, 91, can lose himself in a rapturous -- and strenuous -- drum solo. And when singer Laurel Watson croons, it's clear why she was in contention for some of the same big-band jobs as Billie Holiday.
When a series of trying events hits the band hard, the musicians prove resilient. Among the unforgettable scenes Baron has captured is the moment when, minutes after hearing of the death of one of their bandmates, the Harlem Blues and Jazz Band launches into a memorial improvisation of "You Made Me Love You". Sublime.
Baron chronicled the final years of the Harlem Blues and Jazz Band, whose members began their careers working with such giants as Fats Waller, Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington, Count Basie, Benny Goodman and Frank Sinatra. The group has gone through several incarnations since it was formed in the 1970s by Albert "Doc" Vollmer, an orthodontist who put his passion for jazz into action, giving underemployed musicians a way to pay the bills and stay young. The docu's intimate verite footage shows Vollmer's gentle touch as road manager, booster and all-around father figure to his elders. He shepherds them downtown to a weekly gig and to prestigious engagements overseas, where American jazz artists have always found more adulation than on home turf.
Historians and fellow musicians contribute appreciative comments, but the band members themselves are the docu's compelling and spirited life force. "Retirement can kill you", says octogenarian Al Casey, the revered guitarist who is the last surviving member of Waller's band. After helping each other negotiate a treacherous staircase down to a Paris club full of avid fans, Casey and saxophonist Bubba Brooks seem to defy gravity when they begin playing. At 95, Larry Lucie still teaches young guitarists at a community college -- and works out at the gym three times a week. Johnny Blowers, 91, can lose himself in a rapturous -- and strenuous -- drum solo. And when singer Laurel Watson croons, it's clear why she was in contention for some of the same big-band jobs as Billie Holiday.
When a series of trying events hits the band hard, the musicians prove resilient. Among the unforgettable scenes Baron has captured is the moment when, minutes after hearing of the death of one of their bandmates, the Harlem Blues and Jazz Band launches into a memorial improvisation of "You Made Me Love You". Sublime.
- 6/17/2004
- The Hollywood Reporter - Movie News
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