Fashion photographer Bruce Weber's lush, patchwork portrait of Jazz artist Chet Baker is more than just another show-biz biography of a self-destructive junkie. The romantic myth of Jazz itself is the true subject of the film, which unfolds in a fascinating, leapfrog structure at times even more elusive than Baker's own melancholy music. The musician himself is just out of reach, a vague outline of a man dimly revealed in candid interviews with friends, family, and other ardent admirers. Despite some often transparent idolization the film in no way whitewashes Baker's character, suggesting that he could be his own worst enemy, in particular around the many women in his life. Weber ignores the disparity between the singer's haunting good looks when young and the sad physical decline of his later years (his gentle, melodic voice would remain the same, even after losing all his teeth), choosing instead to capture some of the quiet energy of Jazz by allowing the music and imagery (beautifully photographed in black and white) to speak for themselves.
Review of Let's Get Lost
