Category: Documentary

By Joe Bendel. There were more righteous gentiles from Poland than any other country. No strangers to suffering, three million Poles also died under National Socialism, while the Polish resistance forces were the only organized underground with a division specifically dedicated to saving Jewish lives. Yet, the Nazis were grimly successful cleaving apart Polish and Jewish culture, though they had been closely intertwined for centuries. In an effort to mend that breach, a group of 72 cantors made an emotional tour of Poland last June, fortuitously captured in Danny Gold and Matthew Asner’s documentary 100 Voices: A Journey Home, which began a limited engagement in New York and Los Angeles last Wednesday, following a special nationwide one-night event-screening this past Tuesday.

Tuesday’s special screening was presented under the auspices of NCM Fathom, the in-theater event specialists, which is particularly apt considering their specialty simulcasting opera. Indeed, there is a strong affinity between opera and the cantorial music of Voices. In fact, the father of two tour participants probably saved his life during the Holocaust by convincing the Nazis he was an opera singer rather than a cantor. While their music is liturgical, most cantors’ delivery is expressive and dramatic, bearing a strong stylistic resemblance to full-voiced opera singing.

After providing viewers an essential grounding in cantorial music and great cantors past (including the jazz-influenced Moishe Oysher), Voices follows the cantors on their eventful tour, organized by the forceful Cantor Nathan Lam of the Stephen S. Wise Temple in Los Angeles. Adding additional tragic significance, Polish President Lech Kaczyński was in attendance for their tour-opening command performance at Warsaw’s National Opera House mere weeks before his fatal plane-crash. It was a heavy program featuring an original composition penned by Charles Fox (probably best known for “Killing Me Softly”) inspired by Pope John Paul II’s simple prayer left at the Western Wall.

Yet, the next performances were probably even more personally moving for the cantors, including memorial performances at Warsaw’s only surviving synagogue and at the gates of the Auschwitz concentration camp. However, the tour ended on a hopefully note, culminating with an open-air concert at the Krakow Jewish Cultural Festival, organized by the Catholic Janusz Makuch. Embracing the term “Shabbos goy” Makuch has worked to foster an appreciation of Poland’s Jewish heritage since 1988 (an effort greatly aided by the fall of Communism in 1989).

While the music of Voices may not be to all tastes, precisely for its operatic quality, there is no denying its power. Beautifully recorded and presented by directors Gold and Asner with cinematographers Jeff Alred and Anthony Melfi, it should lead to a deeper and wider appreciative of cantorial music, certainly outside Judaism and perhaps within the faith as well.

Indeed, Cantor Lam’s project was notable not just for the size of the tour, but the noble intent.  Recently, many religious leaders have acted provocatively, even insensitively, while claiming the mantle of intolerance (yes, I definitely mean the organizers of the World Trade Center mosque here). However, the Voices tour really was undertaken in the spirit of tolerance, seeking to strengthen ties and understanding between faiths and people. A well intentioned film executed with grace and dignity, Voices deserves an audience well past Oscar season. It plays in select theaters in New York and Los Angeles through September 28th.

Posted on September 26th, 2010 at 12:08m.

By Joe Bendel. It can honestly be said Ngawang Choephel’s debut documentary was over six and a half years in the making. That is how long he was unjustly imprisoned by the Chinese Communist government for the crime of recording traditional Tibetan folk songs. Of course, they called it espionage. What started as an endeavor in ethnomusicology became a much more personal project for Ngawang, ultimately resulting in Tibet in Song, which opens this Friday in New York.

Though born in Tibet, Ngawang had lived in exile with his mother since the age of two. While he had few memories of his homeland, attending the Dalai Lama’s Tibetan Institute of Performing Arts instilled in Ngawang a passion for the traditional music of his country that would cost him his liberty. Though his mother strenuously advised against it, Ngawang fatefully returned to Tibet in hopes of documenting the traditional songs before they were completely lost to posterity.

In Lhasa, Ngawang discovered the unofficial Chinese prohibitions against Tibetan cultural, religious, and linguistic identity had largely succeeded. However, like a Tibetan Alan Lomax, he found people in the provinces, usually the older generations, who were willing to be filmed as they sang and played the music of their ancestors. And then a funny thing happened on the road to Dawa.

Suddenly, Ngawang was arrested and his film was confiscated. For years he endured the abuse of a Communist prison, but he still persisted in learning and singing traditional Tibetan songs. Eventually, the Chinese government relented to the pressure of a remarkable international campaign spearheaded by Ngawang’s mother – releasing the filmmaker, who would finally finish a very different film from what he presumably envisioned.

Song is a remarkable documentary in many ways. It all too clearly illustrates the unpredictable nature of nonfiction filmmaking, as events take a dramatic turn Ngawang was surely hoping to avoid. The film also bears witness to the Communist government’s chilling campaign to obliterate one of the world’s oldest cultures. Particularly disturbing to Ngawang are the ostensive Tibetan cultural revues mounted by the Chinese government that feature plenty of party propaganda but no genuine Tibetan music. In Orwellian terms, they represent an effort to literally rewrite Tibetan culture.

Indeed, what starts as a reasonably interesting survey of Tibetan song becomes a riveting examination of the occupied nation. Ngawang and the other former Tibetan prisoners he interviews have important (and dramatic) stories to tell, many of which express the significance of song to their own cultural identity. One of the few legitimate examples of heroic filmmaking, Song deserves a wide audience. Highly recommended, it opens this Friday (9/24) in New York at the Cinema Village, and in subsequent weeks travels to art house cinemas nationwide.

Posted on September 23rd. 2010 at 9:11am.

By Joe Bendel. He played for Presidents FDR and W. In between, he revolutionized Latin dance music, endured the pain of exile from his Cuban homeland, and enjoyed a late-career renaissance thanks in large measure to the efforts of musician-actor Andy Garcia. His name was Israel López, but most knew him simply as Cachao. His life and insistently danceable music are lovingly remembered in Dikayl Rimmasch’s Cachao: Uno Mas, co-produced by Garcia, which airs today as part of the current season of PBS’s American Masters.

A classically trained bassist, Cachao co-wrote Mambo #1 with his brother Orestes. Simply titled “Mambo,” it was the first of his signature danzóns (Cuban ballroom dances), featuring jazz like syncopation and an infectious rhythmic drive. Needless to say, the mambo was a hit—everywhere—spawning the global mambo craze. Yet, Cachao usually was not the one in the spotlight. Hip musicians certainly knew who he was though.

According to Cachao, he and his brother wrote 1,500 danzóns each. He also recorded his classic Descargas: Cuban Jam Sessions in Miniature, thoroughly blurring the distinctions between jazz and traditional Cuban musical forms. He even penned “Chanchullo,” the original melody that would become first Tito Puente’s and then Carlos Santana’s “Oye Como Va.” That Cachao never received proper credit or compensation for those monster hits still visibly rankles Garcia, but the zen-like master bassist was apparently unconcerned with such worldly matters.

Unfortunately, worldly events would intrude into Cachao’s musical life. Though he initially supported the revolution against Battista, Cachao (like Garcia’s parents) chose the pain of exile as the oppressive nature of the Castro regime became painfully apparent. As the American Master himself explains: “Over there they say, ‘No, because of Fidel . . .’ and that’s it. Everyone is listening to you to hear what you say. If they don’t like it, you’re asking for trouble.”

Though Cachao passed away in early 2008, he was playing strong up until his final bar. Wisely, Uno Mas showcases his musical fire, fitting its profile segments around a scorching hot 2005 concert in San Francisco. Cachao swings like mad with an all-star ensemble including Garcia on bongos, John Santos on congas, Justo Almario on saxophone, and Federico Britos on violin (at one point engaging in some tasty call-and-response with the leader).

Utilizing nine cameras, Rimmasch shot some of the best live concert footage you are ever likely to see on television. He beautifully captures the unspoken back-and-forth between musicians, which probably gives a better sense of Cachao the man than any of the interview segments. Indeed, the music is so good, Uno Mas is probably destined to become a staple of PBS pledge break programming for years to come. While he does not perform in the film, trumpeter and Cuban defector Arturo Sandoval (played by Garcia in the under-appreciated HBO film For Love or Country) also adds some entertainingly animated musical commentary.

Cachao led a dramatic life and left behind an impressive body of absolutely joyous music. Like many Cuban exiles, he became a loyal patriot of two countries, making him a perfect subject for American Masters. Sometimes touching, but ultimately a blast of invigorating music, Uno Mas airs today (9/20) on PBS outlets nationwide.

Posted on September 20th, 2010 at 9:11am.