In Woody Allen’s “Sweet and Lowdown” (Accords et désaccords, Jan 26), Depression-era jazz guitarist Emmet Ray (Sean Penn) is an incorrigible poster boy for conceited talent. He’s a jazz
musician but the film is the story of how he discovers the blues.
Emmet also plays horn, as in “tooting his own.” “I was amazing the minute I picked up the instrument” and “You’ll
enjoy this — I’m great,” are among his most commonly uttered phrases.
The only force that can humble this arrogant man is the existence
of Gypsy guitarist Django Reinhardt “over in France.” Emmet’s visceral fear of meeting his idol and
presumed rival for crown of greatest jazz guitarist on earth sets
the stage for one of the film’s funniest gags — a bout with wish
fulfillment via incredibly unlikely means.
Emmet adores the company of women but keeps declaring that he
doesn’t “need” them because he’s an artist and love would only
hold him back. Profligate, boorish and absolutely convinced the
world revolves around his own frequently late or no-show navel,
Emmet Ray is nevertheless as gifted a performer as he claims to
be. Allen gently toys with the fact that extraordinary talent
can cohabit with a shallow, selfish, fundamentally inconsiderate
approach to life.
“Not only are you vain and egotistical, but you have genuine crudeness!” exclaims Blanche Williams (Uma Thurman) with unfeigned delight.
A former debutante slumming to gather “experience” for her writing,
Blanche keeps trying to pinpoint the intellectual underpinnings
of Ray’s unquestionable genius. She’ll have to look a long time:
There aren’t any.
“You don’t have to be bright — music’s for everyone, smart or
dumb,” Emmet announces the day he meets Hattie (Samantha Morton), a
mute laundress who’s cute as a button and about as intelligent.
She can’t talk, which leaves Emmet infinite leeway to boast about
his prowess in any and all departments. He has the love of a good
woman but lacks the common sense to pick up on a good thing with
anywhere near the skill with which he picks his guitar. So slick
he could beat an oil spill for collateral damage, Ray nonetheless
rewrites his own bohemian rhapsody as a tragedy.
Recounted in part as a faux-documentary with “talking head” testimony from genuine music authorities
and Allen himself, “Sweet and Lowdown” is a Woody Allen movie
that even people who don’t like Woody Allen movies can enjoy.
Penn has resisted the strong pull to exhibit the performance tics
that rub off on other seasoned performers when they step into
the roles Allen himself would play if only he were 30 years younger
(cf. John Cusack in “Bullets Over Broadway,” Kenneth Branaugh
in “Celebrity”). Penn has the acting chops to make a basically repugnant character intriguing instead of repulsive. We understand why sweet-spirited Hattie
might just be drawn to him, Hope Diamond-sized flaws and all.
The music in “Sweet and Lowdown” is absolutely terrific, doing
for pure instrumental bravado what “South Park: Bigger, Longer
and Uncut” does for brilliantly irreverent lyrics.
Another treat for alert filmgoers is the January 19 rerelease
(in a new print at the Action Ecoles) of Allen’s 1985 Depression-era
gem, “The Purple Rose of Cairo” (La Rose Pourpre du Caire). A bittersweet Valentine to the power
of the movies, one of Allen’s most heartbreaking films follows
unhappily married waitress and devoted movie fan Cecilia (Mia
Farrow) as one of her screen idols, Tom Baxter (Jeff Daniels),
strides right off the screen. It’s magnificently photographed
by Gordon Willis, with a fab period score by Dick Hyman.
