If you love Harry Nilsson, you will enjoy this documentary. I wanted to know about his late and early career and his family. The highs and lows of his dramatic life and long career are all discussed here.
It was a pleasure to hear some of the songs again; I was especially pleased that they included "Don't Forget Me," on the sound track. I love that song, and in a way it's very typical of Nilsson as a songwriter: it's lovely, it's poignant, and it's frank in a way that pop songs rarely are ("I'll miss you when I'm lonely, I'll miss the alimony, too"). Nilsson was a really original songwriter and while that may not have always been commercial enough to win success on the charts, as a listener I find it inspiring, gratifying and moving. Different is not always better, but here it is.
The documentary has many people who knew Nilsson talking about him, and they all feel passionately about him; if you're a fan like me, you'll find that gratifying, I'm sure. Their portrait is affectionate and tactful, but truthful: Nilsson liked to party, was competitive, insecure, willful and stubborn; managed his own career and not always well.
I think I've felt sad that Nilsson's career has been eclipsed; I imagine I feel so strongly about it because he was such a great singer and such a great songwriter and that means something to me personally. (Why do fans take it personally?) I find myself wishing that more folks would discover him; perhaps because of this documentary they will.
It's gratifying to know that a tribute concert has been organized for November 26 at Off Broadway in St. Louis. I just read a bit of publicity about it online; one of the event producers, Kevin Buckley of Grace Basement, said: "However, Nilsson, for a variety of reasons, will remain somewhat on the fringes even if more and more people become aware of his work. Something about his art and persona is strangely subversive and elusive, while his music was so beautiful and melodious. Nilsson is interesting because he's confusing. He almost went out of his way to let people know he didn't take himself too seriously."
My favorite part of this documentary appears toward the end: Van Dyke Parks is facing the viewer and starts playing some music. I found myself beaming; then he turns away as if saddened, and I started crying. I guess I'm just an Aeolian harp but I was moved by something I took to be authentic.
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