Patti Smith: Dream of Life opened at the Granville theatre in Vancouver this weekend, and, knowing that my colleague David F. Dawes is something of a fan, I asked him if he would have any interest in reviewing it for this blog. He said he would, so voila:
PATTI SMITH is talking to a friend about a question she gets asked too often: “How does it feel to be a rock icon?”
“I think of Mount Rushmore,” she smiles.
The scene is from a film which is anything but carved in stone. Steven Sebring’s Patti Smith: Dream of Life is full of vitality, evincing a lively imagination worthy of its subject. It is an evocative and incisive portrait of a brilliant poet, ferocious vocalist, open spiritual seeker and rabble rouser of the first order.
Blessedly, there’s not one reference to ‘Godmother of Punk,’ a cliche frequently attached to Smith. The film does more than justice to the breadth of her art beyond rock ‘n roll, including her poetry and painting.
Sebring had an unprecedented opportunity to film Smith over an 11-year period, beginning in 1995. The result could have been far too disjointed. Instead, the director has skillfully distilled the footage into a series of vignettes — with scenes clustered around different concepts.
We see Patti’s meditations on the death of loved ones, such as husband Fred Sonic Smith and lover Robert Mapplethorpe; tributes to her influences, including William S. Burroughs, Bob Dylan and Allen Ginsberg; her carefree interactions with her family; and her fiery peace activism. While some might find the combination of topics chaotic, the film holds together as a suitably many-faceted portrait of a complex personality.
Memorable sequences include: Patti goofing around on guitar with playwright Sam Shepard; Smith and a friend expressing shock and awe over a draconian invoice on a Prada bag; and her righteous outrage over the war in Iraq and other W. Bush misadventures.
The film’s style is by turns poetic, documentary and abstract. It is mostly black and white, with effective intrusions of colour. A few moments are confusing, showing people interacting with Smith without clarifying their relationship to her. But this occasional lack of concrete information also enhances the free-flowing evocation of an artist and her milieu; and continuity is provided by narration spoken by Smith.
Some sequences are simply riveting. At one point we see a series of colour close-ups of Smith passionately vocalizing in concert; however, we hear no vocals — but instead very intense, discordant instrumental music which perfectly evokes the expressions on the singer’s face.
Speaking of concert footage: there are some simply amazing sequences — handheld camera reflecting the energy of the musicians and fans, with Patti in your face, a force of nature unleashed.
Indeed, the film is appropriately permeated with Smith’s music — acoustic and electric songs, and poetry incantations. Highlights include ‘Rock N Roll Nigger,’ ‘Land,’ Ginsberg’s ‘Spell,’ and the harrowing ‘Radio Baghdad.’
As for Patti herself, she comes across as both intimidating and endearing — undeniably charismatic, gentle-hearted, opinionated, bursting with artistic and political passion.
Her spiritual side is mostly presented in a low-key fashion. She is shown occasionally wearing a cross. More significant is a sequence showing her wandering in the Middle East. A skillful montage combines images of Arabs in a mosque; Jews praying at the Wailing Wall; and Patti in an Orthodox church.
The most upfront portrayal of her spirituality occurs in the final credits, which features her reworking of a Psalm. Calling on “the Rock that is higher than I,” she sings “hear my cry, O Lord” in a heartfelt plea for aid.
Overall, Dream of Life is an outstanding debut for director Sebring. More importantly, it is a worthy tribute to one of the most phenomenal talents of our time.
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