Jonathan Demme and Neil Young team for a top-notch concert film
Once upon a time I wasn't necessarily a Neil Young fan. I liked some of his songs, but that's no big deal. But then something happened; I saw him in concert. Then I was a big fan. If you're not a Neil Young fan, this film could be the thing that turns you into one. Since my initial experience I think I've seen him five or six times, and the movie "Neil Young: Heart of Gold" is possibly the best Young concert I've ever seen.
Neil Young plays the concert of his life in Jonathan Demme's documentary/concert film 'Neil Young: Heart of Gold'
When I say concert, I mean concert. Directed by Jonathan Demme, the film is so fresh and intimate that my impression now is that I was not in a movie theater watching a film of the concert, but that I was actually in the auditorium with Young, seeing him live. I'm sure I wasn't the only one who came close to applauding between songs, and more than once I heard the audience erupt with that little concert-going whoop of pleasure someone makes when a particular favorite starts playing. Heads were bobbing and feet tapping throughout the film.
The film and concert gain extra urgency from the circumstances of its creation. In March, 2005, Young was diagnosed with a brain aneurysm, a potentially fatal condition. Before undergoing an operation to treat the aneurysm, Young gathered some musicians together and recorded his Prairie Wind album. Heart of Gold was filmed six months later, following a successful operation to treat the aneurysm. The mood of the concert is one of meditative celebration, if those terms aren't too contradictory.
Though some critics called Prairie Wind too sentimental, the songs are given deeper context when seen in performance. Sentimental, perhaps, but they are heartfelt, thoughtful, and powerful, a pointed reminder that everyone, even Neil Young, is only here for a short time. Many of the songs take Young back to childhood memories of growing up on the Canadian prairie, at what must have seemed the far reaches of nowhere, and yet Young's songs are filled with rich imagery and awareness of how the experiences shaped him into who he is today. The concert is later balanced with some Young standards that he plays at every concert. The performances are all excellent, some of the best I've heard.
But this is a review of a film, and Demme pulls off an amazing feat here. After a few introductory scenes in which the band and the circumstances of the concert are introduced, the concert begins and stays with the music for the remainder of the film. Demme is no doubt helped along by the fact that Young has one of the most charismatic stage presences I've ever seen. The first time I saw him, around 1982 in a fairly large venue, Young was playing solo. It was just him on a chair, an acoustic guitar across his knee. It was a very static stage picture better suited for a small coffee shop, yet Young held everyone riveted for two hours.
That same charisma is on display in "Heart of Gold" but it is not the only explanation for the film's success. With this film and his earlier "Stop Making Sense," Demme makes filming concert movies look easy, though obviously, if it was as easy as he makes it seem there'd be a lot more good concert films and fewer rotten ones.
Perhaps the most difficult thing about Demme's technique is his willingness to quit directing. Most directors put a thick layer of film between the movie screen and the audience as if to constantly remind everyone that, Hey! there's another artist in the room you know!
Demme forgoes all the typical excesses and keeps his cameras on the performers, usually in tight close ups. It's very simple and uncomplicated, but since it's the correct directorial choice to make it can't be said that he's not doing anything as a director. It sometimes takes a very firm hand to just leave things alone.
In addition, he never cuts away to the concert audience; in fact, he ignores them entirely. He cuts directly from one song to the next, omitting any audience applause.
Actually, this approach makes a lot of sense. With the concert audience missing, the movie audience is moved by default into that role. We become the concert audience; we are the ones sitting in the seats facing Young and his band. It's a very simple, yet effective, psychological trick.
The sound recording in the film is excellent, clearer in places than on the Prairie Wind CD. The lyrics are sharp and precise, and perfectly phrased. Young and his collected band of musicians were definitely having an "on" night, and the cherry on top comes in the form of the ethereally beautiful Emmylou Harris singing harmony on a few songs; she's one of the best harmonizers in the business. If there is any downside to the music at all it comes in the fact that she was occasionally drowned out by other back up singers, including Young's wife, Pegi, who got a bit enthusiastic.
But perhaps the best indicator of how good this film is comes at the end when the entire audience sat through the end credits and even a little bit after. True, while the credits rolled Young was singing one of his old standards — just him, sitting alone with his guitar, just as I'd first seen him in 1982 — but still they're the end credits! I don't know how it is where you live, but Oregon audiences just don't do that! Oregon audiences flee at the first sign of credits, flee for their lives, flee as if the credits were death beams shooting out from the screen. For everyone to stay until the very last frame of film reeled out through the projector is remarkable.