Biographies are a hard genre to capture on film. Books can give layers upon layers of detail into someone's life, based on multiple perspectives. And even documentaries have more of an opportunity through interviews and archive footage to establish a person's background and contributions to their art form. But how do you honorably condense a person's life down to the standards of conventional cinema, especially if that person was as unconventional as Jazz icon Charlie Parker?
Clint Eastwood's "Bird" opens with a quote from F. Scott Fitzgerald, "There are no second acts in American lives." After a brief scene with no dialogue depicting Parker's childhood in Kansas City, the film flashes forward to a suicide attempt about six months before his actual death in 1955. This opening sequence establishes the tone of the film, depicting the complicated relationship between Parker and his common law wife, his drug addiction, and the music that he gave to the world. It is from this point that the film takes an interesting approach, telling most of its story in episodic flashbacks, floating around through different time periods, and even the occasional flashback within another flashback, further playing with the idea of time and memory. It is through this nonlinear approach that the film most resembles the art form that it is representing.
"Bird" mostly depicts Parker's life with his common law wife Chan Parker and his relationship to musicians Dizzy Gillespie and Red Rodney, all of whom gave their input during the production process. Chan, whose unpublished memoirs heavily influenced the screenplay, provided Eastwood with rare live recordings of Parker for the film. One of the movie's greatest accomplishments is its detail to the time period. In one of the film's most remarkable moments, the camera in one long take follows a club doorman up and down 52nd Street, making you feel like you are in the 1940s world of Bebop. You practically get lost in the darkly lit nightclub scenes with the air full of smoke and music.
The two lead performances are extremely captivating. Forest Whitaker balances several different moods in his portrayal as Bird, conveying how charming and interesting he was to the outside world while also showcasing the pitfalls of drug addiction, and how it eventually made him an unreliable performer. He also does a convincing job at mimicking Parker's stage presence, especially his ability to improvise on the saxophone. Equal praise must go to Diane Verona as Parker's companion later in the life, establishing a cool persona in the early days of their relationship, and an overbearing sadness during its final months. The scene depicting their last phone conversation, with Verona trying so hard to mask her awareness of what's happening and eventually breaking down is heartbreaking.
Still, with its Jazz-like approach to the narrative, "Bird" comes off as slightly overlong. It is still filled with nice moments and wonderful scenes. When touring in L.A., Bird stops outside the house of Igor Stravinsky, where the two geniuses stare at each other from a distance. This is juxtaposed nicely with an early scene of Parker and Chan's courtship, dancing in a fancy club with white Jazz musicians who stop playing because they recognize the legend in front of them, perhaps embarrassed by the second rate compositions they're playing. What might be the film's best scene comes near the end with Gillespie and Parker on a beach at night. The former tells the latter that while he's trying to be a progressive, Parker is too busy trying to be a martyr. "People always seem to remember the martyr more," Gillespie laments. Oh how right he was!
Clint Eastwood's "Bird" opens with a quote from F. Scott Fitzgerald, "There are no second acts in American lives." After a brief scene with no dialogue depicting Parker's childhood in Kansas City, the film flashes forward to a suicide attempt about six months before his actual death in 1955. This opening sequence establishes the tone of the film, depicting the complicated relationship between Parker and his common law wife, his drug addiction, and the music that he gave to the world. It is from this point that the film takes an interesting approach, telling most of its story in episodic flashbacks, floating around through different time periods, and even the occasional flashback within another flashback, further playing with the idea of time and memory. It is through this nonlinear approach that the film most resembles the art form that it is representing.
"Bird" mostly depicts Parker's life with his common law wife Chan Parker and his relationship to musicians Dizzy Gillespie and Red Rodney, all of whom gave their input during the production process. Chan, whose unpublished memoirs heavily influenced the screenplay, provided Eastwood with rare live recordings of Parker for the film. One of the movie's greatest accomplishments is its detail to the time period. In one of the film's most remarkable moments, the camera in one long take follows a club doorman up and down 52nd Street, making you feel like you are in the 1940s world of Bebop. You practically get lost in the darkly lit nightclub scenes with the air full of smoke and music.
The two lead performances are extremely captivating. Forest Whitaker balances several different moods in his portrayal as Bird, conveying how charming and interesting he was to the outside world while also showcasing the pitfalls of drug addiction, and how it eventually made him an unreliable performer. He also does a convincing job at mimicking Parker's stage presence, especially his ability to improvise on the saxophone. Equal praise must go to Diane Verona as Parker's companion later in the life, establishing a cool persona in the early days of their relationship, and an overbearing sadness during its final months. The scene depicting their last phone conversation, with Verona trying so hard to mask her awareness of what's happening and eventually breaking down is heartbreaking.
Still, with its Jazz-like approach to the narrative, "Bird" comes off as slightly overlong. It is still filled with nice moments and wonderful scenes. When touring in L.A., Bird stops outside the house of Igor Stravinsky, where the two geniuses stare at each other from a distance. This is juxtaposed nicely with an early scene of Parker and Chan's courtship, dancing in a fancy club with white Jazz musicians who stop playing because they recognize the legend in front of them, perhaps embarrassed by the second rate compositions they're playing. What might be the film's best scene comes near the end with Gillespie and Parker on a beach at night. The former tells the latter that while he's trying to be a progressive, Parker is too busy trying to be a martyr. "People always seem to remember the martyr more," Gillespie laments. Oh how right he was!