YEAR OF THE HORSE
A film review by David N. Butterworth
Copyright 1997 David N. Butterworth
Rating: **1/2 (Maltin scale)
Fans of Neil Young and Crazy Horse should relish the affecting documentary "Year of the Horse." Its director, Jim Jarmusch, clearly thinks the band is the bee's knees.
The film is composed of concert footage of the band during their 1996 European tour, as well as interviews (in a kitschy laundry-room setting) and additional concert and interview footage from 1976 and 1986.
Half the time the generally dazed and confused band don't know which city they're in or, five minutes before a show, which song they're going to open with. As for the documentary itself, one of the band members is consistently skeptical of the filmmaker's work-in-progress. "Like asking a few questions will capture everything there is to know about Crazy Horse?" he scoffs. He also accuses Jarmusch of making an arty film just so people will think he's cool.
Ironically Jarmusch, the director of quirky, off-beat films ("Stranger Than Paradise," "Night on Earth," "Dead Man," etc.) was cool long before he made "Year of the Horse." A smattering of acting roles have helped sustain that image, most recently with his Frostee Cream Boy cameo in Billy Bob Thornton's "Sling Blade."
What's surprising about "Year of the Horse" is its distinct lack of insight. When reduced to talking heads the band members--Ralph Molina (drums/vocals), Billy Talbot (bass/vocals), Frank "Pancho" Sampedro (guitar/vocals), and Young himself (guitar/vocals)--have little of any significance to say. The most descriptive summation of being a part of Crazy Horse from a band member's perspective is "heavy." "It's hard to describe in words," he says. It's not unlike some sporting superstar talking about the game: "You go out there and you give it your best shot and you hope you get a result"--duh.
But once Crazy Horse gets on stage these aging, not very attractive men (although there's nothing wrong with Neil Young that a barber and a good tailor couldn't fix) powerfully demonstrate everything they've been unable to articulate verbally. Instantly there's synergy: the three guitarists playing together in close proximity, acting on non-verbal cues, totally immersed in the music, creating their singular, soaring sound to thunderous applause.
As the engagingly dull interviews get more and more meaningless, the music gets increasingly potent. "Pure," as Young himself puts it. The music is very good and Jarmusch gives us nine full songs, including "Stupid Girl," "Tonight's the Night," and the anthem-like "Like a Hurricane" that closes the film.
Jarmusch's "glue" that holds the picture together is the artier stuff that Pancho references, wonderfully edited by Jay Rabinowitz: collage-like snippets of soundstages, motorbikes, and American landscapes flashing by; adoring nationals, singing Swedes, indecipherable Glaswegians.
"Proudly" shot in Super-8, 16mm, and Hi-8 video, the graininess of the material gives the film a home movie-like texture, echoing the band members' grunginess (that's grunge in the seamy sense, not the Seattle sound sense). This is a film of contrasts: black and white; black and white and color; decades--'76, '86, '96; words, and music.
A band that plays together doesn't always stay together but after almost thirty years, Neil Young and Crazy Horse are still cranking it up. And in "Year of the Horse," it's the music that speaks for itself.
-- David N. Butterworth dnb@mail.med.upenn.edu
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