Truly a sweet one

Rating: Null/10 (4 March 2000)

A few weeks before seeing this film, I had a chance to take another look at "Deconstructing Harry", a much different Woody Allen take on the subject of a man who's a genius at art, and an utter failure in life. While "Harry" is a brilliant film with a lot of energy and insight, it still leaves something of a bad taste; it feels at times like Allen's justification of the hard times he brought on his own family. Perhaps he's come around, however. In "Sweet and Lowdown", Allen presents the boorish, insensitive artist as a man whose horrible, hurtful behavior ultimately hurts himself most of all.
The story, told in a pseudo-documentary style, is about Emmett Ray (Sean Penn), a fictional 1930s jazz guitarist who would be the best in the world, if not for "this gypsy in France", Django Reinhardt. Ray is a true artist on the guitar with a genuinely light touch, but away from the stage, he's a train wreck (which makes sense, as one of his favorite hobbies, when he's not drinking, running whores, or shooting rats at the dump, is watching trains). He is a man completely cut off from his feelings, who can not relate to people on any realistically sensitive level. Then, he meets the one type of person such a man cannot properly handle: a woman who loves him unconditionally, flaws and all. This is Hattie (Samantha Morton), a mute laundry girl who he uses for a time and then leaves. He tries his hand at marriage with a pretentious would-be writer (Uma Thurman), but he finally realizes (even though he will not admit it to himself), that he left his true love behind when he left Hattie. The loss finally ignites his art, and the only recordings he left behind are said to be "easily as good as Reinhardt".
As is always the case with an Allen film, the acting is quite good. Penn is developing a DeNiro-like prowess for character transformations, and Emmett Ray is a nasty, cold man with one great gift to validate his existence. Penn always looks at home with his guitar, and he handles the emotional retentiveness of Ray exceptionally well. Morton, a surprise Oscar nominee, is truly fetching, with her sweet, open face and purity of spirit. She's like a breath of fresh air.
Woody Allen remains among my favorite directors of period-set films, because he always makes his worlds convincing without cramming them down my throat. The film inhabits the '30s with such comfort that it's a real pleasure. Major kudos to the costume designers for their wonderfully colorful array of outfits, and especially to Zhao Fei, who renders the film with an artfully burnished haze of nostalgia, giving the action the feel of a fondly recalled memory. The music of course is wonderful, Dick Hyman coming through with some terrific arrangements of classic jazz tunes, and Harold Alden lilting the whole proceedings with his marvelous guitar playing.
At first, the pseudodocumentary angle just did not work for me, but as I think more about the film, I realize that it is, on a small level, perfect. Emmett Ray is a man whose life was altered by the love of a woman he ultimately wanted and could not have. Allen (appearing as himself) comments that his final recordings really show a different side of Ray, a beautiful side. Ray is best realized as a man who is forgotten except for those recordings, which were made after he had finally been opened up to his feelings, and who was thus able to do what Django had done. It sometimes takes a lifetime of lowdown to create a moment of sweet, and that's what this film very sweetly suggests.