A couple of years ago I reviewed a documentary about the holocaust called NIGHT WILL FALL (directed by Andre Singer, the producer of ACT OF KILLING). How do you critique a film about the holocaust, I asked myself? I had the same question in my head in advance of ONE MORE TIME WITH FEELING, by New Zealander Andrew Dominik (THE ASSASSINATION OF JESSE JAMES BY THE COWARD ROBERT FORD/CHOPPER), a film that was supposed to document the studio creation of the latest Nick Cave album, Skeleton Tree but became something very different when his 15 year old son, Arthur, fell from a cliff in his hometown and died.
Cave has stated that rather than speak to the media about those events he would, instead, release this film (which in part has been self funded). These are his words, and presumably all he wants to say on the matter. So with all that in mind, this documentary can be viewed in three ways: as a piece of filmmaking, as a document on the creation of a deeply personal album, and finally as a testament to a son.
Cave and Dominik have worked together before, notably on THE ASSASSINATION OF … and it shows right from the start, when the director asks Cave to redo a shot “one more time with feeling”. Filmed in black and white with mood and depth, it draws you into the music and the people. There are long sweeping shots that take you on mini journeys: along a beach, down a spiral staircase or through a studio. The lighting is stunning, with dark back-lit studios, wires and mics and hidden corners all brought to life. As the narrative of the album unfolds through the film, so do the cast of characters, with Warren Ellis most vivid: capturing his bearded cragginess, his bangles, his passion. There is a wonderful shot of people talking, babbling, when the camera focuses in to the piano and the headphones of the player and all we hear is the music, what he hears, the rest of the world and all its unnecessary noise blocked out. It is a wonderful moment, made all the more poignant in the context that surrounds this film.
The madness and futility of meaning.
And then there is the humour. A surprising amount of humour. You wonder if this film should have been made, with the circumstances surrounding it. Is it all about Nick Cave? But then they send themselves up with the idiocy of it all – with their own vanity. At one point, Cave checks if his hair looks OK. “Never been better”, replies a facetious Ellis, and you know that it’s OK to be watching. They and we all know that none of it really matters when you are faced with the enormity of the tragedy that is the elephant in the room here – all you can do is try and make sense of it. In his case, through music and the power of words.
As a document of the creation of an album, the first half is excellent. There is footage of Warren, Nick and the band preparing the songs, with an other-worldly Cave narrating from above, somehow outside, as if deceased, looking down on his past friends and commenting on it all. The madness and futility of meaning. It creates both a narrative to the movie and context to the songs, bringing the vocals to life in an ethereal and deeply personal way: ‘Jesus Alone’ is astonishing, visceral, and deeply moving. The filmmakers’ decision to play songs in full is the right one. The songs need space to be consumed and taken in for proper digestion. It is never really clear when the songs or the lyrics were recorded in relation to the tragedy, but it feels right that we don’t have a linear timeline. It is not important. We all know what has happened. Cave himself says that we should take their meaning with a pinch of salt. They are just words; he doesn’t believe in ‘Life Stories’ anymore.
the ever enigmatic, knowing artifice of Cave is brought down to earth…
There are moments in the film that sit uncomfortably. In the Cave household, for example, talking and demonstrating how life goes on through their work and art. It all feels a little out of place until you consider the futility of the situation both parents have been plunged into. The sheer desperation of it all. And that is the thing, as a testament to a son, the ever enigmatic, knowing artifice of Cave is brought down to earth by the trauma that all parents fear. A man never lost for words, who has made a career exploring the meaning and power of language, has nothing to say. In a telling interview at the end of the film he attempts to explain how he can move away from what happened and try to make sense of it all, only for him to snap back “like an elastic band” to the “trauma of that night”. The 58 year veteran of 16 studio albums has nothing when confronted by the void that has been left in his family’s life. The artifice of a career spent in the limelight laid bare by the love for a son.
At the end of the movie, we see the cliff and we hear Arthur and Earl singing Marianne Faithfull’s ‘Deep Water’ (Give My Love To London 2014). It is so innocent, so moving, so beautiful. There is nothing more to say – except that I am sure Arthur would be very proud of his mum and dad, this film and the new album. That is enough and all that really needs to be said.
httpvh://youtu.be/Hdl5sox2G6g