Heart of Gold (DVD)
Neil Young
(Director: Jonathan Demme, Paramount Home Video)
The old story about Neil Young is that he's mercurial, always moving on to the next thing before he's done with the last. And current events can certainly attest to that: two months before the DVD release of Heart of Gold, a concert film highlighting Young's elegaic 2005 album Prairie Wind, an entirely new record called Living with War was rush-recorded and released. Complete with firebrand politics and loud, loud guitars, Living with War is about the farthest thing from Prairie Wind's twilit introspection as you can get - or at least that's what I hear; I haven't had the chance to listen to it yet. Thirty years, thirty albums, a brain aneurysm and at least a dozen whirlwind career changes after he first confounded audiences by following up 1972's massive hit Harvest with murky live album Time Fades Away, Neil Young is still one step ahead of us.
It's important to remember, however, that "one step ahead" doesn't necessarily translate to "arbitrary" or "unpredictable." If some of Young's mid-career choices still seem absolutely bonkers - his decision to experiment with a vocoder on 1983's Trans, for instance, or the infamous rockabilly pastiche Everybody's Rockin', which actually caused Geffen Records to sue Young for breach of contract - then his more recent movements have been remarkably shrewd. Remember, it was a flannel-shirted Young who capitalized on the "Godfather of Grunge" tag by recording Mirrorball with Pearl Jam in 1995; and though Prairie Wind is hardly the first time he's returned to the country-folk style of Harvest, in an era when sepia-toned Americana nostalgia has returned to fashion (just see Robert Altman's recent Prairie Home Companion), the spirit of last year's album and the approach of its accompanying film feels remarkably prescient. Just call him the "Godfather of Alt-Country."
But please, don't call this movie a cash-in. To his eternal credit, Young's performance in Heart of Gold doesn't just succeed because of timing. Instead, it succeeds because the songs he plays are gorgeous, personal and intensely felt; reactions to the passing of his father and his own impending mortality which are as sobering as the subject matter suggests, but infinitely more joyous than one would have any right to expect. Drawn almost entirely from what could be dubbed Young's "Harvest Trilogy" - the original album, 1992's "sequel" Harvest Moon and Prairie Wind - and recorded over two nights at Nashville's historic Ryman Auditorium (home of the Grand Ol' Opry), the concert is truly gorgeous stuff, a quietly resonant testament to a career and a life caught in a rare moment looking backwards. But it never quite stoops to the level of a "Lifetime Achievement" nostalgia-fest, and that's the beauty of it: if anything, seeing nearly all of Prairie Wind juxtaposed against classics like "I am a Child," "Comes a Time" and "The Needle and the Damage Done" (not to mention the indelible title track) proves the endurance of Young's muse. Track by track, not only do these new songs hold up to the chestnuts, but a few of them - like heartwarming "Falling Off the Face of the Earth" and spine-chilling "Prairie Wind" - feel like classics in their own right.
Of course, credit must go to director Jonathan Demme as well, not so much for his stylistic interventions but for his shrewdness in keeping them to a minimum. Demme's C.V. as a filmmaker (The Silence of the Lambs), and specifically as a concert filmmaker (Stop Making Sense, duh), is more or less insurmountable; but Heart of Gold doesn't just keep any kind of professional ego in check, it is the work of a director in constant, affectionate reverence of his subject. Whether moving in for intimate close-ups or exploiting full use of the film's aspect ratio with full-stage shots, Demme does precisely what is best to capture the performance, bringing the viewer into the fold with a minimum of the fast-paced, sloppy cutting which plagues most concert DVDs.
Where Heart of Gold succeeds most, though, is in its ability to capture a mood: like the album which was its genesis, the mood here is autumnal, reflective, a rumination on life and its ever-impending loss; and from beginning to end of this film it is unmistakable. One can see it in the introductions of Young's band members, a cast of outstanding musicians, from Emmylou Harris to Spooner Oldham, connected by their shared status as aging but still-brilliant legends. One sees it in the setlist, too, a veritable memoir in song - everyone from Young's father ("Prairie Wind") to Hank Williams, Sr. ("This Old Guitar") to a departed pet ("Old King") is paid tribute, in a seamless blending of individual and collective history. And with a few telling comments from Harris and Young respectively, the personal aspect of the music is thrown into even sharper relief against the backdrop of a disappearing Nashville, a disappearing America.
The musicians who assemble at the Ryman Auditorium for this performance are aware of the commercial, industrial forces which continue to encroach on "old America" - near the beginning of the film, Harris mentions with horror plans to build a high rise in front of the Ryman's famous stained glass windows, thus blocking the sunlight from entering the venue. And though for the film this is only a subtext, it becomes an astonishing metaphor for why we need movies like Heart of Gold in the first place. Maybe the months since Neil Young debuted Prairie Wind have found him already striking out in new directions, the old restless spirit back again in a big way; but when he's gone, when we're gone, when the Ryman itself is no longer standing and only memories remain, this wonderful film will still be there, reminding whoever's left of a precious and fleeting moment in time. If future generations ever want to know what was so great about Neil Young - or music - they need look no further.
Official Site
Official Site (Neil Young)
IMDb Listing
Heart of Gold Ecard
Buy It on Amazon
See Also: crafted from original Ryman pews!
(Director: Jonathan Demme, Paramount Home Video)
The old story about Neil Young is that he's mercurial, always moving on to the next thing before he's done with the last. And current events can certainly attest to that: two months before the DVD release of Heart of Gold, a concert film highlighting Young's elegaic 2005 album Prairie Wind, an entirely new record called Living with War was rush-recorded and released. Complete with firebrand politics and loud, loud guitars, Living with War is about the farthest thing from Prairie Wind's twilit introspection as you can get - or at least that's what I hear; I haven't had the chance to listen to it yet. Thirty years, thirty albums, a brain aneurysm and at least a dozen whirlwind career changes after he first confounded audiences by following up 1972's massive hit Harvest with murky live album Time Fades Away, Neil Young is still one step ahead of us.It's important to remember, however, that "one step ahead" doesn't necessarily translate to "arbitrary" or "unpredictable." If some of Young's mid-career choices still seem absolutely bonkers - his decision to experiment with a vocoder on 1983's Trans, for instance, or the infamous rockabilly pastiche Everybody's Rockin', which actually caused Geffen Records to sue Young for breach of contract - then his more recent movements have been remarkably shrewd. Remember, it was a flannel-shirted Young who capitalized on the "Godfather of Grunge" tag by recording Mirrorball with Pearl Jam in 1995; and though Prairie Wind is hardly the first time he's returned to the country-folk style of Harvest, in an era when sepia-toned Americana nostalgia has returned to fashion (just see Robert Altman's recent Prairie Home Companion), the spirit of last year's album and the approach of its accompanying film feels remarkably prescient. Just call him the "Godfather of Alt-Country."
But please, don't call this movie a cash-in. To his eternal credit, Young's performance in Heart of Gold doesn't just succeed because of timing. Instead, it succeeds because the songs he plays are gorgeous, personal and intensely felt; reactions to the passing of his father and his own impending mortality which are as sobering as the subject matter suggests, but infinitely more joyous than one would have any right to expect. Drawn almost entirely from what could be dubbed Young's "Harvest Trilogy" - the original album, 1992's "sequel" Harvest Moon and Prairie Wind - and recorded over two nights at Nashville's historic Ryman Auditorium (home of the Grand Ol' Opry), the concert is truly gorgeous stuff, a quietly resonant testament to a career and a life caught in a rare moment looking backwards. But it never quite stoops to the level of a "Lifetime Achievement" nostalgia-fest, and that's the beauty of it: if anything, seeing nearly all of Prairie Wind juxtaposed against classics like "I am a Child," "Comes a Time" and "The Needle and the Damage Done" (not to mention the indelible title track) proves the endurance of Young's muse. Track by track, not only do these new songs hold up to the chestnuts, but a few of them - like heartwarming "Falling Off the Face of the Earth" and spine-chilling "Prairie Wind" - feel like classics in their own right.
Of course, credit must go to director Jonathan Demme as well, not so much for his stylistic interventions but for his shrewdness in keeping them to a minimum. Demme's C.V. as a filmmaker (The Silence of the Lambs), and specifically as a concert filmmaker (Stop Making Sense, duh), is more or less insurmountable; but Heart of Gold doesn't just keep any kind of professional ego in check, it is the work of a director in constant, affectionate reverence of his subject. Whether moving in for intimate close-ups or exploiting full use of the film's aspect ratio with full-stage shots, Demme does precisely what is best to capture the performance, bringing the viewer into the fold with a minimum of the fast-paced, sloppy cutting which plagues most concert DVDs.
Where Heart of Gold succeeds most, though, is in its ability to capture a mood: like the album which was its genesis, the mood here is autumnal, reflective, a rumination on life and its ever-impending loss; and from beginning to end of this film it is unmistakable. One can see it in the introductions of Young's band members, a cast of outstanding musicians, from Emmylou Harris to Spooner Oldham, connected by their shared status as aging but still-brilliant legends. One sees it in the setlist, too, a veritable memoir in song - everyone from Young's father ("Prairie Wind") to Hank Williams, Sr. ("This Old Guitar") to a departed pet ("Old King") is paid tribute, in a seamless blending of individual and collective history. And with a few telling comments from Harris and Young respectively, the personal aspect of the music is thrown into even sharper relief against the backdrop of a disappearing Nashville, a disappearing America.
The musicians who assemble at the Ryman Auditorium for this performance are aware of the commercial, industrial forces which continue to encroach on "old America" - near the beginning of the film, Harris mentions with horror plans to build a high rise in front of the Ryman's famous stained glass windows, thus blocking the sunlight from entering the venue. And though for the film this is only a subtext, it becomes an astonishing metaphor for why we need movies like Heart of Gold in the first place. Maybe the months since Neil Young debuted Prairie Wind have found him already striking out in new directions, the old restless spirit back again in a big way; but when he's gone, when we're gone, when the Ryman itself is no longer standing and only memories remain, this wonderful film will still be there, reminding whoever's left of a precious and fleeting moment in time. If future generations ever want to know what was so great about Neil Young - or music - they need look no further.
Official Site
Official Site (Neil Young)
IMDb Listing
Heart of Gold Ecard
Buy It on Amazon
See Also: crafted from original Ryman pews!
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