Coltrane Projects That Never Happened, 3A: A documentary film in France

I previously told you about unfulfilled proposals for Coltrane to record the music of Monk, and to reunite with Miles Davis. Today you’ll learn about another idea that never came to pass—and this time Coltrane himself helped to block it.

Alain Corneau (1943-2010) played drums and piano in jazz groups before studying filmmaking in Paris. In 1991 his film about Baroque composer Marin Marais, Tous les Matins du Monde, was an international success. Daniel Berger is a long-time jazz journalist in France. They must have been close friends, because in 1965, when both were in their early twenties, they planned to make a documentary film during Coltrane’s performances in Europe that July. But they were unable to get permission from Coltrane and his lawyer and manager Harold Lovett (who I introduced in a previous post). So the film never happened.

Corneau and Berger were frustrated by their experience, not merely because Coltrane and Lovett said no, but by the whole way that it was handled, especially the lack of communication. So they decided to share their thoughts in the pages of Les Cahiers du Jazz (in English, literally “the notebooks of jazz,” or “jazz notebooks”), #12 (1965), pp. 106-11. This was a very significant jazz publication that appeared on an irregular schedule from 1959 through 1967, then was reborn as a “second series” from 1994 to ‘97, and began its third incarnation in 2001. It was the jazz equivalent of the famous magazine Cahiers du Cinema, founded in 1951, which had an impact on the entire history of film. (Thank you to subscriber Thierry Peremarti for reminding me about the connection between the two Cahiers.)

In their fascinating and honest “open letter” to Coltrane (“Lettre ouverte à John Coltrane”) they shared details of what happened to their project, and also asked questions about what Coltrane was thinking—questions that they never had the chance to ask him directly. A scan of the original French publication is included below, courtesy of French jazz scholar Vincent Cotro, author of a book about “free jazz” in France. I have good French, but I’m not going to translate all six pages of this word by word. However I will paraphrase and summarize everything, so this will still be long enough to take up two posts. They wrote it in the first person—”we”—so I will use “we” throughout, to retain the personal tone of it. Occasionally I will comment [in brackets like this].

Let’s begin with first two pages. Please remember, this is a detailed summary, not a translation, with my comments in [brackets]:

At the outset of this “open letter,” the authors present a short preface in italics, so let’s begin at the top of the page:

There are [as of 1965] too few documentary films about jazz, for various reasons. Recently there was yet another failure in trying to produce such a film. [Their own failure.] We “explain” ourselves:

Dear John Coltrane,

We are trying to understand why our proposal for a short film was rejected. We planned to film a portrait, more than simply a report [reportage], during your concerts at Antibes, France [the Juan-les-Pins festival, July 26 and 27, 1965], Paris [July 28], and at Comblain-la-Tour in Belgium [August 1]. We should draw conclusions, but we will only make assumptions. [That’s all they can do, because of the lack of communication].

We should have sensed this refusal before preparing the shooting, but the tiny possibility was piquant [intriguing, stimulating]. We had hoped to show the man behind the musician—to bring out the quiet, self-effacing man who creates this lyrical music.

We honestly emphasized this in our letters. You didn't answer. What was to be deduced from this? We sketched for you our plan for a “counterpoint” at the opening of the film. We would show your face while performing on stage, but the soundtrack would be your voice calmly answering our questions. [That brings us to the end of the first page.]

[Right-hand page, 107] We would show your everyday life, walking, shopping, getting dressed up, exiting the stage, and above all practicing. Did this seem an abuse, or a betrayal? [Meaning, “Was this too invasive?”] Our sole compensation will be when viewers who expected the film to contain only the musical performance will be surprised—like the peasant in Stravinsky who sees a camel for the first time and says, “It is not true!” [Meaning “This can’t be real!”]

[Stravinsky tells this story in his Poetics of Music—lectures given at Harvard during the 1939-40 school year, published in 1947—page 49. Thank you to Dr. Nikolaus Schweizer of Tilburg University for finding this reference.]

[Second paragraph, p.107] Does Coltrane only have the right to be seen on stage by the public, and everything that is not strictly “musical” should be ignored? This is one of the reasons why we asked you to kindly communicate to us your wishes, which would have become ideas for the film. 

[At the bottom of the right-hand page they now get very specific.]

In Antibes, our team was there, ready for the shoot that we had hoped for from the successive phone calls between the Shaw Artists Corporation, your manager Mr. Lovett [they misspelled his name], and us. [They called Lovett the agent, but in fact Lovett was the manager, while Shaw Artists Corporation was the booking agency for Coltrane and Miles, and, 20 years earlier, for Charlie Parker and others. “Shaw ‘Nuff” by Dizzy Gillespie was named for them.] In the garden of the Grand Hotel, we waited anxiously. Lovett came and sat before us, slim, coquettish, with elusive eyes [he didn’t make eye contact]', and a precious way of walking. He spoke in a monotone, slowly but intensely. [Clearly, they had given up on ever getting permission to make a film of Coltrane, because this unflattering description, and what follows below, would not have led to a deal!]

[From here they give the conversation between Lovett and “nous” (us) in English, which you can read here—I enlarged this part for your convenience:]

[As you can see, Coltrane did in fact feel that their plan would be intrusive. So they offered to film him only walking, and while performing, and in an interview.] Lovett says, “Hm..,” then pours himself a half-bottle of champagne, “for a change” from his usual forty whiskies that he claims to drink daily. We remind him that Coltrane was to have USA rights and we would have European rights. Lovett smiles slightly, and waves his arm as the sun hits his forehead. He counters by asking for 50% of all rights. We check with our producer and then say “It’s a deal.” Lovett asks for a $200 fee for himself, then says he’ll check with John.

He returned a half-hour later saying that Coltrane was asleep and that it was not worth pushing him on it anyway [presumably because he had already said that he wasn’t interested].

We must say…John, these are the acts and gestures of a simple instrumentalist [but they feel that he is more than that]. We had planned a revealing close-up of you, simply facing the camera, which would have remained completely passive (facing the film that you don't want to make). This risked distorting the idea that we [people generally] have of you; but then why not prove to us the opposite?

[Top of p.109] We would also have interviewed you, at length, moving away as much as possible from a usual musical perception. [They observe that his reluctance is not only about them, because of this:] You also refused to be interviewed for NBC-TV, even though they would have paid you more handsomely than we could have done.

[I don’t know of any such incident with NBC. Most likely they are thinking of the Jazz Casual program for USA public television, recorded in December 1963 and broadcast in February 1964, where the host Ralph Gleason, who usually interviewed his guests, instead announced that Coltrane felt that the music speaks “far more fluently than any human ever could.” That was a nice way of saying that Coltrane had declined to be interviewed on television. As for the pay, they’re almost certainly wrong about that, because even today, but especially back then, most people did not get paid for interviews in any medium, because it was understood that performers and other public figures seek out the opportunity to give interviews, to get publicity.]

Besides, we were hesitant to think that money could be a decisive factor. You are currently one of the highest paid jazz musicians: the accumulation [of wealth] cannot be your “supreme love.” [This was of course a reference to his latest album.]

[Second paragraph on page 109] We had envisioned taking you to the Fondation Maeght in Saint-Paul de Vence [the famous center for modern art that had opened just a year before], and also having you meet young Parisian serial [twelve-tone] composers. [They get sarcastic now:] No doubt you decided that it [the Maeght] was more of a photographic attraction [a “photo op”] (Coltrane in front of the Giacometti sculptures) than a cultured man's concern. The same for the exchanges of views on purely musical techniques with [composer] Jean Barraqué. All that was apparently negligible [of no interest to you]!

END OF FIRST PART OF SUMMARY

Fascinating, yes? Let’s stop here for now. Next time, we will continue reading from here—you can see the reference to soprano saxophonist Steve Lacy—and on to the last two pages.

All the best,
Lewis