Basie and Ella Docs

There are dozens of documentaries on jazz but precious few about the private lives of great jazz musicians. Eagle Vision recently released two—Count Basie: Through His Own Eyes and Ella Fitzgerald: Just One Of Those Things. In both cases, the use of footage, still images and interview subjects are compelling and the music is rich. While a bulk of the material in the films covers familiar ground, you'll likely discover a few things about these artists' private lives you may not have known.

In the Basie documentary, directed by Jeremy Marre, the late British writer and filmmaker who died in March, we learn that the humble, soft-spoken bandleader had a disabled daughter, Diane, who had cerebral palsy. Encouraged to give her up, Basie and his wife, Catherine, cared for her instead and loved her deeply, teaching her to swim in their backyard pool and treating her like any other child.

The film features many photographs as well as footage of Basie with his wife and daughter at home, a side of the pianist largely unknown to fans of his music. As Quincy Jones notes, “Basie was a very simple man and a positive person who lived above his hardships." Unfortunately, the film never tells us what happened to Diane and whether she is with us today.

Directed by Leslie Woodhead, an esteemed British filmmaker, the Fitzgerald documentary also shares a great deal about the singer's life off  stage. At age 2, she moved from Virginia to New York and settled with her mother in Yonkers, N.Y. Fitzgerald wanted to be a dancer, but after losing her mother to a car accident, Fitzgerald spent time with relatives and then landed in an orphan asylum. After running away, she was sentenced to a state reformatory, where she spent a period in solitary confinement.

Escaping to New York in the early 1930s, Fitzgerald performed at the Apollo Theater's amateur night. She was supposed to dance but sang instead and knocked out the audience, winning the talent contest. When informed of the “girl at the Apollo," drummer and bandleader Chick Webb reportedly replied, “I don't want that ugly old thing." Webb, of course, changed his tune once he heard her sing.

Fitzgerald joined the Webb band as a singer in early 1935 and within six weeks at the Savoy Ballroom, many of the major bands of the era wanted her. After her hit, (If You Can't Sing It) You'll Have to Swing It (Mr. Paganini) in 1936, Webb and his wife took on a parental role to care for the 18-year-old.

Most of Fitzgerald's early output was novelty numbers sung with a voice that she herself said sounded like a little girl. After Webb died at 34 in 1939, Fitzgerald took over, renaming the band Ella Fitzgerald and Her Famous Orchestra. In the late 1940s, Fitzgerald favored bebop and began scatting. But her scatting, as good as it was, often was used as a default when she forgot the lyrics to songs.

By the mid-1950s, her manager and record producer Norman Granz had her sing American songbook albums devoted to individual composers. These recordings crossed over and boosted her career and income. But as popular and successful as Fitzgerald was, Granz had to buy her house in his name because Beverly Hills at the time was restricted to whites only.

Though never mentioned in the film, Fitzgerald had a penchant for chewing gum off stage, as we can see in all of the touring footage. Was it to steady nerves or keep her mouth from drying? Either way, the rhythm of the gum-chewing as she disembarks from planes or while walking on train platforms in dark glasses is an interesting proclivity. But we do gain insights into her strained relationship with her adopted son, Ray Brown Jr. It was hard for him to develop a meaningful relationship with his mother given her marathon touring schedule. One imagines it must have been a lonely childhood for him and a daunting task for her to switch off her own anxieties and pressures, and assume a life of “family normalcy" during her down time.

Some of the film's best parts are on her life at home. After she divorced bassist Ray Brown in 1953, they remained friends. But as singer Cleo Laine and others note, she was without a partner to talk to about her ups and downs and business decisions. As George Wein says in the film, “Ella was a road rat. If she wasn't working, she was sitting home alone."

We also learn about how her struggles with her weight made her feel and her resentment over not being given her own TV show, unlike many top white female singers. And then there was Norman Granz's rift with Frank Sinatra. After the controlling Granz told Sinatra what song he should open with, Sinatra threw him out of the venue. In return, Granz wouldn't let Fitzgerald sing with him for years.

The film has two tiny flaws. The names of interview subjects appear just once on screen. As a result, you're left in the dark if you didn't catch their names the first time. The film also dwells a little long on her American songbook recordings, which is tired and processed turf. More interesting would have been insights into whether Fitzgerald truly cared about this music or connected with it, and whether she resented being pulled away from songs she cared about more or wanted to sing. Overall, the most insightful and poetic remarks that put Fitzgerald in perspective are delivered by Pulitzer prize-winning writer Margo Jefferson. Each remark rings an intellectual bell.

JazzWax videos: You'll find the new Count Basie and Ella Fitzgerald documentaries from Eagle Vision at Amazon Prime.

Here's the Basie documentary trailer...



And here's the Ella documentary trailer...