Miles Davis: Birth of the Cool

While viewing Miles Davis: Birth of the Cool, it felt as if the man himself was in the room speaking to me, a damaged sage of a grandfather-mentor walking me through life’s circular circus via a sonic photo album. Credit for this magic trick largely goes to narrator Carl Lumbly (ABC‘s “Alias”), who reads Miles’ words and channels his spirit through tone and texture, seemingly harboring the same ghosts, demons and angels that the musician himself once battled.

Stanley Nelson’s documentary makes it strikingly clear that, for our main character, music was present in all aspects of life and came before everything. The film further suggests that music was Miles’ shadow — constant, ever-changing and almost annoyingly playful and mischievous. In chronicling that relationship, Birth of the Cool not only depicts the need for change in an artist’s life in order to continue to grow and create, but it also depicts the need for humility and grace.

While the film glorifies the groundbreaking iconic artist, it also shows the folly of man in character and dignity when under pressure and emotionally unresolved. There’s a certain wanderlust and romanticism that bleed and weep throughout this multilayered film, which explores Miles in a vastly different way than Don Cheadle did in his experimental biopic, Miles Ahead.

The window that is opened provides a marvelously detailed view of Miles’ processes, not only in the studio, but onstage and in romance. The film also shows his natural gift for spontaneous combustion, operating like a head chemist and conducting live experiments with sounds and the people who channel and voice those tones and moods. By showcasing the means that produced such panoramic and fluid music, Nelson captures not merely the essence of Miles, but the dynamism of the 20th century.

Starts Sept. 13 at the Fine Arts Theatre