Sweet and Lowdown (1999)

It takes a while to warm up to Emmet Ray (Sean Penn) in Woody Allen’s 30th feature film, the fictional story of a fictional jazz guitarist which presents itself as a biopic and then further presents itself as if it were a PBS special on the man, complete with talking head interviews who document the life of Emmet Ray, his musical legacy, his presence in the musical canon in the context of history. Watching it, I was amused by how Woody Allen incorporated segues to specialists in the field discussing the life of the real Emmet Ray and then shot the scenes from his life as a film. When I learned that there is no Emmet Ray, there never was an Emmet Ray, that the entire narrative is fabricated, I was even more tickled by the slyness of it all.

Sean Penn plays Emmet Ray, who, we are told in faux documentary interviews, was the greatest jazz guitarist in the world, trivia that Emmet never hesitates to mention to anyone who will listen, but is always followed by Ray’s grudging confession that, well, actually, he’s the second greatest, after Django Reinhardt, a recurring obstacle that never failed to generate humor. But Ray can be comforted in the fact that he agrees with this ordering, and admits that whenever he hears Reinhardt’s music, it makes him cry. We don’t know much about Reinhardt besides that, but we do know plenty about Emmet, and as I said, he spends much of the film being a displeasing rascal. That he is almost always rather genial offsets his conceited self-regard, but does not forgive his thoughtless treatment of Hattie (Samantha Morton), the mute woman whom he lives with for a year, which would make her his girlfriend, though he’d never admit to this formal label.

He is vocal about his philosophy of life: he is an artist, and an artist cannot be tied down by a woman, though he enjoys their company. We see him with a couple girlfriends before he meets Hattie, and both have more invested in the relationship than Ray does. He resists their attempts to deepen the intimacy and bluntly refuses to express any genuine affection for them. He reserves his deep affection for three things: himself, his music, and his beloved guitar.

When he is introduced to Hattie, he behaves like a jackass and speaks to her as if she is a child. After sleeping with Hattie with alarming swiftness, Ray begins spending time with her, and is actually startled when he realizes that they have been together for a year when she gives him a present and a card on his birthday. Samantha Morton is just delightful as the mute Hattie. She has the adorableness of a puppy and even Emmet comes close to doting on her, but like Zampano in Federico Fellini’s La Strada, Emmet remains stupidly unaware of the treasure in his midst. One night he leaves $500 next to the sleeping Hattie and takes off. He meets Blanche (the very funny Uma Thurman) and continues with his music career. One night he awakes suddenly from an intense dream and is told by Blanche that he was calling out Hattie’s name. Interestingly he decides to marry Blanche right after this incident as if by doing so he can put an end to the nagging feeling that has been bothering him. It is not until later that Emmet will understand what precisely the source of that nagging feeling is. Eventually his absent-minded solipsism breaks him and the movie concludes in the same manner as Fellini’s La Strada, with a weeping man regretting the opportunities for happiness that he foolishly discarded. Sean Penn’s final scene is almost as affecting as Anthony Quinn’s final scene on the beach. Woody Allen’s influence on Sean Penn’s performance results in one of the finest performances in Penn’s uneven acting career. Sean Penn is reined in and sculpted by Allen to play the weaselly Emmet Ray and with this actor playing this part with the period haircut and the little mustache and the porkpie hat, Allen has captured lightning in a bottle.

Woody Allen capably achieves the milieu of 1930’s pool halls, motel rooms, nightclubs, and the boardwalk. Special mention must also go to his masterful shot of Emmet Ray chatting with two bums on the steps of a building next to some train rails. This is a world I wanted to spend time in, and the low-key instrumental jazz that pervades is soothing. Having just watched Paul Thomas Anderson impose grandiosity on his own film in Magnolia, I found Woody Allen’s clever little biopic to be a relief - He has no interest in making a remarkable, exceptional film. So when he does, there is a comforting absence of pretension. Woody Allen has gifted us with a wonder: a modest portrait of a show-off.


Grade: A-