Cast: Sean Penn, Samantha Morton, Uma Thurman, Brian Markinson, Anthony LaPaglia, Gretchen Mol
Director: Woody Allen
Producer: Jean Doumanian
Screenplay: Woody Allen
Cinematography: Fei Zhao
Music: Dick Hyman
U.S. Distributor: Sony Pictures Classics
Woody Allen has never reveled in the spotlight, but he has become even more reclusive in recent years, since the scandal involving his relationship with his wife, Soon Yi, came to light. Even so, despite numerous distractions, Allen has continued to make a movie a year, most of which have been of consistently high quality (the lone obvious exception: last year's Celebrity), and all of which have had critics looking for parallels between screen circumstances and real events in Allen's life. For most of his career, Allen has starred in his own films. Lately, however, he has begun to step out from in front of the camera. Sweet and Lowdown is the second consecutive movie in which the director has not played the protagonist. In Celebrity, we were faced with the extremely odd situation of Kenneth Branagh doing a Woody Allen impersonation. Now, in Sweet and Lowdown, Sean Penn has the lead.
Allen has always been a jazz fanatic. Those who saw Barbara Kopple's 1998 documentary, Wild Man Blues, have a solid picture of Allen's love for music. It was perhaps only a matter of time before the writer/director brought this element into a film, and Sweet and Lowdown gives him the opportunity to showcase his passion by honoring an obscure fictional '30s jazz guitarist by the name of Emmet Ray (Penn). The resulting film is a little like a jazz jam session: often mellow, occasionally meandering, and elevated by tremendous riffs and bursts of intensity.
Presented as if it's the bio-pic of a real person, Sweet and Lowdown mixes reminiscences with legends and "facts" to present a fragmented portrait of the lead character. As essayed by Penn, Ray is a brilliant but egotistical and erratic artist whose personality traits included an inferiority complex to a French gypsy guitarist named Django Reinhardt, a mild case of kleptomania, and a tendency to show up "late, drunk, or not at all" for shows. Ray comes alive through a series of episodic vignettes, many of which are more in the nature of tall tales than historically believable recreations. (In one instance, we're even offered a multiple choice resolution for one of Ray's "legendary" escapades.) Along with various jazz authorities who appear in "talking head" segments, Allen provides some of the linking narration between episodes; other than that, the director is absent from the screen.
Sweet and Lowdown is more dramatic than Allen's most recent few films, but the comedic element is still very much in evidence. Penn understands the film's tone perfectly and throws himself into the role, emphasizing the right aspect of his character for each scene. There are times when we laugh with Ray, times when we laugh at him, and times when we feel his carefully buried pain. As good as Penn is, however, he's not the real scene-stealer. That distinction belongs to Samantha Morton, who proves that her tremendous work in Under the Skin was not a fluke. In this supporting role as Hattie, the mute love of Ray's life, Morton overmatches her more experienced co-star with a luminous and heartbreaking performance. Without uttering one line of dialogue, the actress captures every nuance of Hattie's sweet personality through facial expressions and body language. Her scenes with Penn are unquestionably the film's highlights. Allen presents their symbiotic relationship perfectly - Hattie is devoted to Ray, and, even though he would never admit it, he loves her. Sweet and Lowdown has another leading lady. Uma Thurman plays Blanche, the socialite who coaxes Ray into an unhappy marriage. Thurman, who is a more capable actress than many critics give her credit for, doesn't give a bad performance, but her efforts pale in comparison to what Morton brings to the film. Anthony LaPaglia and Gretchen Mol have supporting parts as, respectively, a gangster and one of Ray's would-be conquests.
Sweet and Lowdown is arguably the least ambitious and most atypical entry into Allen's '90s canon. Perhaps ironically, it is all the more pleasant for those qualities. The shift back in time and the lack of an obvious Allen-like central figure help things immeasurably - we don't spend the movie on the lookout for self-referential insights about the man behind the camera. The movie looks great, and, as one might expect from this sort of production, there's a top-notch jazz score. Ultimately, Sweet and Lowdown isn't a monumental event, but it represents an enjoyable diversion.
© 1999 James Berardinelli