How would any filmmaker attempt to ever attempt to chronicle The Velvet Underground? Punk before punk was a thing; they didn't create the anthems that would be considered the soundtrack for the Sixties. Hendrix, The Rolling Stones and The Beatles would do that. But, The Velvet Underground did capture the decade's zeitgeist. Experimental, distorted and artistic, influential. They were the musician's musicians.
It would still be daunting for director Todd Haynes, despite cult hits Velvet Goldmine, and I'm Not There under his belt. Still, The Velvet Underground (2021) is one of the best music documentaries since The Decline of Western Civilization trilogy.
Haynes's film tracks the bright birth and flame out of the band and the larger-than-life figures that formed the core of the Velvet Underground's story. Archive interviews from the late Lou Reed, Sterling Morrison, Nico, and Andy Warhol, spliced with John Cale, Maureen “Moe” Tucker, John Waters and La Monte Young, blend to create not just the story of the band but of the avant-garde art scene of Sixties New York. The Ludlow Street Core, Warhol's Factory, the beat poets and experimental drone music all formed the foundations of the Underground's music.
The documentary is a lot like a Warhol installation; split screen frame with a procession of interviews on one side and archive footage, photographs and several of Warhol's experimental films on the other. Non-linier, it branches out to find the roots of the Underground, from Cale's classical trained roots to Reed's depression and drug use before he hit New York.
It has been pointed out, rightfully so, that few other bands have had the reams of paper dedicated to their dissection. So there is little in the documentary that an aficionado of the Velvet Underground would find new or astounding. But, the point has been missed. This isn't just a warts and all documentary. This is something more. Combining the ambient tones and drones, the untuned guitars providing the base of the art rock soundtrack and the minimalist, and at times nihilist and poetic tone of Reed's lyrics, the viewer becomes lost in the film just as someone would to “The Velvet Underground & Nico” or “White Light/White Heat”. The viewer finds themselves on 42nd Street in Manhattan in 1965. There's no concert footage but the raw symbolism and experimentation of avant-garde art and cinema that takes the audience into a lost period in New York's history.
Special Features
• Audio commentary featuring Haynes and editors Affonso Gonçalves and Adam Kurnitz
• Outtakes of interviews shot for the film with musician Jonathan Richman, filmmaker Jonas Mekas, and actor Mary Woronov
• Haynes and musicians John Cale and Maureen Tucker in conversation with writer Jenn Pelly in 2021
• Complete versions of some of the avant-garde films excerpted in the movie
• Teaser
• Optional annotations identifying the avant-garde films seen in the movie
• PLUS: A 2021 essay by critic Greil Marcus
Hayes' documentary is not just the story of one of the most influential bands to have graced the airwaves. It is an ode to the creative power that existed for one brief moment in one place that combined high music, experimental art, and beat poetry to create something new that has yet to be topped.
The Velvet Underground is out now on Disk and streaming on Apple TV.
