‘Oscar Peterson: Black + White’ Review: An Ode to Canada’s Most Beloved Musician [TIFF 2021]
IF YOU'RE GOING TO WATCH ONE DOCUMENTARY FROM THIS YEAR'S TORONTO INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL, MAKE IT BARRY AVRICH'S LOVINGLY CRAFTED TRIBUTE TO An EXTRAORDINARY life.
Let me tell you all a little bit about Oscar Peterson, or at least what Oscar Peterson means to me. I’m a Canadian, I’m a musician, and most of all, I’m a Canadian musician. There isn’t really any other way to put this: Oscar isn’t just the greatest musician my country has ever seen, he’s one of the greatest Canadians there ever was, full stop. I was only twelve years old when we lost, as Duke Ellington best put it, the “Maharaja of the keyboard.” I had discovered my love of drumming a few years earlier, but this was around when I first truly thought about being a musician, about exploring other instruments, about performance and songwriting and everything else that came with the job. I certainly hadn’t yet connected with jazz, and while I did go on to fall in love with the style, even today I wouldn’t call myself any kind of jazz authority. Above all else, I didn’t truly understand at the time what we had lost, but I do remember the absolute tidal wave of news coverage - both nationally and internationally - that followed Oscar’s passing throughout December of 2007.
Perhaps it seems nonsensical to say that Oscar was gone before his time - after all, he got to be on this earth for 82 years, of which he wasted not a moment, but instead lived, loved, played, created to a level that should be envied by even the most dedicated artists - but the vacuum created by his passing was unavoidable even if he had lived to be 200. There is never going to be a musician, much less a pianist, like Oscar. There wasn’t before him, even among his own idols such as Art Tatum, whose ability caused Oscar to take a two-month hiatus from playing, and there won’t be after him. That isn’t to discredit any musician out there, it doesn’t lessen the work of anyone else; Oscar Peterson was just one-of-a-kind to that extreme a level. And so, when I first heard that Barry Avrich was making a documentary to chronicle Oscar, to encapsulate his life, music, and legacy all in one, I couldn’t help but be a little bit skeptical. It’s not that I doubted Avrich’s abilities as a documentarian - 2005’s ‘The Last Mogul’, stamping the legacy of Lew Wasserman on the big screen with as resolute an authority as the man himself had on Hollywood, is a must-watch piece - but that it seemed impossible to capture Oscar’s brilliance, and impact, and the extent to which he is adored in this country and around the world, in under two hours.
But, just as a kid from Montreal was born in 1925 and rose - despite tuberculosis, despite not being from a “jazz city” like New York or Chicago - to become his country’s greatest musician, ‘Oscar Peterson: Black + White’ manages to not only do justice to the titan it chronicles, but augment Oscar’s legacy in an indelible, symbiotic way. On the one hand, this film marks the first time that invaluable footage of Oscar - some of which was shot more than 70 years ago - has been put to the screen since it was originally broadcast, or even the first time it has been shown at all. On the other hand, in chronicling his life front-to-back with the lows accented the same as the highs, it becomes part of the legacy itself, a piece of Oscar’s catalogue that should be experienced right alongside his records and performances. “Black + White” has another trick up its sleeve, though. It doesn’t stop at just telling Oscar’s story, it also recontextualizes his work and its influence today, why his music matters now as much as, if not more than it did during his lifetime, and reaffirms how it will live on immortally.
Framed around “a cold day” this past winter, where Avrich assembled some of the greatest musicians in the world, focusing particularly on some of Canada’s contemporary and preeminent performers - to name just a handful, Robi Botos, the last protege of Oscar’s; Larnell Lewis, one of the most vital drummers working today; and Measha Brueggergosman, the sublime soprano from the Maritimes who rose to fame originating the title role in the opera “Beatrice Chancy” - “Black + White” intersperses Oscar’s story with performances captured during this session of some of Oscar’s most vital pieces, placed at just the right points throughout and even intertwining with Oscar himself performing the same songs. To see any one of these musicians is a treat that cannot be overestimated, but to see them work and perform together is beyond words. Despite this, the film never loses sight of Oscar, never letting anyone steal the show from him - and, to their credit, none of these musicians ever try to, instead paying tribute to Oscar with a subtle and solemn joy for the man’s music - and instead amplifies what the film is saying about Oscar at any given point during its 83 minutes. This is something that many other music-related documentaries have done to mixed results, often overshadowing the larger film, but ‘Black + White’ excels at finding that perfect balance.
Avrich mostly proceeds chronologically through the story of Oscar’s life and career - stylized title cards pop up periodically to tell us when we are, from 1925 all the way to 2007 - while letting Oscar do most of the storytelling by way of interviews from his 20s all the way to the final years of his life. Most of Oscar’s contemporaries - bandmates, friends, family members, those who documented his performances in three separate eras of music - have sadly passed on as well, but Avrich keeps their voices alive, having scoured through archival tapes around the world so that we could hear from the greats he played with, from Nat King Cole, to Ray Brown and Herb Ellis, the latter two with whom Oscar formed, in his own words, his “most stimulating” trio. There’s one common thread between the commentary of everyone we hear from, even people for whom Oscar had endless praise for: Oscar was unparalleled as both a pianist and as an overall musician for the way he would inhabit bands and work with his bandmates as if they were his own limbs. Even following Oscar’s tragic stroke in 1993, where - despite putting himself through an intense recovery - his left hand was never the same, Oscar played like a man with four hands, yet impeccable control over every last note. Both the commentary of his fellow musicians - plus several modern day greats who idolize Oscar, from Billy Joel to Jon Batiste, cameos that never overstay their welcome - and the footage of Oscar’s playing reaffirm this in spades.
While capturing Oscar’s brilliance as a musician, “Black + White” doesn’t sacrifice letting the audience get to know Oscar as a person, either. He had an effortless charm and charisma, a quick and effective sense of humor, and by all accounts - both from what we can see on camera, and the way Oscar conducted himself when the cameras weren’t looking - an unending humility, compassion, and joy. It’s really notable that any time Oscar is shown to be the subject of applause, whether due to a great performance or during times where he was the recipient of an award, he wears an expression that simultaneously shows happiness and appreciation, yet also humbleness, as if to convey a feeling that he was somehow being over-appreciated, which could never be the case. This unbreakable, persistent love of life almost makes you forget that he ever faced hardships such as the horrifying racism of the Deep South and Jim Crow, that such a joyous and kind man could be treated so awfully, or that anyone could be treated so awfully. But it is in not shying away from these experiences that “Black + White” finds something of a centerpiece in its narrative: the writing, release, and rise into the social and cultural zeitgeist of “Hymn to Freedom,” written by Oscar in 1962 as an instrumental, with lyrics later added by Harriette Hamilton. The film takes us through the entire process, from its composition, the circumstances and experiences that inspired its creation, to when the Civil Rights Movement adopted it as its de facto anthem. There’s no attempt made to downplay how awful things had to be for the Civil Rights Movement to even happen, how - despite the efforts of everyone involved - it wasn’t a fix-all solution, and how we still live in a time where hatred is killing Black men and women, as the song - performed by the inimitable Jackie Richardson - is interwoven with a montage of the past 60+ years of this struggle, right up to the murders of Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, and countless others, and the fight that continues in order to bring an end to such needless cruelty. And, ultimately, the conclusion of this sequence points to a hope, as expressed in the song, that such an end will be seen. It’s not an extended interlude of social commentary; it’s a showcase for, between his immense talent, between his love of life, between how larger-than-life Oscar Peterson is to so many Canadians and musicians alike, the foundation for all of that was a human being who wanted better for the world and his fellow man. That shouldn’t be lost in the conversation about Oscar, and hopefully ‘Black + White’ can amplify this in the hearts and minds of those who see it.
Oscar Peterson: Black + White is a triumph of a documentary, centered around one of the most worthy subjects the medium could ever find. For those who adore Oscar, whether they grew up with his performances or came to him posthumously like I did, it only strengthens that love. For those who knew him personally, not least of all his loving wife Kelly who speaks fondly in the film about their bond, it must surely bring comfort as a reminder of who Oscar was, and how what he added to music and to humanity will, in Kelly’s words, “outlive us all.” And, finally, if you’re not familiar with Oscar, if you’re perhaps younger, just getting into music as the rest of us were at some point or another, if you’ve heard whispers of his greatness and want to find out about it for yourself, this is vital viewing, and an excellent starting point with which to explore Oscar Peterson’s legacy, and what makes him one of the great Canadians.