Director Grant Gee shifted his focus from rockers to a jazzman, and Berlin took notice.
Gee is noted as a documentarian covering music acts; his 1998 doc “Meeting People Is Easy,” for which he followed Radiohead on a world tour, is a landmark, followed up with the definitive take on Joy Division in 2007. Now, with “Everybody Digs Bill Evans,” Gee explores the story of the titular jazz pianist (played by Anders Danielsen Lie), who, following personal tragedy and in the throes of addiction, must struggle to reconnect with his art. Gee spoke to Variety from his home in London about the film, playing in the fest’s competition berth.
Did your background as a documentarian color the way you made a scripted film?
The difference between documentary approaches and fictional approaches to a musical figure — at heart, there’s no difference at all. Musicians are fascinating, because, of all artists, they often have the most chaotic lives. They tend to be great subjects.
What was different in doing a drama? It might sound stupid, but it’s really nice that there’s other people around. Documentaries tend to be near enough one person. To have 70 people around to share the load was really joyful.
When was the first time you learned of Bill Evans’ story?
What started me off with Bill Evans was an untitled photograph of him. He just looked haunted. I wanted to know what was going on with that character, who that character was — what music came out of that character. That started me off listening to the tunes, and, after a few years, I got more and more interested in him. One day, I saw someone had written a beautiful, slim novel about Bill not playing. And I thought, that’s fantastic — because with music biopics especially, the worst thing is when the actors have to play the musical genius.
I thought one thing this movie did especially well was depicting the ways addiction ripples through generations. (Evans’ father, a heavy drinker, is played by Bill Pullman.) Talk about taking on that challenge.
What was more difficult was portraying what we’d now call addiction in a way that was more in line with how it would have been perceived in the early sixties, before our recent understandings of what addiction is. People would turn a blind eye, because it was almost like it was part of the underworld. Families don’t talk about it.
Musicians live really complicated lives — performing late at night, for instance, colors your day-to-day existence. What about knowing and working with musicians informed your work here?
There’s no parallel I was making about following [Radiohead’s] Thom Yorke around for a year. But there was a very practical benefit to working with musicians in the way I have in the past. We wanted the film to start off with a great piece of performance, and so it was joyful for me to get back to filming a pure performance piece.
So much of the film is troubling and sad, but Bill seems so focused and alive when he’s performing.
As Bill says in the film, it’s so effing difficult — it’s like walking a tightrope. I’ve always worked with rock musicians, and I think there’s a particular strain on jazz musicians. The creative energy that moment-to-moment improvisation takes is extraordinary.
This is going to be your first time at the Berlinale. What does that mean to you?
It’s wonderful. All the way through this film, I had such a great time that I got into the mode of thinking, This is enough. Even if this film goes no further, this is enough. So to end up in competition in Berlin is just such a treat.