Beyond Beyond Ipanema…and Beyond!

Let me tell you a thing; I will tell you this thing for free: I do not like the “bossa nova”. I do not like the jazz guitar. The Girl from Ipanema gets stuck in my head sometimes, having arrived there at some neonatal stage, even though I have never actually devoted time to listening to it.

But I love The Talking Heads.

So it’s a credit to Guto Barra’s Beyond Ipanema: Brazilian Waves in Global Music that my attention was held despite copious amounts of jazz guitar, and very little in the way of anything useful from David Byrne. Though I will say that while my attention was held, I left the theater feeling like I didn’t just see anything at all, besides a bunch of people who are all extremely fond of each other, mentioning how fond of each other they are.

Which is probably my main criticism of the documentary, and Mr. Byrne is simply a prime example—he’s way too goddamned nice. Apparently everyone in the Brazilian music scene (which, and to their credit all the artists seem as ticked off by it as I am, has largely been lumped into the category “world music”, a false genre that belies the most self-centered aspects of American culture) just totally digs knowing everybody else in the scene and getting to make music with them. Mr. Byrne himself comes under an enormous amount of praise for realigning contemporary (well, not contemporary per se…what’s the word for something that was contemporary like twenty years ago?) pop music with global influences. And he’s so incredibly humble in receiving and addressing that praise that I wanted to throw up.

It doesn’t make for a very good film you see. When your documentary is going to be an hour and a half long without any central conflict, then it would be wise to look at a specific facet of your subject in excruciating depth. Ninety minutes is about enough time to look at one subject in its entirety. Mr. Barra chose to examine the entire history of Brazilian music’s influence on American culture, from Carmen Miranda to M.I.A., which is frankly a topic that would be better served by a Ken Burns-like extensive examination than multiple scholars and journalists and musicians spouting platitudes akin to “Brazilian music is art, it’s politics, it’s life”.

All of that probably sounds like I really disliked the film, and I don’t think that’s necessarily true. It more felt like the film moved too quickly, too erratically to ever really sit and stay on a topic through completion. It left me wanting to know more, and the argument could be made I suppose that that alone is a victory for the film.

Also, the man sitting next to me looked like a swarthy old Victorian sea captain, and seeing him bob his head enthusiastically to M.I.A. was totally worth the price of admission.

I know what you’re thinking: what does this have to do with class, Jake. This blog is for class, Jake. Jake, this blog is for class. But I think that swarthy (possible) sea captain is a good place to leave this blog.

We’ve spent so much time in class examining what’s wrong with the world, and I’ve spent so much time on this blog writing about how whatever answers may exist are elusive at best. I think as we wrap everything up it might be nice to end with an image of the world as it could be. What made Mr. Barra’s film a miss for me was maybe it’s greatest and most humanizing aspect as a piece of art, for while Beyond Ipanema didn’t slake my thirst for information or, really, entertainment, what it did do spectacularly was posit the image of a world where borders are only minor hurdles. Where people from around the world, regardless of class or creed or culture, find common ground in art and music. Where everyone has a voice.

It’s not real, and I know this, at least not outside of the insular world of “world music”. But it’s nice sometimes to see that the ideal exists, even if only in small pockets of space for small pockets of time.