The Young@Heart Choir leaves you shook, rattled and rolled.
There is a new documentary in theaters about a group of 80-something-year-old musicians who belt out rockin' tunes. No, not
Shine A Light
, the Rolling Stones' documentary. Close. It's
Young@Heart
, British filmmaker Stephen Walker's documentary, which chronicles the***image1*** Northampton, Mass.-based Young@Heart Choir as it rehearses for and finally performs a huge, sold-out performance in its hometown.
It's an incredible film. Moreover, it's one that is absolutely teeming with richness and human experience: joy, sorrow, wisdom and spiritual nourishment. It's also contains some of the most moving musical-performance footage imaginable.
The Young@Heart Choir doesn't perform classics or opera (although, at least judging by their record collections, its members might prefer to). The choir sings songs by James Brown, Sonic Youth and Coldplay. But what's so sly about Choir Director Bob Cilman's song selection is that each song, though written by young people, takes on completely new meanings when sung by the gaggle of octogenarians.
Take, for instance, The Bee Gees' "Stayin' Alive" which, through the capable lungs of The Young@Heart Choir, becomes a comedic thesis on elderly survival. Or The Ramones' "I Wanna Be Sedated." With lyrics like, "Put me in a wheel chair! Get me to the show!" and "Nothing to do, no where to go-o-o-o," the poppy punk hit becomes a cry against nursing home stagnation.
There's a danger that this sort of thing can descend into mockery or exploitation. But Walker never fetishizes or patronizes the choir members. And though he also doesn't shy away from enjoying their eccentricities or the humor to be had at their inabilities to use a CD player, the intention is quite clearly one of compassion and affection.
Tragedy, given the singers' ages and the narrative demands of documentary, is nearly assured. When it finally comes, it comes like a boxer's punches: two ***image2***blows in rapid succession that leave you dizzy and receptive to pain. It's from within this ripped-open state that some of Young@Heart's devastating musical performances are received.
Coldplay's (a band the Screener normally regards with disdain) "Fix You" is sung by 80-year-old Fred Knittle with such pathos-as oxygen tubes curve from his nostrils and as his well-deep eyes are magnified deeper still through his bifocals-that it just absolutely breaks the heart.
A performance at a prison-with the prisoners deeply meditating on all they've thrown away that will, in the end, be taken away by time anyway-and a lovely version of Sinead O'Connor's "Nothing Compares to You" are nearly as wrenching and profound.
Other tunes, such as "I Feel Good" by James Brown or the tongue-twisting "Yes We Can Can," by Allen Toussaint, which features 71 utterances of "can," are raucous, infectious, foot-stomping fun.
There is something so beautiful-and instructive-about people who have reached what is, essentially, the end of their lives and who-despite caring deeply about life, love and each other-just don't give a shit about what anyone thinks of them anymore. If death puts priorities in perspective, one thing is clear: There is no time to worry about shame.
In this way,
Young@Heart
has much in common with the slew
of documentaries that focus on children. The origin of a child's spontaneity and lack of self-consciousness may be different from a senior citizen's, but both children and the elderly provide the rest of us with a nourishing radiance.
Here is a film that, in touching death, reminds us to live and to live passionately. Let us give thanks.
