Joe Berlinger's documentary about artists and politics is brilliantly nostalgic but compromises its potentially brilliant political retrospective.
For the memories it tears open, the questions it asks and the people it features, Joe Berlinger's Under African Skies comes incredibly close to being the perfect music documentary but it flies too close to the sun and compromises its political tone for a Paul Simon love fest.
It takes Simon's album Graceland as its subject, so its first win is the sheer brilliance of the music it looks back on and the amount of it that Berlinger features. He carefully explores the political reception of Graceland in '86 when Simon was accused by writers and activists of breaking the UN-backed sporting and cultural boycott of South Africa. But careful is the operative word here.
Though Simon was never accused by the UN Anti Apartheid Commission, his album, which featured a multitude of black South Africans including some exiles, stirred debate about the place of artists in global political conflict. Berlinger's central thread is a recent conversation between Simon and Dali Tambo, founder of Artists Against Apartheid. “If you go there, you become part of the attempt to internationally sanction apartheid” Tambo explains.
But he, and the likes of Harry Belafonte, who advised Simon to be cautious and square it with the ANC, mitigates every conscience political opinion with a comment on how great Simon's music is. This is interspersed with celebrity after celebrity, after musician, after celebrity testifying their love for Graceland.
David Byrne says it rocked a little harder and Vampire Weekend say it's their inspiration, Quincy Jones talks about music like religion and Sir Paul turns up to make some tenuous link about The Beatles introducing MoTown to white kids. Then Oprah tells us it's her number one album of all time. Thanks Oprah. But I shouldn't rip her too much; she is the one person who talks about being aware of the controversy but ultimately getting so much from the music that she chooses to ignore it which sums up the stance of people at the time or at least the ones featured here.
However, far more emotive than any of this, are the memories of the South African musicians who featured on Graceland. Their personal nostalgia lights up the screen as they tell stories about getting the Graceland gig, learning from Simon and teaching him. Though aged and greying, they are just as excitable and funny as the footage shows they were in the '80s and their take on international travel and performing in London and New York is unforgettable. And they really get into whether they thought what he did was right. Among them are musicians in exile and more artists like Quincy Jones who see music as a better way of understanding the world and importantly, they say as much.
But while I adore the idea behind the film and the parts of it that feature South Africans, there's a distinct feeling that though still resolute, the participants have mellowed over the years and this retrospective may be happening too late by people who are too eager to be polite.
De Clerk and his government are ignored as is the question of whether Simon would have performed with white South Africans. There's also an acknowledgement of the difference between internal and external debate in South Africa but it's not explored in much depth. It's all wrapped up rather nicely, "artists are always treated as if we work for politicians" Simon says as he explains the hierarchical picture of policy that involves economists, spin doctors and the media. Still, I would see this again for the music and the sheer emotion that screams from those scenes of recording, performing and of course, protesting.
Image by Luise Gubb
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