By Chris Hyde

November 18, 2003

If you see only one Afro-futurist free jazz sci-fi movie this year -- make it this one.

Born Herman Poole Blount in Birmingham, Alabama in May of 1914, the musician who would later become known as Sun Ra first cut his musical teeth playing piano in Chicago clubs during the 1940s for the likes of Joe Williams and LaVern Baker. He also did chart arrangements for the great Fletcher Henderson's ensemble, and by the 1950s had moved on to leading his own crew of musicians and founding a label on which he released his idiosyncratic version of the big band sound. By the 1960s, this band (which had since become known as the Arkestra) had evolved into a free jazz ensemble whose interactive live shows were a multimedia experience of music, song, dance, light and elaborate costume. They also pioneered the use of differing kinds of instrumentation, as Sun Ra was one of the first jazz musicians to take up the electronic synthesizer and the band was famous for its polyrhythmic use of multiple forms of percussion. Spectacular shows and far out music weren't the end of the Arkestra's act, however, as their enigmatic leader was also given to espousing a unique philosophy wherein he claimed to actually not be human at all but was instead a spiritual being who had come down from Saturn. "I am not a part of history," Ra was sometimes given to say, "I'm more a part of mystery."

After a long career of leading his Arkestra thru thousands of shows and down many musical avenues -- which even included a side excursion devoted entirely to the music of Walt Disney films -- Sun Ra finally departed this mortal plane in 1993. He did, though, leave behind on earth an incredible legacy of music to be explored (this writer heartily recommends The Singles collection or any of the other Evidence CD's that contain two Ra albums packaged together at a nice price for uninitiated readers who might wish to gain an introduction to the band) and additionally there's a feature film from the 1970s that displays quite a bit of the man's music and ethereal charm. And now to the good fortune of jazz lovers everywhere, this one-of-a-kind artifact has been released to DVD by Plexifilm, allowing this musical rarity wide availability for the first time.

The film itself is a quintessential period piece, emerging out of the milieu of 1970s racial politics and Nixon era distrust. Much of what passes for a plot here is built upon the trappings of a 1950s sci-fi film, complete with cheeseball special effects more or less on a par with what you'd have seen on The Lost Saucer with Ruth Buzzi and Jim Nabors. The essence of the story is that Sun Ra comes to earth to take people away from the hate and madness of earth and bring them to his home planet where they can be free to live their lives in beauty. Down on the third planet from the sun, he comes up against a viciously womanizing superpimp who hopes to halt Ra's plan, and these two principals play a cosmic card game to determine a winner in their epic battle. Along the way we are also treated to a heavy dose of the bandleader's Afro-futurist philosophy (Sun Ra was personally responsible for writing all of the dialogue that he speaks during the movie), a side plot involving two particularly nasty FBI agents who must be fresh out of COINTELPRO, a mise-en-scene that quite clearly takes its lead from the blaxploitation cinema of the era and a final, climactic concert where the Arkestra unleashes their melodious extravaganza on the local population.

While the flimsy structure of this project's storyline is in many ways a hindrance to the overall piece, it's hard to fault the director's belief that the flying saucer rubric made a nice organic fit with Sun Ra's celestial approach. Deciding to wed the band leader's cosmic perspective with the B-movie ethos does cheapen Ra's philosophical leanings a bit, but given that the filmmakers respected the man enough to let him come up with his own lines, they should be forgiven this indiscretion. Sun Ra's whacked out message of hope and liberty for black people comes through loud and clear, and though it might seem easy to dismiss his aphorisms as the ramblings of a lunatic, there's no denying that this positivist signifying offers an interestingly peaceful and upbeat outer space manifestation of '70s black power doctrine.

But setting aside the film's more esoteric aspects, it's as an important historical document that this film truly achieves its highest status. Simple documentary footage of the Arkestra during their heyday would be valuable enough (and in a special added bonus feature for this DVD, some minutes of just such material have also been included) but when you add the movie's location shooting on the mean streets of Oakland to the powerful musical bits, there's enough of archival worth here to simply make this a great release for reasons of posterity alone. Incredible fashions, stylish automobiles and hip street lingo work here in tandem with sprawling free jazz compositions to delineate a part of American and musical history that could otherwise have been lost to the ages. The live concert scenes of the Arkestra give a good indication of what the master's far flung and inclusive musical jam sessions looked like, and musical historians will thrill to the footage of such luminaries as Marshall Allen and John Gilmore doing their thing. Additionally, the extensive scenes devoted to Sun Ra show off the band leader's musical genius to great effect as well as depicting a stupendous collection of analog synthesizers that will make any keyboardists' mouth water.

Originally shot in 16mm, the restoration work done here to Space is the Place makes it look about as nice as could be expected -- and certainly far better than any previous VHS version, especially since it's been enhanced for widescreen televisions with an anamorphic 16 x 9 digital transfer (not to mention that this cut is some twenty minutes longer than the legit '90s tape). For extras, along with the aforementioned home movies of the Arkestra, the release contains a brief but insightful video interview with director John Coney and producer Jim Newman. Also accompanying the DVD is a cool photo-filled booklet that has essays by Coney and Sonic Youth's Thurston Moore, as well as liner notes by scholar John Szwed (who authored the excellent 1998 Sun Ra biography released under the same title as this film). All in all, this essential bit of history is a welcome visual addition to the auditory legacy of one of the 20th century's most unique and interesting black musical figures, and as such stands solidly as a vital document of this brilliant musician's fascinating past. Free jazz fans should definitely not miss the opportunity to see one of the movement's towering giants at the height of his powers, and for those unfamiliar with the work of the man formerly known as Sonny Blount, the film is an easy and entertaining introduction to one of music's most unconventional masterminds. The final recommendation from this corner is to not hesitate in seeking out this wonderful digital representation of a true legend of avant-garde jazz. Particularly because it's already after the end of the world. Don't you know that yet?