Marley, or: The obligations of documentary filmmaking

Marley (2012)

Directed by Kevin Macdonald

***SPOILERS***

The opening scene of Kevin Macdonald’s Marley features a man walking through Cape Coast Castle in Ghana, just before speaking about “The Door of No Return”, which countless Africans walked through years ago and became slaves to the West. Bob Marley was never a slave, but instead a product of slavery, born from his Jamaican mother and a white English father. A head-scratching way to begin such a documentary, this opening scene comes back to have a profound effect, relating the struggle of the African people (related through the struggles of the Jamaican people) and Bob Marley’s disconnect from his roots. Marley is a full-circling experience, pitting “The Door of No Return” on one end and Bob Marley’s discovery of Africa and connection with his Jamaican people on the other. A slice of tragedy accompanies such a discovery, as Bob Marley passed away far too soon because of cancer and only had to opportunity to touch on his roots. Macdonald’s documentary—like many of his films—is constructed in such a manner. Sprawling and expansive, there’s a structure to Marley that allows Bob Marley’s death to work within the narrative. It's this same commitment to structure that allowed Life in a Day to form a physical connection between people from different parts of the world. But much like how Life in a Day was a touching one-note experience, Marley's narrative reads strangely like a Wikipedia write-up, rendering his death a rather banal punctuation mark that feels a mere byproduct of the story at hand.

Perhaps my lack of knowledge of Bob Marley’s life and breadth of work means my opinion will be disregarded by many of his fans. Of course Bob Marley was a cultural icon, and if Marley has achieved anything, it’s that I no longer judge the guy who plays Bob Marley on the jukebox at the bar and asks if I smoke weed, maaaan (which, yes, actually happened to me). The conversation turned into a discussion about Reggae music, which I knew Bob Marley had fathered, but I had no idea how influential and prominent he really was. It wasn't exactly a sophisticated discussion, as instead of becoming a back-and-forth on the importance of Bob Marley in pop culture, it was a lecture on how smoking weed is way better for you than drinking, to which I responded by holding my beer up and saying, "Yeah, but then I'd have to start listening to shitty music." We laughed, and for the first time, I was actually enjoying Reggae, outside of the vomit-inducing cruise ship environment and part of one person's life who wholeheartedly loved Bob Marley. 

Little did this misguided stoner know he would appear in this review, as his lackadaisical, “hey man, it’s all goooood” demeanor was actually an honest (if not rather limp) insight into the world of Bob Marley. Macdonald, who changes the direction of Marley more times than I can count on my fingers, dabbles in Bob Marley’s spiritual journey with Rasta and how smoking marijuana became a part of life. After all those years of judging those beanie-wearing, gloomy-eyed college dropouts walking aimlessly through the bar, I felt a strange connection to them after Marley. Not that I’m ready to wear the same clothes for the next 10 years, quit my day job, and start smoking the Ganja like it’s going out of style, but for the first time, I finally understood the cultural importance of Bob Marley and the profound effect he had upon many of his fans.

Believe it or not, this conversation with a random stoner provided me with more of an emotional connection to Bob Marley than Marley could achieve in its entire runtime. Macdonald had a vision with Marley, and my god did he achieve it: translate the entire history of Bob Marley’s 36 years on Earth into a 144-minute documentary. The most obvious problem with this sort of documentary is: who cares? It’s basically shortened version (that’s still way too long) of an expansive history that’s been more covered academically in books, and deeply covered emotionally in Bob Marley’s discography.

Now perhaps it’s not fair to declare “Who cares?!” If this documentary was on A&E (where it would easily blend right in), we probably wouldn’t give two shits about it, but I also wouldn’t be shitting all over it. But in the end, what is Macdonald achieving that I cannot find in another form of media? It would seem to me that Macdonald is so hell-bent on utilizing his own form of media (through the narrative structure of Bob Marley’s African roots) that he’s underutilizing film’s greatest asset: the people. Macdonald covers every nook and cranny of Bob Marley’s career; he explores the roots of his childhood; he delves into the origins of Bob Marley’s favorite songs. But when it comes to the people of Bob Marley’s life—who are incredibly important in this posthumous documentary—Macdonald has committed a fatal flaw: never asking the tough questions.

It would seem that in Macdonald’s ever-dull mission to simply relate each facet of Bob Marley’s life, he never asked the family members and close friends of Bob Marley any question other than, “OK, then what happened?” If anybody relates a fact beyond a historical one, it’s usually to explain how loving or joyous Bob Marley was. Which is great! Don’t get me wrong. But hell, I would even expect a documentary on Martin Luther King Jr. to dig up some dirt. The most tantalizing moments feature Bob Marley’s children speaking of his inattentiveness as a father, even relating the damaging effect his adulterous affairs had on their mother, but all of which are followed up with, “But hey, that was Marley!” which could have been followed by a paused wink to the camera and some boisterous wailing from Bob Marley. It’s clear that Macdonald’s only clear-cut role as a director in this film is his commitment to structure, all of which can be achieved in the editing room. But where is Macdonald to be found during interviews? It’s always history history history history, but never is it about Bob Marley. Never is Bob Marley made to be untouchable (as seen in with Sigur Rós in Inni), but he’s also never a double-edged sword. He’s simply Marley—that guy who headed a cultural movement, and that guy you’d smoke a jay with! It’s this standoffish approach on Macdonald’s part regarding the people of Bob Marley’s life that disallows Marley to transcend your average television biography—of which I've actually witnessed tremendous emotional depth.

Perhaps these famous artists are far too intimidating for some directors. Joe Berlinger’s attempt to cover Paul Simon’s construction of Graceland in Under African Skies was far more emotionally gripping than Marley, as Berlinger understood that giving shape to Simon meant dabbling in the more irresponsible side of his decision making. But even then, Under African Skies proved to be nothing more than a “Get Out of Jail Free” card for Simon, exposing the dangers of Simon’s carefree attitude, but also becoming a one-sided documentary that accuses the opposing side more than it dissects the situation. But if Berlinger’s need to satisfy Simon’s whining or Macdonald’s impassive attitude regarding Marley’s faults are an indication of anything, it’s that people need to be exposed. Before you can build somebody up, you must break them down, but both Berlinger and Macdonald feel content with their broad brush strokes painting a pretty picture. They may provoke and poke the belly of the best, but before long they’ll be ready to toss it a treat and remedy the situation.

I hate to be “that guy”, but they really don’t make documentaries like Crumb anymore. Terry Zwigoff is able to create a loving documentary that maps Harry Crumb’s career and captures the traumatizing effects of his life. While Bob Marley’s family members are props in Macdonald’s mission, sitting on their couches in their vibrantly colored home, perfectly framed in Macdonald’s camera, Zwigoff was in the belly of the beast, exploring the grim apartment of Crumb’s cramped family, becoming more of a fly on the wall when needed, and an intimate friend during questioning. The presentation is key, and it goes beyond framing your talking heads and opting for entertaining tidbits. The step-by-step nature of Marley carries the equivalence of a day in class, with your teacher going through slides and asking you to take notes. Because Macdonald's slides are living, breathing people speaking directly to the camera, he somehow believes it gives Bob Marley's story some substance. But really these people just give a unique voice to the tale, without ever giving Marley a voice. Maybe because it’s Bob Marley or Graceland, these directors feel the need to simply cover the facts. But next time I find out Macdonald is making another historical documentary, I’ll opt for my local library instead.