I love a good music documentary, where we delve into the drama behind the scenes, the motivations behind the artist and enjoy the fruits of their artistic talents. ‘Amy’ left us enraged; ‘Whitney’ was a sad tale of exploitation. And Spinal Tap made us fall over laughing and almost killed the genre. ‘Gurrumul’ is a celebration of the music and culture of one of Australia’s greatest singers – ‘Australia’s most important voice’ according to the Rolling Stone – and is one of the most powerful documentaries I’ve seen.
We know from the outset this isn’t going to be a gabfest. The documentary opens with an ABC reporter asking silly questions which Gurrumul doesn’t answer. He’s painfully shy, and the questions are just painfully stupid. “You’re going to have to get used to this,” she advises him. (No he doesn’t. How do you answer a question about blind musicians when you probably don’t have a record player or any Stevie or Ray albums? And why suppose that blindness creates a musician?) English was Gurrumul’s 4th or 5th language, so while we get skin-pore close, we don’t really get into his head.
His producer and best friend, Michael Hohnen, is our eyes and ears and does all the talking. He has a constant smile on his face, and along with Gurrumul’s manager, Mark Grose, they treat him with respect. They were the ones who plucked him from the obscurity of playing in bands like Youthu Yindi to go solo. What an inspired choice that turned out to be. Gurrumul plays his guitar upside down and sings in his native Yolungu tongue. You don’t know the words but you can feel the emotions. This is a true artist. Blindness is secondary.
Writer/Director Paul Williams doesn’t go looking for drama. There are moments of tension, when trying to translate the words of ‘Every Breath You Take’ into Yolunju, hours before playing it with Sting on a French TV show. And he walked away from a US tour in 2009 without warning anyone. Fame and time are foreign concepts to his people. There are nice moments, such as the ovation he got at his first concert at the Enmore Theatre (people wouldn’t leave and he was too shy for an encore) and the heads turning in a US record store when he started playing in the corner.
The cultural insights are the other fascinating aspects of this doco. Williams took the approach assuming his audience knew nothing of Indigenous culture, and when it comes to Aussies, he’s very right.
Indigenous people believe in many fathers and mothers; they take the concept of a community raising a child to its most honest degree. They ‘Welcome’ the deceased at a funeral instead of farewelling them and ceremonies and dancing are integral to their culture. It’s not shovelled down our throat, but used to explain Gurrumul’s attachment to his people through song.
This is a very moving documentary and a labour of love. Williams, Honahan and Gurrumul were wäwa (brothers) but It doesn’t need drama to make its impact. It is lovely tribute to a quiet, simple and honest man with an angelic voice – a true Australian voice – and one which should be celebrated. I headed straight to JB Hifi and bought an album, so I could continue to celebrate it too. Artistic expression never sounded so beautiful.
Con’s Score: 4 Rainbow Serpents
Con Nats – Theatre Now
