Sometimes it all comes together, and a project seems to be blessed with a magic touch. I wouldn't be surprised if Jay Bulger never made another documentary (or any kind of film) again; but his one and only so far -- "BEWARE OF MR. BAKER" -- is a loving, wild ride with the wildman drummer, known primarily for his stint with the short-lived supergroup Cream, the original acid-rock heroes of the late '60s.
Ginger Baker is a capital-C character, a natural subject for a documentary. And Bulger, who spent years both filming the crusty old coot and befriending him, has a confident touch with creating a structure for an entertaining 100 minutes. Bulger doesn't hide his affection for the chain-smoking former junkie, and he doesn't hold himself out as an objective observer. He may have started out as more of a journalist -- the origins of the documentary are in a piece he wrote for Rolling Stone in 2009 (itself a year and a half in the making) -- but after years of hanging out with Baker at his remote country estate in South Africa, Bulger is clearly a sympathetic fan.
But that doesn't stop Baker from bashing Bulger's nose in with a cane, a scene that playfully bookends the movie. Baker also frequently disparages and curses out his interrogator, though you can detect a perpetual wink behind his dark sunglasses. This is clearly a warts-and-all valentine.
The cast of characters is impressive: Baker himself, in his wild-haired hippie prime, has the haunting demeanor of the missing link between Charles Manson and the Unabomber. Eric Clapton and Jack Bruce, his compadres in Cream, are featured prominently. All four wives are accounted for, including the ridiculously young South African mother of two whom Baker, now in his 70s, shacks up with. Drummers praising him as an influence include Stewart Copeland, Nick Mason, Neil Paert, Mickey Hart, Charlie Watts, Simon Kirke (Jemima's dad from Bad Company) and the always-unctuous Lars Ulrich, reminding us of a doc with a similar vibe, "Metallica: Some Kind of Monster" (2004, A-minus). We get classic footage of Baker jamming with his heroes, like Art Blakey, Elvin Jones and Max Roach. John (Johnny Rotten) Lydon serves as a sort of oracle for the proceedings.
Bulger also expertly weaves in archival footage, much of it courtesy of Baker, who famously disappeared (with camera in tow) to Africa in 1971 and spent most of the decade in Nigeria, hanging out with Fela Kuti and others from that scene and indulging his love of those native rhythms long before David Byrne and Paul Simon "discovered" the continent for pop audiences. Bulger relies too much on '60s-style animation and faux-3D photo tricks, but otherwise his hand is sure. Then again, this project has the feel of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; if he dares try again, beware the sophomore slump.
This labor of love easily spills over into the viewing audience. (I saw it with a good-sized crowd at the Guild Cinema.) Maybe it's the primal joy of percussion (there are more than a few drum solos featured, speaking of "beware"), but "Mr. Baker" takes a surprisingly bittersweet story and makes it somehow life-affirming. It's a rollicking rockumentary.
Grade: B+
Bonus Track: A clean-cut Ginger Baker in garage heaven with the Graham Bond Organization in the mid-1960s:
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