Rhythm. And Blues.

MEMPHIS (A) - Willis Earl Beal is having an existential crisis as he wanders around Memphis mostly not working on his latest album, busy instead with his own brand of self-discovery.

Beal, playing a variation on himself under his own name in this ethereal drama, floats through the city, interacting with preachers, flirtatious women, a one-legged pal in a Cadillac, and wide-eyed children frolicking about, including one boy who seems to be an alter-ego and who bookends the film. Beal (originally from Chicago by way of Albuquerque) is surrounded by urban decay, and he escapes through a mystic dialogue with the city's majestic trees. He believes in magic, not God. He's a poet and a philosopher and a lost soul. A ghost. He's obliquely out of place when attending church.

Tim Sutton, with his second film, has created a mesmerizing masterpiece, or maybe just a grand wank; we'll see on subsequent viewing. It shares a mood with Charles Burnett's classic '70s film "Killer of Sheep" (down to the slow-dance to a treasured oldie). There's barely a story here; it's more of a series of scenes, beautifully rendered. Sutton has a natural feel for the world around us. His shots linger an extra beat or two. His camera is hungry and curious. He trains a close-up on a moving car's bashed-in rear window, the pieces gently breaking off like pieces of a chandelier, speaking of which, there's one of those set on a cardboard box in the middle of a living room, obliquely out of place.

The film seems to transcend time. It's apparently set in the present (the cars and fashions look current), but we also see a TV with rabbit ears, and there's not a cellphone or other digital device in sight. Beal sports a retro nerfro. The soundtrack is pure grit. Beal's music mixes with snippets of obscure dusties, blissfully soulful. You want to reach out and grasp those melodies, but they fly by or fizzle, leaving you both deliriously teased and glumly nostalgic.
I could watch this again just to listen to it. And again, just to let the images flit past. Slip into a reverie. Hover over Memphis like a tree branch, soar through the air like a thoughtful, sensitive man searching for his soul.

BONUS TRACK
A central song from the soundtrack: