Louie Bluie (Criterion Collection) Reviews

Howard Armstrong is someone we in the South used to call “a character.” That’s someone who has a big personality with a terrific gift of gab and is filled with a million stories having squeezed several lifetimes of living into one. Terry Zwigoff’s Louie Bluie finds the then-75 year old Howard reunited with his old blues cronies swapping stories of the old days and performing a song series of his own music impromptu. It’s an entertaining and energetic look at a one-of-a-kind talent who never quite made the big time (at the time of this documentary, that is) and yet continues living his life and enjoying every moment of it.

The film takes Howard (who explains his stage name “Louie Bluie” in one of his entertaining stories that starts off the movie) to Chicago for a reunion with fellow bandmates Ted Bogan and Yard Rachell while they swap stories, chow down on fast food chicken, play poker, and, naturally, offer up some delightful tunes. He visits his hometown of La Follette, Tennessee, where he’s reunited with one of his sisters-in-law as well as wandering around talking to the local folk and entertaining them with countless stories, jokes, and sayings, and, as always, music. Howard displays his skills with both mandolin and fiddle in several numbers and reveals that he is also something of a linguist being able to sing in several languages picked up in his travels. Further into the film we also see his skill as an illustrator and a painter as we glimpse sketch books and an encyclopedia of pornography he’s written in script and illustrated. The man’s talents seem boundless.

And yet, one never gets the feeling of an ego running rampant. He’s proud of what he can do, but he celebrates the gifts of others as equal to his own. When the film was shown on PBS in 1985, Howard was a forgotten blues artist from the 1920s and 1930s, living then in public housing in Detroit and pretty much forgotten. The film put his talent back into the spotlight, and the artist began a blossoming of his career during his final twenty years (he died at age 94). For more than a decade up to his death, he was celebrated as the nation's last black string-band musician, having outlived a generation of African-American musicians who traveled America in the 1920s and '30s, winning awards for his work as a musician and eventually being designated by the National Endowment of the Arts as a national treasure.

But these later accomplishments are not a part of this film (Leah Mahan filmed a documentary on his subsequent life after Louie Bluie), and it’s actually refreshing to see the man before he became famous. He’s a rascal, a definite charmer, and wildly talented. The film was also a most auspicious debut for director Terry Zwigoff.

Video Quality

The 1.33:1 aspect ratio of the original presentation is reflected in this new transfer with the image slightly windowboxed in Criterion’s customary style for presenting Academy ratio movies on DVD. According to the director in his commentary, the 16mm film was on the verge of extinction and was rescued barely in time. There is no print damage to be seen nor any age related artifacts in view, but the image is not always crystal clear (a few later scenes look quite soft and digital), and the color is only average in depth of saturation owing no doubt to its original source material. Details also tend to get lost in the shadows. The film has been divided into 7 chapters.

Audio Quality

The Dolby Digital 1.0 audio track is free from hiss, flutter, crackle, and pops, and the music, while not richly full bodied, is better than one has any right to expect for an exceedingly low budget enterprise. Dialogue is quite clear, even when Howard tends to mumble some of his throwaway joke lines, so the audio is in better than adequate shape.

Special Features

The audio commentary by the director was recorded this year, and he has lots of stories to tell about his experiences in directing his first movie with such an unusual central figure. He pauses sometimes to listen to the music (he’s a big fan of this kind of country blues), and he’s honest about the lapses in judgment made at the time due to his inexperience and the tiny budget.

There are eleven deleted/extended scenes including full versions of songs we get only a taste of in the film. They may be watched separately or in one 32 ¼-minute group.

A stills gallery features 35 pictures of the cast and crew made behind-the-scenes (both in black and white and color) along with a nice selection of Armstrong’s artwork both sketches, illustrations, and paintings.

The enclosed 19-page booklet features numerous Armstrong illustrations along with a cast and crew list and an admiring essay on the film by movie critic Michael Sragow.

In Conclusion

Like the best documentaries, Louie Bluie celebrates an unusual individual by focusing on the things that make the individual unique. Criterion’s new DVD release preserves the film for future generations to see and experience a genuine national treasure.

Matt Hough

Charlotte, NC