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One of the most poignant moments in this film biography of legendary Texas songwriter and ne'er-do-well Townes Van Zandt comes in the first few moments of the film. In a telephone recording, maybe from a radio interview, Van Zandt says: "I don't envision a very long life for myself." (There's a meaningful pause.) "I've kind of designed it that way." He punctuates the remark with a nervous laugh. Is the laugh self-effacing, an indication that what he's just said is a put on, or was he high on something? Impossible to say. The remark, like many of Van Zandt's lyrics, can be read many ways. Near the end of the film, there's another sound bite. Van Zandt tells an off screen interviewer: "I'd like to write songs so good nobody understands them, not even me." He could have been speaking about his life just as easily as his career.
Van Zandt was 52 when he died on New Year's Day, 1997. The official cause of death was heart failure, but a lifetime of drinking and drugs probably contributed to his demise. The film is organized more or less chronologically, so you can watch his mind and body slowly slipping away from him. To her credit, director Margaret Brown doesn't add to the legend or subtract from the imperfections of Van Zandt's life. She lets the people who knew him best tell the tale, without manipulating the result. His disjointed approach to life is laid out in brief vignettes delivered by friends and family, each one a brick that builds a romantic wall around a life that was always hard for anyone to penetrate.
Van Zandt was born rich, but was better at rebellion than school. He jumped off of a forth floor balcony to "see what it would feel like to fall," he says, and got three months of insulin shock therapy for his trouble. He wrote his first song, "Waitin' 'Round To Die," after his first marriage (to Fran Lohr), and the song pops up again and again in the soundtrack to punctuate telling moments of his life - and death. He left Fran to live the life of a wandering troubadour. "To be successful you have to blow off money, security, friends, family. Blow it all off and go," he says. He lived up to his credo, seldom having a place to stay or much money to live on. He married twice more, went into detox, stayed drunk, fathered three children, got strung out on dope, vanished for long periods, and flamed out after his last recording session was cancelled.
If you're not a Van Zandt fan, you may leave this film wondering what all the fuss was about. There's not one complete Van Zandt song or performance. Dave Eggers, the man who produced his best records, says he's a genius. But you also get the sense that Van Zandt was a troubled soul, unable to reconcile his dedication to his music and his responsibilities as a husband, friend, and father. In another telling clip, the interviewer says "All of your songs are sad." Van Zandt considers for a moment then replies, "They're not all sad; some of them are hopeless." He goes on to say that facing up to the sadness in life is the only way to experience life's joys. Van Zandt, and this film, may be flawed, but the music he left us is perfect. If you love Van Zandt and his songs, you won't get through it with a dry eye.
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