“There’s a lot of the music in the world, you don’t have to listen to mine,” Philip Glass says at the beginning of Scott Hicks’ documentary, Glass: A Portrait of Philip in Twelve Parts. The comment accompanies footage of Glass riding the Cyclone at Coney Island, and it’s clear that the moment of candor is meant to set the stage for a frank reassessment of the renowned composer. Though the film may change the way Glass is perceived as a person, it won’t convert the many Glass naysayers: The doc has the same take-it-or-leave-it attitude as its subject.Judgments about Glass’ worth as a musician aside, Hicks' homage is a beautifully made film, achieving the same intimacy with Glass as Gay Talese did with Sinatra in his infamous Esquire profile. The movie brings us deep into Glass’ private world; we watch him play with his family, write music, hear a piece for the first time and practice Taoist and Buddhist rituals. His wife breaks down on camera while discussing their relationship (now ex-wife), and his sister divulges the fascinating Glass household family dynamics.
Even the most hardcore Glass fans couldn’t know all the aspects of his character that this film uncovers. The cumulative effect is a revelation for those chiefly interested in Glass’ personality—rather than complex music theory. The doc also possesses moments of aesthetic wonder. Hicks is unafraid to treat his own work as art, framing beautiful shots that are not part of typical documentary cinematography. The shooting of Glass’ Nova Scotia vacation home is particularly striking, especially a shot of lapping ocean waves seen from Glass’ worktable.
As meticulous about his interviews as his artistry, Hicks recruits Martin Scorsese, Woody Allen and Errol Morris, among others, to comment on the composer, often with Glass present. Since Glass is such a polarizing figure, this study is a goldmine for his fans—and fool’s gold for his critics.
