“Everybody Digs Bill Evans” Explores Grief, Addiction, and the Price of Artistic Genius
A new film, Everybody Digs Bill Evans, offers a deeply introspective look into the life of the renowned jazz pianist, focusing on a period of profound emotional turmoil following the tragic death of his bassist, Scott LaFaro. The film, which screened at the Berlin film festival, is described as an absorbing drama that examines the sacrifices inherent in a life dedicated to music.
The film adapts Owen Martell’s 2013 novel Intermission and centers on a time when Evans found himself unable to play, grappling with loss and the destructive forces of addiction. It’s a story that resonates with the experiences of other iconic musicians, such as Glenn Gould and Hilary du Pré.
Director Grant Gee, known for his documentary Innocence of Memories, employs a striking visual style. Cinematographer Piers McGrail utilizes a smoky, high-contrast monochrome aesthetic, punctuated by jarring bursts of color in flashforward sequences depicting the deaths of Evans and others connected to his life – each foreshadowed by LaFaro’s untimely passing.
Anders Danielsen Lie delivers a compelling performance as Evans, portraying him as a gaunt and withdrawn figure consumed by grief. The actor embodies a man on the verge of disappearing, perpetually shrouded in cigarette smoke. Lie’s portrayal extends to Evans’s struggles with heroin addiction and his co-dependent relationship with Ellaine Schultz, played by Valerie Kane, who powerfully conveys the pain of their fractured connection.
The narrative follows Evans as he seeks solace, first with his brother Harry (played by Barry Ward) and his family in New York. However, recognizing the destructive influence his brother’s presence has on his own well-being, Harry sends Evans away for a “rest cure” with their parents in Florida. This relocation offers a stark contrast – the bright Florida sunshine, described as a “whiteness that scorches out of the screen,” amplifying Evans’s isolation.
The film features strong supporting performances from Laurie Metcalf as Evans’s mother, Mary, and Bill Pullman as his father, a garrulous and somewhat cantankerous man who takes pride in his son’s success. The father’s rambling monologues, reminiscent of John Updike’s Rabbit Angstrom, offer a glimpse into the societal anxieties of the time. “Look at Kennedy. The Irish are taking over. But never any Welsh. It’s because we’ve never suffered. It is our punishment,” he muses, revealing a complex and often contradictory worldview.
Beneath the surface of familial pride, the film suggests a current of envy. Evans’s brother, Harry Jr., a music teacher and aspiring musician, is acutely aware of his own limitations and struggles with depression. Despite being a better golfer than his brother, a fact his father frequently points out, it offers no true fulfillment. The father himself hints at a life unlived, a potential artistic path abandoned for the security of a conventional career. He comes close to admitting that his working life felt like “a grim imprisonment,” suggesting a suppressed desire for a more creative existence.
Upon returning to New York, Evans finds himself confronting the same demons – his addiction and his inability to forge lasting relationships. The film doesn’t shy away from the complexities of his inner life, offering a nuanced portrait of a brilliant artist grappling with profound personal struggles. Gee’s direction demonstrates a thorough understanding of Evans’s world, creating a film that is both emotionally resonant and intellectually stimulating.
