迈尔斯前进与传记片的蓄意爆炸

There’s a moment, about 90 seconds into the Don Cheadle-starring Miles Ahead, where it feels like the film is going to slip into hagiography, that we’re about to get the central tale of pain that led Miles Davis to being the most transcendent jazz musician—and maybe musician in general—of the 20th century. “If you’re going to tell a story,” Davis tells an off-camera music journo played by Ewan McGregor, “Come with some attitude, man.” Davis’ face fades, and a trumpet plays. Then we see Davis and McGregor fleeing gunshots, and the rest of the film unfolds as a coke-and-remembrance filled caper, wherein Davis enlists McGregor to help him take back an unreleased tape of jams that has been stolen by an executive at Davis’ label, Columbia. If you don’t know the outline of Davis’ career before Miles Ahead, or if you’re hoping to see why you should listen to him in 2016, or why he’s still important, you will be disappointed. If you want to see a movie that theorizes and fabricates what Davis was up to between 1976 and 1981--when he didn’t record any albums and was mostly laid up with a hip condition and a cocaine addiction-- and isn’t interested in “selling” the artist to you in the least, Miles Ahead is what you’re looking for. Which is to say that Miles Ahead willfully shreds the idea of a biopic from the inside; a deconstruction of what we want from the form. It’s the best movie about a real musician I’ve ever seen.