Hendrix (2000)

Most television movies about real-life rock & roll heroes are a deadening mix of biographical bullet-points and sensational recreations of outré behavior. Rarely does the essence of a pop artist, great or otherwise, come into focus within the spuriously tragic atmosphere of the kind of TV bio-pic that has made fools of the likes of the Beach Boys and John Lennon. Happily, that's not the case with Leon Ichaso's Hendrix, a remarkably sensitive film, originally broadcast on cable, that refuses to exploit guitar legend Jimi Hendrix's mythic appetites nor reduce his prodigious genius to bite-size drama. It is, instead, a portrait of the artist as a field of incongruous energy, sprawling everywhere and nowhere at once, remote from his roots and pained by the disruptive, implacable force of his awesome talent. Wood Harris (Remember the Titans) is wonderful as Hendrix, masterfully capturing the rock god's legendary shyness, unabashed sexual adventurism, and constant redefinition of his purpose and sound. Keeping him on a short tether is Hendrix's management team, which insists he keep up a grueling schedule for the money and throws obstacles onto the path of his creative freedom. Cuban director Ichaso (Sugar Hill) makes clever use out of a fictional, black-and-white interview Hendrix supposedly gave a journalist on the day he died. In it he talks about everything that comes to mind: playing guitar for African American singers on the old rhythm & blues circuit, the thrill of his triumphs during the London blues scene in 1967, and his efforts to mollify advocates of black militarism without becoming involved in it. Terrific support work by Billy Zane as Hendrix's would-be puppeteer, Christian Potenza as former Animals bassist- turned-rock-manager Chas Chandler, and Dorian Harewood as Al Hendrix. --Tom Keogh