The documentary, which chronicles the highs and lows of five-time Grammy-winner Jon Batiste and his partner Suleika Jaouad during the pandemic, is an antidote for our frayed souls and minds
Within the first ten minutes of American Symphony, it’s quite clear that not all is right in the proverbial paradise inhabited by the two protagonists. We are introduced to singer-songwriter Jon Batiste and his partner Suleika Jaouad as they go about their daily lives. Batiste, winner of five Grammy awards, is well-known in the United States. He was the in-house band leader and musical director for The Late Show with Stephen Colbert for almost seven years. Jaouad is a best-selling author and motivational speaker.
“Long before we were in a romantic relationship, Jon and I shared a creative language,” says Jaouad in American Symphony. The bond between these two creative individuals is the core of the one-hour-forty-three-minute-long documentary that is currently airing on Netflix. Most of the documentary is narrated through the disembodied voice of Batiste, intercut with clippings of his interviews and public appearances.
We can’t place a finger yet on what’s ailing this otherwise picture-perfect narrative. Batiste is on an all-time career high, as he has just been nominated for the 2022 Grammy Award under 11 categories. Additionally, he is headlining this big musical project, to be staged at the prestigious Carnegie Hall, New York. There is an uncertainty bubbling under, and we, the audience, go through it, with Batiste and Jaouad in tow. Perhaps it’s the ziplock bag filled with prescription medication, or the hushed almost reverential tones that Batiste uses when he talks about her. In due course, it’s revealed Jaouad’s leukaemia had returned after almost ten years.
A hope against hope
Shot over a year, American Symphony gives us a ringside view of the lives of Batiste and Jaouad as they go through extreme highs and lows in their lives. It’s also shot in a way where we literally see the pores, warts and knuckles of Batiste. The camera doesn’t shy away from getting in his face. It takes some time to get used to this but later, as we see his fingers working their magic on a Steinway & Sons piano, it only adds to the effect.
We see Jaouad being admitted to the hospital, and discussing a future course of action for her treatment etc, and there is Batiste conducting music sessions, some with masked musicians in person, and some over Zoom. While the words ‘Covid-19’, ‘pandemic’, ‘corona’ etc are not uttered even once in the film, the double masks, isolation and other Covid restrictions are omnipresent throughout the film. Long video calls, and the inverted phone camera, are leitmotifs of the same. It’s a bit surreal, but also relatable at the same time. Globally, all of us have gone through similar motions during the three years of the Covid pandemic. Overnight, many of us became caregivers, and had to balance work, personal health and other domestic concerns at the same time. We lost our loved ones, and often we were reduced to being mute spectators as pain and death unfolded around us.
“I feel a strong, strong desire to take the pain away. But I can’t. This is a moment. A test. And it’s nobody’s fault, and nobody can control it,” says Batiste, as he twirls Jaouad and an IV stand, in the empty corridors of a hospital. While the world has rushed back to normalcy, and we have relegated the Covid years into some deep forgotten recess of our minds, the losses we have incurred are wounds that will take time to heal. That’s where American Symphony wins. It reminds us of the frail nature of humanity — and how none of us are immune to pain and loss and grief. We feel Batiste’s helplessness, his rigour and we hope, we hope against hope that Jaouad pulls through.
The threads that bind
The Covid years were not easy. It’s endearing to see scenes of Batiste lying face down on his unmade bed. There are snippets of conversations with his therapist. There is also a monologue where he divulges the fact that he has been dealing with panic attacks and anxiety for some time. It’s mentioned in passing. Similarly, themes of race and diversity are evoked, but they are subtle infractions, complimenting and adding to the overarching narrative of Batiste’s life. They are all pieces of the puzzle, never the whole picture.
He also calls into focus how Black musicians are often relegated to always being upbeat, positive and happy. “…But they also have people cooning and mugging for the camera and smiling and laughing for centuries and that was all people could see them as. So we really have a psychosis, in terms of how we perceive Black entertainers and intellectuals…” says Batiste in an interview.
The last 18-20 minutes of the film takes place at the Carnegie Hall, where Batiste’s motley crew of musicians come together to play the eponymous ‘American Symphony’. Even though it’s conducted in the traditional orchestra format, Batiste breaks the tradition every step of the way. There are Jazz musicians, Native American singers, Djembe players — it’s a spectrum of sounds and a sight to behold. Between swift arpeggios played by Batiste to guttural percussion sounds, the musical extravaganza serves as the perfect crescendo to end the film.
Don’t be mistaken. American Symphony is not a “musical documentary”. There is some music, sure. What it really is this: An antidote for our frayed souls and minds. The human race has been relentlessly battered for the last couple of years. Covid. War in Ukraine. The ongoing Gaza-Israel crisis. American Symphony comes close to being a balm. It’s a tale of resilience, commitment and hope, told through two people who are devoted to each other.
