Most of the time, we know what we're getting into with musical biopics. The protagonist is usually tortured in some way, trying to exorcise demons through art. The hero of "Born to Be Blue" is troubled, too, but unlike a lot of films in this genre, this one doesn't sugarcoat his struggle. It leaves you worrying about him ... even though he is long gone.
In the early '50s, jazz trumpeter Chet Baker (Ethan Hawke) became a poster boy for breezy West Coast jazz — a far cry from the frenetic style of definitive jazz artists like Charlie Parker and John Coltrane.
Writer-director Robert Budreau navigates through Baker's life in a novel way. When we first meet him, he's acting in a movie based on his life. This introduction is disorienting, making us constantly question which side of Baker we're seeing. Therein lies the film's most startling revelation about musicians: Like superheroes, they have alter egos. "Born to Be Blue" suggests Baker's stage persona was a mask he fought to fit over his head.
Early on, we see that Baker feels like a fraud in the jazz world. He trembles with doubt and fear when the great Miles Davis (Kedar Brown) tells him to go back to the beach. "Come back here when you've lived a little," Davis says with an edge of anger.
Baker dives into drug use, shooting up heroin every chance he gets. "It just makes me happy," he tells Jane (Carmen Ejogo), the actress playing his wife in the film-within-the-film. But his addiction isn't that simple. As the film goes on, we see that Baker is actually addicted to music. Heroin is simply a vehicle that helps him "get inside every note."
Hawke gracefully slips into Baker's broken soul. He paints a delicate, devastating portrait of an artist whose self-worth depends entirely on his musical skills.
Baker nearly loses his ability to play after a brutal beating damages his embouchure — the adjustment of a player's lips, tongue and teeth to the mouthpiece of an instrument. "A trumpet player losing his embouchure is like a pianist losing his hands," someone says offscreen — perhaps one of the many discouraging voices inside Baker's head.
Trumpet-blowing brings him discomfort, but Baker plays through the pain — as if his life depends on it, as if he has nothing else.
"You're going to kill yourself because you can't play trumpet anymore?" Jane asks at one point, as Baker lies on the floor with a needle of heroin hanging out of his arm and blood-stained trumpet valves sticking to his fingers.
Ejogo exudes a powerful presence, wearing the conflicted history of Jane's relationship with Baker on her face whenever she watches him perform. She's simultaneously awestruck and angst-ridden, making her admiration and anxiety our own.
After some dental work and lots of painful practice, Baker starts playing shows again. He essentially rebuilds himself from the ground up, moving from gigs at pizza parlors all the way back to Birdland in New York, the Carnegie Hall of jazz clubs.
The film moves at a breathless tempo, perhaps rushing too much during the section in which Baker seeks redemption. The pace is closely akin to the fast-and-loose musical style of his East Coast peers.
Shortly before his big return to Birdland, Dizzy Gillespie (Kevin Hanchard) tells him that his playing is good but rough. Raw. Baker quickly replies, "It's honest." So is the film.
"Born to Be Blue" is an inspiring comeback story, but it's also a punch to the gut. Unlike many musical biopics, this one doesn’t quickly sweep its subject's issues under the rug in an effort to end on a happy note. It hits you with the harsh reality that artists who keep music in their hearts never stop battling demons in their heads.