In a special introduction for theatre audiences, Neil Young recounts the story of his landmark 1972 album Harvest and its significance. He ends this brief, unassuming greeting by saying, "You don't even need to see it, I just told you everything."
Young's joke at the end of his introduction is almost a summary of Neil Young: Harvest Time, the documentary made in honour of the album's 50th anniversary, in both attitude and content. There's little in the way of a narrative here, and the only real framing comes from the elder Young at the beginning. It's not the kind of film one watches to immerse themselves in the artist, or to attempt to peel back the layers à la Martin Scorsese's Bob Dylan: No Direction Home.
Harvest Time is much more akin to Todd Haynes's recent The Velvet Underground, in that it's unfriendly to newcomers. Audiences get a look into the recordings of most of the album's tracks via original and painstakingly unaltered 1971 footage. There are plenty of sudden cuts, blinks and signs of age that wear down the film — an endearing quality if you're aware of Young's stubbornly analogue attitude.
"Old Man," "Alabama," "A Man Needs a Maid" and "Heart of Gold," among others, all get their time in the spotlight. It's the latter, performed in the film in grainy, flickering candlelight, that best gets across the Neil Young experience.
None of this is necessarily to the film's detriment, though. Even if you're unsure of how the "23-, maybe 24-year-old" Young came from a recently dissolved Buffalo Springfield to create the album almost spontaneously, they're still great songs.
The two recordings with the London Symphony Orchestra are among the most revealing, as he works with quite a few more people than he's used to. Naturally, those performances are among the most grandiose in the film.
While the closest audiences the film gets to Young's songwriting insights is his "mental orgasm" metaphor, there's much to be said for its ambling, home-video approach. What is on full display is the easygoing, intimate atmosphere among Young and his collaborators that led to an album that, as proven by this film's existence, has stood the test of time.
Late in the film, Young stops by a radio station to give them a tease of what's to come. Asked about the cameras, he says, "We're just making a film about the things we want to film. There's not really a big plan about it." The cavalier attitude doesn't reflect the album's eventual impact, but surely his devotees are thankful they filmed whatever they could.
(levelFILM)Young's joke at the end of his introduction is almost a summary of Neil Young: Harvest Time, the documentary made in honour of the album's 50th anniversary, in both attitude and content. There's little in the way of a narrative here, and the only real framing comes from the elder Young at the beginning. It's not the kind of film one watches to immerse themselves in the artist, or to attempt to peel back the layers à la Martin Scorsese's Bob Dylan: No Direction Home.
Harvest Time is much more akin to Todd Haynes's recent The Velvet Underground, in that it's unfriendly to newcomers. Audiences get a look into the recordings of most of the album's tracks via original and painstakingly unaltered 1971 footage. There are plenty of sudden cuts, blinks and signs of age that wear down the film — an endearing quality if you're aware of Young's stubbornly analogue attitude.
"Old Man," "Alabama," "A Man Needs a Maid" and "Heart of Gold," among others, all get their time in the spotlight. It's the latter, performed in the film in grainy, flickering candlelight, that best gets across the Neil Young experience.
None of this is necessarily to the film's detriment, though. Even if you're unsure of how the "23-, maybe 24-year-old" Young came from a recently dissolved Buffalo Springfield to create the album almost spontaneously, they're still great songs.
The two recordings with the London Symphony Orchestra are among the most revealing, as he works with quite a few more people than he's used to. Naturally, those performances are among the most grandiose in the film.
While the closest audiences the film gets to Young's songwriting insights is his "mental orgasm" metaphor, there's much to be said for its ambling, home-video approach. What is on full display is the easygoing, intimate atmosphere among Young and his collaborators that led to an album that, as proven by this film's existence, has stood the test of time.
Late in the film, Young stops by a radio station to give them a tease of what's to come. Asked about the cameras, he says, "We're just making a film about the things we want to film. There's not really a big plan about it." The cavalier attitude doesn't reflect the album's eventual impact, but surely his devotees are thankful they filmed whatever they could.