A little too loving
The final image of David Crosby in a new documentary about the singer-songwriter shows him in his hippie glory, spotting a video camera filming him. He roguishly sticks out his tongue. Then he inexplicably goes further and gives viewers the middle finger.
It’s sort of an apt gesture to sum up “David Crosby: Remember My Name ,” director A.J. Eaton’s fascinating and gentle attempt to see what makes this irascible two-time Rock and Roll Hall of Famer tick.
Over the course of an hour and half, we learn a ton but never come much closer to understanding him. It’s as if he travelled back in time to flip us the bird just to mock us for trying.
For viewers only vaguely familiar with this white-haired folk-rock icon with a drooping moustache and an ever-present red knit cap, the documentary nicely charts Crosby’s life and career, generally in chronological order but often flaring out to deal with themes like his addictions and loves. (Viewers are advised to come knowing something about the time period. Like, you’re best knowing who this Joni Mitchell lady is before watching.)
Crosby’s life and art intersect key moments in American history — the 1970 Kent State shootings, Woodstock, the Vietnam War, “Easy Rider” among them. He was a member of three major groups in music history — The Byrds, Crosby, Stills & Nash, and Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young. He served time in prison, had a liver transplant and is still making excellent music.
But we’ll remember his name as much for the songs as for the destructive force he became. None of his former bandmates talk to him. It’s not that they lost touch — they actively hate him. “I was a difficult cat,” he admits at one point.
Finding out why becomes a key focus of the documentary. Various theories are floated — a withholding father, a girlfriend’s death in a car crash, addiction to heroin and cocaine. (But it may not be fair to blames the drugs since his bandmates hated his guts when those guts were sober, too.) This towering figure in music seems isolated, with just the company of his wife and dogs, horses and cats.
The film contains wonderful stories from Crosby — why he never liked Jim Morrison of The Doors, when Young auditioned for the band and how Mitchell broke up with him. Unfortunately, there isn’t time to explore how he became the sperm donor for two kids parented by Melissa Etheridge and Julie Cypher.
We get a few stray opinions on Crosby from Young, Nash, Glenn Frey, Jackson Browne, and his wife, Jan Dance. The reasons for why Crosby is so polarizing are politely danced around and his worst behaviour is elided.
What about that famous time Crosby stopped a recording session because his crack pipe broke? Or when he freebased under his coat while flying first class?
“David Crosby: Remember My Name,” a Sony Pictures release, is rated R for “language, drug material and brief nudity.” Running time: 95 minutes.
— Two and a half stars out of four.