Chet Baker: Let's Get Lost

Tropic Sprockets by Ian Brockway

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From 1988, the late Chet Baker is the focus of “Let’s Get Lost” a documentary by the photographer Bruce Weber. Chet Baker is at the end of his life on a California beach. Baker is joking around with Flea from The Red Hot Chili Peppers. Despite his wizened appearance from many years of substance abuse and hard living, Baker retains the heart of a child.

Filmed in deep contrast black and white in the manner of Vittorio De Sica, one sees the older Chet Baker as an argentine alien from far away. The silver black palm trees, California, and Cannes speak of haunt and wistful circumstance.

Baker was known as the James Dean of Jazz with his pale boyish good looks. He resembled a clean-cut mild-mannered boy but did not act as such. Once on the road and joining Dizzy Gillespie, he became addicted to heroin and became a con artist to many women. Baker had an uncanny vulnerable quality, and he usually got what he wanted.

Television and film loved Baker, who appeared repeatedly on The Steve Allen show. He eschewed Be-Bop in favor of romantic classics which were filled with yearning and melancholy. Baker made each song into his own. He had the voice of a fallen astronaut. Baker’s “My Funny Valentine” carries both fragility and something of fear, the hesitancy of hearts.

Despite his demons, he wielded the trumpet like a wand and music was like water to him.

Lover Diane Vavra was hurt by Baker. According to her, Baker strung her along and then rejected her very harshly. She compares her love for Baker to a drug addiction.

To singer Ruth Young, the only choice is to accept Baker for who he is, devils and all.

His mother Vera straightforwardly admits that she is disappointed in him despite his great success. Baker’s four children confess not to seeing much of him but when they do they consent that he is full of energy.

Baker’s photographer Bill Claxton confesses great worry in seeing the musician after so many years but once Baker plays again Claxton’s apprehension evaporates. “The Prince of Cool” is back.

The most affecting segments of the documentary echo Wim Wenders’ “Wings of Desire.” Baker has the grit of Purgatory in the corners of his gray eyes. His trumpet carries the vocabulary of space at its most fleeting, the music of ravens and grackles at sunrise.

Write Ian at ianfree11@yahoo.com