Where did this man go?
Have you
heard of Rodriquez? Not likely. His story might never have surfaced if two South
African sleuths had not decided to unravel the mystery of the Mexican-American
folk singer's past. We can be glad they did, and happier still that Swedish
filmmaker Malik Bendjelloul wrote, directed, and co-produced this documentary,
Searching for Sugar Man.
Rodriquez
recorded two albums in America. After both failed, his music made an odd and
unexpected journey to South Africa where, during the Apartheid protests, they
became enormous hits in an angry culture. Because Rodriquez was nowhere to be
seen while his music spread wildly throughout the country, mystery enveloped the
man. Rumors spread. Had the new icon committed suicide? Had he even, as one
rumor had it, set fire to himself on stage in mid concert?
Journalist
Craig Bartholemew and Stephen Segerman (aka Sugar after a Rodriquez song) were
so intrigued by the mystery that they eventually joined forces with Malik
Bendjelloul. Bendjelloul interviews both men about their search to a background
soundtrack of Rodriquez' 1970s musical protests against inequality. His
enthusiastic agents released his albums ("Cold Fact" and "Coming from Reality")
in what came to be known as America's narcissistic decade, a time when this
country was taking one of its periodic breaks from protest and awareness. South
Africa was in a far different mood, and "Cold Fact" went Platinum.
As the
interviews produce one answer at a time, the puzzle of the man who was Rodriquez
takes shape. Clues in hand, the searchers track their musician's back-story to
its working class roots in Detroit where it suddenly makes great sense that the
city's downward spiral was the natural seedbed for Rodriquez' alternately sad
and angry music. An hour or so into the film, you can be forgiven for wondering
what lies ahead in this tale of a man unknown in his own country. And you may
wonder why it is that suspense has crept into your bones.
Just let this
documentary tell you about the nature of a man who had a world of music and
emotion in him but little interest in the ways of celebrity and commercial
success. We are still quite unprepared for the impact of the back-story of a
folksinger who, in this age of communication, remained immune to its
temptations. The portrait Bendjelloul has painted is striking in its poignancy
and thoroughly rewarding to those of us who had never before heard of Sixto
Rodriquez.
This is not a
familiar story. It is instead the story of a man and the unfamiliar and unique
set of values that enrich people who learn about him. Long after we leave the
theater, the questions linger. What about the cultural conditions in America and
in South Africa made Rodriquez a commercial failure in one country and a legend
in the other? And above all, what made this man so complete within himself? What
made him resist what others seek?
Copyright (c) Illusion