Hard bop tenor saxophonist Rollins, regarded by many as the world's greatest jazz improviser, made history by adapting the jazz stylings of Charlie Parker to his chosen instrument, but by the mid-late 1980s, Rollins's wife-turned-manager, Lucille, felt concerned that his star might be fading, despite the fact that he was performing more brilliantly, at that point in his life, than at any other time. Mugge's film was thus designed as a vehicle to reassert Rollins's greatness, and on that level alone it succeeds wonderfully. The writer-director divides the bulk of the film between four elements: candid interviews with Rollins and his wife, an August 1986 performance with a small jazz ensemble headlined by Rollins at Saugarties New York's Opus 40, a series of reflections on Rollins by jazz critics Ira Gitlin, Gary Giddins and Francis Davis, and -- as the centerpiece -- the only official filmed record of Rollins's Concerto for Tenor Saxophone and Orchestra, Movements 1, 3, 4, 5 and 7, mounted and performed in Japan in May of '86.
Rollins is fascinating to watch, and though he's as complex a subject as one can imagine, we never feel the sense of any emotional turmoil surrounding the musician -- only open, free, and unbridled joy that extends to the film itself. (Just witness, for example, Sonny's rapturous performance of "Don't Stop the Carnival" at the Opus 40 that wraps the film). Structurally, Mugge approaches Rollins as a subject by using the various interview and concert materials to create a kind of interwoven narrative tapestry, that builds to an impressionistic portrait of the musician. By the time that the final sequence rolls around, we've gained a myriad of insights into this legendary musician yet sense that there are still many mysteries about him to be uncovered -- the film succeeds in building our curiosity and fascination. Musically, the very best that can be said about Saxophone Colossus is that a myriad of melodic complexities play out onscreen (including the Japanese sequence -- a groundbreaking fusion of fixed symphonic structures and free jazz saxophone riffs), but one can approach the material with only the most rudimentary knowledge of what jazz improvisation entails, and actually learn the fundamentals from watching Sonny's performance. Mugge seems intent on repeatedly filming Rollins from low angles, to enforce the musician's stature as a jazz giant (which partially explains the title); with another subject, that might seem cliched, but the filmmaker understands that the level of performance on display in the film and the visual approach can do nothing but validate one another.