Radar Report

The Late Great

In her new documentary, filmmaker Margaret Brown expores the life, music and premature death of the legendary troubadour TOWNES VAN ZANDT.

The life and career of Texas singer-songwriter Townes Van Zandt have inspired an outstanding new documentary film, Be Here to Love Me, the debut feature directed by Margaret Brown. Van Zandt (1944 – 1997) was the creator of dozens of enduring songs, including "Pancho and Lefty," "If I Needed You" and "Waitin' Round to Die." With a broad range of musical interests and influences, Van Zandt is not easily categorized. Unquestionably, however, his sad and relatively short life – characterized by substance abuse and manic depression — and the poetic power of his lyrics have given him a romantic appeal and popularity that far outstrips the recognition he received during his lifetime.

In her film, Brown obtains some extraordinary interviews with Van Zandt contemporaries and associates – among them Guy and Susannah Clark, Emmylou Harris, Steve Earle, Kris Kristofferson, Jerry Jeff Walker and Willie Nelson – as well as with relatives, ex-wives and schoolmates. In addition, there is extensive performance footage of Townes and excerpts from interviews he gave over the years. Peeping through the tragedy are glimpses of Townes' deadpan humor and intense friendships. The picture that emerges is of a brilliant songwriter and a winning performer driven to "blow up," as his long-time record producer Kevin Eggers puts it in the film, every good thing ever done for him.

Playback: Did you ever meet Townes Van Zandt?

Margaret Brown: No, I'm just a total fan.

When did you come up with the idea for this film?

Well, let me begin by saying my Dad, Milton Brown, is a songwriter – he wrote "Every Which Way But Loose," "Bar Room Buddies" and most of the soundtrack for Bronco Billy. He's had many movie songs. I grew up in Mobile, Alabama and there was a recording studio in our house – there was always music around. Later, when I moved to New York, I had a roommate who was a crazy record collector guy. We both thought we knew a lot about music, and each of us would try to find the most obscure thing that would blow the other away. And he played a Townes Van Zandt record for me — that's why I've made this film.

At the time I was a graduate student at the New York University School of Film and not very interested in making documentaries. I didn't immediately decide to make the film. But the music struck me very deeply and emotionally and all I wanted to do was buy all Townes's albums and learn all the songs. Years later, after Townes died, the idea of a film came to me. I wrote to Jeanene Van Zandt, his last wife, and asked about making a film.

What challenges did you face?

Four people had started films on Townes that weren't completed, so it was intimidating. It was difficult in the beginning because no one would talk to me about Townes. Once Guy and Susannah Clark talked to me, everyone else opened up. There was a perception that it was a project with integrity. I knew it wasn't going to be a traditional documentary. I wanted to make a film where the beginning sucks the viewer into the romance of a man who gives up everything to do what he loves. And I wanted the movie to stick in the viewers' minds and relate to things in their lives.

What was it about Townes that moved you?

The song that got me was "Waiting Around to Die" — I heard it and I started to cry. Townes wrote that when he was around 21, wrote it in the closet he used as a workspace while he was still married to his first wife. They were supported by his parents who were wealthy socialites in the Dallas – Fort Worth area. How does someone from that background come to write such a song?

To me, the most searing line in the film is when Townes says, "I don't envision a very long life for myself. I think my life will run out before my work does. I've designed it that way."

He made that statement when he was 28. It's a little bit like wanting to create a James Dean-type myth. Townes was very aware of his presence in that way. It's funny, half the people I interviewed said he was their best friend. I think when you were with him he made you feel that you were the only person alive. That kind of power — coupled with the self-destructive thing: it's hard to be star when you purposely break your arm before your biggest series of shows. — Jim Steinblatt

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