Glass Documentary Shatters the Facade of A Musical Genius to Reveal the Human Beneath

Courtesy of Independent Media

In 1995, Scott Hicks received Oscar acclaim for Shine, the true story of a troubled pianist. Now the director has created another humanizing portrait of a living musical legend with Glass: A Portrait of Philip in Twelve Parts. Some might imagine that the daily life of Philip Glass, famed minimalist composer, would be robotic—echoing his repetitive, mechanical music—but the documentary defies this assumption through careful exposition of the psyche of one of the most prolific composers of our time.

The documentary gives revealing insight into an incredibly self-conscious man, whose prodigious output has invited denigration through the years. Glass admits that although he used to be perturbed by his detractors­, whose criticisms persist even to this day, he has since learned to disregard them and even to thrive off their remarks.

Surprisingly for a film meant to focus on Glass’ public career, the most poignant moments occur when Glass moves away from his composition writing, stage plays, and sound studios. For instance, we see footage of him watching TV at home with his young children, doing spiritual exercises with his Taoist instructor, and riding the roller coaster at Coney Island.

But can a musical genius ever truly forget about his work? At one point, the camera follows Glass into the kitchen of his summer home in Nova Scotia, where he awkwardly makes pizzas from scratch for his family and guests. As he fumbles around the kitchen, he describes his process of composition: how he never knows what the piece he works on will become, or what meaning it will hold, until he’s just about finished. Whether or not Hicks deliberately asked him to discuss his work while making pizzas, the analogy works powerfully—ironically, though, the pizzas come out of the oven looking quite unappetizing.

At age 70, even while relaxing, Glass is still very much a workaholic. He is an inspiring man with a remarkable career, and his hope can be tangibly seen on the screen. The film also explores his fallibility, showing that music is still a mystery to him, despite his experience.

There is much to be seen and contemplated in this chronicle of Glass’ life, which portrays both a man with his family, and a musician casually making his way through the highest circles of celebrity—chatting with directors Woody Allen and Errol Morris, for example. Hicks shot over 120 hours of footage, and it is difficult to imagine how he condensed his material into one feature film. Nonetheless, given the slow pace of Glass, the abridged 12 chapters may be all we need, giving us a minimalist portrayal of a compelling individual.