Actor/director Matt Dillon started going to Cuba in the 1990s after the collapse of the Soviet Union. He and his fellow vinyl-hungry friends would stay up late drinking and hunt for hidden gem albums, at times driving over two hours away to rifle through a particular record store stash that magnetized them. They liked all kinds of music, but their sonic archaeological pursuits were most focused on the sound of the culture: the synthesis of Latin, jazz, folk, and all other influences that defined the Afro-Cuban genre. It was in one of those record stores that they found, upon the insistent recommendation of the shop owner, Afro-Cuban scat legend Francisco Fellove Valdés, otherwise known as “El Gran Fellove” (i.e., “The Great Fellove“). This time, it wasn’t just a great new record. Fellove would soon become a lifelong artistic inspiration and, much to their delight, a creative collaborator.
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Dillon—the Oscar-nominated actor known for his roles in films like “Drugstore Cowboy,” “The Outsiders,” “Rumble Fish,” “The House That Jack Built,” “Crash“ and “There’s Something About Mary“—co-wrote and directed a feature in 2003 called “City of Ghosts,” but “El Gran Fellove,” which premiered at the Telluride Film Festival, is his first documentary. Spanning the 40s to the 90s (it was shot in 1999), the film tells the story of the rise and fall and relative disappearance of Fellove, an unparalleled scat musician that doubled as a relentless pioneer of Afro-Cuban music. In the 40s, he and several others introduced Cuba to the Filin subgenre, which was a play on the word “feeling” and drew on the visceral reaction the music got out of people. With Filin music, it was a matter of connecting to the art, sensing it, feeling it, moving with it. It was aural emotion. And even among the Filin artists, Fellove quickly rose to the top as one of the truest, most original talents. Within seconds of seeing him perform, we see his innate ability on full display. It’s immediately obvious that other people could not do what Fellove did in the way that he did it.
But Fellove’s legend is only half the story. Interwoven with the narrative of his life, the rest of the film follows Dillon and good friend/New York City jazz band leader Joey Altruda in their attempt to make a record with Fellove, the first record in decades he’d go onto the record. Altruda would lead the music aspect, and Dillon would document it on film. It wasn’t long before they found him in Mexico, where the giant, bright, jovial musician had made a name for himself in the 50s (in ways he hadn’t been able to in Cuba) and in the process made a home for himself there, as well. Though the rock n’ roll movement of the 60s pushed the Latin music scene aside, Fellove, ego-less as he is, took any gig he could late into life. For him, it was about the music, the creativity, the expression. Needless to say, the call from Dillon (whom he didn’t know) and Altruda was an exciting prospect for the 77-year-old, who was as anxious to record as ever.
We hopped on a call with Dillon to talk about the Afro-Cuban icon and the filmmaking experience. At the end of the interview, Dillon also briefly mentions he’s currently working with Wes Anderson— the assumption being a reference to the filmmaker’s new untitled film shooting in Spain. The project has a cast that includes Scarlett Johansson, Margot Robbie, Tom Hanks, Tilda Swinton, Bill Murray, Bryan Cranston, Jeffery Wright, Jason Schwartzman, Rupert Friend, Liev Schreiber, Hope Davis, Adrien Brody, and Tony Revolori.
The doc explains how you and your friends found Fellove, but what catapulted you in to your love for Latin music in the first place?
Well, you know, it’s funny, I guess I’m one of those people that’s like a record guy, record collector – somebody that loves music and is curious about music. And I think you either are or you’re not. You either are that person, or you’re not that person. And I am, I always have been. I have friends of mine who are great, talented, smart, interesting people, and they never bought a record once in their lives. Do you know what I’m talking about?
Yeah, I’m one of these record people.
Alright, man! So, you’re like a record nerd. Yeah, so for me, the love of music has been there since I was a kid, and it’s always expanding, it’s always been eclectic. Well, I don’t know about always, but the first music I listened to as a kid, other than those damn Christmas records, was this Irish folk music. My father had these old Irish folk records. He never played them; they were just lying around. And my brothers and I would put him on the phone and listen to what was really great music, great storytelling that we loved. So I was already poised to listen not just what I was hearing on the radio but music from everywhere. So my taste in music has always been fairly eclectic. And, of course, to me, still, Afro-Cuban music is my preferred—I want to say the best music. It’s my favorite music because it incorporates so much. You’ve got elements of everything: latin, jazz, folk music, all sorts of things. It’s a pretty broad spectrum. So, when I landed there, I hung there a lot, let’s say. Some of my greatest curiosities and obsessions have been in that music, you know.
In a word or two, what sets Fellove apart from other Afro-Cuban greats? What makes him a totem of the genre?
There’s a kind of joy in his music, a creativity. He’s just very inventive, his phrasing is so unique. And for me, it’s because the music is immediately infectious. It just gets to you right away. This is joyful music. But what’s interesting about it is how inventive and creative he is in that milieu. Elements of jazz, elements of Afro-Cuban folkloric music. There’s a spontaneity that makes it very exciting.
His pioneering qualities really stuck out in the doc. Specifically this quote: “I don’t like routines. I like people who invent things, who teach me how to be alive. Your mind begs for you to do something different.”
Yeah, he’s so interesting like that. When he would walk around, music was—I mean, it would not be an exaggeration to say that his greatest performances could’ve been walking to the grocery store. He was just a musical metronome, constantly creating music in his life. He would see a dog and start ad-libbing a scat about a dog, emulating a dog, very creative in that way. Like, hearing a dog bark on the street, then a car, then he’d start barking with the dog and doing a duet. He was playful and loved to put on a show. But when it came down to having a serious conversation, he was a serious dude—an intense guy that commanded your respect. And I sometimes think, paradoxically, because he was so much fun and joyous that he was misinterpreted as being someone who was a clown. He wasn’t a clown. He was a seriously innovative, intelligent artist. But because of his style, his playfulness, it could get misread or misinterpreted. But he was a serious, serious dude who commanded respect, an innovator in his style.
What did you learn from him as an artist?
I think what I learned from the whole experience of working with him on this is that nobody can live their life perfectly. To me, when I heard those early recordings Fellove did, they were perfect. I mean, they were beyond perfect. They were as good as anything I’d ever heard, certainly in that milieu of music. And yet, it wasn’t all smooth sailing for him. He had his ups and downs. And it reminded me: no matter how great an artist is, everybody is going to have their unrealized expectations, or regrets, or doubts. He never, I think, questioned his own talent or his own ability. But I think, you know, he questioned whether the world would be ready for him or if it was interested in him. I think that might’ve played a part. I think that’s what we call the blues, you know? He has a little bit of that. He reminds me of those old blues artists in a way. I mean, he puts forth this beautiful music, but when you look at it, there’s always going to be a little melancholy, always a little sadness there, because he didn’t come from an easy life, you know? What I also learned from him is to be free. I mean, it’s not something I didn’t know. But there is no potential to do something great without the potential for failure. And Fellove was able to perform without judging himself. Now with that, you’re going to make mistakes, right. But if you never take the chance, if you never take the risk, and you never go out on a limb, then you’re never really going to get there and really test the limits to see how far you can go. And Fellove would do that. Fellove would do that.
For example, there was a part in the film where this woman, Sylvia, who was friends with him and José Antonio Méndez—she talked about how José Antonio, as Fellove’s best friend, would say to him, “I didn’t like the way you interpreted my song.” And Fellove was like, “Too bad man, that’s the way I interpreted it.” He would test the limits. If you listened to how he would interpret a certain composition, it was so wildly different from how other people would do it. I mean, he would take a classic standard and send it in all kinds of different directions, you know, and it was a beautiful thing. Sometimes he was so far out on a limb, you’d go, “How’s this guy going to come back?” He would. And sometimes he would fail. But, you know, there were always some real brilliant moments in it. I think the song I’m thinking about was called “Quiéreme y Verás” by José Antonio Méndez. Also, “Decídete Mi Amor.” I mean, that’s a classic Filin composition, a classic Filin song that’s been covered by a lot of different people. But when Fellove does it, he turns it into something entirely different, makes it all his own. And he was like that. He was very free. I take away from that that he was free because he understood he couldn’t judge himself and do what he did successfully. We have to just see where it takes us.
What is the realist’s hope for Fellove in pop culture? What do you hope this doc can achieve for him?
Okay so, for me, the greatest thing about documentaries is you can tap into those important themes around the meaning of life, right? You know, Fellove’s life has meaning for me, I believe. And I hope that people can recognize that, and I hope to enlighten people. I think he serves as an inspiration for artists. This is a film about friendship in many ways, but it’s also a film about the creative process, you know? Personally, when I watch a documentary especially, I want to feel a connection, but I also want to learn something. But without the emotional part of it, I’m not going to be able to learn any of that stuff. So I hope people go away learning and that they’re also moved and maybe inspired by what they saw and what they heard and the person they saw. I mean, for me, I’ve worked with some great artists, including Fellove, and they will be with me when I’m in my process of creation. Lars von Trier talks to me in my head sometimes. Something he said, If I’m drawing a picture, I’ll be reminded of something he said, and it’ll help guide me. Fellove, too. I wanted to give voice to this guy cause I think he was really a great artist, and I hope people walk away moved or inspired.
You’ve worked with a lot of great directors over the years; you mentioned Lars Von Trier. Who’s shaped you most as a filmmaker?
Well, you know what came as a surprise to me here – so they invited “Fellove” to Telluride for the festival, and I was really excited because this is a great festival, you know. It’s really significant, and they do things in a smart way. And then they surprised me! They say, “Oh, guess who’s going to be here. We’ve got a little panel we want you to do with Francis Ford Coppola. You know, first, he was a god to me, and then he became one of my mentors when I was a young guy. I mean, I’d just turned 18 and I did two films with him. So, I’m going to see him here, which is really nice. He was a real inspiration. I mean, we talk about somebody being with you, that we learn from these teachers, you know? And Francis is one of the true geniuses—one of only maybe a few true geniuses that I’ve worked with that I can name for sure—who was brilliant and had faith in me and inspired me. The thing about Francis is that he’s so brilliant, even if I disagree with his ideas. Many years ago, I wrote and directed a film called “City of Ghosts,” and Francis was really great. He was really supportive of me in reading drafts of the script and then watching a few different cuts of the movie. And he always had ideas! The amazing thing was I totally disagreed with his ideas, but they were better than everybody else’s in a way. They were so brilliant. Even if you didn’t agree with the idea, it was a great idea. He’s such a brilliant mind. I think really brilliant people have this ability to get past all the obstacles like it’s nothing. Francis? Obstacles were nothing for him. When we were making “The Outsiders,” Francis was like, “You know what, I want to make ‘Rumble Fish.’ Hey, you want to do that? Let’s do it.”
Boom, next thing you know, a month after shooting “The Outsiders,” we’re in full-blown pre-production on “Rumble Fish.” And that was very natural for him to do that. And I’d say that Lars von Trier was also that way. There are no obstacles really for him. His whole thing is about creative freedom, and he seems just to break all the rules, you know? He breaks the rules, and he doesn’t do it because he’s a bad boy. He does it because it’s better. The end result is better for doing it. He won’t do it for no reason. He’s not just a dissident person for the sake of dissidence. But yeah, that’s what I’d say about both of them, the one common trait that two very different artists had in common: “Obstacle? That’s just another fun thing we can hurdle.” I’m working with Wes Anderson right now. He’s like that, too. Amazing minds, you know.