A bridge built by music

The Music of Strangers: Yo-Yo Ma and the Silk Road Ensemble is my kind of feel-good movie. The notion that iconic cellist Yo-Yo Ma could assemble a group of musicians from many cultures and arrive at a coherent musical expression is encouraging and also a bit naive, particularly when carried to metaphoric levels about possibilities for cooperation beyond the concert hall. But if one is going to submit to fantasy, better this than one in which aliens invade the world and must be repelled with massive applications of force. Director Morgan Neville (20 Feet From Stardom) fills his documentary with plenty of music, but also provides insight into Yo-Yo Ma, who claims that as a child he simply fell into music. Neville also introduces us to the musicians that form the Silk Road Ensemble. Among them: Kayan Kalhor, an Iranian who plays kamancheh and who discusses the hardships he's faced. Wu Tan, who plays the pipa or Chinese lute, briefly occupies center stage, as does Cristina Pato, a bagpipe player from Galicia, Spain, who's known as the Jimi Hendrix of bagpipes. (Yes, it's an apt comparison.) As you might imagine, Silk Road's fusion-heavy music tends toward the melodic or the rhythmically infectious. OK, so maybe music won't change the world, but it certainly can change the hour and a half it takes to watch The Music of Strangers, a rare documentary that isn't driven by conflict, but by Yo-Yo Ma's hopeful vision of the ways in which conflict might be resolved.

Dueling intellects --- and venom, too

I'm not sure that 1968 was a pivotal year in the history of television news, but it's a point worth considering. In that politically tumultuous moment, ABC -- lagging behind its competitors (NBC and CBS) -- decided to boost viewership of both the Democratic and Republican conventions by adding heated commentary to the mix. To that end, ABC hired adversaries William F. Buckley (patrician conservative) and Gore Vidal (patrician liberal) to "debate" one another. What may have been conceived as a sideshow becomes the main event in Best of Enemies, a documentary from directors Robert Gordon and Morgan Neville. Gordon and Neville do an able job of putting the 10 Buckley/Vidal debates into the context of media history. But it's the debates that form the heart of the movie, two intellectual titans exchanging venomous barbs. In a time when commentary (or what passes for it) seems to have eclipsed reporting -- at least on the 24-hour cable television outlets -- the debates may seem less revolutionary than they did when they first occurred. Both Buckley and Gore were intellectual heavyweights, but they also embodied a clash between two men who despised each other to the very core of their beings. Within an eye blink, animosity became entertainment. The great moment in the debate arrived when Vidal called Buckley a crypto-fascist. Buckley responded by calling Vida a queer, and threatening to punch him in the face. The moment was scored as a victory for Vidal because the ultra-rational Buckley lost his cool. Buckley evidently was bothered by his loss of composure, as well. Of course, the 1968 Democratic convention in Chicago produced a whole other story as police brutally attempted to disperse protestors. I'm not sure the Buckley/Vidal debates are quite as important as the filmmakers make them out to be, but even taken as a footnote to history, the glowering rivalry between these men still fascinates -- and, heaven help us, entertains.

Back-ups: Do they get enough credit?

I've always thought that being a back-up singer would be a rewarding experience, a life full of harmonic satisfactions and impressive dance moves. Although the entertaining new documentary 20 Feet From Stardom didn't exactly change my mind, it opened by eyes to some of the frustrations inherent in singing back-up. Director Morgan Neville uses some major front-line talent to talk about the role, talent and status of back-ups, namely Bruce Springsteen, Sting and Mick Jagger. Of course, we hear from lots of back-up singers, as well. Darlene Love, who worked with producer Phil Spector and often received no credit for her labors, is one of the few back-up singers who eventually broke into lead-singer ranks. The movie also demonstrates that the line between the collaborative melting pot and cultural appropriation can get blurry. I got the impression that some white performers know that they can deepen their sound and connect it to R&B history by letting back-up singers do some heavy lifting for them. Merry Clayton, for example, sang back-up on the Stones' Gimme Shelter. That's not to say that name artists aren't appeciative of the work of the talented singers who back them up. They are. You'll also meet Lisa Fischer, who has worked with others, but who has amazing chops of her own. Fischer -- at least in this film -- earns a place in the spotlight and helps add to the fun of an informative and very lively work. Any frustrations aside, 20 Feet From Stardom is far from a collection of seething (if justified) resentments. Sure, stories about music-industry injustices can be found, but there's also an obvious love of music-making and some very fond recollecting. And no matter what you think about any issues raised by 20 Feet From Stardom, you'll be buoyed by a movie that never forgets to entertain -- while throwing in a bit of inspiration for good measure.