Patti Smith: Dream of Life

When fashion photographer Sebring first received the call in 1995 to shoot a session with Patti Smith, he acknowledged having only a superficial knowledge of the rock artist and icon at that time. But the two connected and thus began the process by which this often impressionistic documentary – 12 years in the making and Sebring's first film – came into being. Perhaps it was Sebring's nonchalance toward her celebrity that endeared him to Smith, who is notoriously prickly about the idolatry of fans and being encapsulated by such sobriquets as "the godmother of punk." Rather than being frozen in time by such designations, Smith prefers to be recognized as an ever-evolving artist and human being whose life remains a work in progress. This attitude lends an immediacy to Sebring's documentation as his camera accompanies Smith throughout her life, and we see her at home and with her family and friends. Often the sequences are revealing (never more so than during a visit with her parents at her childhood home in New Jersey); more often, the sequences are humdrum and will offer few shards of new knowledge to her passionate fans. Still, this should not imply that the film is uninteresting; rather, it is textural, rich with the fabric of her life. Of course, it helps that Sebring caught up with Smith in the mid-Nineties as she was making her way back to performing after years living away from the spotlight. The recent deaths of her husband Fred "Sonic" Smith, brother Todd, and good friend Robert Mapplethorpe also color her mood and cause her to reflect more on the mysteries of life. Sebring, however, resists any temptation to place Smith's career within the context of the music and movements she's been part of. This will make the film rough going for anyone not already familiar with Smith's music and personal history, whereas the inclusion of more of her shamanistic performance footage or commentary from fellow artists might help explain much of her draw to a newcomer. Artily filmed in grainy black and white with occasional color sequences, this documentary seeks to abet rather than explain. It doesn't help that Smith was actively involved in most the choices that went into the making of the film. A subject's participation automatically raises questions about the product's objectivity, although I don't think anyone is making a case for Dream of Life as being anything other than a subjective work. When embraced on its own terms, however, the film will provide an ironic bridge for those who want to share a greater closeness with Smith. (See Bohemian Rhapsody," Aug. 22, for an interview with the director.) Ends Tuesday.