Ain't In It For My Health: A Film About Levon Helm Blu-ray Movie

Rating summary

Movie		3.5
Video		2.5
Audio		3.5
Extras		3.0
Overall		3.5

Ain't In It For My Health: A Film About Levon Helm Blu-ray Movie Review

"My bag is sinkin' low and I do believe it's time..."

Reviewed by Casey Broadwater October 6, 2013

Hearing Levon Helm sing a line from Bruce Springsteen's "Atlantic City"—the bit that goes, "Everything dies, baby, that's a fact"—is one of the most affecting moments in Ain't In It For My Health, an intimate documentary that shows the legendary drummer/co-singer for The Band as an ailing but still vibrant old-timer. Levon died of throat cancer in 2012, two years after the film—which, for legal reasons, is just now being released on home video—was made, but no one can say the Grammy Award winner and Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inductee wasn't a survivor, fighting his way through drug addiction, dire financial straits, and an illness that left his once-powerful singing voice quiet and hoarse, when it was there at all. "I think it's a different kind of survival story," his daughter Amy Helm says, which is fitting considering Levon was a different kind of rock star, in a different kind of band. "They don't have a proper name, they don't have a proper frontman...it was the opposite of what rock 'n' roll had turned into by the late '60s," says The Band's biographer, Barney Hoskyns, one of the few talking heads in a film that's less interested in the past than the ups and downs of Helm's 2007-2010 present.

The Band is mentioned, of course, and we get to see snatches of their 1969 Woodstock performance of "The Weight" and a promotional appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show, along with rare rehearsal footage and photographs from the years they spent touring the world as Bob Dylan's backup group. To Levon, though, this is all ancient history, albeit not so ancient that he doesn't hold a few lingering grudges and regrets. He doesn't do much of what might be called "opening up" in the film, but during one post-show weed smoking session with his pal and admirer Billy Bob Thornton, he details the various forces that led to The Band's slow petering out after their first two influential albums: "It was obviously a goddamn screw-job. The credits and money and everything was all screwed up. After that, it was 'The Band plays your favorites,' 'The Band live somewhere,' because we couldn't get in there and collaborate anymore. It lasted about five years, but it was over after that second record." It's insinuated that there was a history of bad blood between Helm and principal songwriter Robbie Robertson, a Canadian who co-opted Helm's Arkansas-born-and-bred Southern personality, a defining part of The Band's Americana sound. Helm didn't get the royalties he felt he deserved, a situation that left him comparatively poor in the final two decades of his life.

Diagnosed with throat cancer in 1998, mounting hospital bills led Helm to start The Midnight Ramble, an annual fundraising concert series held at his home studio—"The Barn"—in upstate New York. Attracting a crowd of fans, locals, and occasional celebrities, Helm seems truly alive in the limelight, crooning old folk tunes and telling stories afterward in his kitchen to a rapt audience of family, bandmates, and V.I.P.'s. (He recounts, for instance, dropping acid at Woodstock and how mad Jimmy Hendrix was that his set was pushed back so late in the festival.) These times are lit by the glow of nostalgia, while the reality of Helm's normal, day-to-day existence is significantly more dim. We see him wincing as his doctor snakes a nasal scope up his nose and down his throat, and watch him sit down with an accountant to discuss how many shows he needs to play in the upcoming year to stay financially solvent.

It's a hard row to hoe, and Helm goes, goes, goes, literally singing until his voice gives out. And yet, there's joy here, evidence of a life lived to its fullest. "I'm a musician, I ain't in it for my health," he says once, giving the documentary its title, and he gets some vindication when his comeback album, The Dirt Farmer, is nominated for a Grammy and he's also invited to the ceremony to receive a lifetime achievement award on behalf of The Band. Helm is wary of "the suits" and doesn't want to attend—he sees it as a corporate shill to sell more records—but he's nonetheless pleased when his album wins the prize, the very same day his first grandchild is born. There's a sense of summation in the film, of coming full circle, and it's poignant to see Helm surrounded by those he loves, gawking at baby photos on the back of a digital camera.

Director Jacob Hatley spent nearly three years living near and with Helm—when the filmmaker ran out of money, he was invited to stay in "The Barn"— and the result is an honest, unguarded look at old age and the creative drive of a musician who just won't quit. Whether he's padding around his studio in naught but boxers and a button-up shirt, playing to a crowd of drunk Millennials at Bonnaroo, or hanging out with his elderly farmer neighbors, shooting the breeze and tooling around on a tractor, there's a simplicity and earnestness to the way Helm lives out this final stage of his life, undeterred by the troubles that ail him. Take a load off, Levon.

Ain't In It For My Health: A Film About Levon Helm Blu-ray Movie, Video Quality 

I wasn't able to dig up any technical specs on the specifics of how the film was shot, but it looks as though director Jacob Hatley used mid-level, prosumer-grade digital cameras to capture the last stage of Levon Helm's life. The result is an image with its share of source-related issues—heavy noise, occasionally noticeable compression artifacts and blown-out highlights—but nothing overly distracting or deal-breaking. It is what it is and Kino-Lorber's 1080p/AVC-encoded Blu-ray is probably as true a representation of the film as we could hope for. At the very least, the picture is sharp enough to make a high definition version worthwhile, although there is a lot of standard definition archival material worked in as well. These materials do vary drastically in quality. One oddity I noticed was that the photos from Bob Dylan's tour jet were badly digitized, containing chunky macroblocking compression patterns. Still, this is low-budget documentary where the content takes precedence over the presentation, so a take-it-or-leave-it approach is the best bet here.

Ain't In It For My Health: A Film About Levon Helm Blu-ray Movie, Audio Quality 

Kino has given us two audio options, the default 5.1 surround track and a 2.0 stereo mixdown, both presented in the lossless DTS-HD Master Audio codec. Like the video quality, the sound is limited somewhat by less-than-top-end equipment—voices are sometimes a bit muffled, and the signal-to-noise ratio seems a little low in spots, resulting in an audible hiss—but there's nothing that makes the audio unlistenable or severe, and conversations are always understandable. The music, in general, sounds much better, although—again—there are some variances in the source materials. The multichannel mix is definitely the way to go, but don't expect constant activity in the rear channels; the surround speakers pipe up only occasionally for musical immersion and occasional ambience, like when Helm watches a Peckinpah film on TV and the gunshots are panned to the back. Do note that there are no subtitle options available.

Ain't In It For My Health: A Film About Levon Helm Blu-ray Movie, Special Features and Extras 

• Deleted Scenes (HD, 51:39): Here you'll find 13 additional scenes, nearly constituting an entire second documentary's worth of material. The best bits, though, are the extended performances, like Helm's appearance at the 2011 Bonnaroo Festival.
• Trailer (HD, 1:45)

Ain't In It For My Health: A Film About Levon Helm Blu-ray Movie, Overall Score and Recommendation 

Documenting two and a half years in the life of The Band's influential drummer and singer, Levon Helm, Ain't In It For My Health is a poignant look at perseverance and creativity in old age. Helm's fans will likely find it both inspiring and quietly devastating, particularly knowing that the musician would die just two years after the film was made. He leaves behind quite a legacy, and The Midnight Ramble—the annual concert series held at Helm's home studio in Woodstock, NY—continues in his honor. Settle in with Ain't In It For My Health and The Last Waltz—Martin Scorsese's film of The Band's final concert—and you've got one hell of a music documentary double feature. Recommended.