Let’s Get Lost is a standard biographical documentary, approached in quite an unconventional manner – and considering it is a film about Chet Baker, one of the most unusual and folkloric figures in the history of jazz music, it seems oddly appropriate that director Bruce Weber approaches his story in a way that is unusual and quite audacious, without necessarily redefining the genre. Partly a documentary about the rise of a young jazz star, partly a heartwrenching account of his last days, Chet Baker’s life is developed into a powerful, poignant film about his career and his personal downfall. Documentary filmmaking has the ability to extend far beyond simply relaying events and telling a true story – and in many ways, Let’s Get Lost is as much about embellishment, dishonesty and deceit as it is a candid account of the life and death of its subject. Weber made something clearly very personal, while not involving himself too much in the boundary between the subject and the film that tells his story – and while it is often extremely standard, we can’t deny that Let’s Get Lost is something quite extraordinary, a simple but moving story about one of music’s most tragic icons, told through the eyes of his admirers, his friends, his family and most poignant of all, the man himself.

Made only months before Baker tragically died, Let’s Get Lost looks at the jazz musician’s rise and fall, from his early days playing music in the 1950s, to his fade into obscurity, and then his brief comeback that resulted in his tragic death. Throughout the film, the audience is presented with a combination of archival footage, showing Baker as a young man, full of energy and audacity, raring to be out playing music and changing the way audiences respond to jazz, and talking-head interviews with a variety of individuals close to Baker, both professionally and personally. This film heavily relies on Baker’s own testimony, and it is quite poignant how Weber contrasts the footage of a younger Baker with him in a more haggard, exhausted state brought about undoubtedly by his dependency on drugs. A large portion of the film is also dedicated to Baker’s performances – and once again, the juxtaposition between older recordings of Baker’s earlier career, where his music was reckless and exuberant, and new recordings, which take on a more melancholy, poetic nature, creates an unusual but effective contrast. Let’s Get Lost is certainly not the only documentary that utilizes this structure – most films of this nature tend to blend the past and the present in this way. However, where Let’s Get Lost succeeds is that it isn’t merely a chronicle of his life – it defies the traditional “cradle-to-grave” trope, and rather oscillates between a variety of temporal moments and themes, presenting a fragmented series of episodic moments, presented in intimate conversations between the filmmaker and those he is interviewing, which all converge into a complete work that presents a fascinating tapestry of the unconventional life of a musical genius.

Chet Baker was amongst the hippest artists of his generation, and his admirers, past and present, have always been attracted to his devil-may-care attitude. However, this is not a film that prioritizes his musical career on its own, but rather endeavours to explore his life as a whole, including his vices. Let’s Get Lost is not a film that is afraid to present its subject in an unfavourable life, often portraying Baker, despite all of his merits as a musician, as a deeply flawed individual, someone who was profoundly dishonest, deeply manipulative and engaged too deeply in carnal desires to be functional. The mythos that situates jazz within the marijuana-soaked clubs, where drugs were the primary form of motivation is changed when we consider how brutally Baker’s addiction is addressed here, especially when considering it from a familial point of view. Baker’s life was defined on two qualities – his musical prowess, and his relentless drug abuse, and Let’s Get Lost never shrouds the latter, especially in showing its influence, positive and negative, on the former. Drugs may not have derailed Baker’s career – even he would argue that it was pivotal in how he created music, but it certainly is the reason it seemed to have ended years before Baker died. The film addresses the allure of excess, and how it can envelop the individual in horrifying ways – and towards the end of the film, Weber extracts a brief conversation where Baker describes his “favourite kind of high”, where he makes mention of what is popularly referred to as a “speedball” – a combination of heroin and cocaine, which Baker speaks about with a mixture of pride and reluctance. A moment made even more chilling when the viewer realizes that Baker died from this very combination of hard drugs.

In this way, Let’s Get Lost is unconventional, because it begins to question the limits between the subject and the filmmaker. This is a film that feels misplaced – it avoids the sensationalized qualities of other documentaries of its era, rather opting to be an atmospheric, personal work. It evokes the films of Shirley Clarke, in particular, Portrait of Jason, a towering achievement that was similarly constructed around conversations with a particular individual, allowing him to address his own shortcomings and atone for his own mistakes. Much like Clarke, Weber also begins to insert himself into the film, albeit not directly. His voice is heard towards the end, asking questions, engaging with the interviewees. His opinion, while not particularly important, begins to appear, as does his perspective on the figure he is interviewing. He is not merely making a biographical account of a musical legend – he is in conversation with someone who clearly has a profound effect on him and means a great deal to him, perhaps not as a human being, but as an artist. It is through this passionate approach that Weber deftly navigates the line between artistic integrity and exploitation for the sake of entertainment. It is quite rare to be able to find someone such as Baker who is willing to so openly discuss their past and address their demons, and it becomes something often heartbreaking and uncomfortable, but never inappropriate or morally wrong. It is not a film about celebrating artistry, but also of looking beneath the genius at the more worrying side of those we admire.

Finally, Let’s Get Lost is a film primarily about confrontation in different forms – and part of this film is about individuals coming to terms with their own personal issues, particularly those in which Baker himself is complicit – heartbreak, disappointment and deceit were consistent qualities when one had any form of relationship, whether professional or personal, with the musician. However, Let’s Get Lost also sees Baker himself reflecting on his own life, and looking at his past actions and atoning for them without necessarily feeling the desire to change anything. This is a film that extends far beyond simply being a biographical account of his life and times, and unlike many films that focus on the trials and tribulations of an iconoclastic performer, Weber has made something that is stark and almost grave in its approach, giving the subject attention and the space to tell his own story without redeeming him, with the main takeaway from this film being that Baker, through all his faults, was self-aware enough to know that sometimes we are the biggest reason for our own downfalls.

Let’s Get Lost is not an easy film to watch, but it is certainly enthralling in its own way. Filmed gorgeously in black-and-white, and punctuated by Baker’s music that lends its unique visual style certain atmospheric ease that makes it profoundly fascinating, as well as quite disturbing in some instances. Chet Baker was a complex man and someone who made a number of professional and personal mistakes that cost him more than he earned through his existence as a stalwart of the Golden Era of jazz music. I was not expecting such a tumultuous and heartwrenching portrait – most films of this ilk are a bit kinder to its subject. Do not misunderstand – it is clear that Weber, and everyone else involved in the making of this film, deeply respect Baker, which is precisely why this film needed to be as harsh and direct as it was. Baker was a man who certainly deserved respect for his artistry and warrants admiration for his honesty for his struggles with addiction. However, does he deserve the kindness of a sedate film that glorifies his triumphs and glosses over his shortcomings? Certainly not, and for that reason alone, Let’s Get Lost is a tremendous piece of work – it pays Chet Baker the dues he absolutely deserves, and while it does nothing to tarnish his reputation, the honesty of this film is quite striking, and makes it quite a compelling viewing experience, allowing us to venture into the self-destructive mind of a genius who was just a bit too raw for the society he was born into.