Film director, producer, writer, recording artist, novelist, author and former NPR host Melvin Van Peebles has died at his residence in Manhattan at age of 89. His family, The Criterion Collection and Janus Films announced his passing.
“In an unparalleled career distinguished by relentless innovation, boundless curiosity and spiritual empathy, Melvin Van Peebles made an indelible mark on the international cultural landscape through his films, novels, plays and music,” the statement read. “His work continues to be essential and is being celebrated at the New York Film Festival this weekend with a 50th anniversary screening of his landmark film Sweet Sweetback’s Baadassss Song: a Criterion Collection box set, Melvin Van Peebles: Essential Films, next week; and a revival of his play Ain’t Supposed to Die a Natural Death, slated for a return to Broadway next year.”
In 1998 I interviewed Renaissance man Melvin Van Peebles, who has often been called “the Godfather of black film.”
I interviewed Van Peebles in the late nineties when he was in Hollywood promoting his most recent album on Capitol Records. He penned all the lyrics and music on Ghetto Gothic, producing the recording with associate producers William “Spaceman” Patterson and Dunn Pearson.
Melvin and I connected at son Mario’s house in Studio City, California, after we had a delightful meal on Ventura Blvd in a Studio City restaurant.
Our dialogue subsequently appeared in my 2004 book Hollywood Shack Job: Rock Music in Film and On Your Screen.
Van Peebles’ 1971 feature film, Sweet, Sweetback’s Baadassss Song, which he wrote, acted in, directed, scored and produced, was shot in the Los Angeles community of Watts, featured a Black stud as its protagonist in the face of white adversity. Some scenes took place in the Crenshaw Village area where my family and I lived in the late 1950s.
Melvin Van Peebles debuted with a bang when his first film, the French language La Permission” (The Story Of A Three-Day Pass) earned the critic’s choice award at the San Francisco Film Festival. He subsequently directed Watermelon Man starring Godfrey Cambridge, and Identity Crisis. Van Peeples used some of his Watermelon Man salary to help finance Sweetback.
When Melvin learned afterwards I shared a birthday with Godfrey Cambridge, and met the actor on the set of The Monkees, he smiled and said, “Hope they let you one day into the cinema picnic.”
Van Peebles appears on screen in the Mel Stuart-directed music documentary Wattstax lensed in Los Angeles during 1972. Years later, Van Peebles directed the video of Houdini’s influential rap song “White Lines.”
More recently, Van Peebles co-produced the mid ‘90s film Panther, which he adapted from his novel on the Black Panther Party. His son Mario, an actor, directed it.
Van Peebles has also composed music for various film soundtracks, as well as two Broadway musicals. (His Ain’t Supposed to Die a Natural Death is often credited for “changing” modern American theater.) In addition, that 1973 cast album was nominated for two Grammy awards when and he got a nod as Producer and Composer.
In 2004 Van Peebles received a Lifetime Achievement Award in Los Angeles at the Pan African Film and Arts Festival.
Q: Ghetto Gothic was your ninth album, but there is a link that extends back to your debut record, Brer’ Soul, which was the basic blueprint for rap.
A: When I came back to the States (from Paris) in ’67 or ’68, I was very surprised especially at all the protests that were going on. But I felt that urban music didn’t really mirror this lifestyle or anything to say great extent. Not only did it not discuss the protests that were going on but what was called ‘black music’ had really been boiled down to such a very narrow sexual formula. It didn’t encompass any of the other aspects of the human experience. However, the form that was available to me-just the normal rhythm and blues, gospel, etc.-and at that time didn’t really allow for the words the way I wanted to use them. So, I devised my own form, and that form later became known or evolved into rap.
Now, I’m from the south side of Chicago. It’s very interesting that my singing was later called ‘spoken word, early on because to me, it sounded like a lot of guys I knew, like Blind Lemon Jefferson. My influences go way back to the older forms of black musician, like Jefferson and the field hollers. I was also influenced by the spoken word styles from Germany that I encountered when I lived in France. Too many black artists are encouraged not to eat from the entire cornucopia of creative and technical options. But I’m black, so what I do is always black. Once you don’t worry about that, you’re free to manifest your artistry however you see it.
Back then, ’67, ’68, what happened was black singers had been relegated to a certain formula type, and when you heard a different type voice, it sounded so foreign. But you could still hear this voice if you went deep down into the South. So, I did those early albums and they became benchmarks. Then you had after came the Last Poets, Gil Scott-Heron
It’s interesting to see what I seem to have done in cinema. What I did cinematically, I did the same thing on Broadway. I changed the face of theater.
But also musically the disco formula didn’t really allow for the words the way I wanted to use them. So I devised my own form, which later evolved into rap. What I did was construct a platform for the vignettes. I made a conscious decision to downplay the music and accentuate the voice. That’s what happened. I did the music for Sweetback, my Broadway musicals.
Q: You adapted the screenplay for Panther from your novel on the Black Panther Party. Talk to me about this film.
A: I had always been interested in the Panthers. I used to do benefit concerts for them. In fact, on my first album, for A&M Records (Brer’ Soul), before anybody else, I had an author’s comment, “Free Huey.” Huey (Newton) was still in jail. I was the first one who came out and stood up for him. And this was before the African-American bourgeoise (laughs).
So, I’ve been working on this for 15 years. Let me tell you the funny part of the story. I showed the next to last draft to my son, Mario. He said, “It would make a great movie!” But I thought they’d never let us get away with this. Mario said, “I’ll stand with you.” And Mario did. So, Mario, I and another person put the movie together.
Q: Did you have to pitch it and the whole bit to the studios?
A: Oh, yeah, the whole deal. And I had to revise the script because they wanted to make some politically unacceptable changes. You know the whole shmear. But what had happened was all the books about the Panthers that I’d read over the years were usually bullshit. But the specific books, written by the Panthers themselves, were usually extremely interesting. And always true. But those were just trees, and I wanted to deal with the forest. So, I worked out a format that made it possible to see the forest. And that’s our movie!
Q: You graduated from Ohio Wesleyan with a degree in history. Then a stint as a navigator/bombardier in the Strategic Air Command, and later invited to France by the Cinematheque because of the several distinguished film shorts you did in San Francisco.
Then your first feature, the French language La Permission, a love story about an American soldier and a French girl, took first prize at the San Francisco Film Festival. You had come back to the states as a French delegate, but they didn’t know you were American-let alone black-and that created a furor because there were no black directors in the United States.
A: What happened was I discovered there was a French law that said a foreign writer could have a temporary director’s card to do his own work if he could raise the money. I’d taught myself French and published five novels in France. But it took me nine years to put it all together. I asked for a temporary (director’s) card, and they gave it to me. So, I made the film. Then I met the curator of the San Francisco Festival, who told me I was going to be one of the people invited.
So, I get off the plane in San Francisco, walk around the airport, and people have welcome signs. This little woman was standing there with blue hair. “Melvin Van Peebles? Melvin Van Peebles?”
In San Francisco, what they did was farm you out to one of these society people who’d take you around. So, I said, “Hey, lady.” And she kept saying “Melvin Van Peebles! Melvin Van Peebles?’” So I had to raise my voice! “Hey lady, I’m Melvin Van Peebles!” She freaked. It’s 1967. “You’re Melvin Van Peebles?” “Yes. “Parlez vous francais?” We get in the car-a long limo. We’re driving out of the airport, and I see a brother with a purple hat. “Hey, man, stop. Want a ride? Get in brother.” I figured this wasn’t going to last long, so fuck it.
So about now, the lady really starts freakin’. It was great. So we get in town, drop this guy off, come up California Street, and the woman says the delegation office is at the Fairmount Hotel, but I wouldn’t be staying there. She said, “You’re at the Mark Hopkins.”
Well, they didn’t allow niggers in the Mark Hopkins when I left (the states), so I get to the Mark Hopkins in the long limo. This Irish-lookin’ doorman sees me dressed in blue jeans, ya know, Levi jacket. And you could see the guy thinking, “Oh, no…There goes the neighborhood.”
The look on his face! So I get in, and they got me the top floor penthouse suite! Food, not just fruit. So I eat all this fuckin’ food and go to sleep, because I just know they’re gonna throw me out when I come down. Or find some excuse. I slept wonderfully, packed all my stuff, got it ready.
Then I come downstairs and go to the Fairmount. Walk in the Fairmount, the film’s delegate’s office is in the lobby. I walk in, and everybody is really friendly, “Hi. Hello. How are you?” So I said to myself, “This is great.” Then someone says, “Aren’t you here to fix the lights?” I swear to God! By this time, I got my game together. “I’m the French director.” (laughs).
Q: And you took first prize at the festival!
A: I won the Critic’s Award. Watched it play in an auditorium. Applause, not a dry eye in the crowd. The New York Times writes, ‘the shame of America is that the only Black American filmmaker needs the French to direct it because….’ Then, in America, what happened was, the chase for the Great Black Hope was finally on!
Q: What kind of work were you offered after that?
A: If I had taken any of those offers, they would have had the one black threat under wraps. So I didn’t have a job. But I wouldn’t take it. It then turned into a political embarrassment; they had to find black directors. So they discovered two guys who were older than I was, who had been around and boasted many more credits, guys like Gordon Parks and Ossie Davis. Gordon Parks got to make The Learning Tree.
Q: But when Sweetback was released, didn’t it generate work for you?
A: I was never offered a job as a director. Nobody asked me for shit. The movie is great. But what I expected with Sweetback came to pass. I said, ‘Look, once these guys see that my shit is bad, I’m in trouble!’ They prefer to have someone they can control.
Q: You are cited by several influential directors as an inspiration.
A: What has happened is an understanding of the globalness of just what I’ve done. You know, we’re just talkin’ but, I changed the face and I did it all by my fuckin’ self…You understand?
I started my own company for these things. The Sweetback book went into four printings long ago. For example, Ain’t Supposed To Die A Natural Death was the Sweetback of theater, but it has never been done as a revival. Why? Because I own it. And no one has ever come to me because of the provinciality of racism. Sweetback has never been distributed in foreign territories.
See, one of the downsides to what I do is that I don’t work as an artist within a major infrastructure. Let me backtrack and tell you the most wonderful thing about me. The most wonderful thing about me is that I never expect justice.
I had to hire a white guy to act as a front to sell Sweetback just to get it distributed in towns to get it seen by black people! To this day, I walk into a studio, and it’s “Where’s your package?” “I’m not a package. I’m here to see the president (of the studio)!” But it’s just a knee-jerk reaction. And my work, somehow, is still offensive in many ways to a whole group of people.
Q: When Sweetback first came out in the very early ‘70s, we had to search for it at drive-ins and dollar theaters. I know it was a bitch and a struggle to even get it made in a time frame of anti-war protests and racial tensions. I even heard you raised your own money and hawked your motorcycle to make it happen.
A: The problem is the decision-makers who say, if you don’t go through our structure, they won’t give you a fair shake. For example, when Sweetback first came out, everybody said, “Flawed.” When Rodney King happened, I said it 25 years ago. What are you talkin’ about? If I can’t find it, then I cook it myself. If I’d seen Sweetback on screen, I wouldn’t have made it. I didn’t, so I went out and made it myself.
Q: A lot of younger cats are working in the film industry because of your groundbreaking efforts.
A: I’ve heard, ‘You’ll never work in this town again.’ But I’m ahead of the game. When I started, I didn’t have a coat. I got a coat. For these kids to get an opportunity to be all that they can be is the important thing. I didn’t give for them to be my clones. They’re not me. Why should they be? You know what I mean? I’m me and he’s him. What’s the big deal?
(Harvey Kubernik is the author of 20 books, including Canyon Of Dreams: The Magic And The Music Of Laurel Canyon and Turn Up The Radio! Rock, Pop, and Roll In Los Angeles 1956-1972. Sterling/Barnes and Noble in 2018 published Harvey and Kenneth Kubernik’s The Story Of The Band: From Big Pink To The Last Waltz. For November 2021 the duo has written Jimi Hendrix: Voodoo Child for the publisher.
In 2015 Palazzo Editions published Harvey’s Leonard Cohen: Everybody Knows, and Neil Young, Heart of Gold published in 2016. Otherworld Cottage Industries in 2020 published Harvey’s book, Docs That Rock, Music That Matters.
Kubernik’s writings are housed in book anthologies, most notably The Rolling Stone Book Of The Beats and Drinking With Bukowski.
Harvey has written liner note booklets to the CD re-releases of Carole King’s Tapestry, Allen Ginsberg’s Kaddish, Elvis Presley The ’68 Comeback Special and the Ramones’ End of the Century.
During 2020 Harvey Kubernik served as a Consultant on the 2-part documentary television series Laurel Canyon: A Place in Time directed by Alison Ellwood).
