Usually when I see previews for documentaries that focus on musicians in a particular genre and era, especially the sixties, I think, “Hard pass,” because in spite of being biracial, some topics are too white even for me. I saw the preview for David Crosby: Remember My Name in theaters and knew that I had to see it, but decided that I would not pay to see it in theaters because Crosby did not need my money. I am unfamiliar with the man and the music (sure I recognized some of the songs, but would not associate them with him), but damn, he sounded like an interesting person. A little over a year ago, I watched it with my mom as soon as it was available on DVD through Netflix. If you want to watch it now, it is probably your most affordable method unless your library is still working during the pandemic or you already have access to Starz otherwise it is only available for purchase streaming for $12.99, which I paid to refresh my memory and not begrudgingly. I liked the documentary that much.
David Crosby: Remember My Name works because the titular musician is a natural raconteur. You do not have to know about him or his music to get drawn into this autobiographical documentary. For a man who confesses to wasting a lot of time on drugs, he has an amazing ability to recollect details from his life, interior and exterior. He is shockingly relatable—not wanting to leave home to go to work, has a mortgage, prefers spending time with his family, willing to face his morality. He is refreshingly self-aware and critical about himself as he recounts his life story. Normally I would approach a film about a person who had so many opportunities and second chances with folded arms and side eye like the prodigal son’s resentful brother, but his awareness of his privilege, his self-depreciation and empathy for others meant that I would happily have brunch with Crosby, but to be fair, I probably would not recognize him unless he introduced himself.
David Crosby: Remember My Name is an economical ninety-five minutes, but the DVD special features have a whole lot more and would require an additional night to watch unless you like to start watching movies early in the day. It is a participatory documentary in which the filmmaker is a part of the documentary. First time director A. J. Eaton and producer Cameron Crowe conduct the riveting interviews with Crosby, family and his former friends and coworkers. The film starts at his home with an establishing interview to set where Crosby is in his life during the production of this documentary then as he leaves to work whether it is going on tour or a drive down memory lane, the film goes on a chronological journey of his life starting with his reflections on his relationship with his parents.
David Crosby: Remember My Name uses footage from the interviews, archival footage from concerts and venues, montages of still black and white and color photographs, home movies and even some animation to recreate personal moments, which was cool and unexpected, not pretentious and annoying. His story acts as a window into American life throughout different eras—the good, the bad and the ugly. He also has a Tony Curtis Hollywood Babylon vibe except he usually hurls himself under the bus when he dishes all the gossip about the famous people around him.
David Crosby: Remember My Name probably has more value and insight if you are into the music: The Byrds, Crosby, Stills and Nash. He anecdotally recounts how successful groups casually come together and fall apart. You get insight into how goofing around becomes iconic album covers. He also shows a shocking lack of vanity by admitting that one of his later performances was “fucking terrible.” The film shows a clip, and it was dreadful.
Even though I understand that he can be dismissed as a hippie, I actually enjoyed Crosby’s political digressions in the archival footage and interviews. In contrast to City of Gold, he talks about race fairly early in the documentary, and it sounds like his mom in the 1950s had more of an understanding of Strange Fruit than Annie Lennox, whom I adore, now. He talks about specific incidents of famous gun violence, corporate greed and its effect on the environment, which had a practical effect on his life and the music, specifically Laurel Canyon in a search for a place above the smog. I have no idea if his words ever translated into action, but considering that he admits the only way that he contributes to society is music, I guess that I will never know. The film only shows one song on the Kent State shooting.
David Crosby: Remember My Name addresses his drug use and addiction then getting clean. He definitely has a smidge of survivor’s guilt because so many of his friends did not survive, and he admits to introducing many people to drugs. Becoming clean is not about will power, but involves a lot of arbitrary chance and is unpredictable. Crosby is under no delusion that he deserves to still be alive. There is one sequence devoted to when he finally hit rock bottom and became clean. It could have been a modest action film!
If I had to criticize David Crosby: Remember My Name, I would wag my finger gently at the interviewers for not pushing in certain directions when Crosby cracked open the door on a certain topic. His daughter is not talking to him. Why? Why did someone else raise his son? What happened to the cat in the car accident? The inherent problem for any filmmaker with exclusive access to a famous subject is a tightrope act of pushing enough to get a good film, but not so much that you lose your film. It usually ruins a film if the subject has too much control over the film, but Crosby is fairly generous and does not seem too interested in controlling the narrative. It is possible that these questions did not interest the filmmakers or maybe Crosby’s general frankness gave him a pass if those questions were raised. Crosby said that most of the women in his life forgave him, but the men have not. It was a little short on detail other than he gets mad and is an asshole.
David Crosby: Remember My Name is a solid documentary in the reflective way in which it tackles regret, waste and loss. Maybe he was promoting his next album. Maybe he was finding a way to apologize to people that he could not reach because they were no longer talking to him. Maybe he was making a memorial for himself and preparing for death by looking back on his life. Either way I enjoyed it even though nothing about it should have appealed to me. We are complete opposites. I would highly recommend it if this era or this kind of person usually leaves you cold.
