" everybody has a story about chet baker . he was bad , trouble , and beautiful . " let's get lost , bruce weber's visually thematic biography of '50s jazz musician chet baker , might well be the ultimate story , an evocatively photographed , seamlessly edited collage of sights and sounds . unfortunately , many people are going to pass up the film for two reasons : one , it's a documentary -- and two , it's in black and white . but those two elements alone combine to make let's get lost more compelling than most of this summer's run-of-the-mill movie fodder . the life and times of this jazz trumpeter and vocalist , whose troubled career culminated in a fall to his death from an amsterdam hotel window in may of 1988 , is chronicled through a variety of cinematic techniques . candid interviews with an ensemble of friends , relatives , and fellow musicians , stills , archive footage of baker himself , in concert and out , moody , mesmerizing , iconoclastic . baker's whisper-like vocals permeate the background like cigarette smoke , ever present , softly punctuating the blank spaces . it's a near perfect blend of styles , yet it is never showy or pushy . in his 20s , baker was the james dean of the jazz world , his boyish good looks as much a part of his image as his hypnotic trumpet playing and soulful , lyrical style . working initially with the likes of charlie parker and gerry mulligan , baker quickly branched out on his own . soon his angular face was gracing record jackets everywhere . he even appeared in a number of movie bit parts , such as 1955's hell's horizon ( billed as " chet baker and his trumpet " ) , as well as a number of disposable , italian teen-flicks . almost forty years later , the change is dramatic . baker's once adonis-like looks are wizened -- wrinkled creases of skin abound ; aged , hollowed out eyes ; bloodless cheeks ; a leather-faced , lipless junkie . baker knew more than anyone that you gotta pay the price if you wanna play the blues . baker's midas touch on stage became leprous in his private life . a compulsive womanizer , he left a legacy of cast-off wives and embittered offspring in his wake . there is a lot of hate in this movie ; few people have much respect for this burned out , unlikable shell of a man . even his mother , when asked if chet was a good son , cannot answer in the affirmative . what's so compelling about the film is that , as unappealing as baker is , his music is anything but . the only time that we feel he's being totally honest with us is when he's performing . then , and only then , do we feel the man's sincerity , his quietly hushed and sexy vocal style totally absorbing the viewer . the allure of his stage persona compared to the shambles of his personal life is staggering . in one scene , baker recalls the names of other jazz greats who have succumbed to the lure of drugs . the list seems endless . but this is not an anti-drug movie . it's a film about contrasts , about the profound affect one man had on the lives of others . director weber has gotten to the crux of the issue so adeptly that at times it's hard to believe that a lot of this film was shot before baker's death . at cannes , nearing the film's end , baker comments to weber that this is the first time he has ever faced such a rowdy audience . " at those other places you could hear a pin drop , " he observes . so when he calls for silence before performing his final , haunting number , " almost blue , " you probably could hear a pin drop . that silence , and the performance which follows , is a fitting elegy to a genius who lived hard yet made it all look so easy . <hr>| directed by : bruce weber david n . butterworth - university of pa | | rating ( l . maltin ) : * * * 1/2 internet : <a href= " mailto : butterworth@a1 . mscf . upenn . edu " >butterworth@a1 . mscf . upenn . edu</a> |<hr> 
