Fanfare Ciocarlia are masters of the drive-by serenade
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The Romany people (better known as Gypsies) have always been on the fringe of society. Their reputation — bolstered by popular culture and particularly by Hollywood’s love of the easy stereotype — conjures images of fortune tellers and pickpockets, con men eager to steal a soul, or worse, your hard-earned cash. It’s a perception that’s burdened a vibrant and passionate culture and one that Gypsy Caravan tries its damnedest to dispel.
Directed by Jasmine Dellal, Gypsy Caravan follows a concert tour of the same name as it makes its way across North America. The tour features artists from a variety of countries, each with their own language and culture, but all sharing roots in the Gypsy tradition. The variety of music on display is surprising. Who knew that Indian folk music and flamenco shared a common heritage? The commonalities, however, are even more remarkable. All of Caravan’s music shares a powerful, emotive quality, as if the collective joy and anguish of the cultures were embedded in every song.
Unfortunately, Caravan doesn’t spend nearly enough time letting the individual performances resonate. Instead, Dellal punctuates (and often interrupts) the songs to speak with the musicians both on the road and in their homes. Not that this is necessarily a bad thing — it seems that every musician on the Gypsy Caravan tour has experienced some form of tragedy in their life, and any one group would have made a fine subject for a documentary. There’s Esma Redzepova, known as the Queen of the Gypsies, who raised 47 adopted children with her late husband and whose voice seems to be designed to bring an audience to tears. The aforementioned flamenco group features a singer whose voice is almost as cracked as Tom Waits’s — when she sings about her husband and son’s drug addictions, it resonates with the earth itself. Then there’s Nicolai Neaucescu, who plays violin for Romanian group Taraf de Haidouks. Neaucescu says very little in the film, but somehow comes across as its real heart and soul, emanating mischievousness even when he’s just idly standing around.
The interviews are quite engrossing, and the insight they provide certainly enhances the film’s performances, but those performances are so strong that it’s impossible not to wish Dellal had left more in. At a time when music influenced by Gypsy culture is becoming more popular than ever (see DeVotchKa’s soundtrack for Little Miss Sunshine or Gogol Bordello’s work on Wristcutters: A Love Story if you have any doubts), a film that documents authentic Romany performers working at the peak of their abilities couldn’t be more timely. Gypsy Caravan provides a glimpse of exactly that, and it’s a tantalizing one, but it still feels like a bit of a tease.
