It’s not absolutely necessary to be familiar with Neil Young’s history to enjoy Harvest Time, but it helps. This two-hour-plus documentary, devoted to the creation of his breakthrough album of 1972, is unfortunately so short on explanatory material, it requires the same kind of close attention as Peter Jackson’s The Beatles Get Back to fully comprehend what happens over the course of its feature-length duration.,
As the sequence of events behind the creation of Neil’s Harvest album unfolds in generally chronological order, virtually none of the content is framed in such a way to clarify what’s happening. Granted, there are subtitles identifying most of those individuals who appear in the movie, like pianist/arranger Jack Nitzschke, a collaborator of Young’s since the latter’s Buffalo Springfield days, and recording engineer/producer Glyn Johns, of Beatles, The Who, and Eagles studio fame.
But there is no introductory content to explain how the seeds of Young’s breakthrough recording were sown when the Canadian was in Nashville to appear on Johnny Cash’s TV program. Neil himself does share those pertinent details in a radio interview near the end of Harvest Time, but at that point, the activity that arose from the serendipitous event has already played out: the assembly of the band dubbed ‘The Stray Gators,’ the recording in the barn at Young’s Broken Arrow Ranch plus further sessions in London and New York, then back to Music City.
Nevertheless, there’s plenty of footage in Harvest Time that’s engrossing on its own terms. For example, the panoramic shots of the California ranch are borderline breathtaking from each and every angle: all the various mentions of the locale over the years barely hinted it was such a vast estate. Meanwhile, the image of Neil lying in an open field, listening to music he just recorded, is altogether delightful: more barn anyone? Taken together, such shots constitute a living reaffirmation of the relish Young is taking in his new home and the independence its purchase symbolized for him at the time (and no doubt still does).
Work in England with the London Symphony Orchestra is the most captivating passage in the film. Dialogue between Young and his accompanists, particularly conductor David Meecham, is quite clear-cut as they exert effort to master the arrangement and performance of “A Man Needs A Maid,” and then “There’s A World.” The progress is self-evident there too, whereas with Neil and the quintet back on the West Coast, multiple takes on “Words” seem as aimless as they are turgid.
Aficionados of Young, as well as music lovers so inclined, may nevertheless be fascinated to watch the musicians at such moments. Likewise, the footage depicts Young laboring on vocals in the studio with Crosby, Stills, and Nash (in various combinations). But with the only transitions between segments of Harvest Time limited to what appears to be clumsy and/or random edits and splices of the celluloid itself, no real drama ensues over the duration of the film.
Intervals in which Young’s interview by the camera crew are thus only mildly interesting. He’s oddly guarded in his responses most of the time, though his declaration of contentment near the movie’s end is touching. Otherwise, Neil’s nonchalant, self-effacing description of himself as a ‘rich hippie’ speaks–or at least suggests– volumes about the direction(s) he would pursue in the wake of his mainstream success.
Anyone who’s seen other cinematic efforts of Young’s, such as Journey Through The Past or Human Highway, may not be all that surprised at what seems to be a deliberately rough execution of a fairly simple narrative. And, as has so often been the case with this idiosyncratic artist over the course of his career, he has refused to prettify the results of his concept. As a result, for the casual viewer of Harvest Time, the effect may be somewhat less than compelling (or edifying), either in a single sitting or in repeated ones.
Not surprisingly, though, the limited theatrical screenings of the movie were scheduled to coincide with the release of the 50th Anniversary Edition of Harvest. That box set actually includes this film in its entirety (minus the intro shown only in movie houses), so in that context, Harvest Time makes much more sense, at least in marketing terms (in comparison to other more confounding moves Young has made in recent years with his archive releases).
Still, while it will still take more than just a modicum of effort to grasp the logic behind the film or rationale for the public offerings, how propitious is it for attendees to subsequently be able to own the aforementioned box set and, by dint of the multi-media therein, piece together what Neil Young leaves partially perplexing in Harvest Time.
