The Velvet Underground (2021) 4/5 Stars

Directed by Todd Haynes

Produced by Todd Haynes, Christine Vachon, Julie Goldman, Carolyn Hepburn, Christopher Clements, David Blackman

Courtesy of Apple TV+

When Haynes introduced The Velvet Underground to a crowd at the 2021 New York Film Festival, he expressed his gratitude for being able to interview the surviving members of The Velvet Underground, but also explained his disappointment in not being able to speak to the band’s most enduring member: Lou Reed. And so right before the lights dimmed, Haynes ended his introduction by saying “Tonight’s for Lou.” Throughout his hypnotically comprehensive film, his admiration for the members, and Lou in particular, is apparent. Haynes deftly digs into the relationships between the band’s key players and frames his many interviews almost as if they were a continuation of the banter between members shown in archival footage.

Despite titling the film after the band, Haynes cleverly opts to not focus only on the band. The film chooses to place more of an emphasis contextually on a time and place that was essential to the band’s formation: the underground art scene in 1960s New York City. The city served as ground zero for what Haynes described as “a contagion of questioning art and society.” In this way, Haynes’s loving portrait of one of music’s most influential bands also serves as a thoughtful ode to an incubational haven for Avant-garde art in music, film, and on a canvas. Each art form is represented by recognizable figures like Andy Warhol or Jonas Mekas who bring the 60-year-old vision of The Big Apple to life.

Structurally, the film plays with a sort of getting-the-band-back-together flow, as split-screen introduces each band member on one side–starting with the most famous like Lou Reed and John Cale and eventually making its way to staple members like Sterling Morrison and Maureen “Moe” Tucker–and then presents a series of interviews on the other. Haynes makes another intriguing choice in the interviews by deliberately only choosing subjects who were present and interacting with the band at the time. The result is not only an unparalleled feeling of authenticity, but an intoxicating aroma of nostalgia that permeates through the film’s runtime. 

For a band that made themselves known through their interrogation of cultural complacency. Haynes manages to tap into a vulnerability that echoes in many of The Velvet Underground’s songs. The ‘60s were an age of rock music that vacillated between the spry, youthful energy of the Beatles and the tougher impulsiveness of the Rolling Stones, and The Velvet Underground was one of the first bands to experiment somewhere in between with themes of human frailty and vulnerability. And through Haynes's self-imposed limiting of interviewees to primary sources, that energy is translated into his film.

Although there’s plenty Haynes is playing around with visually, he also understands that music, of course, is an aural experience -- a transporting artform that can be enjoyed from behind closed eyelids. There are long stretches of the film where the interviewees are not visible when they speak. The film places the disembodied voices over archival footage of the band's rehearsals or the locations being discussed. The resulting sensation aids in the feeling of transportation to a different era, and Haynes’s guiding hand the entire way ensures that the viewer is never lost.

Importantly, while a viewer may never feel “lost” it’s worth noting that there is a bit of a learning curve to the material. Speaking as someone who had some prior knowledge about the band and its members, I still felt I was a few paces behind the film at points. Clocking in at just under two hours, the film earns its length, but the inundation of voiceover and music can make every next minute feel more overwhelming than the last. It’s clear that Haynes had enough material for another easy two hours if he wanted, so there’s a part of me that applauds his ability to maintain discipline.

As for the superfans of the band, The Velvet Underground will likely be a euphoric experience. Haynes’s combination of nostalgia and reverence is already hard to resist for this casual fan of the band, so someone who has devoted plenty more years to them will definitely be reeling from excitement. When John Cale begins reminiscing about his and Lou Reed’s rapport or the soft strums of “Pale Blue Eyes” begin in the background, the documentary is simply irresistible.

Over the course of his 30-plus-year career as a filmmaker, it has seemed like Todd Haynes was always destined to make a music documentary. Having made narrative (albeit highly unconventional) films related to music legends like Bob Dylan, David Bowie, and even Karen Carpenter, when Todd Haynes announced he would tackle a documentary about The Velvet Underground, it seemed like a perfect match. And watching the actual film only confirms this suspicion. Haynes’s distinct energy recognizable from such films as Safe (1998) flawlessly complements the trail-blazing aura The Velvet Underground imbued into all their work in the 1960s.