NewEnglandFilm.com

When most of us think of Jack Kerouac, we think of life on the road, of the cry of a muted be-bop trumpet drifting through hazy smoke in a basement jazz bar, of crazy stoned nights in Mexican whorehouses. It’s hard to believe that Jack Kerouac actually ever had a home other than a worn-out back seat overlooking the American landscape streaming by, or behind a battered typewriter in his aunt’s Long Island flat.

But Kerouac actually grew up a short drive from Boston, in the textile town of Lowell, Massachusetts. Henri Ferrini’s half-hour film, "Lowell Blues: The Words of Jack Kerouac" shows us Lowell as Kerouac knew it and as potential Kerouacs of the future know it today. In the film, a host of writers and celebrities read snippets from Kerouac’s writings, ranging from reminiscences of his childhood to musings on such topics as literature, religion, and the mighty Merrimack River. Images of Lowell stream past, providing visual accompaniment, and jazz veteran Lee Konitz punctuates each reading with swirling alto-sax eddies of sound.

Kerouac in Dr. Sax, wrote "Memory and Dream are intermixed in this mad universe," and the film seems constructed on this principal– haunting and hallucinatory, it flutters somewhere between waking reality and the unconscious. The effect is for the most part engaging, although a few clips of modern-day inhabitants seem out of place, even gratuitous. In theory, it might be possible to equate the kind of rebellion the Beats were all about to today’s baggy-jeaned toughs sporting earrings, shooting hoops, and flashing peace signs. On film, though, it just feels awkward. And the film lacks propulsion; the quotes don’t seem to build on one another or show any sort of progression. Even dreams, in order to be worth retelling, need a little narrative direction, even if it’s not apparent at first glance. At times in the film, it’s hard not to yearn for a little biographical documentary to get some context.

Still, "Lowell Blues" is a worthwhile addition to the wealth of homages to our nation’s favorite Beat. Often quite enchanting, it works well, at least, as a film-poem of sorts. It explores the way Lowell shaped a young artist and, in turn, how that artist’s sensibility shaped his perception of the town. It certainly will inspire you to pick up your ratty old copy of "On the Road" — or pick one up for the first time — and delve right in.