Glenn Gould is the subject of a new documentary not because he was one of the greatest contemporary pianists. Or because his style and approach offered innovative and sometimes controversial interpretations of the pieces he played. Or because his career as a concert pianist abruptly ended and he began working as a broadcaster and a producer, pioneering new approaches to audio recordings in the 1960s and 1970s. And Gould’s personal life was seemingly as regular as that of any other lifelong bachelor. The new film, Genius Within: The Inner Life of Glenn Gould, is instead primarily concerned with that ineffable quality — the mysterious presence of genius — that make the characters of prodigies and masters of art and craft so intriguing.
Genius is a difficult thing to define or lay out in concrete terms, and so the new documentary gets at this quality not by spending too much time dwelling on an abstract notion of genius, but by exploring the various ways it manifested itself or affected Gould’s life. The result is a portrait that is not striking, sensational, or extraordinarily new. It’s just a look at a life thoroughly and singularly ruled by a gift for an art.
As is often the case with Gould, genius is often associated with the musician’s eccentricities. As he became a sensation as a concert pianist in the 1950s, Gould became known for always wearing gloves on his hands when not playing and a long coat even in warm weather. He was a charismatic performer, carrying the same beaten-up chair to all his performances that put the keyboard at chest level, his chin often nearly resting on the keys as he played. He was funny, playful, eccentric, and played the role of the bohemian artist, a style that fit with the wider Zeitgeist of the 1950s and 60s, but which still surprised and titillated the traditionally conservative classical music world.
As a musician, we are led to see a two-week period in 1957 as Gould’s artistic highpoint. Touring Russia with a program of all Bach, the Soviet audiences were initially skeptical of the less-favored composer. But during a spectacular concert in Moscow, audience members rushed to the lobby phones during intermission, calling friends and pleading with them to come and see the Canadian master. By the end of the concert, the hall was packed, and Gould played sold-out shows throughout his Russian tour, adding concerts to satisfy demand.
It is a period that, in correspondence and interviews, Gould seems to have found tremendously edifying. We think of it later on in the film when a musician being interviewed about Gould speaks to the way audiences push musicians to perform at their peak, feeding off the energy of the crowd. But this is one of Gould’s contradictions. At a relatively young age, in his early 30s, the pianist gave up giving concerts, instead devoting himself to recording, becoming an advocate and defender of the medium of recorded music as a more perfect form of the musical art than performance. In his later life, lived in near isolation, he became increasingly controlling and manic, his compulsive need to script both recorded performances and his own public image began to dominate his character and affect the few relationships the consummate loner had. As we almost expect with the character of the erratic genius, the gift began to tear the man apart.
What Genius Within: The Inner Life of Glenn Gould never seems to do, however, is crack into just what makes this masterful musician tick. Perhaps it is because beneath the façade and talent, Gould is remarkably normal. Perhaps it is the character of genius that leaves us forever wondering about its mysterious origins and nature. But as a film, the documentary never quite succeeds in penetrating past the mystifying presence that was part a manifestation and part a construction of Gould’s peculiar personality. Perhaps that’s how Gould wanted it. He left us the beauty of his recorded music, while the secrets of his private heart went with him to the grave.
