Thunder Soul

"Thunder Soul," a documentary about the 2008 reunion of the 1970s Kashmere Stage Band -- born of a Houston high school's music department and fated for renown -- combines three seemingly self-evident truths to make for a documentary that's full of both funk and feeling. The first self-evident truth is that a single educator can make a difference in thousands of lives. The second is that playing music with friends, and for friends, is exhilarating and joyful. The third is that high school reunions, no matter what the era or the cause, are hilarious, and ridiculous, in a very human way. Director Mark Landsman makes no pretense of objectivity -- he's clearly a fan, and cajoled the band alumni to move their reunion show to better fit the filming -- and at the same time he films events with a loose and gentle hand, keeping the rhythm but not being afraid to riff a solo when the mood is right.

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The biggest reason for the reunion is to honor the man who literally made it all possible, Conrad O. "Prof" Johnson, the band's leader and music director, who as the film begins is 92. The Prof was good enough to play on the road, but he liked Houston, and his wife, and his students. Now, he moves slowly, but he speaks with wisdom: "You have so much fun and life being a musician. When I'm teaching young people, I have the feeling that I'm giving them something they can lean on all the rest of their lives." And if you fret that The Prof was some kind of ivory-tower elitist, that's dispelled fairly soon as we discover how the Kashmere band -- one of many high school stage bands competitively playing big band-styled lite-jazz numbers nationwide -- was turned into a hard-rolling, fine-tuned funk machine driven by technical skill and superbly choreographed moves.

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I could certainly quibble with one or two moments in "Thunder Soul" -- the rundown of who plays what, as well as what they looked like in their youth, what they look like now, and what their names are -- comes right before the closing credits, when it could have dispelled a certain amount of confusion if placed at the film's beginning. At the same time, the film definitely doesn't outstay its welcome, even if maybe another song from the reunion show would have been a welcome addition to see what, exactly, the alumni were working to pull off all these years later.

You can sense the passage of time in "Thunder Soul" -- and not just as band members are captured in old photos and footage that's then contrasted with their older, thicker, adult lives. (Timothy Thompson, a cornerstone of the sax section, is now Rev. Timothy Thompson, for but one example.) The band played a 1972 competition in Alabama, a Southern state under segregationist Gov. George Wallace, and broke down barriers even as they kicked out the jams. You could argue that the history of popular music in America is an intrinsic part of the history of race relations in America, and the members of the Kashmere Stage Band have made their way through both with dignity and no small amount of style.

Landsman is aided by not only the recording and film artists who captured the band's performances, but also in no small part by the turns of events that transpire in the present day -- and by the fact that the band ultimately puts on one hell of a show. There are computer-aided animations crafted from old photos and headlines, shots from old yearbooks turned into snappy visuals. "Thunder Soul" has real filmmaking, real history and real pleasure in it, in no small part thanks to the three seemingly self-evident truths it blends, but also because the film is like one of the Kashmere band's ace musical numbers, one where the joy and friendship of the band gives the film its bright brassy swing even as the passage of time, unrelenting and yet not unkind, gives the film its backbeat.

James Rocchi's writings on film have appeared at Cinematical.com, Netflix.com, AMCtv.com, IFC.com, SFGate.com and in Mother Jones magazine. He was also the on-air film critic for San Francisco's CBS-5 from 2006 to 2008. He now lives in Los Angeles, where every ending is a twist ending.

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