Film Review: Miles Ahead

While the war of political correctness has been raging over the past decade, a far more subtle and no more stifling battle has emerged: that of factual correctness. While pedants explain the scientific inaccuracies of time and space warping mindbenders like Interstellar, and die-hard fans rail against directors altering the created realities of mutants and superheroes, no other genre comes under quite as much scrutiny as the biopic.
But as few interesting lives can be captured during a two hour film, sometimes capturing the essence and feeling of a life can be far more important than cramming in all the details. And if anyone would appreciate a director taking an evocative, impressionistic and freewheeling approach to their life story, then surely it would be Miles Davis.
Don Cheadle directs and stars in Miles Ahead, a fictionalised, theatrical and suitably frenzied exploration of the jazz musician’s mercurial nature. The bulk of Miles Ahead takes place in 1979, when Davis’ creative funk is observed and interrupted by a fictitious Rolling Stone journalist, Dave (Ewan McGregor, slightly grating).
As the two characters muse about art, genius, love, sex and drugs, Cheadle switches moods and eras with confident fluidity and as much mischievous wit as his subject. Davis’ temper, volatility, vanity and ego are played for darkly comic effect, but while Cheadle downplays the details of Davis’ domestic abuse, his potential for danger rings out, crystal clear.
Cheadle’s performance is both playful and electrifying, transcending the plot’s occasional bum notes. Davis’ music embodies the complexity, passion and mastery that Miles Ahead doesn’t quite reach.