THE STORY – Geddy Lee and Alex Lifeson team up with four revered drummers — Stewart Copeland, Danny Carey, Chad Smith, and Gavin Harrison — for an exhilarating and poignant tribute to late Rush legend Neil Peart.
THE CAST – Geddy Lee, Alex Lifeson, Stewart Copeland, Chad Smith, Danny Carey & Gavin Harrison
THE TEAM – Scot McFadyen and Sam Dunn (Directors/Writers) & Mike Munn and John Semley (Writers)
THE RUNNING TIME – 106 Minutes
There have been plenty of rock God docs highlighting specific talents, but few are as effective or engaging as Scoc McFadyen and Sam Dunn’s sympathetic yet sophisticated look at one of the legends of the drum kit, “Neil Peart: No One’s Disciple.” For generations, Neil Peart has been one of the prime progenitors of the mass air drum, second likely only to Phil Collins’ “In The Air Tonight” in eliciting waves of individuals to thump their hands on the steering wheel or in the stands of a concert arena. I dare you to listen to the finale of the instrumental break in “Tom Sawyer” and not feel your shoulders rise, your hands raise to the air, and to find yourself thumping away in a semi-circular motion, miming the musical mayhem that helped trademark Peart’s instrumental prowess. Yet the gymnastical exuberance of some of these fills – played as part of his long-running tenure with Canadian prog-rock icons Rush – may for some overshadow his other accomplishments, including literate lyrical contributions, deeply musical moments, as well as his truly deep fascination with learning his instrument well into his established career.
Peart died in 2020, weeks prior to the global pandemic forced the world to mostly shut inside. This denied his bandmates, bassist Geddy Lee and guitarist Alex Lifeson, the chance to celebrate their bandmate of nearly four decades. In collaboration with McFadyen and Dunn, who over the years have essentially established themselves as the principal cinematic chroniclers of Rush (from 2010’s “Beyond the Lighted Stage” on through numerous other projects), the decision was made to form a kind of summit of drummers, iconic artists in their own right who would sit in on the throne and take a crack at some of Peart’s most prominent performances.
While there are world class players that show up, the goal wasn’t to simply provide a murderers row of some of the best in order to show up to show off. Each of the participants had a close friendship with Peart, and the film’s gift is how it uses these musical performances not simply as a way to recognize their brilliance, but to essentially open up a line of discourse, a storytelling mode whereby via the unique perspective of musicians playing with musicians, and within the intimate space of a rehearsal studio, actual and unfiltered stories about Peart and his proclivities could be shared in revealing ways.
Several of the drummers are obvious contenders, including Red Hot Chilli Pepper’s Chad Smith, a man whose own drumming owes more than its share to Rush’s sound. Gregarious and playful (his regular appearance with doppelganger Will Farrell has illustrated his comedic charisma), Smith tackles the tunes with aplomb while also sharing his own insights about his close friend Peart. Danny Carvey from Tool is given some particularly mathematically dense challenges, but he too brings out not only some of the more bombastic elements of the tunes but equally the more subtle timing and rhythmic elements to the fore. Gavin Harrison, the drummer behind bands such as Porcupine Tree and one of the King Crimson iterations, approaches the gig with the expected level of preparation, his lead sheet filled with a flurry of notes in what Zappa famously referred to as a “black page.”
Then there’s Stewart Copeland, the only drummer that’s perhaps more globally famous and revered than Peart himself. A very different drummer stylistically and personality-wise, his contributions are perhaps the most rewarding, as with the contrast there’s a genuine sense of Peart’s ability to continue to push at his own talents throughout his career. Stewart’s playing with Geddy and Alex is revelatory, and their take on “New World Man” (itself highly influenced by the music of The Police, a band that got started as an opening act for Rush) illustrates the elasticity of the players, as well as the deep musicianship that was sometimes overshadowed by the more busy, crowd pleasing exuberances.
Other friends of Peart share welcome stories, but the film is far short of being merely a hagiographic celebration. Peart was mercurial in many ways, a loner who would travel away from the other members of the band, and one that was often churlish or downright rude to fans who wanted nothing but a meager autograph or interaction. This “price of fame” was one that he didn’t often wish to pay, and clearly Peart felt more comfortable with colleagues that he respected than fans fawning over him. It’s the complexities of the man that mirror his own carefully constructed lyrical and musical contributions, the result being both contradictory and revealing. Peart suffered more than his share of personal tragedy, and his private eloquence in front of those with whom he felt comfortable is shared here in ways that feel genuine, even if the flaws are fully articulated to illustrate his full dimensionality as a human.
“Neil Peart: No One’s Disciple” goes beyond being merely a celebration of the man and his music, and gets deeper into the heart of being a professional performer in general, with the various push and pulls of fame, the nature of collaboration, and, especially, how aging affects those that give their all on that lighted stage hour after hour. It is these elements that elevate McFadyen and Dunn’s film beyond a single man, or a single group, and instead give insight into these complex circumstances that are shared by all the participants, each navigating their own careers and challenges in their own ways.
The epilogue of the film provides the moment of deepest catharsis, with the occasion of the documentary helping foster the desire to hit the road again to help celebrate Peart’s legacy further, and showing off Rush’s new collaborator Anika Nilles, as she had to learn 40+ tunes for the gig. The reviews for the shows have been stellar, and it’s easy to directly tie the fun that Geddy and Alex had in playing their songs again after many years of hiatus for a kind of permission to keep the songs alive. The documentary may help further secure Peart’s legacy, but beyond that it reminded his friends and bandmates of the joy of playing these songs. Thanks to what’s captured here, there are new audiences from many generations attending stadium shows around the world, gearing up to air drum once again to that “Tom Sawyer” lick, and to remember all that Peart provided to his legions of fans.
