In the Court of the Crimson King: King Crimson at 50 is a documentary, not so much about who played what, as it is about who played. Filmmaker Toby Amies chooses to focus primarily on personality rather than performance, relationship rather than recording. With a number of former members now passed on, this film is also as much about the dead as it is about the living.
King Crimson were formed in 1969, but the arc of this deeply-respected and highly influential group has been, according to the filmmakers “a process of fragmentation and reinvention that has continued for over 50 years.” Toby Amies endeavors to ascribe the history of that arc, from the perspective of Crimson’s current iteration. The one constant throughout these 50 years has been virtuoso guitarist, experimentalist, and perfectionist Robert Fripp. Indeed, those who contribute commentary to this film inevitably talk about their experience of Fripp.
Robert Fripp appears to have recruited Amies to make this film, because as the guitarist states, “The 50th anniversary would seem to be an obvious point to create an overview of what we’ve been doing for all this time.” Fripp describes his personal involvement with Crimson as “unhappy” and “wretched,” at least until the group’s most recent decade. Fripp seems unsurprisingly unsatisfied with what the group has wrought over the course of five-plus decades. “There is a lot of joy in what we do. And it’s also very difficult, because what is possible for this band remains in potential and we have not yet achieved it. And that’s an acute suffering.”
Coinciding with Fripp’s apparent favorite Crimson decade is the tenure of drummer Bill Rieflin (drums/fairy dust 2013-19). I’ve been a fan of his for years from his work in the ‘90s industrial rock scene to his later collaborations with Robyn Hitchcock and the Venus 3. I’m less familiar with his work in King Crimson, so it was cool that Amies included a ton of footage of his time with Bill. The two develop a congenial rapport and engage in an honest dialog, musing on mortality and the meaning of music. Rieflin sadly passed from complications of colon cancer in 2020. In the film, he is the picture of existential acceptance, exuding a resolute ease in the face of his own imminent demise.
Adrian Belew (guitar, vocals 1981–2008) offers one of the most candid assessments of his time in King Crimson. While his candor is very much appreciated, he does come off a bit like a spurned lover in his comments about Crimson overlord Fripp. But his arrow flies true when he asks the question about new music. Indeed, “the Seven-Headed Beast” toured the group’s greatest works but didn’t necessarily create new masterpieces. The seemingly final iteration of Crimson never released new material.
Fripp himself seems to be the product of a life lived under the influence of completely unhinged perfectionism. His guitar tech confesses, “He does expect some amount of perfection, for sure.” A polarizing presence, Fripp seems like the sort of leader who inspires either great loyalty or borderline psychosis. Still, as prickly as he can be, he maintains a charming and refined manner throughout the film.
There are those bandmates, such as legendary bassist Tony Levin (1981-present), who appear willing to overlook Fripp’s tyrannical tendencies. And there are those, such as short-tenured founding member Ian MacDonald (1968-69), who bear scars from their relationship with Fripp and his dyspeptic brilliance. (The late multi-instrumentalist offers an emotional apology to Fripp for leaving the band shortly after it began.) And then there a bunch of other guys who simply told him to fuck off.
I felt compassion for Toby Amies, as Fripp continually criticizes his photography and line of questioning throughout the film. Editor Ollie Huddleston has done a magnificent job of knitting what must have been a daunting mound of raw footage spanning 2019-2021 into a coherent and engaging 86 minutes.
The film opens with a montage of empty theaters, with their portentous rows of expectant seats, and Robert Fripp setting the tone. “For silence to become audible, it needs a vehicle. That vehicle is music.” This comment is evocative of the line “The silence drowns the screams” from “Epitaph” off their debut album. For that matter, it’s deeply ironic, looking back 50 years later, that the group had the temerity to write their own epitaph on their first album.
As the band exit the stage at the close of the film, perhaps for the last time, Amies asks Fripp, “What was it that I missed?” To which the man replies, “Everything. There was a determining critical and pivotal scene, in which the history, the origins, and the future of King Crimson were presented. And you were not there. Thus rendering this DVD ineffectual, and of little use or interest to all.” Amies gives himself the last word on the whole business, “Thanks,” as Fripp walks away.
In the Court of the Crimson King: King Crimson at 50 from Monoduo Films and Discipline Global Mobile Ltd had its American premier at SXSW 2022. The film is now available worldwide on video-on-demand platforms. Look for it on Amazon, Apple TV, Google Play and Vimeo On Demand.
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