I Called Him Morgan

Ultimately, Collin's film is one of forgiveness.

"I Called Him Morgan" works as a jazz documentary as well as a bizarre true crime tale about a mysterious crime of passion. All these years later, many questions remain.

Collin's approach to this incendiary material is both blatant and oblique - a bit like Lee's playing itself. Thankfully, we hear quite a bit of that playing in the film.

Morgan's relationship with Helen was so star-crossed and layered it's a mystery why the story hasn't yet been made into a biopic.

Musicians sometimes paraphrase Debussy, or one another, in saying that music is the silence between the notes. I Called Him Morgan has it all -- the notes and the silence, plus the music of spoken language, pitched in rueful tones of recollection.

Using a dazzling blend of cinematic tools, aural as well as visual, Collin recreates both individual lives and an entire world.

This is, like Tracy Chapman's song 'Fast Car,' a quintessential American story, full of promise, hope, heartbreak, tragedy and racism. It is a tragic, confounding and touching story, well told.

I Called Morgan is a dexterous work of fusion: it's jazz history meets true crime. And it's fascinating.

[I Called Him Morgan is] a film that is more than just another story about a flawed artist who dies young. You have something that is far closer to a work of art.

It's Helen's story that truly fascinates.

Collin's exceptional, atmospheric film avoids the hysteria and hyperbole of similar true crime documentaries to usher this delicate story in with a palpable sense of sorrow rather than a desire to retroactively point the finger of justice.

It's rare that a film makes you feel so acutely in its brief run-time, covering albums and addictions alike, but I Called Him Morgan accomplishes just that.