The more time I spend with the two box sets guiding our journey, the more structural similarities I notice between them. Each has one Armstrong, one Davis, one Mingus, a smattering of fusion, and also one movie soundtrack. Last time it was Bird (Clint Eastwood's elegy to Charlie Parker); this time it's Round Midnight, which chronicles the final years of Dale Turner, a fictional saxophonist (played by real saxophonist Dexter Gordon) based heavily on the lives of Lester Young¹ and Bud Powell.

Round Midnight feels like a fitting capstone as we approach the conclusion of Fifty Weeks of Jazz (please, stifle your tears lest you ruin your keyboard): released in 1986 but set in the 1950s, it features a who's who of then-modern jazz musicians, albeit mostly emulating an older style. We've encountered many of those artists before, such as Herbie Hancock—who composed and arranged the score—as well as Freddie Hubbard, Ron Carter, Chet Baker, and Wayne Shorter; you can decide for yourself whether that makes this a victory lap or a final exam.

My entry point to Round Midnight was the soundtrack, so let's start there. Much like the cast of musicians behind it, there's variety on offer: we get a couple of Monk covers, tremendous vocal performances from both male and female singers ("Fair Weather" with Chet Baker and "How Long Has This Been Going On?" from Lonette McKee, respectively), fantastic solos on instruments from soprano sax to vibraphone, and some new compositions from Hancock (including a collaboration with Stevie Wonder). I'm hard-pressed to find a dud among them; each track is strong in its own way—but of course, some highlights distinguish themselves. For instance, we've heard "Round Midnight" (the song) multiple times by now, but the version of the melody in the first track transfixed me: it's so expressive and ethereal that I initially struggled to place the instrument; turns out it's the inimitable vocal stylings of Bobby McFerrin (whom you'll certainly know from "Don't Worry, Be Happy"). I adore Wayne Shorter on soprano sax, so obviously "The Peacocks" resonated with me; it also called to mind "Bird Calls" from Mingus Ah Um. "Una Noche con Francis"² provides some much-needed levity after a few opening tracks that skew dark; "Minuit aux Champs-Elysées" features some great vibraphone work. But the sleeper hit for me is "Bérangère’s Nightmare:" pulsating and tense, it immediately evokes that titular terror. It seems sacrilegious to rank this mood-setting piece above the fuller, iconic jazz standards on this album, but it's the one that most consistently gripped me (and interestingly, as this BBC review notes, it's also totally anachronistic in the context of the movie). So all in all, this is one soundtrack I'm quite glad to own (and perhaps I ought to also check out the companion album as well)—the only miss is that it fails to include a fun rendition of "Put it Right Here" from the movie (though I could do without the racist interlude…).

As for the film itself, I'm a bit more ambivalent. Much of the acting is commendable: Dexter Gordon is utterly convincing as Dale Turner³, and of all people Martin Scorsese is suffocatingly smarmy as an American club manager, creating delectable cultural whiplash after we spend most of our screen time hanging around cultured, high-minded Europeans and sympathetic American romantics. But whereas Bird had a clear tragic arc to ground the narrative, Round Midnight is more willing to simply luxuriate in the sights and sounds of faux mid-century Paris. If you're a real jazzhead, that's likely to be a great time—especially given how many prominent real-life musicians are on screen in cameo roles—but for those just looking to dip their toes into the scene, it strikes me as a hard sell.

My favourite part of Round Midnight is how it plays with verisimilitude: Gordon, a real-life jazz star, plays a fictional saxophonist based (in part) on another real sax legend. But of course, Lester Young himself is such a big name that he exists in the movie universe as well, right alongside Turner. Add in the panoply of other real-life musicians rounding out the cast and the result is a work of fiction, but one so grounded in a love and respect for the music and culture of jazz that it feels more like a documentary from a parallel timeline. As someone living in a time and place where jazz is not quite in the zeitgeist, there is a certain vicarious joy in beholding even a simulacrum of what it might've felt like to be a part of that moment.

So, if I can only recommend one, start with the soundtrack—but if you have a free evening and care to relive some jazz nostalgia, Round Midnight will suit you quite well.

I'll turn it over to Dale Turner to close the books on a busy year:

Francis: You are tired, Dale?

Dale: Oh yes. I'm tired of everything. Except… the music.

Favourite track: Bérangère’s Nightmare