All That Jazz (1979)

All That Jazz - Bye Bye Life

By Reece Beckett

The following analysis contains major spoilers for All That Jazz, if you haven’t seen the film, please do so and then return. You will not regret it.

All That Jazz, directed by Bob Fosse in 1979, is easiest explained as a film that welcomes chaos. Whether it be the insane opening scene, which throws us as the audience straight into the jaws of Broadway and excites us with the fast pacing, snappy editing, the glitz, the glamour, the excitement... we are lost, instantaneously, never to return from the dazzle, which sticks to our perspective like an unwanted glue. 

The film shows us Joe Gideon, a flawed man from the very beginning, taking prescription and smoking like a chimney. He seems almost like the spirit of a lost man, floating around the stage, only given vitality by his “fans”, who are more often people only wanting to use the man for the sake of putting themselves in a better position than he... but this is only the beginning for Mr Gideon. 

We see his daily life. He struggles with his ex-wife and child, who both love him dearly and want to see him succeed and yet Gideon, consistently yet unintentionally, pushes them out. We see him direct his play, nothing comes together but he continues to fight until he has something that he deems Beautiful, only for his vision to be crushed by the money laundering scumbags in charge, whom we will come to dislike much more as the film continues. We see him go straight from here to editing his new film about a stand up comedian, specifically a scene featuring a speech about the five stages of death... “Anger, denial, bargaining, depression and acceptance”, the same five stages we will see Joe embark on through the film. 

We have no choice but to witness Joe at this point. His life and his intermittent thought trains, which we view through Gideon’s own mind as a dialogue with an angelic figure. We have grown attached to his character, despite his flaws, because in him you can see the spark of great passion.

As the film continues, the repetition of Joe’s life starts to become evident. The man is becoming burnt out, and this hurts us to see. He gives everything he has, and all of his ideas are turned down for the sake of money. One example is after Gideon shows his finally completed erotic airplane sequence, one of them says “There goes the kid’s audience”, and this will not do.

Similarly to other films of the struggling artist, the film doesn’t shy away from anything. It is a brave film, especially considering the fact that the film is semi-autobiographical, true to an extent of Fosse’s own experiences. If this film doesn’t make you question loving cinema, nothing else will. 

Finally, during a script reading, Joe begins to lose himself. His endless work has caught up to him. He is working himself to death, and has a heart attack. He awakes in hospital. This part is something truly terrifying, to me specifically, as I always try to work as much as possible, afraid to let time pass me by, and I can certainly see a potential future for myself in Gideon, which makes his eventual downfall all the more petrifying. “To live on the wire is life” says Gideon, implying that any time spent without risk is unimportant, an ethic that I certainly agree with. Gideon shares my perspective of pouring everything you had into everything you can, and seeing that place the character into such a situation makes All That Jazz one of the most startling films I will ever see.

This is where the film becomes a whole other beast. The surrealism starts to take the front seat, Gideon slips more into the aforementioned steps. He is now in denial. He plays around, he drinks like a fish, he continues to smoke, he flirts with nurses constantly... anything to distract himself from his poor condition.

Before the audience can blink, the next step is here, bargaining. Gideon tried to convince himself that he was going to be fine, but now he is startled by his gradually worsening state, and tries to wriggle his way out of it. Sadly, this doesn’t work out. He slips straight into the depression. 

We see Joe wander aimlessly around. He is a lost man entirely now. He becomes cynical to show-business, plagued by a 0/4 review from a stuck up critic on his now released film about a stand up comedian and now upon finding out that his play will be cancelled if he doesn’t finish it is a pushing point.

He is now nothing, his work is gone... so what does he have to live for? 

A wife and kid who look up to him despite his incredibly flawed persona? His “fans” who secretly despise him? Nothing... not even the studio care for him, as we see them excitedly chattering about how much profit they will make if Gideon should pass away.

Gideon reaches acceptance, and then comes the greatest ending in cinematic history. A speech that Gideon had come to know off by heart is now changed from a positive and charming introduction to a chilling “This cat allowed himself to be adored but not loved, and his success in show business was matched by failure in his personal relationship bag. Now, that’s where he really bombed... and he came to believe that work, show business, love, his whole life, even himself and all that jazz was bullshit.”

“To this cat, the only reality... is death, man.”

The character now rises, clad in a slick black suit and equally dark sunglasses obscuring his eyes. He smiled at the audience, a chilling, knowing smile of what is to come for Gideon.

“Let me lay on you a so-so entertainer, not much of a humanitarian, and this cat was never nobody’s friend, in his final appearance on life’s great stage - applaud if you want to - Mr Joe Gideon.”

The great, golden heads eerily turn to face Joe. The eyes fixate on him, just as they had before during his shows. These golden statues are as faceless as Gideon’s true fans in the film, and also have quite a resemblance to an award. The music chimes and candles are lit all around by the audience. Gideon appears, and starts furiously dancing, then slows.

Two women dressed in eerie body suits gracefully dance beside him as the score lifts, with beautifully swelling violin chimes. 

If Joe shall leave us, it will be with a gracious beauty.
He brings the microphone to his lips. 

“Bye bye life,
Bye bye happiness,
Hello loneliness,
I think... I’m gonna... die.”

He takes his time with these lines, and as he sings the final line once again as a faster speed and the songs tempo viciously increased, Gideon starts to twitch. His co star begins dancing, singing with Joe. He has finally reached acceptance, we realise, as he sings a gleeful song of the end of his own life. The editing becomes even more ferocious as we see the character dance, musicians joining in and Gideon accept what is coming. “I think he’s gonna die.”, they repeat. There is no escape now. 

“There goes his baby
With someone new...
She sure looks happy...
I sure am blue.” 

They sing, as we realise Joe’s girlfriend will move on from his death in no time. 

The chorus comes in again. He is a step closer, and at this point all we want is to see Joe feel the release of his death. The energy of the song and dance number continues to increase, the audience now starting to clap along.
“I’m through with romance
I’m through with love
I’m through with counting
the stars above.”
“Forget the stars!
And there’s a reason
Why’s he’s so free
His lovin’ baby...”
“She’s through with me...”

Gideon sings this line with a great pain, but continues to smile.

He runs into the audience, they adore him. They clap like they’ve never clapped before. They’re as cathartic as he is. He embraces the people in his life.

“This must have cost a fortune!” applaud one of his producers, finally accepting his work. 

He hugs his daughter, and gently touches his wife’s face as he says “At least I won’t have to lie to ya anymore!”, Gideon has found his freedom. He feels forgiven in his final moments for all that he has done.

One final chorus, the audience screams and applauds, the singers scream, the dancers spasm, the musicians play their hearts out, before the final couple of lines calm everyone down. Gideon is raised above everyone else by a small podium, and all goes silent, other than Joe’s final lines, “bye bye, my life, goodbye”, until one more great round of applause and a musical riff.

Gideon now floats to his death, into the light which is personified by the angelic woman we have seen him speaking to all this time. 

A harsh cut flies out of nowhere and we see Gideon. A doctor zips up his body bag, in silence. The shot lingers for a few seconds, and as we zoom in on Gideon’s body, There’s No Business Like Show Business By Ethel Merman begins to play.

“There’s no business,
Like show business,
Like no business I know!
Everything about it is appealing!
Everything the traffic will allow!”

These final excitable screams define the new generation, who see show business as just what the lyrics describe, but they have been fooled. Show business will eat you up and spit you out at a moments notice.

All That Jazz works so brilliantly because there are no true victims in it. Sure, most of the characters are sympathetic, but none of them are exactly angels, even Joe’s daughter, who we see gradually become more and more corrupted by the people surrounding her as the film goes on. Gideon isn’t victimised, we may feel empathy for him, even some sympathy, but we do not love him as a person, we love the idea of him - a greatly productive man who stood at nothing to produce his art. 

If Gideon’s tale is one to end up true to myself, then maybe my great fears for the future are finally justified.