Much like rhythm and melody complement each other in a fine musical composition, artistry and history come together in Khachaturian, a splendid documentary about the great Armenian composer. Best-known for his stirring "Saber Dance," Aram Khachaturian gave the world many wonderful musical gifts -- including concertos, symphonies, film scores and glorious ballets. Miraculously, he accomplished all this while working in an oppressive society that honored him at one point and reviled him at another.     

Using a clever blending of narration, actual interviews, archival footage, and real-life filmed performances, director Peter Rosen masterfully presents the life story of a complex man and his music. Being a former dancer, I gazed in awe at the superb ballet sequences and became enthralled while watching the legendary Vladimir Vasiliev dance the role of Spartacus. His dynamic body tension, giant leaps, exquisite muscular control, and every move done to perfection were a thrill to behold. (Eat your heart out, Kirk Douglas!) As a music lover, I listened in admiration to the Armenian Philharmonic Orchestra's extraordinary background music played throughout this remarkable film. And, as someone who once taught World History classes, I marveled at the way Khachaturian survived Stalin's cultural suppression.

Although the latter took quite a toll on this acclaimed musician, he remained a loyal member of the Communist Party. Like most Soviet citizens, Khachaturian hid some of his real feelings about what was going on in the Soviet Union under a tyrannical dictatorship. Still, he did not flee like Schoenberg and Stravinsky. However, being branded an "anti-people" composer -- because of the modern and forceful sound of the music he wrote shortly after World War II -- devastated him. He felt betrayed by the system and spent the last 15 years of his life reworking his earlier works.                 

By incorporating material from the composer's own memoirs, Rosen and writer Bill Van Horn succeed in highlighting Khachaturian's thoughts and emotions. During much of the film, Eric Bogosian serves as narrator, speaking in the first person as Khachaturian. At first, I thought this technique came across as a bit off-putting, mostly because the opening scene shows the composer in his coffin, but it didn't take long to warm up to Bogosian's narration. Hey, that same technique worked in Sunset Boulevard and American Beauty, so why not use it in a documentary?

Khachaturian's deep love of music emerges as the major theme here. Even as a young child, that love appeared obvious. His first instrument? A copper pot he banged on until his parents bought him an old piano. I suspect filmmaker Rosen loves music, too, and that may be why he's done such a terrific job with this documentary. I hope Khachaturian  meets with as much success as Here To Make Music: The Eighth Van Cliburn International Piano Competition, Rosen's 1990 Emmy and Directors Guild of America Award winner.        

(Released by Seventh Art Releasing; not rated by MPAA.)