Salt in Wound

4.5 stars out of 5

I wasn’t familiar with Dory Previn. Even the 2006 song “Dory Previn” by one of my favorite groups, Camera Obscura, didn’t inspire me to look up Dory Previn, and the name slipped out of my head. I must’ve seen her name multiple times, yet it never stuck.

Until February, that is, when I witnessed singer/songwriter Julia Greenberg perform a couple of songs by Ms. Previn. Though dating from the early 1970s, I was struck by the modern sensibility (let’s call it the Liz Phair era) of the lyrics. Plus, the songs were good! Right up my alley. I wanted to know more.

As luck would have it, Julia Greenberg has co-directed a documentary about Dory Previn, and it is excellent. Of course, it doesn’t hurt for a documentary to have a fascinating subject, and oh boy does Previn fit the bill. Girl from Woodbridge, New Jersey with a rough, domineering dad suddenly finds herself paired with André Previn (him I’d heard of!) writing songs for big-time Hollywood movies (two I’ve seen: Tall Story, 1960, and Inside Daisy Clover, 1965); he wrote the music, she wrote the words. It’s Hollywood, so they fall in love and get married.

All’s mostly fine until André leaves Dory for Mia Farrow (post-Sinatra, pre-Woody). Having previously weathered a mental breakdown, this turn of events sends Dory into a tailspin, and the documentary kicks into another compelling gear.

I won’t reveal more of Dory’s story, but suffice to say, rather than being crippled by mental illness, Dory Previn reinvents herself and thrives. (Good timing, too, as the ’60s gave way to the loosey-goosey 1970s.) And this is what sets On My Way to Where apart from mad-genius music documentaries such as The Devil and Daniel Johnston, You’re Gonna Miss Me (Roky Erickson), and Have You Got It Yet? (Syd Barrett). Dory Previn has a very different relationship with what’s going on in her mind.

To capture all this in a coherent and entertaining fashion, Julia Greenberg teamed with experienced filmmaker Dianna Dilworth (writer/director of the well-received mellotron documentary Mellodrama). The directors had full access to Ms. Previn’s archives, including thousands of pages of journals. One thing I was riveted by in the journal pages shown: Dory’s wordplay could teeter out of control, turning a word every which way, breaking words down and building them up, almost trapping her in a loop. I was immediately reminded of Woody Guthrie’s writings as Huntington’s chorea ate away at his brain — wild creativity devolving into gibberish. Yet once again, Dory is different, keeping the wolves of mental illness at bay.

To visually bring Ms. Previn’s journals to life, Greenberg and Dilworth deploy their secret weapon: esteemed veteran animator Emily Hubley. Previn’s simple character drawings are a perfect launching pad for Hubley to take flight, filling the screen with whimsy and awe, thoughts colliding, flitting this way and that. So much of Hubley’s work has been inspired by and paired with music, so this film is an ideal project for her. Her animated segments raise it to yet another level.

Currently on the festival circuit, I cannot recommend this documentary highly enough. Keep your eyes open for it. If you are a fan of glamorous old Hollywood, of ’70s singer/songwriters, of strong, independent, inspirational women who are survivors — not to mention a unique take on mental health — Dory Previn: On My Way to Where will absolutely captivate you. Personally, I know I’ll never again forget the name Dory Previn.