Recording History: No Maps on My Taps

Movie Reviewed: No Maps on My Taps

Director: George Nierenberg

 Date: 19 November 2017

jamesintexas rating: ***

No Maps on My Taps is an exhilarating social document, a chronicling of a disappearing art form by its denizens in the late 1970's, while also an exciting look at the lurching forward of culture from vaudeville until now, with its eye keenly focused on the controlled mayhem of the feet and bodies of legends Howard "Sandman" Sims, Bunny Briggs, and Chuck Green.  And, as a chronicle of these men and their art, Nierenberg has preserved them, has shared them, has allowed them to live on as I sat with 130 eleventh graders from my high school in Houston, watching this documentary at the 2017 Houston Cinema Arts Festival.  We know their names because of his film, which he watched with us and poignantly reminded us that he is the only person left from this film.  He tells their story.

Watching the film unfold, I was struck by its elegiac quality; these powerful performers lament their art's diminishment, especially in the face of rock and roll and other mediums.  They look backwards to the world of the 1930's with its films and shows focused on tap.  They enjoy being onstage with each other so much, each pushing the other to do better and better.  The footage from the 1930's is spellbinding, and the dancing, stupendous.  I wondered lots about Harlem in the 1970's which peeks in and around the edges, especially as Sandman walks the streets with his son.  His son must be nearly fifty years old now, and he has this document of his time with his dad.  I wondered about what art forms loved and embraced now will diminish in the next forty years.  Some of my students learned tap dancing when they were young; my conversations with the dancers among them made me think that hip hop has replaced tap in a way.  The Cross Country coach in me just marveled at their muscular control, their calves and ankles, their indefatigable rhythm and power. 

Chuck Green holds the heart and soul of the film, with his distant quality (the director revealed that he was struggling with much during the filming), yet his soulful uttering of the titular phrase is both sweet and hopeful.  No Maps on My Taps means, essentially, "No limits, Jonathan?" the philosophical underpinning of the book Jonathan Livingston Seagull, another artifact from the 1970's, this one shared with me by my Cross Country coach Mr. Joe Newton.  To dance, to run, to create art is freedom: freedom from your constraints, your illness, your struggles.  Chuck, Bunny, and Sandman are all gone now, but this film holds them firmly in its heart, showing the beauty in these men and their love of tap and how it enriched their lives.  Thank you, George Nierenberg.