The camera picks up and holds objects that might be excluded from a traditional television documentary, like the vase in the window of Ben's rented room. Yet this is not cinema verité. Any illusion of objectivity or any kind of "psychological" approach becomes shattered by the editing and cinematic rhythm. Until the end, we never see Webster play a number all the way through. The camera always interrupts him and cuts him short, until the end when it seems that the film no longer can contain him. The images constantly stress his size, his proportions, his physical presence, and the energy he uses to move and play. We seem to witness a struggle between the filmmaker and the musician. The filmmaker returns again and again to the ordinary aspects of life — smoking, taking a drink, swearing, being dignified or violent (suggested in the haunting zoo sequence by close ups of ferocious animal faces). The musician is always trying to do what he does best — play jazz. While the filmmaker undermines the "living legend" profile, the musician wins out. Finally we hear the tremendous sweet and powerful sounds given full rein. Van der Keuken's celebration is complete. The jigsaw puzzle is finished. ~ Cohn Chambers, Jump Cut, no. 34, March 1989