Ginger Baker broke Jay Bulger's nose. That’s how the Beware of Mr Baker movie basically starts, and honestly, it’s the only way it could have started. If you’ve ever sat through a music doc where everyone sits around talking about how "soulful" and "inspiring" the artist was, throw that expectation in the trash. This isn't that. It’s a 92-minute descent into the psyche of a man who was arguably the greatest drummer to ever live and, without question, one of the most difficult human beings to ever draw breath.
Bulger, the director, actually lived with Baker in South Africa to get this footage. He didn't just interview him; he survived him. Baker was a force of nature. A terrifying, cane-wielding, chain-smoking force of nature who lived in a fortified compound with dozens of polo ponies and a deep-seated resentment for almost everyone he’d ever met.
The Man Behind the Scowl
Ginger Baker wasn't just a drummer. He was a polyrhythmic pioneer who bridged the gap between jazz and rock in a way that literally changed the sound of the 1960s. But the Beware of Mr Baker movie does something vital: it refuses to let his talent excuse his behavior. Most documentaries try to find a "heart of gold" buried under a prickly exterior. Bulger’s film looks for it, digs for it, and mostly finds more thorns.
You see him at his home in South Africa, shouting at the screen, hurling insults at his former bandmates, and eventually, physically attacking the director. It’s raw. It’s uncomfortable. It’s great filmmaking because it doesn't blink.
Why the World Feared Ginger
The film tracks his journey from the London jazz scene to the heights of Cream and Blind Faith. We get incredible archival footage of a young, red-headed Baker looking like a manic skeleton behind the kit. People forget how revolutionary Cream was. They weren't just a blues band; they were three virtuosos—Baker, Eric Clapton, and Jack Bruce—trying to outplay each other until the music nearly collapsed under its own weight.
But the documentary focuses heavily on the friction. Jack Bruce, the legendary bassist who passed away shortly after the film gained traction, speaks with a mix of reverence and genuine trauma. He and Ginger were like two chemicals that shouldn't be mixed. In one scene, Baker recalls throwing a snuff box at Bruce's head during a gig. He says it with a smirk. That’s the "Mr. Baker" experience.
The African Odyssey and the Disappearing Act
One of the most fascinating segments of the Beware of Mr Baker movie covers his time in Nigeria. While most rock stars of the 70s were busy buying mansions in the English countryside, Baker moved to Lagos. He didn't do it for a PR stunt. He did it because he was obsessed with African rhythms, specifically the work of Fela Kuti.
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Baker built a recording studio in Lagos (Bataclan) and played with some of the most complex musicians on the planet. This is where the "expert" side of the documentary shines. It acknowledges that Baker wasn't just a "loud" drummer. He understood the "push and pull" of time better than almost any Westerner. He wasn't playing at the rhythm; he was inside it.
However, even in Nigeria, things fell apart. They always did with Ginger. Whether it was bad business deals, drug addiction—he was a long-term heroin user who somehow survived decades of abuse—or just his innate ability to burn bridges, he eventually had to flee. He left behind a trail of abandoned projects and angry people.
The Problem with Genius
Is it possible to be a great artist and a terrible person? The movie asks this without ever saying it out loud. You watch Eric Clapton—usually the coolest guy in the room—look genuinely pained when talking about Ginger. He loves the musician, but he clearly can't handle the man.
The documentary features interviews with a "who's who" of drumming royalty:
- Charlie Watts (Rolling Stones)
- Nick Mason (Pink Floyd)
- Stewart Copeland (The Police)
- Lars Ulrich (Metallica)
- Neil Peart (Rush)
Every single one of them treats him like a god. Copeland, in particular, provides some of the best commentary, explaining how Baker's use of the high-hat and his "flams" created a vocabulary that didn't exist in rock before him. But then the camera cuts back to the "god" in question, and he's screaming about his taxes or hitting the director with a metal cane.
A Masterclass in Documentary Editing
Kinda crazy how Bulger managed to stitch this together. The film uses these weird, psychedelic animations to fill in the gaps of Ginger’s past—his childhood in the Blitz, his early drug use, his various marriages. These animations feel necessary because Baker is such an unreliable narrator. He remembers what he wants to remember. He justifies everything.
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The editing mirrors his drumming. It’s syncopated. It’s fast. It’s aggressive. If the film were a traditional, slow-paced biopic, it would have failed. It needed that jagged energy to match the subject. You're never quite sure if the next scene is going to be a beautiful drum solo or a domestic shouting match.
What Most People Miss About the Movie
Everyone remembers the nose-breaking incident. It’s the "money shot." But if you look closer, the Beware of Mr Baker movie is actually a tragedy about loneliness. By the end of the film, you realize that for all his bravado and "I don't care" attitude, Baker is incredibly isolated. He has his dogs and his horses, but his relationships with his children are fractured beyond repair.
His son, Kofi Baker, who is also a phenomenal drummer, speaks with a heartbreaking clarity about what it was like to grow up in the shadow of a man who was essentially a hurricane. There’s a scene where Ginger is watching a video of himself playing, and for a split second, the anger vanishes. He looks at peace. It’s the only time he isn't at war with the world.
The Technical Legacy
For the gear-heads and musicians, the film is a goldmine. You get to see his iconic double-bass drum setup. Most people think Keith Moon or Louis Bellson started the double-kick craze in rock, but Baker was the one who made it an art form. He didn't just use the second drum for noise; he used it for melody. He tuned his drums like a piano.
The movie highlights his 1970 "Air Force" project, which was this massive, sprawling big band that almost bankrupted him. It was musically brilliant and commercially disastrous. That was his life’s pattern:
- Create something genius.
- Make everyone involved hate him.
- Watch it burn.
- Move to a different country.
Why You Need to Watch It Now
Ginger Baker passed away in 2019. Watching the documentary now feels different than it did when it first came out in 2012. Back then, it was a "can you believe this guy?" spectacle. Today, it feels like a definitive eulogy for an era of rock stardom that is completely extinct. We don't have "monsters" like this anymore. Everything is curated, polished, and PR-approved.
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Baker didn't have a PR person. If he did, that person probably quit within twenty minutes.
The Beware of Mr Baker movie stands as a warning. It’s a warning about the cost of total devotion to an art form. Baker gave everything to the drums, and in return, the drums gave him immortality—but they took away his ability to be a functional human being.
Honestly, it’s one of the few documentaries that actually feels "true." Not "true" in the sense of a Wikipedia entry, but "true" to the spirit of the person it’s about. It’s loud, ugly, beautiful, and deeply unpleasant at times. Just like a Ginger Baker drum solo.
Actionable Steps for the Viewer
If you're going to dive into this, don't just stop at the credits. To really get the full experience of why this movie matters, you should:
- Listen to "Wheels of Fire" by Cream: Specifically the live version of "Toad." This is the 16-minute drum solo that defined his career. Listen to it after seeing him as an old man in the film; the contrast is haunting.
- Watch the Fela Kuti "London Scene" performances: It provides the missing context for Ginger's time in Africa. You’ll see him playing with Tony Allen, the only drummer Ginger actually seemed to respect.
- Look up Jay Bulger’s follow-up articles: The director wrote extensively about the "aftermath" of the filming process and what it was like to maintain a relationship with Ginger until his death.
- Compare it to "Metallica: Some Kind of Monster": If you want to see the difference between "rock stars in therapy" and "a rock star who refuses to acknowledge therapy exists," watch these two back-to-back.
The movie isn't just about music. It’s about the terrifying reality of genius. You can't have the drums without the man, and as the film proves, the man was a lot to handle. Go watch it on a loud sound system. Don't expect to like Ginger Baker by the end of it, but expect to be absolutely floored by what he could do with two sticks and a bit of wood.
Actionable Insight: Start by watching the first five minutes of the documentary on any major streaming platform (it’s frequently on Amazon or available for rent). Pay attention to the eyes—not just the drumming. You’ll see the exact moment where the legend and the reality collide. Once you've finished the film, seek out the 2005 Cream Reunion at the Royal Albert Hall to see the "final" version of that legendary chemistry before it vanished forever.