On its surface, the Netflix documentary Norman’s Rare Guitars looks like a study of a successful store in the San Fernando Valley. But over the course of a brisk hour and a half, we discover the true rarity is Norman Harris himself, not his inventory. The film is also an homage to SoCal as the home of realized dreams.
The bio-doc opens with actors Jeff Daniels and Kiefer Sutherland extolling the virtues of the respected vendor of exquisite axes, joined by industry titans Dave Grohl, Taylor Hawkins, and Post Malone. It’s followed by testimonials from more stars—George Harrison, Bob Dylan, and Tom Petty—and private-stock in-store photos.
Just when you think it’s going to sink into (yawn) technical talk about brands and equipment, it hits you with a health calamity: Norm gets diagnosed with cancer and heart disease, which he apparently found out about during the picture’s filming. The crisis isn’t overplayed, however, or employed as a device for sympathy. Instead, it forms an organic emotional framework that lends perspective and meaning and provides a jumping off point to plunge into Norm’s past.
The director, Devin J. Dilmore, goes on to paint a portrait that’s compelling. Not of a retailer but of an extraordinary human heart and brain, as much a product of the times as the valuable wood he purveys. Overall, the flick operates as a time capsule, distinguishing itself as a fine piece of storytelling. Norm’s daughter, Sarah Edwards, served as a producer and appears in interviews on screen, along with Norm’s wife.
We trace Norm’s steps to LA from Miami. We learn that in south Florida, he gigged frequently as a professional musician. One of his bands was managed by Little Richard and another opened for Cream. We view home movies and watch him recall his inadvertent entry into guitar selling from his three-bedroom apartment in the valley. In addition to merchandise, Norm’s got tons of tales in his inventory. Every picture may tell a story, but every guitar does too. For example, Norm provided the instruments used on scores of albums, in cinema, and on TV, even for famous concerts—such as the Band’s and Martin Scorsese’s The Last Waltz.
The documentary comes across as honest and smooth, warts and all. The film freely admits Norm was an absent father, for which he harbors regrets, and that he spent too much time as high as a palm tree, hooked on weed. But he gave his infectious energy to establish a creative community and become the go-to guy for tools of the trade for Dylan, Petty, Jackson Browne and Joni Mitchell, to name a few. Aging rockers chime in—Robbie Robertson, Richie Sambora, Slash, the Heartbreaker’s Mike Campbell—and so do relative youngsters like Joe Bonamassa. The electric guitar scoring gets pleasantly punctuated by sessions inside Norm’s store, where lesser known musicians hammer out riffs that fill in the blanks seamlessly. Norm proves to be a stand-up guy who used his love of music to pioneer the vintage guitar industry.
The documentary stays entertaining because the filmmakers made sure the story wasn’t merely for gearheads or techies. Yes, it’s about Norm’s leading role and sterling reputation in the industry, but it also highlights his long-standing work with the Midnight Mission and other charities. We’re left with the knowledge that he survived his health scare, has returned to work, and would like to pass the shop along to another generation who will follow in his fingerprints. He knows he’s no kid—he’s in his late seventies—and would like to find someone to continue his tradition of getting an exceptional piece of wood into the perfect player’s hands. This skillful film can only move that process forward while it seals his legacy as a brave trailblazer in LA’s proud history as the land of unlimited opportunity.