Diamonds from coal

Aug. 5—HALLELUJAH — Leonard Cohen, A Journey, A Song

Documentary, rated PG-13, 118 minutes, Center for Contemporary Arts Cinema, Regal UA High Ridge, Albuquerque, 4 chiles

"Now, I heard there was a secret chord that David played and it pleased the Lord," sings Canadian singer-songwriter Leonard Cohen (1934-2016) in his iconic number "Hallelujah," making a reference to the biblical King David. But Cohen's "Hallelujah" isn't gospel, as spiritual as it may be. It's also sexy, contemporary, and reflective of the beauty in the world, which we often take for granted.

Hallelujah: Leonard Cohen, A Journey, A Song takes a definitive look at the widespread popularity of Cohen's supreme rendition, its journey from inception and recording history to its initial rejection by the record labels and its eventual success.

The song itself is the documentary's home base. The film's multiple narrative threads weave in and out from that point of reference.

"Hallelujah" is a gospel-inspired work, to be sure, but occupies a heartfelt and relatable position of its own. Its chorus is a far cry from the triumphant strains of composer George Frideric Handel's 18th-century oratorio, Messiah. Cohen's track is low-key, drawing its power, like a steam engine draws from coal, from existential angst. And from out of that coal-like blackness hanging over a troubled world, he culls a diamond.

"Hallelujah's" been called a "Symbolist poem," and Cohen is a poet as well as a musician. His simple take on the meaning of the song expresses a certain joy and appreciation for things as they are, no matter how absurd.

And even though it all went wrong

I'll stand before the Lord of Song

With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

"You look around, and you see a world that cannot be made sense of," a younger Cohen says onscreen in archival footage. "You either raise your fists, or you say 'hallelujah.'"

Cohen has a mystique, a certain inscrutability. He's the kind of artist whose lyrics seem to contain a lot to unpack, but really aren't all that complicated. There's something deep and serious behind Cohen's soulful eyes. They're like silent witnesses who wait for the pen to speak of what they've seen. The standard talking head approach by co-directors Dan Geller and Dayna Goldfine creates a context by which we come to appreciate Cohen's innovative approach.

"Unlocking the mysteries of life is his primary preoccupation," says singer Sharon Robinson, a frequent Cohen songwriting collaborator, in the documentary.

Cohen is a seeker on a spiritual path, but he seems innately aware that it's a human path. Jewish by descent, he became an ordained Rinzai Buddhist monk in 1996. "Hallelujah" is a song for people and not just those of certain religious upbringing.

The song became not an obsession for Cohen, exactly, but a life's work. Originally released on the album Various Positions in 1984, its major success internationally came on the heels of John Cale's 1994 cover, which inspired a version by Jeff Buckley. Its inclusion in the animated feature Shrek (2001) also brought a wave of renewed popularity.

While weighed down at times by focusing on the musicians around him rather than on Cohen himself, which feels like a diversion, Hallelujah remains a rousing portrait of an artist who, outside of his seminal achievement in song, flies under the radar.