Television Reviews : ‘Bob Marley & the Wailers’ Documentary on Sunday

Imagine an America torn apart by election-eve street violence between Democrats and Republicans. Then picture a rock singer bringing George Bush and Jesse Jackson on stage before a massive crowd and linking their hands in a grand gesture of reconciliation.

That’s what happened in Jamaican terms at the 1978 “One Love” concert in Kingston, where Bob Marley united Jamaican Prime Minister Michael Manley and opposition leader Edward Seaga. The sight of this small, animated black sprite raising the arms of the two perplexed-looking men is one of the strongest images in “Bob Marley & the Wailers,” a 90-minute documentary airing Sunday at 6 p.m. on the Arts & Entertainment cable channel.

The show’s underlying strength is the way it establishes the social and political context for the life and music of the charismatic reggae star, who died of brain cancer in 1981.

The development of reggae music, the genesis of the Rastafarian religion, the rise of the “rude boy” subculture and other elements of Jamaican society are stitched into a tight fabric that frames and gives meaning to the story of Marley and his group.

The show’s heart, though, is Marley’s music, which is presented in generous performance footage. Filmed interviews capture some of the contradictions that made him such a complex individual: wariness and warmth, messianic fervor and country-boy simplicity, ganja -clouded mysticism and cagey intelligence.

While it’s indisputably thorough, “Bob Marley” is a touch soft, ignoring the posthumous turmoil over his estate, as well as the violent deaths of Wailers Peter Tosh and Carlton Barrett. English record mogul Chris Blackwell comes off pretty much a saint, without any airing of the criticism he’s received for allegedly abandoning his commitment to reggae (maybe the fact that he’s one of the show’s executive producers has something to do with that). The declarations of Marley’s superstar status should also be tempered with the explanation that he never became a mainstream star in America. The hits certainly would have come, but his social significance makes chart success seem an insignificant measure. As these 90 minutes make vividly clear, Marley attained a level where the stakes were much higher, and his impact far more profound.

For a more trivial approach to Jamaican music, Cinemax this month is periodically airing a concert special called “A Reggae Session.” There are some decent enough performances, most notably by Marley’s son Ziggy, but it’s all plopped in front of us with no explanation or context. Chrissie Hynde’s participation makes it of more than passing interest, but her presence, like that of Grace Jones and Carlos Santana, seems the result not of a musical imperative, but of a “how-can-we-give-it-popular-appeal?” production meeting.