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For Galax, Virginia, an Appalachian town hit hard by the loss of its furniture industry, a yearly fiddle convention attracts tourists from locales as far-flung as Japan and Australia. Old-time music, a living ancestor of bluegrass, country, and rock 鈥檔鈥� roll, is the town鈥檚 heartbeat. Despite the relative lack of commercial interest in old-time, it continues to thrive, passed down from generation to generation.

In 鈥淔iddlin鈥�,鈥� an ode to old-time and its community, sibling filmmakers and Blue Ridge Mountain natives Julie Simone and Vicki Vlasic explore the power of the music they grew up on. They take viewers into the 2015 edition of Galax鈥檚 Old Fiddlers鈥� Convention, where musicians play into the wee hours in makeshift tents on a campground. 鈥淔iddlin鈥�,鈥� now available on Amazon Prime and Apple TV, has racked up more than a dozen awards since it began playing at festivals in 2018.

It鈥檚 an uplifting look at the joys music can bring, although its narrow account of that music鈥檚 history contains disappointing oversights, particularly relating to race. For anyone interested in roots music or Americana, however, 鈥淔iddlin鈥欌�� offers some good tunes with plenty of twang.听

There鈥檚 an undoubtedly communal aspect to old-time. Speaking about its distinction from bluegrass, fiddler Jake Krack describes old-time as 鈥渉anging-out-in-the-living-room-jamming sort of music.鈥� The ability of old-time music to bring generations together makes for the film鈥檚 most heartwarming moments. These bonds shine through in the friendship between celebrated guitar maker Wayne Henderson, a self-described 鈥済eezer,鈥� and freckled prodigy Presley Barker, who was just 11 years old at the time of filming.听

Presley sees Mr. Henderson as a role model and a hero, but the pair find themselves dueling for the coveted blue ribbon in the convention鈥檚 guitar competition. Even beyond Presley, a wealth of precocious youngsters in the film are dedicated to preserving old-time.

For a film that celebrates tradition, however, 鈥淔iddlin鈥欌�� lacks serious inquiry into its roots. It puts forth a melting pot narrative in which fiddles, brought by Scottish-Irish immigrants, mixed with banjos, made by enslaved people of African origin, to create old-time. Ken Burns鈥� recent eight-part series 鈥淐ountry Music鈥� provides more historical context on race, acknowledging that minstrelsy was responsible for the banjo鈥檚 incorporation into mainstream American music. Much of the work of Rhiannon Giddens, a singer-songwriter and music historian featured in the Burns series, has endeavored to reclaim the black roots of American folk music.

To its credit, the film documents the struggles women face to gain recognition in a field dominated by mostly white men. It also discusses attitudes toward LGBTQ people, although its focus is not to document cultural exclusions.

鈥淔iddlin鈥欌�� is at its best when it meshes intimate performances, given on porches and in yards, with personal stories of connection with music. These celebrate music as an antidote to hard times. Karen Carr, a member of The Crooked Road Ramblers, credits 鈥渕essing鈥� with her guitar for weaning her off the pills she took to combat her depression. Describing the significance of the banjo for enslaved people, mandolin player Ronald Tuck says, 鈥淚f they wanted to think about good times, they would always play music.鈥�

Those good times come alive in the scenes where musicians join together in song as spectators clap and toe-tap along. While these images become somewhat repetitive, some musicians could have used more screen time, like Dori Freeman or Martha Spencer, who shines on the concluding song 鈥淗ome Is Where the Fiddle Rings.鈥澨�

鈥淔iddlin鈥�,鈥� though not a work of history, is lively, with its share of touching moments. It should be entertaining enough for most Americana fans, and offers a glimpse of how Appalachia grounds its identity in its music.听