GFF09: WHO KILLED NANCY?

Alan G Parker's documentary (following up on his book) aims to clear the name of Sid Vicious by examining the events surrounding the mysterious murder of Nancy Spungen.

It's an interesting insight into the punk era and particularly the New York scene at the time. Unfortunately Parker is so dedicated to Vicious and his life that the majority of the film becomes about him rather than the kind of investigation the title promises.

After a brief dalliance with the subject at the start, the closest we get for much of the film is an examination of how Vicious came to be mixed up with Nancy and various other people before finally returning to the subject towards the end. Even then, despite a few people clearly pointing the finger at one individual, there's not much more than a "we can't find him" and that's that.

The film is certainly worth seeing for anyone with an interest in the scene and in that respect it's a good documentary; but for a film calling itself WHO KILLED NANCY? it doesn't really deliver the kind of film I was expecting.

JDIFF09: YELLOW BITTERN

YELLOW BITTERN: THE LIFE AND TIMES OF LIAM CLANCY, to give it its full name, is a documentary which does exactly what it says. To fans of the man and his music (along with his brothers and Tommy Makem) the documentary is undoubtedly indispensable viewing. What is interesting to me however is that this was one of the most enjoyable films of the festival for me - and I'd never heard of the guy.

Having recently watched BBC4's FOLK AMERICA series, I'm rather surprised, since there seems to be a bit of a crossover there, but this tale of the Irish folk musician who went to America and influenced the likes of Bob Dylan on the folk scene was all new.

It's beautifully shot, without a doubt, but the real strength of the film (not to take away anything from the skill with which Alan Gilsenan has put it together) is that Clancy is a man who has lived a full and varied life but is also a very down to earth and likable fellow. He's not just a singer, he's an entertainer and gifted raconteur and I'm glad that, in the guise of this excellent film, I got to spend a couple of hours in his company getting to know the man and his touching life story.

JDIFF09: WERE THE WORLD MINE

This film is a musical, and it takes place in a high school. That would give me legitimate cause to refer to it as a "high school musical" but just in case that looks like a cynical attempt to draw in extra blog hits by mentioning the phrase "high school musical" I'd like to point out that this film is nothing to do with Disney's HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL. So I won't mention it.

The film, inspired by Bill Shakey's Midsummer thingy, tells of a boy who fancies another boy in his school and, during the course of staging the school's Shakespeare musical, he manages to bewitch the object of his desire into fancying him - however, in the process he takes it a bit too far and turns most of the town gay.

The film is a serious misfire. Much of the supposed humour seems to stem only from watching previously homophobic people become gay. It's funny at first but pretty quickly runs out of steam. It might be different if there were an engaging story and cast at the heart of the film but there is very little story except that everyone's gone gay and the cast are largely free of any screen presence whatsoever.

Being a musical, there would still be hope for the film if it could produce a few memorable musical numbers but it fails on that front too. There's something endearingly ludicrous about musicals but here that just doesn't really transpire - the sets and dances are pretty mundane and the songs completely forgettable.

The director introduced this film by telling us that it started life as a short film - I'd quite like to see that, as this feature feels very much like it's still a short film, expanded way beyond the running time required to run out of ideas.

Festival review: Stranger Than Fiction 2008

Welcome to my round-up of films from this year's Stranger Than Fiction documentary film festival at the IFI in Dublin. And only a couple of days after it finished - that's a new record for me. Unfortunately my laziness goes hand in hand with my inability at photography so I apologise for all the following photos being out of focus. What do want for nothing though, eh?

This year's opening film was SLEEP FURIOUSLY, a study of life in a small Welsh rural community which already played at EIFF but was one of the few films I didn't see there. The film eschews all the standard tropes of audience-friendly documentaries. There's no self-contained story; there's no enticing archive footage or enlightening interviews; there are only people doing what they do.

It's a brave way to approach the film and probably an equally brave choice as an opening night film. Certainly not everyone's cup of tea, there were a few early walk-outs but it's to be expected. This approach to filmmaking is always divisive and is guaranteed to turn off a number of casual viewers. On the other hand, there are also plenty of people who appreciate it though I think even the film's admirers would have to be in the right mood to watch it.

I, as it happened, was in the right mood and therefore found myself under its spell but must admit that I find this kind of approach to filmmaking works a lot better as a documentary than as fiction. Here, I was completely immersed in Welsh village life; when Carlos Reygadas uses the same techniques in a fiction film, it makes me want to burn the cinema to the ground and gouge out my eyes.

SLEEP FURIOUSLY was accompanied by a short film, PILGRIM, which I'm afraid I just didn't get.

THE BLUE TAILOR [AN TAILLIUR GORM] was the first of a trio of films looking at life on remote Irish islands. All of these films interested me partly because of my interest in Irish history and culture but also because of their parallels with the Scottish islands (from whence many of my ancestors sprang). This particular film concentrated on Inis Bigil, off Mayo's coast, which has the distinction of being both protestant and Irish-speaking. The history of the island is fascinating (sadly it now has only just over 20 people remaining) but is slightly overshadowed in parts of the film by the equally fascinating tale of the titular tailor.


FORBIDDEN LOVE, which I believe was showing on RTE in Ireland tonight (apologies if this is too late to remind you!), studies the Irish attitude (past and present) towards the British royal family in light of the fact that the Queen is about to become the first of Britain's monarchs to visit since Victoria. As an outsider looking in, it's always tempting to view the whole Ireland/Britain situation in black and white so it's intriguing to see the general mish-mash of public opinion in the Emerald Isle. The film focuses largely on a number of people who, for various reasons, really like the royals but doesn't shy away from the other side of the fence either. It'll be interesting to see what sort of reaction she does get but in the meantime we can make do with this terrific documentary, one of the highlights of the festival.

After seeing a Welsh community struggling, then an Irish island community struggling next up was another depressing tale of modern life crushing the minorities with GREENDALE: DEATH OF A SCHOOL. GREENDALE was an Irish school that catered for disadvantaged kids but was shut down under a cloud of deception and shoddy treatment by the powers that be. Depressing stuff, and visually reminiscent of last year's MOSNEY (aka SEAVIEW) but with a deserted school replacing the holiday camp.

PATTI SMITH: DREAM OF LIFE was a film I approached with interest as I knew very little about the titular icon. Unfortunately the scattershot art-school approach to filming and the fact that she seems to spend a lot of time in a world of her own meant that while I knew nothing about her to begin with, I knew even less by the time the film had finished. Perhaps one for fans only.

I was delighted to get a chance to see PLEASE VOTE FOR ME again, which I mentioned here before. My second favourite film (documentary or otherwise) of 2007 seemed to be a hit with the Stranger Than Fiction audience too, with most of them laughing it all up too. It's hard not to be charmed by a well made film that shows a bunch of Chinese school kids turn into utter bastards in the name of democracy.

Lest I start to enjoy myself a bit too much however, my next film was INISHARK: DEATH OF AN ISLAND [INIS AIRC: BAS OILEAIN]. The best of the three island films showing, it was also the most depressing. Life on the island finally became too much for the people a few decades back and the remaining inhabitants were evacuated in the sixties. The film is drenched in sadness on both an island-wide scale and in the more personal stories (including the heartbreaking tale of three men from the same family lost at sea in stormy weather). I found it particularly interesting as it bears such an uncanny resemblance to the tale of St Kilda, a Scottish island evacuated in the 1930s, which has always fascinated me and was the inspiration for Michael Powell's terrific film EDGE OF THE WORLD.


Sadder still was I SEE A DARKNESS, a made-for-TV documentary on the subject of suicide, concentrating on the tale of Simon Moroney, who died aged just 16. There was barely a dry eye in the house for this heartbreaking story which casts light on a very serious issue and a very brave family. There are a couple of revelations later in the film that really knock you off balance, not least of which is the theory of Simon's mother that his death may not have been suicide at all but rather a simply tragic accident. We'll never know, which makes the film even harder viewing in retrospect but while it's not easy to watch, watch it you should.

GABRIEL BYRNE: STORIES FROM HOME is a sometimes light-hearted, always refreshingly honest examination of the life of the famous Irish actor. Not only is he one of the finest actors working today, he's also a very intelligent and engaging presence. Whether talking of his personal life and the problems he's experienced or simply giving his thoughts about his experiences in acting, he's always a fascinating host and far more interesting a character than the majority of celebrities who get the documentary treatment these days. Watch out for this one.

I wrote about WAITING FOR THE LIGHT at its Galway appearance and unsurprisingly went to see it again here. Effectively a world premiere as the cut shown at Galway had been spruced up a little (but still retains those valuable few seconds of the back of my head) my thoughts on this one are already known (see previous posts if you've not read it). Accompanied by Ciarin Scott and George Morrison himself, we were also treated to the news that Morrison is going to be honoured by the European Film Academy, although the exact details have left my memory. If you've still not familiarised yourself with the work of George Morrison, go and pick up a copy of MISE EIRE right now. I don't care if you're Irish or not.


Rounding out the trio of island films was TORY ISLAND [OILEAN THORAI], about the remote community off the coast of Donegal. While it captures island life and scenery with breathtaking beauty, it seemed a little bit lightweight when compared to the two other films that had gone before. That said, it was also a lot less depressing so I guess that works in its favour for some people.

Technical issues prevented the screening of THE UPSETTER but Lee "Scratch" Perry did turn up in the replacement film, DUB ECHOES, which chronicles the development of dub music from its origins in the old reggae sound systems of Jamaica to its influence on modern music. It's a fascinating documentary and certainly crams in plenty of expert testimony; if there's only one flaw in the film it's that of a lack of budget. On more than one occasion we are told about some legendary piece of music but not actually played it - I'm going to give the director the benefit of the doubt here and assume that it's because they couldn't afford clearance rather than any artistic reasons.

I'll write a separate piece about the short film programme at a later date, so skipping on we have the Irish premiere of A BLOODY CANVAS [TROID FHUILTEACH], which is apparently made for Irish TV but frankly deserves more. Using reconstructions, expert testimony and some absolutely incredible archive footage, the film tells of how an African boxing champion looking for a fight, an Irish boxer down on his luck and Ireland being ravaged by civil war all came together in 1923 to give rise to an incredible moment in modern Irish history. It's funny how I despise boxing and yet seem to see so many good films on the subject; outside of PLEASE VOTE FOR ME, this was my favourite film of the festival.

HOLD ME TIGHT, LET ME GO is the dark flipside of PLEASE VOTE FOR ME. We're still watching kids behaving badly, but this time it's far from funny, or at least it should be. At a school in England where traumatised children with behavioural issues are looked after by huge numbers of staff, we are given an insight into the daily routine of caring for such children. It's interesting alright, but it seems to lack any sense of direction. We learn of the traumas that some of the children have gone through; we see lots of instances of them behaving very, very badly; and we see the staff struggling to cope, frequently having to resort to physically restraining the children to avoid harm being done. But that's it. There's no sense of what the film is trying to achieve; there's an awkward feeling of not knowing whether to laugh or be disgusted during many moments of the film; and on more than one occasion it feels dangerously close to being intrusive. I don't mean intrusive in a normal documentary way, I mean intrusive as in we should simply not be watching this. Interesting, but flawed.

CORRIDOR #8 documents the plans by the EU to build a giant motorway connecting Bulgaria, Macedonia and Albania. What we see is that years of effort and lots of money have yielded little in the way of results; and from what we see of the communities along the site, it's doubtful just how much of an advantage this road is to bring. It's equally interesting as both an insight into many foreign cultures and also an exasperating look at bureaucratic folly.

I then had to bolt it to the airport to fly home, so if you want opinions on any of the other films shown, looks like you'll have to search elsewhere...

Current release: JOY DIVISION

You've seen CONTROL (well, probably, anyway - it seemed quite popular here in the UK at least), the black-and-white biopic of Ian Curtis. Well now here's the real deal (in colour) as the documentary JOY DIVISION brings the story of the titular band to the screen.

Through archive footage, interviews with all major players (including the recently deceased Factory Records guru Tony Wilson) and some arty-farty visuals, we see the story of not just Ian Curtis (though he takes centre stage) but of the band itself. Where it came from, how it happened, and where it went, it's all here and while unlikely to do much at the box office it's arguably the more valuable film.

Most impressive is the picture that the film builds of the time and place - not just of the kind of bands that emerged but why they emerged, how they emerged and where they emerged from. The grim portrait painted of the early 80s post-industrial wasteland that was Manchester is a powerful one, and is aided along the way by then-and-now pictures of key locations. It's ironic that Manchester is now so much changed for the better that although the city now appears more vibrant, many of the venues and places that shaped its legendary music scene no longer exist.

And on that subject, the only real problem I had with the film was the almost God-like reverence shown towards Curtis and the band that not only establishes Curtis as a musical genius (he may well have been) but also seems to imply that Joy Division were almost the main catalyst for the change in Manchester in the years since. Simply put, I have my doubts that they were quite as important as this film suggests. Brilliant, yes; influential, without question - but beyond that I'm just not sure.

Then again, I've never actually been to Manchester, so don't listen to me.

DON'T LOOK BACK (1967)

I recently went to see a new print of DONT LOOK BACK, DA Pennebaker's documentary film of Bob Dylan's arrival in England back in the mid sixties. I'd never seen it before, but as a fan of documentaries I thought I should take the opportunity. I should say before I go any further that I'm not a huge fan of Dylan - as a singer/performer he just doesn't really do it for me, though as a songwriter he's certainly in a league of his own. Or to put it another way, I like a lot of Dylan songs, I just tend to prefer other people's versions of them.

Nor am I particularly knowledgeable of the man or his history. Consequently the recent kind-of-biopic-but-not-really I'M NOT THERE left me cold. I had no idea what a lot of it was about and while I appreciated the Garrett/Guthrie segments for their cinematic qualities and quite liked Bale's turn, most of the film annoyed me, especially the Blanchett sections.

But I was supposed to be talking about DONT LOOK BACK...

I loved this movie, for numerous reasons. For one thing, like so many good documentaries, it's a valuable time capsule - not only for its look at the people of mid-sixties England, but the place itself. The dark, grainy black and white photography seems like it was invented for the sole purpose of filming working class England (see also RADIO ON) and many of my favourite scenes were simply of Dylan and friends either travelling across the country or walking the streets of urban England.

As someone who doesn't know much about Bob Dylan, I found the picture painted here of the artist at the height of his power an interesting one. His repeated refusal to be the smiling popstar answering questions with easy answers seems at time to show great wisdom and at others to just be obnoxious; there's a certain joy to be had watching him play mind-games with journalists and yet at the same time his rant against the qualities of Time magazine seemed to this viewer to be bordering on childish.

As for the structure of the documentary itself? There are plenty of great examples of documentaries that follow a character from A to B to C through a particular series of events that will end up shaping the film into a story with a narrative not unlike that chosen by any good fiction piece; DONT LOOK BACK, for me, is not one of them.

What I liked about this film was that rather than watching Dylan develop as a person or see him following some kind of journey, the film is more like a "best of" compilation from the period it covers. Scene after scene offers another highlight which can exist totally separate from any that have gone before or after.

Seeing the otherwise calm Dylan losing the rag over a thrown glass and the ensuing encounter with some drunks (and a performance by Donovan); Dylan stirring up a music journalist in a dressing room; the awkwardness as a kindly old lady tells Dylan what a wonderful role model he is and invites him to stay next time he's in England; manager Albert Grossman abusing a hotel manager; the Dylan-less scene in which Grossman negotiates a fee for a BBC show; these and many more held me totally transfixed. And yes, I even enjoyed some of the musical numbers.

I'm still not likely to be buying any Dylan albums in the future, but I can certainly foresee me watching this film again.

Oscars 2008: Stupid Predictions (song)

Sorry, I've been busy. I'm now back with another Oscar prediction though, and as always, it's stupid.

For you see, there are a total of 38 films, and I've seen just one of them. As if that wasn't bad enough, those 38 films have produced a total of 59 contenders for nominations. I'm talking of course about the Original Song category.

Another day, another discovery of a press release over on the Oscars website. Of those 38 films, the only one I've seen is the Irish musical romance ONCE, which I've praised more than once (no pun intended) on this blog.

Not only is ONCE the best film I've seen this year - oops, I may just have blown the suspense when I do a countdown of the best films of 2007 at a later date - but I also tipped it in my last blog entry to win in this category. Go on, check back if you don't believe me. I haven't edited it or anything, honest. Well, okay, I referred to it as "an outside bet", but that still counts, I think.

So, as a man who liked playing with shaving foam and mashed potato once said, this means something. It's an omen, surely.

Therefore, I've decided right here, before any nominations are announced, that the Original Song award at next year's Oscar ceremony will go to ONCE. It's got two possibilities of course, but either way it's a result for Glen Hansard, Marketa Irglova and director John Carney. It's really turned into this year's "little film that could".

So which song will win out of the two? No idea, so I'm going to say Falling Slowly, because that's the first one I thought of when I mentioned it the other day. Either would be a deserving win though, and I'm sure they're both better than the other contenders given the mind numbingly anodyne bobbins we're usually treated to at the Oscars. Haven't heard any of them, but I am assuming that at least one song from a kids film such as RATATOUILLE will be nominated because they always are.

But ONCE is the winner.

(Note: further to my previous Oscar chat, the Critics Choice awards have announced their nominations and INTO THE WILD and JUNO get seven and six nominations respectively - given that I've seen neither of them, that definitely increases the stupidity level of my Oscar predictions.)

Cork Film Festival 2007 (feature films)

Okay, I covered the short films so Slightly later than planned, a few words about the feature films I saw at this year's Corona Cork Film Festival.

TONIGHT IS CANCELLED is a low budget film in which an Irish director turns up in Kosovo with plans to shoot a film based on the experiences of a local couple he meets there. While there's the odd moment of humour and some lovely photography, I found this film to be rather meandering and unengaging. The source material is undoubtedly rich in potential but it's potential that is not fulfilled here; similarly, director Brendan Grant shows enough to make me think he has promise as a director of features, but promise that remains unfulfilled here.

I can't say that I was overly enamoured with Colin Downey's DREAM DIARY either, though it certainly was bizarre enough to sustain the attention. An experimental art film in black and white showcasing some truly bizarre moments involving a giant worm, witchcraft, a woman with a strange disfigurement and plenty of other oddness besides, it's reminiscent in many ways of David Lynch's ERASERHEAD. But for all its similarities, it's not as polished and veers off into strangeness for the sake of strangeness once too often.

When Bob Quinn's Irish-language POITIN was first shown thirty years ago, it had presented a daring vision of the west of Ireland (the remote cottages are the same, but they're populated by scheming bootleggers and thieves), and was almost devoid of music. It is justifiably hailed as a classic of Irish cinema, but the negative went missing for many years. Now it has been recovered (a new 35mm print being blown up from 16mm without looking any the worse for it) and a new score composed for it.

Featuring Irish acting greats Cyril Cusack and Donal McCann, the film tells the tale of a man who makes his own poitin (think Irish moonshine) and sells it on via McCann and partner Niall Toibin. Doublecrossing and dishonesty mean it'll all end in tears for someone however, and what could have been a quirky picture-postcard representation of life in rural Connemara ends up as a gritty and accomplished crime film with a strangely effective bucolic backdrop.

Mel Cheren is the subject of the documentary THE GODFATHER OF DISCO, which covers the emergence of disco through its mutation into what was later called dance music and in an enlightening and enjoyable way sheds light on Cheren's almost unrivalled contribution to the scene with interviews aplenty and lots of archive footage. It's not all shiny suits and glitterballs however and the film covers the disco scene in its entirety, including the outbreak of the mysterious and deadly epidemic that the world would come to know as AIDS, along with Cheren's part in fighting it and trying to raise awareness of the issue.

BOTCHED was a perfect film for the late night slot - a low budget film set in Russia (although managing to make the most of shooting in a soundstage in Ireland for most of it), it stars Stephen Dorff as a criminal dragged into committing the usual "one last job", only to fall foul of forces beyond what he usually has to deal with. Kit Ryan's film is an interesting oddity that plays with audience expectations - what begins as an apparent story about a botched heist soon turns into a gory but endearingly mad horror-comedy which is not ashamed to have fun while tearing its characters to pieces, unlike the current trend for grisly torture movies. It'll certainly do well on the festival circuit (it also played at Horrorthon in Dublin, which I'll be covering soon) but these little films always struggle for cinema release without either an A-list star or a major studio backing them. One can only hope BOTCHED succeeds, as it certainly offers a pleasing couple of hours for potential audiences.

Next up was BOY A, a great little British drama about a young man who has been released from an institution where he was sent for his part in a despicable crime committed with a friend when they were young boys. With a new identity, a desire to leave the past behind and in many ways seeing the world anew, young "Jack" soon finds a new home, a job, new friends and even romance. Of course, it's not long before various parties, including the ever-reliable British tabloid press, are bringing the past back to haunt Jack, a past that finally catches up with him as a result of a snap decision to help a child in danger.

Based on Jonathan Trigell's novel, the story would seem to be in part inspired by one real life case that featured heavily in Britain's tabloids. I'm sure you know which one I'm talking about, and if you don't I've no desire to dredge up unpleasant memories by discussing it here. All I will say is that this is a terrific little film that really deserves a wide audience, though the subject matter may make that difficult.

The final film I saw was TRANCES, a documentary following Moroccan band Nass El Ghiwane in the early 80s, as they perform live and espouse their various philosophies on life. It's the first film to be rescued, or restored, or whatever you want to call it, by Martin Scorsese's World Cinema Foundation and while I found it enjoyable and acknowledge the need to save it I must also say that if you don't like the band's music the film could be a pretty hard slog for you. As an aside, I should mention that this film is almost three decades old and yet upon consulting the Internet Movie Database entry to see what the average score is I see that, at the time of writing, it is still "awaiting five votes". Rescued from obscurity indeed.

Coming soon: my opinions from this year's Horrorthon festival in Dublin.

Glasgow Film Festival 2007: The Finale

Let's see, where was I... oh yeah, the rest of the films I saw in Glasgow. Sorry, this is a bit later than promised but hey, reporting on a festival I went to a month ago - that's not bad by my usual untimely standards.

Anyway, after sitting through all the horror on show on Saturday and no, that's not a reference to drunken Glaswegians (sorry, I think I made the same gag last year too), I had a more mainstream Sunday.

Sunday afternoon kicked off with Clint Eastwood's LETTERS FROM IWO JIMA, not so much a sequel as a companion piece to his (only slightly) earlier movie FLAGS OF OUR FATHERS. I was curious to see why this film had picked up the Oscar nominations for Clint rather than FLAGS and upon viewing it, I immediately saw why. It's simply a better film.

Concentrating on the same point in history as the earlier film, LETTERS FROM IWO JIMA told of the same events as seen from the Japanese viewpoint. It would seem like a difficult task - not just the technical aspects, or filming it all in Japanese, or covering similar ground to a film that was only just out of the cinemas without repeating itself, but also the task of representing the views of the soldiers who are seen as being "the bad guys" in simple terms.

Eastwood pulls it off with aplomb. The battles are no less harrowing than they were in FLAGS (a film that is alluded to on a couple of occasions without it being required viewing beforehand) but it's the humanity that shines through. The Japanese cast, led by Ken Watanabe, do a grand job of portraying the soldiers with dignity, compassion and numerous other characteristics that older, more simplified movies would deny them.

From Cineworld I popped back along the road to the Glasgow Film Theatre to take in Richard Linklater's adaptation of the best-selling FAST FOOD NATION. The tactic of adapting a non-fiction book into dramatic fiction for the screen is an interesting one but one that doesn't quite pay off. There are too many characters with too many agendas - the message that fast food is a little dodgy comes across, but without any real focal point. On top of this, the harrowing footage of the slaughterhouse floor might be unpleasant enough but I couldn't help thinking that the people who are most likely to be offended by such bloody carnage are the ones who are least likely to be eating such food in the first place.

I finished that evening with BUENOS AIRES 1977, a thriller from Argentina about the mistreatment of political prisoners under the brutal regime in that country during the 1970s. The film concentrates mainly on the horrors that were sanctioned in the name of the Argentinean government but towards the end turns into an edge-of-the-seat thriller about the prisoners' escape attempt.

Based on a true story, this movie got my heart pumping as much as any recent Hollywood thriller and was a standout highlight of the Glasgow Film Festival this year. One can only hope that with this year marking the 25th anniversary of Britain's conflict with Argentina that films such as this one and the equally excellent (but under-released) BLESSED BY FIRE get the high profile they deserve.

If tense character-driven drama in enclosed spaces is your thing then you should probably stick with me, for the next film I saw (after returning from my previously-mentioned trip to Dublin) was TRUE NORTH, a low-budget drama which is predominantly Scottish on the surface but had a fair amount of Irish involvement too.

It's the story of a young Scotsman (SWEET SIXTEEN's Martin Compston) who, in an attempt to provide some financial security for his father, uses their fishing trawler to smuggler some Asian immigrants back to the UK. The drama on board unfolds mainly around the tension between members of the crew (also including Peter Mullan) but at the same time the film isn't afraid to tackle issues.

The successes of the film are many. For one thing, the cast are all excellent and, combined with an intelligent script, make a grand job not only of portraying the characters with all their problems but also in showing why people resort to such actions. While a lot of attention is focused on the plight of the immigrants, and justifiably so, it's easy to forget that the smugglers are human too and not always in it purely for exploitation purposes.

The sequences on the boat are standouts too, thanks to the fact that the film was actually shot at sea - too many films at sea are scuppered straight away by obvious studio sets so it's refreshing to see one done right.

And on top of all the other strengths, there's the ending. It's happy, in a manner of speaking - but you'll get punched in the gut a few times before you get to it.

This was followed by another trip from the GFT across town to the Grosvenor, for a late-night screening of SCOTT WALKER: 30 CENTURY MAN. It's exactly as it sounds - a documentary about Scott Walker, the sixties icon who found fame with the Walker Brothers (Fact: they weren't brothers, and none of them were really called Walker) and then went all weird. His music remains weird today but he's an incredible talent and an interesting guy, and this film is a rare insight into his history, his talent and his thoughts. The earlier portions of the film were more enjoyable to me but that may be because I'm more familiar with his earlier music; the film never stops being interesting though.

On the final day of Glasgow's festival, I took in three more at the GFT. First up was THE SHOOTIST, the final film in their John Wayne retrospective and also his final film.

When a once legendary gunslinger rolls into town to discover he's dying (played by a visibly ailing Wayne) he sets about trying to tidy up his life before he goes. In the boarding house where he stays, a young lad (Ron Howard) discovers who he is and idolises him, much to Wayne's chagrin as he wishes to leave the violent lifestyle behind. Unfortunately most of the town's inhabitants aren't as keen to forget.

It's hardly in the same league as THE SEARCHERS which, incredibly enough, is the only other Wayne film I've seen, but it's a decent western all the same. I'd be lying if I said Wayne put in an excellent performance but he does give the character a degree of warmth and humanity and most of all the sense that he really does know his time is up - not just his own life, but the very ideas he once represented. In that respect, it stands next to (but not quite on a par with) THE SEARCHERS, THE WILD BUNCH and the greatest western ever made, ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST, as a touching portrait of the death of the gun slinging way of life.

CLASH OF EGOS came next, which I think was a Danish movie but I can't remember and I'm too lazy to look it up. Its original title actually translates as "explosive bomb" which sounds daft but is actually perfect.

When a snobbish arthouse director is facing a serious lawsuit from an average joe with a temper problem, the settlement sees him partnering the lunatic in directorial and scripting duties, giving rise to a hilarious clash between pretentious arthouse sensibilities and a guy who just wants things to fight and explode. Poking fun at both ends of the cinematic spectrum, the film's a delight and comes highly recommended if you're in the mood for a laugh. Of course, the irony is that it will only play in arthouse cinemas here, if at all, but that's beyond my control.

And finally, the closing gala film.

First there was black and white. Then there was colour. Then there was Zhang Yimou. JU DOU, RAISE THE RED LANTERN, HERO, HOUSE OF FLYING DAGGERS, RIDING ALONE FOR THOUSANDS OF MILES... the Chinese director never fails to make films look beautiful but as breathtaking as all these are, nothing prepares you for the spectacle that is CURSE OF THE GOLDEN FLOWER, getting its UK premiere on closing night of the GFF 2007.

The costumes and sets are so detailed they boggle the mind; the colours so wild and varied and vivid that it's a trick just for the human eye to take them all in; the battle scenes are as majestic as any committed to the screen - it's a visual feast in every sense imaginable.

That's not to say it's style over substance however - the story is a gripping tale of politics and betrayal in the family of a Chinese emperor, and boasts a cast headed by Gong Li and Chow Yun Fat, two megastars of Asian cinema, both of whom turn in terrific performances.

Because of the spectacle, the setting and the majestic and graceful fight scenes, the two Zhang Yimou films it will be compared to most often will be HERO and HOUSE OF FLYING DAGGERS. They were both excellent - and this movie surpasses them both.

It opens in UK cinemas in a couple of weeks. If you do not see it you are cheating yourself, and you deserve to be mocked openly in the street by small children. Do not let this one pass you by. And if you're only going to see it because I recommended it so highly (unlikely, I know) then feel free to thank me afterwards. Trust me, you'll want to.

I will try to get back to at least posting once a week now. Honest.

Another EIFF story (the last one, honest)

So, that festival story I was going to tell you about.

Every year around festival time you'll find it impossible to walk the streets of Edinburgh without seeing a familiar face. This year I breezed past Sean Connery in the foyer of the Filmhouse; had Trigger from "Only Fools and Horses" sit next to me at a Doug Stanhope gig; and saw Heather the Weather wandering about at the Scottish Parliament (trust me, Scottish people know who I'm talking about).

But the best, if not the most famous, celebrity incident occurred during the EIFF just after I came out of the screening of AL FRANKEN: GOD SPOKE.

I was hanging around waiting to go into the next film when an old American guy who looked vaguely familiar approached me and commented on the T-shirt I was wearing (a picture of Richard Nixon with the words LEGENDS NEVER DIE plastered across it). He began to tell me of how he had wanted to make a film about Nixon, which of course set the cogs in my brain going.

After about thirty seconds, I realised that I was chatting to D.A. Pennebaker, one of the true pioneers of American documentary cinema and, it just so happens, director of one of my favourite concert movies ever. The lightbulb above my head sparked into life.

"Monterey Pop!" I blurted out, and began a conversation about the aforementioned film. Well, really, it was more like he was telling me loads of interesting stuff and I was just blethering on about how brilliant Otis Redding was.

So that brief conversation really impressed my inner geek and I walked away happier than I had after any of the actual screenings (well, with the possible exception of that TWILIGHT ZONE episode I mentioned).

Okay, so I accept that many of you probably didn't recognise his name and that hardly any of you would recognise him if you saw him in the street - but all the same, I was tremendously excited and if you need to refresh your memory as to why then I suggest you revisit my blog entry of 14 July.

Talking of my previous concert movie marathon, I went to see ELVIS: THAT'S THE WAY IT IS at the cinema on Friday night. Sure, I just watched the DVD a couple of months ago, but you need to see it on the big screen. I swear it got more applause than half the films I saw at the EIFF.

That's the power of music for you. Well, music and a ton of burgers. Hail to the King, baby.

Just a shot away

The work of David Maysles, Albert Maysles and Charlotte Zwerin, GIMME SHELTER documents the 1969 tour of the USA embarked upon by the legendary Rolling Stones, which was to culminate in a large-scale free concert, Woodstock-style, at the Altamont Speedway in San Francisco.

The film's opening scenes flip between footage of the Stones' opener in New York to the aftermath of the tour which sees Mick and Charlie sitting in on the editing of the footage, giving the movie a strange film-within-a-film vibe that sets it apart from so many others of its ilk. Their concentration is not held however by the concert footage that has been recorded, but rather by a radio phone-in which is discussing the Altamont concert and, specifically, the murder of an audience member just yards from the stage where the Stones were playing.

Armed with this knowledge straight from the off, the film runs a thin line between documentary and drama. Documentary it certainly is, but by alerting us at the start as to the horrific end that awaits, the film builds tension and drama as well as any fictional narrative might have done.

The concert footage and the scenes of organisation are not dissimilar to that of many other concert movies, though it should be said that not every concert movie captures a band like the Stones in their prime. Where the film comes to life however is the infamous concert at Altamont.

Audience members were kept waiting; tempers were running high; tension began to build between the kids in the audience and the Hell's Angels guarding the stage. Something was going to happen and you can see it brewing before your eyes, helplessly witnessing the build-up to the impending tragedy and yet unable to avert your gaze.

It's easy to say in hindsight, but one wonders just how good an idea it was to hire Hell's Angels as security for the gig. I won't dwell on the issue but it seems an odd choice to these young eyes watching the concert so many years later.

Gradually the action spilled out onto the stage, bringing Jefferson Airplane's set to a standstill as people appeared from the audience on the stage and the Angels struggled to control the situation. Tempers were flaring, fights were breaking out; by the time the Stones got round to their performance it was almost inevitable that something would explode.

And so it did. After repeated attempts to thwart the fights in the crowd, the Stones came to the end of "Under My Thumb" and something happened. Just yards in front of where Mick was standing there was sudden movement, a flurry of arms... and panic. I haven't specified here what happened because, even if you know of the incident and are looking for it, it's very difficult to see. Difficult, that is, until the makers of GIMME SHELTER give us the benefit of close-ups and freeze-frames.

There's a tussle in the crowd. A young black man in a distinctive green suit pulls a gun. One of the Angels is upon him and thrusts a knife at him, a stabbing that was to prove fatal and would forever taint the memory and the name of Altamont.

When watching the movie it's difficult to say what is more sobering - the incident being replayed; the shot of the young man's body being loaded into an ambulance; or the sight of the normally larger-than-life Jagger sitting quietly in front of a monitor at a later date contemplating what has happened. All these moments stick in the mind, along with the nagging question of what would have happened had the stabbing not taken place - just where would that gun have been aimed?

If you're wondering why I've not made much of the Stones performances in the movie, it's not because they're bad. They are as impressive as you'd expect; it's just that the incident at Altamont is unfortunately what sticks in the head after you've seen the movie.

There is an argument about the merits of the movie as documentary - is it really a document of the Stones' tour which just happened to end in tragedy? Or is it a glorified snuff movie, cynically exploiting a murder to sell a movie? On the one hand, the incident certainly isn't immediately visible, but the filmmakers certainly make sure we've seen it by the end.

No matter which version of the above conundrum you go with there is no denying the power of the movie as both a piece of rockumentary history and a snapshot of a changing time in America.

And so ends the Freakpit's concert movie marathon, but before I wind up I should point out one little piece of trivia. You'll recall the trigger for this string of concert movie viewings was the fact that I'd been unable to attend any of the screenings of GLASTONBURY recently at my local arthouse cinemas. Well, ironically enough, right in the middle of this marathon session (Saturday night to be precise), the film aired on British TV for the first time (it's a BBC film, hence the quick trip from cinema to television), giving me the opportunity to see it after all.

It wasn't very good.

The psychedelic concentration camp!

From the USA to Canada and now to England. In 1970, hundreds of thousands of people turned up for what could have been Britain's Woodstock, an incredible achievement given that it was held in the relative isolation of the Isle of Wight.

The line-up of performers was incredible but the hippie ideals were trodden into the sodden British mud as back-stage arguments and chaos outside the venue saw the love generation's dream once more turn sour.

The spectacle is captured warts and all in the enthralling film A MESSAGE TO LOVE. Taking its cue from WOODSTOCK, the movie documents the festival with a combination of footage of the build up to the event, the happenings on stage, off stage and behind the scenes and the views of the locals who had to put up with the youth descending on their home for a weekend of free love, loud music and a fair amount of drugs too.

The mood of the festival and its surroundings is captured in everything from the gonzo rendition of "There'll Always be an England" by Tiny Tim to the pleas of the organisers regarding a drugs amnesty for minors to the contrasting views of the locals. There are no fancy split-screen effects like WOODSTOCK, but the opinions are certainly more entertaining - on one side of the fence there is the local woman (who I confess I thought may have been a man in drag, but I think she's a woman) who is delighted to have them here, while taking the contrary stance is the digruntled toff who accuses them of being communists. Interesting view point, though some might say completely nuts.

The film sticks in the minds for two reasons though - one is the terrific music (more on that later) while the other is the sight of the festival going wrong as, just as in Canada (see yesterday's blog), trouble erupts due to a group of deluded attendees who think the festival should be free. The sight of one of the main organisers getting up on stage and telling them exactly what he thinks of them is one that makes for an interesting contrast with the whole peace and love ethic.

As for the music... well, there's Jimi Hendrix, making his last UK appearance less than three weeks before his death; The Doors, featuring Jim Morrison also making his last UK appearance; The Who, wreaking havok as usual; John Sebastian, looking as stoned as he did at Woodstock; Emerson, Lake and Palmer kickstarting the Prog Rock movement with their wild stage show; The Moody Blues, Miles Davis, Ten Years After, Leonard Cohen, Joan Baez and a whole lot more. An eclectic and talented selection of musicians for sure.

But it was the dark side of the event that dominates my memories of the movie, particularly since on this occasion it spilled over into the music as well. Witness, for example, Kris Kristofferson's obvious displeasure at the negative attitude of certain sections of the crowd (he was heard to remark about this incident on stage when he played the Big Sur Folk Festival in California a short while later). On top of that, there is Joni Mitchell having her set gatecrashed by a pathetic member of the crowd who wanted to hijack the microphone after her performance of "Woodstock". The idiot was dragged off by security but left Mitchell visibly upset; she recovered however to pick up her guitar and belt out a cracking performance of "Big Yellow Taxi".

That, to me, sums up the film. It's a film showcasing many wonderful musical performances but is shot through with anger, unrest and disillusionment and marks another nail in the coffin for the hippie movement.

The unrest recorded in FESTIVAL EXPRESS and A MESSAGE TO LOVE was not completely new however. There are some who would argue that in order to pinpoint one single moment when the peace and love ideals of a generation collapsed, you need only point to one particular concert that had taken place the previous year, a concert held by the Rolling Stones that would be forever associated with one shocking and tragic outburst of violence.

...which of course seems like a suitable subject for my next blog entry. Join me tomorrow when my concert movie marathon concludes with that infamous day at Altamont.

"Drivin' that train, high on cocaine..."

A great deal of the chaos surrounding Woodstock must have been a result of the immeasurable numbers flocking to one location for an event of that size. What better way then to avoid such problems than taking the event to the people?

FESTIVAL EXPRESS documents the adventures and misadventures of a large, privately-hired train working its way across Canada, its passengers being a bunch of rock and roll stars who would get off and play a gig at each stop. Taking place the year after the New York spectacular, there weren't as many bands on the Festival Express as were at Woodstock but that certainly didn't dampen anyone's enthusiasm. Sadly, they didn't avoid the chaos of Woodstock either.

The music is once again terrific. The Grateful Dead are on top form; Buddy Guy was there, performing his brand of blues magic; The Band played all their classics (here performing on home soil); Sha Na Na make another brief appearance as they did at Woodstock; also following a knock-down performance at Woodstock, Janis Joplin would once again wow the crowds.

However, as enjoyable as the music is, the film is fascinating almost as much for off-stage activity as on-stage.

A window into another time and place, the film showcases incredible footage of many top artists of the day sitting around the train together drinking, chatting and jamming - the sight of these musicians all sitting playing together is something, but equally interesting are the quieter moments when, as with other concert movie highlights, once again we catch sight of rare glimpses of those who have since faded into rock legend (in one scene, Janis Joplin sits in with Rick Danko of the band and Jerry Garcia of the Grateful Dead - all of whom are sadly no longer with us).

The tribulations captured by the film remind us that it wasn't all drink, drugs and rock'n'roll however. Well, maybe it does remind us about the drink, since one incident sees the train being drunk dry and having to make an emergency stop to fill up, at which point some lucky/unlucky off-licence owner witnessed a trainful of rock stars empty the shelves of his shop.

The main chaos ensued however when it was decided by a group of people, perhaps inspired by Woodstock before them, that the concert should be free. The hippie notion of how morally wrong it was to be charging for such concerts was always going to be a problem (idealist it may be, but practical it certainly wasn't) and trouble ensued, with the young concert attenders clashing with the police outside the venue.

This news travelled and similar problems would greet the organisers as they turned up for the next stops on the line, resulting in a series of free concerts being given just to keep the peace.

The notion that something should be free just because it's possible, regardless of the practicalities, is not one that has disappeared in the wake of these festivals. In the late 60s and early 70s such ideas were obviously aimed at music events like these, but is it really any different from the belief held today by many that music, films, software, etc. should be downloaded illegally from the internet just because it's possible, rather than paying for the product? The more things change...

FESTIVAL EXPRESS is a wonderful concert movie and fascinating for capturing the best and worst of the festival (the music and the crowd trouble respectively) but is also one piece of evidence that perhaps the love generation's ideals and dreams were beginning to turn sour. It certainly wasn't the only film to show the dark side of the Woodstock spirit - similar events occurred that same year over in England.

And you can read about that tomorrow...

Three days of peace and music

With the currently available director's cut weighing in at about three and a half hours, you can't accuse Michael Wadleigh's WOODSTOCK of skimping with the material. At that length, your willingness to sit and watch may well depend on your opinion of the music - most of which I love - but that's a shame because in between songs it paints a fascinating portrait of the hippie ideals that were sweeping America's youth in the late sixties.

Putting the music to one side, the film stands as more than just a document of a concert, but that is largely to do with the fact that Woodstock was no ordinary concert.

While originally ticketed, the organisers had to eventually give in and make it a free concert by virtue of the number of people who turned up - estimates always vary but there were certainly well in excess of half a million people in the crowd. One of the most stunning sights in the movie is when you see the crowd from outside or from on stage and realise that you can't actually see where it ends - there are literally people as far as the eye can see.

Of course this popularity brought its own problems. Roads were blocked, people died, other people gave birth, food was dropped in from the sky as the whole area officially became classified as a disaster area. Injuries and bad trips aside (they were actually doing drugs, can you believe it?) it certainly didn't look like a disaster from the inside.

The highlights for me, from a musical perspective, are almost too numerous to count - the concert exploding into life with a fine performance by Richie Havens; Joan Baez being on fine form with the song Joe Hill; the madcap energy of rock'n'roll outfit Sha-Na-Na; Arlo Guthrie, Jefferson Airplane and Janis Joplin all performing at the top of their game; the hilarious though biting performance of Country Joe McDonald and his anti-Vietnam ditty I Feel Like I'm Fixing to Die Rag (if that performance doesn't raise a chuckle and have you tapping your feet, it's probably worth checking for a pulse); and the Lovin' Spoonful's John Sebastian coming on stage to perform, clearly having indulged in a little too much of the Woodstock spirit and exclaiming various messages of love and "far out" style shenanigans (but still delivering a memorable performance of Younger Generation).

The only weak points in my opinion (and these are solely a reflection of my musical tastes) are those that other people might well afford "legend" status. The Who were typically Who-like but I just don't rate their cover version of Eddie Cochrane's Summertime Blues; and the legendary performance of Jimi Hendrix (particularly his Star Spangled Banner rendition) when half the crowd had gone home, which has passed into legend but doesn't impress me particularly. I appreciate that it's very clever being able to play the guitar with your teeth and make it perform all manner of weird noises, but I'm one of those traditional folks who would rather hear someone simply play a tune, and when his rendition of the American national anthem descends into a cacophonous racket designed to showcase his technical skills I find it hard to keep paying attention.

The film captures the event like no other movie had ever done - Wadleigh (with assistant director Martin Scorsese - there's that man again) employed a groundbreaking split-screen technique that not only allowed coverage of the music acts from different angles simultaneously but also allowed him to show one of the acts at the same time as some of the crowd, or to show two opposing sides of the same scene. It's here that it becomes particularly useful as the film employs fascinating documentary footage not just to show the behind the scenes manoevres at the concert but also the divided opinions of the youths attending the gig and the locals who had to put up with it (some of whom were very understanding while others were very much of the stereotypical "you're a disgrace" kind of attitude).

It might be a long movie but it's worth sitting through from both a musical perspective and a historical one - there had never been an event quite like Woodstock and there never would be again... and you could argue the same thing about the movie itself.

It's also significant because the "peace and love" ideals of the flower children were to turn sour very soon - as we'll see very shortly...

California dreaming

1967, the Summer of Love - Monterey, California. Amidst a crowd of hippies and "normal" folk, one of the greatest ever music festivals was to take place, showcasing some of the finest musicians of the late sixties. Luckily for us folks too young to remember (and those old enough to want to relive it), filmmaker D.A. Pennebaker was on hand with his crew to cover the occasion.

From the many, many hours of footage shot it would be a tough choice deciding what would make the film (the simply titled MONTEREY POP) and what would end up on the cutting room floor, but the end film (or rather films - I'll get to that in a minute) is an engrossing documentary of the concert that manages a good spread of artists while capturing the spirit of the occasion. While many key performances are captured, there are still plenty scenes of the flower children enjoying themselves and espousing their beliefs - it's a real snapshot of a bygone era, and a very special time in modern history.

The first live performance is that of the Mamas and the Papas performing their famous California Dreaming. It's not a note perfect rendition but it's a perfect evocation of the time and an appropriate choice given that this first (and only) Monterey Pop Festival was organised by their very own John Phillips.

There are plenty of musical highlights to choose from - Simon & Garfunkel in their prime; Jefferson Airplane demonstrating why they were one of the biggest bands in the psychedlic scene; The Who inevitably give us a blast of My Generation. Some of the briefest moments are the most perfectly realised, such as Michelle Phillips' excitement at Ravi Shankar's performance, or her companion Mama Cass registering her obvious amazement at the vocal gymnastics of the late, great Janis Joplin.

And it's things like this that make it truly special - the capturing of performances by so many artists in their prime who were sadly not to grace the music world for as long as we would have wished. Performances by Janis Joplin, Otis Redding and Jimi Hendrix all stick in the mind. While Hendrix decides he's going to outdo the antics of Pete Townsend and friends by performing all manner of feats with his guitar (including, eventually, setting it on fire and throwing pieces to the crowd) it's the performance of Otis Redding that makes the film.

At the time, Otis was just beginning to establish himself as something special but it was his appearance at Monterey where he truly made his mark. Having already seen a wonderful selection of bands performing, he had his work cut out for him. Indeed, the love generation must have wondered what to make of it all, seeing backing band Booker T & The MGs standing on stage in their matching lime green suits before the big O himself marched out dressed in a not dissimilar dark green number. Any doubts were relieved with his powerhouse performance of Shake! but it was his soulful rendition of his untouchable ballad I've Been Loving You Too Long that wowed the audience and marked the emergence of a giant.

Both performances were captured in MONTEREY POP but his whole five-song set was preserved, like that of Hendrix, in a separate short film. The Hendrix performance (JIMI PLAYS MONTEREY) is more of a documentary which culminates in his live performance at Monterey; the film centering on Redding however was simply a document of his set at Monterey (SHAKE! OTIS AT MONTEREY) that lasts less than 20 minutes but is among the most amazing musical performances ever recorded.

Redding was to meet his tragic death a matter of months after this appearance but thanks to Pennebaker's MONTEREY POP and SHAKE! films we are at least lucky enough to have this special performance preserved - a live recording that is truly commensurate with the full magnitude of Redding's greatness.

From the Summer of Love, it seems the only logical progression is move forward another couple of years to the very pinnacle of the love generation's musical achievements. Join me again tomorrow, when we'll be at a farm somewhere in New York State...

Glory, glory, hallelujah

Before I go on with my appreciation of Elvis in concert, I should lay down a couple more rules. When I said I was going to cover concert movies, I should have clarified what I meant - these are movies that are more than just a recording of a concert. They are frequently spread over many concerts, or maybe cover one concert but with the complete build up, or are laced with behind the scenes footage, or whatever.

The other rule I set myself is that, since I'm talking about movies here, I wasn't going to allow the inclusion of TV specials either. Due to both of the aforementioned rules, the broadcast of Live Aid for example would not count - it's just a live TV broadcast of a concert rather than a movie with any kind of narrative structure. There's also the fact that a great deal of the music it presented is, in hindsight, utter pish. Look, I'm sorry, I know it was a good cause and I sat and watched it myself at the time, but I couldn't sit through it again now.

The reason this digression occurs now is that it means that when I decided which movie could suitably represent the king of rock'n'roll I immediately had to discount two of my personal favourites, THE 1968 COMEBACK SPECIAL and ALOHA FROM HAWAII. Both were conceived of as TV events, and in the case of the former, it wasn't really a concert anyway.

That left me with the obvious choice - ELVIS: THAT'S THE WAY IT IS. Recorded on his tour in 1970, this concert movie captures Elvis in what many might describe as his prime - he'd transcended the mere rock'n'roll performances of his early career but had not yet turned into the lardy-arsed parody of himself that everyone remembers from just before that fatal trip to the john. It's not an opinion that's going to be shared by everyone (even I have to confess that I think Presley's music got better in direct proportion to the size of his gut, so the Vegas pie-master would always get my vote) but there's no denying that the performance captured in the movie is special.

The most well-known number in the movie is probably his performance of Suspicious Minds, since it was not only used in the UK as an advert for Sky TV but was also released as a single when the movie was re-released a few years back. It undoubtedly captures Elvis in all his glory but the real energy of the performance owes much to his backing band too - as much as the king gives it his all, every time I see this performance of Suspicious Minds I can't help wondering how Ronnie Tutt managed to play the drums at such speed without his arms dislocating in several places.

The movie is more than just a concert though. It captures the essence of two things, Elvis the performer and Elvis the phenomenon. The former is reflected not just in the stage performances captured but also in the behind the scenes footage showing the build up and the rehearsals as Elvis and the band work out the arrangements for each song. To all the doubters who say that because he never wrote a song Elvis was "only" a singer, this film demonstrates that he had a very much hands on approach to the music and how it was performed.

As for Elvis the phenomenon... this is documented throughout the movie (usually in the form of young girls screaming - happens to me all the time, but for the wrong reasons), whether it be the excitement of his fans or the sight of celebrities in the crowd (Sammy Davis Jr and Cary Grant both pop up). The pinnacle of the Elvismania however surely has to be his performance of Love Me Tender, at which point he wanders off stage to go round the crowd kissing lots of women, all of whom swoon, scream, faint, or all three. It's the kind of thing that, were it not so famous, you just wouldn't believe.

And among it all, somewhere, there are a few songs performed too.

Although I feel THAT'S THE WAY IT IS is the better movie, there's every chance you might prefer ELVIS ON TOUR (which, as mentioned yesterday, had a little involvement from Martin Scorsese). It's a more straightforward movie covering his tour a couple of years after THAT'S THE WAY IT IS (and he's visibly carrying a few more pounds) which features some cracking performances once more. Indeed from a strictly musical point of view it's my favourite of the two, which may be largely to do with the presence of An American Trilogy, one of my favourite Elvis numbers - a song so fantastic it even sounded good when performed in Hungarian by Elvis tribute singer Laszlo Komar. (Don't ask.)

As a movie however, it's not quite the same. There's a bit of behind the scenes footage but nothing particularly insightful and, despite attempts to show the progression of Elvis with some old montages, it's really the concert footage that stands out. There are some nice moments such as when Elvis has to perform the then-new Burning Love with the lyrics written on a piece of paper in front of him.

However, one of the most striking moments (for me, anyway) was when one breathless young female fan is being interviewed and professes her undying love for Elvis and goes on at great length about how she'll always love him - stating that "he'll never grow too old"... a remark that, in hindsight, proves to be eerily on-the-mark but sadly for all the wrong reasons. He'd be dead before the decade was out. And on that cheery note I'll move on.

So far I've concentrated on one band and one solo artist - but many of the great concert movies showcase a variety of talents and I'll now be covering some of them. For, as we'll see, while Elvis was making his comeback to the live arena, a new movement was sweeping America - the world of hippies, psychedelia, free love and all that groovy stuff, man.

Join me tomorrow as we rewind the clock a few years to the Summer of Love...

A concert movie that's worth The Weight

First up in the concert movie marathon is THE LAST WALTZ, the film documenting the farewell concert of The Band, who'd been on the road together for 16 years before calling it a day. This wasn't to be just any old concert though - staged in the venue where they'd first played together all those years ago, the warm-up was to be a thanksgiving dinner laid on for all the attendees first (a few thousand of them) before the concert proper.

The concert itself was more than just The Band playing a selection of their hits too - they were joined on stage throughout the evening by a selection of guests. As you'd expect, Ronnie Hawkins and Bob Dylan were there (The Band having supported both acts in the past) but in addition they were joined by the likes of Muddy Waters, Neil Young, Joni Mitchell, Eric Clapton, Van Morrison, Neil Diamond, Dr John... the list goes on. And on.

It's hard to go wrong with an assortment like that - it's enjoyable enough to see The Band belting out all the classics with which they'd become associated (The Weight, The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down, I Shall Be Released) but when backed by a stellar line-up like that it's something special.

Not that it was all songs from The Band's playlist. Part of the thrill is seeing this wonderful line-up of artists performing their own songs, backed by the musical artistry of The Band, whether it be Neil Young's Helpless (backed by Joni Mitchell), Mitchell's Coyote, or blues legend Muddy Waters giving us the classic Mannish Boy.

There's not a bum note in the whole film and you can't help but be impressed by the finale in which every artist comes back on stage to join in on the classic I Shall Be Released.

In order to document the film, The Band called on director Martin Scorsese, who brought with him Michael Chapman as director of photography (with whom he'd already made TAXI DRIVER). He also brought with him a love of the music (not his only foray into music documentary, he'd also been involved with the likes of ELVIS ON TOUR and the legendary WOODSTOCK - more about them later - and would go on to offer a fascinating insight into The Band's special guest Bob Dylan many years later in NO DIRECTION HOME).

The end result is not only a film that looks and sounds terrific but demonstrates Scorsese's reverence for the musicians themselves and captures the real sense of occasion. Unlike "event" films such as WOODSTOCK, this film, like the concert itself, was all about The Band. There were no interviews with die-hard fans, no shots of awed spectators, no lingering shots of the build up. What is documented in THE LAST WALTZ is the concert itself, or highlights at least, interspersed with a few numbers recorded in the studio (including a theme written for the movie and collaborations with the Staple Singers and Emmylou Harris) and interviews with The Band themselves.

The interviews bring an added dimension to the film, as the band members (Robbie Robertson in particular) talk at length about their experiences on the road and why, after all this time, they had decided to call it quits.

The film we are left with is part biography, part concert document, and all celebration - a fitting tribute to an extremely talented group of musicians and a testament to all they achieved.

So from a band marking the end of an era to an artist who was arguably in his prime - join me tomorrow where I'll be casting my eye over everyone's favourite spangly-suited burger-monkey...

The Freakpit Concert Movie Marathon!

Okay, sorry - I've spent so much time recently during my recovery period watching other films, reading stuff and watching the World Cup (and getting the odd bit of exercise too, I should point out) that I've neglected the oh-so-important task of forcing other people to listen to my opinions.

One of the downsides to my convalescence is that I did not get to the cinema, which in turn meant I missed out on the screenings at my local independent cinemas of Julian Temple's documentary GLASTONBURY. In case you hadn't guessed, it's a documentary charting the three decades of England's famous music festival.

It's not that I'm particularly interested in the festival itself - I'm not - but I do like a good concert movie now and again. Therefore, in the absence of the aforementioned film I thought I'd settle down with a few of my own favourite concert films. The result of this is the string of blog entries you're about to see over the next week or so.

Yes, it's another Freakpit marathon, one of those ones where I spread lots of things out over a longer period to make it look like I made more of an effort writing them - one a day, probably for about the next week or so. Sort of like I did with the BLIND DEAD films only this time there isn't a horse-riding zombie in sight. Mind you, with some of the antics that prog rock bands used to get up to on stage you might not bet against it.

I'll draw the line at concerts though - strictly concert movies only, not any other form of music-based films. My reason for that is simple enough. Plenty of films have been made to showcase a particular band or artist, but if I decide to cover them then I'll inevitably end up writing about CAN'T STOP THE MUSIC, the early-1980s debacle starring the Village People - and believe me, that's a memory that none of us want reminded of. Except that I just did. Sorry.

So what's first? Join me tomorrow and find out! (Oooh, I'm such a tease)

Rockumentaries are like buses...

You ever hear something being declared as "the new rock'n'roll?" Well it appears that the new rock'n'roll is actually rock'n'roll at the moment if the three documentaries I've seen recently are anything to go by. Okay, so maybe not, but three rock-docs in quick succession seems like enough of an excuse to write about them.

The first of the three, METAL: A HEADBANGER'S JOURNEY, is a look at the history and culture of heavy metal music. While it's of more interest to the mosher than the non-mosher it's still worth a look for general music lovers.

It's the work of an anthropology student and takes the appropriate tack for investigating the phenomenon but given that he's also a self-confessed headbanger it's not too difficult to see which side of the fence he's broadcasting from.

That said, it covers a lot of ground from the roots of metal (in classical music, believe it or not) to whether the music or the religious culture of Scandanavia was to blame for a series of apparently headbanger-inspired church burnings in Norway. Along the way most of the major bands are interviewed or at least namechecked, along with a fair few that this viewer had never heard of, and stories abound of the twisted and debauched lifestyle, the appeal of metal and all the other stuff you'd expect.

The other two rock-docs I checked out lately were, for my money, even better though your taste may well vary. I thought that while METAL was an interesting film even for non-headbangers it was still a little specialised, whereas in NEW YORK DOLL and THE DEVIL AND DANIEL JOHNSTON an understanding of music is a secondary requirement behind appreciation of a powerful story.

NEW YORK DOLL is the story of the seminal New York glam/punk band but concentrates on the life of their statue-like bass player Arthur "Killer" Kane. Talk about your rock and roll lifestyle... the band lasts a few years, splits up, he hits the bottle, falls out a window and hospitalises himself, becomes a Mormon, spends the rest of his life volunteering and being skint, dreaming of one day playing with the New York Dolls again. And after that?

Well, I wouldn't want to give anything away for those who don't know the story, but it's simultaneously one of the most uplifting and yet tragic stories I've seen on film in recent years.

Similar in some ways then to THE DEVIL AND DANIEL JOHNSTON. The titular musician (that's Daniel, not the devil) was a troubled child and a bit of an outcast but had a gift for music. Recording tapes in his own basement at home he gradually built up a cult following, gained several celebrity admirers and even managed to get himself on MTV.

Unfortunately Daniel also suffered serious issues and spent time on medication, lived in a mental hospital, suffered from various mental illnesses, ran foul of drugs and so on. The story of his battle to break into the bigtime while battling his inner demons, of his music and his painting, of his unrequited love and the strain on his family, is both touching and a little unsettling and does not offer any happy or convenient resolutions to Daniel's story... but it's a story that needs to be told and needs to be heard.

This latter couple of movies make me wonder what's gone wrong with rock stars today. If you happen to see any of the gutter-raking spew-receptacles that pass themselves off as the British press these days, you'll have discovered that one of the main stories in the world of entertainment seems to be the constant tribulations of a certain troubled musician who finds himself plastered all over the tabloids and gossip rags at regular intervals.

I'm not going to name him here, because he already gets more coverage than he deserves, but my main gripe is that he is a star solely because of his lifestyle. Drink, drugs, acting like a yob in general... all enough to grab plenty of headlines because he's a "famous" musician. Ask Joe Public to name any songs by any of his bands and watch the blank stares though.

It seems that where once musicians behaving badly got attacked in the press because they were famous, now it seems that musicians are more likely to become famous for behaving badly. Whatever happened to the rock and roll lifestyle? I know it always included drink, drugs and all the other vices you can think of but every now and then they'd record a half-decent song, too.

When you look at the stories of Arthur Kane and Daniel Johnston it's difficult not to get angry when some talentless cretin gets more coverage for the dark side of their life than those troubled guys got for making some decent music.

Musicians at the movies

From the days of Frankie Avalon and Cliff Richard (in a hot rod and a bus respectively) to the modern day naughty gun-waving antics of 50 Cent, cinema has always enjoyed a curious relationship with the world of popular music. I don't exactly know how or when (or even why), but once upon a time someone decided that since the public were willing to part with their cash every time Cliff and the Shadows brought out a record, they'd be equally willing to throw their money away for a couple of hours of them arsing around on a bus with Melvyn Hayes and Una Stubbs. And what do you know, they were right.

Yep, today's incessant rambling is about pop stars entering the movies (and I promise not to use it as an excuse to rant about Marky Mark and PLANET OF THE APES again, honest). It's a lot easier for such people to break into the business than it is for struggling actors, on the grounds that they have a ready-made fanbase willing to cough up the dough to see them. But some pop stars are in it for entirely different reasons - reasons like, dare I say it, doing it for the art - and decide that they are going to take their place behind the camera instead.

The film that got me thinking about this is THE PROPOSITION, in your local cinema as I type. This film was scripted by Aussie songsmith Nick Cave and also happens to be extremely good. Just as ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST showed the age of the cowboy drawing to a close as the railroads emerged and just as TWILIGHT SAMURAI (and the non-sequel follow-up THE HIDDEN BLADE) used the end of a swordwielding era to tell of love and honour in a changing Japan, so Cave's screenplay uses the backdrop of Australia's emergence from bushranging to "civilisation".

The story concerns three Irish brothers in Australia, all of whom are wanted for their part in the massacre of a local family. The middle brother of three, played by Guy Pearce, is captured together with his younger brother and given a simple choice by policeman Ray Winstone. His younger brother will be spared the death penalty if he agrees to capture and kill his far more dangerous elder brother (Danny Huston).

And it's on this simple premise that Cave, and director John Hillcoat, base a thrilling tale of family ties, revenge and the concept of civilisation. Though set in Australia, the film feels very much like a modern-day spaghetti western, albeit with an Aussie tinge, sharing the cynicism, the violence and the visual look. The violence will probably be the most difficult part for mainstream audiences - although it's not sustained, when it does happen it's very bloody. It's equally unafraid to show the barbaric attitude that settlers showed towards Aussie natives too, so much so that the film carries an appropriate warning before the titles.

What's this got to do with SUMMER HOLIDAY and all that? Well, I was thinking of the mixed reception that musician-related movies have received over the years and trying to determine, not entirely seriously, if there was a common factor behind what makes a good one. THE PROPOSITION made me wonder if maybe the secret was something to do with their creative energies and staying behind the camera instead of in front of it. Then, however, I remembered Rob Zombie's first writing/directing attempt, HOUSE OF 1000 CORPSES. It might have a truly wonderful name, but it's also a very bad movie.

That's not it then. So, back to the movies starring pop stars. What's the secret? Maybe it's musical talent. The Beatles for example were one of the greatest bands ever (if not the greatest) and certainly a couple of their films are still highly though of; Frank Sinatra was always a big seller and made some decent films (the original versions of THE MANCHURIAN CANDIDATE and OCEAN'S ELEVEN spring to mind); Elvis was a great singer and his films are... um... okay, so it's not all to do with musical talent then.

Maybe it's about popularity then. That would seem to work - The Monkees weren't the most musically gifted people on the planet but were really popular and I've always loved their totally bonkers film, HEAD. Then again, that doesn't work for Madonna. The undisputed queen of the pop charts for many years, she continued to churn out the biggest load of dross when she appeared on screen - yet when her popularity was just beginning to fade, up she pops in EVITA and gets the best film reviews of her career.

And hammering the nails in the coffin of the popularity theory, I give you exhibits A, B and C: SPICE WORLD featuring the five Spice Girls (Annoying, Ugly, Skeletal, Mental and Porky), Britney Spears' CROSSROADS, and Mariah Carey's GLITTER. Granted, SPICE WORLD is the only one I've seen but in the case of CROSSROADS I'm prepared to accept that a film being unanimously panned across the globe isn't likely to be much cop. And as for GLITTER - she might well have a remarkable talent for singing notes that only dogs can hear, but is that any basis for a movie? Even for a trash addict like me the concept of a Mariah Carey movie is too much.

The answer then must lie in a combination of the two. Musical talent is helpful, but so is popularity. A balance must be achieved - you can't be inconceivably brilliant but you have to be very good; equally you should be popular but not constantly scoring number one records all the time.

Evidence? Well, Mick Jagger, David Bowie and Art Garfunkel all managed to make decent movies with filmmaker Nicholas Roeg (PERFORMANCE, THE MAN WHO FELL TO EARTH and BAD TIMING respectively), though it's fair to say that the reviews of BAD TIMING tend to be a lot kinder today than they were at the time. And sure, the Stones were massive but they weren't the Beatles - and maybe taking just one of the Stones had the necessary effect on the popularity part of the equation.

Another good example would be TOMMY, the rock opera by The Who. I can't say I've ever been a fan of them myself, but they are popular (without reaching Beatles levels of popularity) and have a reasonable amount of musical talent. The result? TOMMY is completely mental but also totally brilliant.

But then TOMMY also featured a number of other music stars, which begs the question... what happens when you throw together a bunch of people of varying levels of popularity and talent? The brilliant and the dreadful, the loved and the despised? Well obviously the balance is upset and the resultant film is a mess that is just so bizarre you can't even decide if it's good or bad. Yes, I am of course talking about THE WIZ, the black remake of THE WIZARD OF OZ, which featured Michael Jackson and a whole host of other stars of black music in a film that pretty much defies description.

And after that seemingly endless bout of nonsense, I'm not even sure if I've reached any kind of logical conclusion. I guess if nothing else I've managed to piece together enough information that I can put forward a couple of solid observations:

1. If The Flaming Lips ever release their movie, CHRISTMAS ON MARS, it will be brilliant.

2. If you're a movie producer and Christina Aguilera ever approaches you, telling you how much she'd really love to do Shakespeare then for the good of all humanity, please just smile politely and put the cheque book back in your pocket. Thanks for listening.