Music Movies

Like many music critics in today’s “everything-goes” entertainment world, I have always secretly thought I could review movies instead. I got my first writing gig on a site that, before their music section launched, was almost entirely devoted to film and television (and now that the music section is dead, it is again). My minor is Film Studies. Hell, I even started a screenplay once…okay a few times. Why? I suppose I see an intrinsic connection between visual artistry, acting and directing, and music. Both thrive on emotional resonance; a film that is flat and dull is just like an album that is flat and dull, in that you’re likely to spot it before it finishes. Similarly, a film that is engrossing and profound and throught-provoking is like an album with those qualities; it will likely be a classic you will revisit again and again.

Yet somehow there’s always been some sort of rift between film and music critics. We cannot be one and the same; one cannot take the other’s job without the overriding notion that they don’t know what they’re talking about. Add to that a commonly understood truth that music fans are significantly more vicious towards critics than film fans. That’s not to say that film critics don’t have a tough time dealing with the masses (they definitely do). But when a person reviews a film, readers who disagree will respond to logical arguments and only after that might it lead to personal attacks. Somehow, when I or anyone else reviews an album, it instantly becomes personal. I’ve had people look up bands that I used to play in just so they could say that I must have shitty taste in music based on the music that I play. First, rude. Second, harsh. Third, completely irrelevant.

But I can’t shake the need to examine film the same way I examine music, to look deeply into a medium I’ve never publicly examined before. And, with the Oscars just over a week away, I think now’s as good a time as any to take my chance. But of course, this is a music site, so in order to maintain that theme, I will focus on what so many music critics fall back on when they try to venture into the world of film: Music movies.

Understand: I’m not talking about musicals, necessarily. I’m talking films about music, the making of music, the people who make music. You won’t see Chicago or Sweeny Todd or Singin’ In The Rain. What you will see is what I feel are the most worthwhile films about music. So:

Music Movies

A Guide – By: Christian Hagen

A Hard Day’s Night (1964)

It was almost tradition in the 1960s to give a rising musical talent a film. Elvis had a whole series of awful movies throughout the ’50s. By 1964, it was The Beatles’ turn. Thankfully, however, in their film debut, the band elected to avoid playing hunks in prison or beach bandits or country boys. They didn’t even change their names; though the versions of themselves in the film may have been caricatures (John the dickish but hilarious trickster, Paul the loveable scamp, George the quieter but funnier backup, and Ringo the dim-witted but adorable wingman), they were as close to real as any musician has ever been portraying themselves. And though the thickness of their accents may leave audiences today in silence at some of the funniest gags, A Hard Day’s Night is still a classic, by far the best and least drug-ridden film the band ever made.

I’m Not There (2006)

As biopics have gained ridiculous play at awards ceremonies, people lauding actors’ abilities at imitating real-life individuals in a style unseen in any other medium (except when Frank Caliendo got his own TV show), it’s easy to see where their power lies. In these imitations of people, these lies masquerading as a better version of reality, we can sometimes find the truth in the power of music. There’s a mythos to films like Ray or Cadillac Records that tells us that these larger-than-life figures were humans, while at the same time they aggrandise their subjects hurdles and faults to the point that they’re the proverbial dragon-slayers, that they are, in fact, superhuman in their ability to overcome the awesome villain that is human weakness. But no film in the history of these biopics has utilized the power of myth quite like I’m Not There, Todd Haynes’s fractured, historically messy, dadaist take on the life of Bob Dylan. Choosing to examine the phases of his life and how we, as fans, view him rather than going step-by-step through a history, Haynes makes the film that does perhaps the best job of any biopic in history of imitating the style of its subject rather than studying the subject’s life story. From the abstract wild-west-meets-new-developments Richard Gere section to the brilliantly parallel Heath Ledger/Christian Bale plotlines, we see all the unique, poetic weirdness of Bob Dylan’s artistic career, even as the Cate Blanchett story, and particularly the Dylan-quoting Ben Whishaw who may be the only actual Dylan character in the movie, remind us that we are dealing with a real person, someone who lived and still lives today. It’s fascinating and mind-expanding, everything a Bob Dylan film should be.

Walk The Line (2005)

Though, unlike I’m Not There, it’s a traditional biopic, James Mangold’s wonderful film on the life and times of Johnny Cash strikes a chord because it doesn’t just relay the facts to us one story at a time. Somehow, through the bitter conflicts of Cash’s addictions and romantic failings, his flaws as a father and husband, Walk The Line maintains Cash’s rebel aesthetic, with more than a hint of something resembling pity. In Joaquin Phoenix’s striking pre-faux-crazy-asshole performance, Cash is the reality behind the concept of the strong-headed man, constantly fighting with someone or something before the inevitable realization that such a life can bring only pain. It’s a lesson for the steel-hearted fans who see abuse as the only answer, who struggle with their identity as humans when their deeds are so monstrous. And yet for all his faults, Phoenix’s Cash is relatable and tragic, even as he fails to be heroic. Pair that attitude and swagger with some of the best musical performances in the history of the musical biopic, and Walk The Line is a definite classic.

This is Spinal Tap (1984)

There isn’t much left to say about This is Spinal Tap, it having appeared on lists like these for the last couple decades; it’s an undisputable classic music movie. But what’s so fantastic about Spinal Tap isn’t just its biting satire of ’80s hair metal (and really, every other dominant genre up to that point), but the fact that, after more than two decades, music hasn’t changed all that much in terms of the mistakes and pitfalls the film was highlighting.  While the genres are new, the major styles more hip-hop and electronics-based than heavy rockin’ guitar-based, the music industry is still a bloated, self-parodying madhouse that chews up and spits out the best and worst artists while always, always, striving for that elusive last dollar. The same film could be made today about any number of genres, and it would be equally hilarious and uncomfortably true. And really, if a film is as timeless as Spinal Tap, that’s all that needs to be said.

Once (2007)

Once is a clinic on minimalism and simplicity. The tiny Irish love story starring real-life musicians and non-actors Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova, who’d previously recorded as The Swell Season, is brimming with heart that pervades the stars’ complicated accents and belies their untrained talent. The story of Hansard’s struggling street musician and Irglova’s soft-spoken flower salesperson/pianist has almost everything to do with music. It could easily be classified a musical, the stars expressing their attraction to one another and their difficulty with this dynamic through songs which symbolize and explain their emotions. It’s the form of the traditional musical. But it hardly encapsulates the feeling of a typical Hollywood big-budget musical produciton; the music is rarely non-diagetic, there are no bright colors, telegraphed cliches, or fanciful dance numbers. Yet like many classic Hollywood musicals, Once can become an obsession for the theatrically inclined; its soundtrack is almost begging to be sung awkwardly on a long car ride. We want the emotional story of the film to be our own, to be true not just for these quiet individuals but for we the lonely viewers. And the studio scene is one of the finest and most realistic you will ever see outside of a documentary. It’s enough to make anyone want to pick up a guitar and belt the sounds of their love into the sky and hope that someone will catch them and call back.

—

The bridge between musical and filmic understanding is not so long or large that it can’t be walked across by anyone with the time or the analytical inclination. Music-based films are where we can swim together, but they don’t have to be the only connecting force in our understanding. This was not necessarily a comprehensive guide to music in film or a definitive list of the best music movies. It was simply an example, a way to show that film and music are never too far apart; sometimes, they’re inseperable.