Showing posts with label Rock and Roll. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rock and Roll. Show all posts

Monday, 30 April 2018

BACHMAN - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Hot Docs 2018 Hot Pick: Solid BTO frontman BioDoc


Guess Who/BTO guitarist is always takin' care of business.

Bachman (2018)
Dir. John Barnard

Review By Greg Klymkiw

"Randy Bachman was The Guess Who... he had an expanded mind from the beginning." - Neil Young on Randy Bachman's removal from The Guess Who and the guitarist's avoidance of all the usual trappings of rock and roll - namely booze and drugs - and the man's inherent greatness without anything more mind altering than making music.

Much as I loved and will always love The Guess Who (who couldn't love songs like American Woman, These Eyes and Laughing?), my generational and personal rock and roll touchstones will always be BTO, Bachman Turner Overdrive. Takin' Care of Business, Let It Ride, You Ain't Seen Nothin' Yet, Roll on Down the Highway and so many more are a veritable litany of hard driving Canadian prairie rock and roll that took the world by storm and blasted on millions of automobile tape decks.

Bachman is a solid biographical documentary of Randy Bachman, one of the greatest guitarists of all time, and of course, the writer (or co-writer) of hit after hit after hit. Skilfully blending a cornucopia of rich archival footage and all-new interviews with the likes of musicians Neil Young, Alex Lifeson, Chad Allan, Paul Shaffer, Fred Turner, actor Bruce Greenwood, music historian John Einarson and many family and friends, director John Barnard serves up a detailed portrait of this seminal Canadian rocker.

Hitting all the salient points of Bachman's life, we get glimpses into his earlier childhood as the surviving twin of a German Dad and Ukrainian Mom in the legendary North End of Winnipeg where he lived at the corner of Seven Oaks and Powers. He was showered with plenty of nurturing and love and his work ethic was clearly instilled within him by his Dad, an optometrist who would often ask his kids, "Do you like to work at nothin' all day?" (Sound like a familiar lyric?)

Bachman went to music school, of course. It was clear he had gifts, but he had little interest in his first instrument, the violin and very quickly he discovered and fell in love with the guitar. As a teenager, he was mentored by the great Lenny Breau and he soon hooked up with songwriter-singer Chad Allan (at the urging of bassist Jon Kale) and the trio added drummer Gary Peterson to the mix and Bachman was playing with Chad Allan and the Expressions. The group had an early hit with a rousing, seminal 1965 cover of "Shakin' All Over" by Johnny Kidd and the Pirates. Their twangy, reverb-heavy and zippily discordant rendition hit the top of the Canadian charts and even penetrated the American charts quite substantially. The group eventually became The Guess Who.

Bachman, while he always flirted with a "lighter" sound, was ultimately more at home with an edgier, more hard driving beat and when the group came across North End Winnipeg bad boy Burton Cummings, Allan stepped down from the band he founded and The Guess Who began their meteoric rise.

Barnard's film certainly doesn't skimp on the magnificent creative energy twixt Bachman and Cummings, but nor does it shy away from detailing the clear differences between the two men in temperament. Bachman was a big brother, almost father figure to the entire band. We learn that he rooted the wild boys in reality, but eventually Bachman's no-booze-no-drugs-no-womanizing began to wreak havoc with the group's mojo. Bachman was a straight arrow family man (who converted to Mormonism in order to woo his first wife). We learn that Cummings especially began to resent Bachman's authoritarian air and in a shocker, Bachman was forced out of the band.

In the film, utter incredulity is expressed by Neil Young (who claims that as a kid, it was Bachman who influenced him). "Randy was The Guess Who," says the rocker, who also lived in Bachman's hometown of Winnipeg before leaving for Thunder Bay and other points east.

Eventually, we are treated to Bachman reuniting with Chad Allan for the band Brave Belt, but this was a short-lived partnership. Bachman, we learn, was convinced to hear one burly Fred Turner belt out his live cover of "House of the Rising Sun" at the legendary Marion Hotel. Bachman, a devout Christian and non-drinker, didn't even want to enter the bar and heard the first few minutes of Turner from an open exit door.

The rest, is indeed, history - rock and roll history. Bachman Turner Overdrive (BTO) left everything behind like so much dust in the wind.

The film also charts, Bachman's "third act". At one point Bachman admits that when you hit the top, there's only one way to go, and yes, we get a glimpse into some very lean years. However, the film also charts Bachman's various reinventions musically and yes, his long, distinguished career as a radio host of CBC's "Vinyl Tap".

Now, does the film dig deeper beyond what one might expect from a solid, traditional musical biography? Not often, but the movie still makes for compelling viewing. What one takes away is a portrait of a driven, musically gifted workaholic who never seems to ever be on camera without a guitar in his hands. One of the more entertaining aspects of the film is Bachman's relationships with his managers - first his savvy, congenial brother Gary and in direct contrast, Vancouver's Bruce Allen, a perfect partner for the driven Bachman. Amusingly, the film reveals Bachman's "Papa Bear" qualities, but in terms of Bruce Allen, he's reduced to a baby pitbull to Allen's mega-pitbull vice-like jaws on all things.

While it's easy to live without interviews with Burton Cummings in the movie (he's nicely represented by all the archival material and the various interviewees' recollections), my only real quarrel with the film is the short shrift it gives to what I believe is arguably the best work Bachman ever did - his astonishing Any Road album and its classic ode to the wild rock and roll days of Winnipeg, Prairie Town (featuring Neil Young and Margo Timmins on not just one, version of the song, but two). This was as perfect an album as one could imagine from someone who'd already delivered so much great stuff that one couldn't imagine him ever outdoing any of it. But with 1993's release of Any Road, Bachman hit some kind of stratospheric creative nirvana. Its absence, beyond a couple of token nods, at least to any die-hard Bachman aficionado, seems borderline heretical.

But, this is a nitpick. Bachman delivers the goods. It takes care of business, and then some.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: *** Three-Stars

Bachman enjoys its World Premiere at Hot Docs 2018.

Saturday, 1 November 2014

A HARD DAY'S NIGHT - Criterion Blu-Ray Review By Greg Klymkiw - TheOnlyWay2-C@home


The mega Criterion Collection dual-format (Blu-Ray/DVD) box of Richard Lester's groundbreaking A Hard Day's Night starring The Beatles might be one of Criterion's best releases in their entire history of issuing first-rate cinema for the home market. The picture and sound are the best you're EVER going to see on a home format. The accompanying 82-page (82 pages !!!) booklet (which includes a decent essay and a terrific Richard Lester interview) devotes one full page to the picture restoration (supervised on 4K by Criterion with Lester's approval) and an additional full page to the sound (the mono, as per usual is my favourite, but the new 5.1 track is worth a listen as it's pretty amazing and mastered by Apple Records techs).

The extra features are so amazing, it's kind of ridiculous. A few items from the ho-hum Miramax/Alliance/E-One Collector's Edition transfer don't find their way here, but they're not missed in the least. In addition to what has been ported over and what Criterion has added to the mix is phenomenal.

My favourite feature of all is David Cairns' Picturewise, a half-hour visual essay focusing on the great Richard Lester and his work and influences on A Hard Day's Night and numerous other films that followed, including the stylish and somewhat overlooked The Knack. In many ways, this might prove to be the most concise, yet valuable visual essay commissioned and presented on a Criterion disc to date. Other pedagogically valuable materials include Richard Lester's 11-minute Academy Award-nominated The Running Jumping & Standing Still Film from 1959, a mad, anarchic piece featuring Lester's Goon Show cohorts Peter Sellers, Spike Milligan, Graham Stark and Bruce Lacey. Given the verbal gifts of the Goons, the film is especially interesting as it's completely wordless. Story editor Bobbie O'Steen and music editor Suzana Peric serve Anatomy of Style, a terrific 17-minute piece which offers intimate analysis of five key scenes from the film and my only complaint is that I'd have LOVED a feature-length version of this - it's that valuable in terms of practically approaching screen-specific cinematic storytelling.

The commentary track was assembled by Martin Lewis, a music and Beatles historian who cut together a raft of 2002 interviews with Director of Photography Gilbert Taylor, numerous supporting actors, a variety of editors and other production personnel. It's quite a collision course of voices, but always informative and entertaining. The 40-minute Martin Lewis-produced short Things They Said Today is a fine carry-over from the earlier DVD release and features interviews with Richard Lester and others.

The wonderful one-hour 1994 documentary hosted by Phil Collins, You Can't Do That: The Making of A Hard Day's Night, made to celebrate the film's 30th anniversary, is classic TV-doc material and shines with the inclusion of the movie's biggest fans (including Mickey Dolenz) and the late Roger Ebert (as well the famous "You Can't Do That" outtake. Other items focusing specifically on The Beatles includes In Their Own Voices, a clever 18-minute amalgam of audio interviews with the Lads from Liverpool over footage from the movie and a half-hour doc about their early years, The Beatles: The Road to A Hard Day's Night. You'll also find a whole whack of trailers for the film if that sort of thing interest you.

This Criterion Dual Format box is a true gem in every respect, but of course, the prize treat is the restored, director-approved transfer of the movie itself. Without further delay, here then is my review of the movie proper:


A Hard Day’s Night (1964)
Dir. Richard Lester
Starring: John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison, Ringo Starr, Wilfrid Brambell, Norman Rossington, Anna Quayle, Victor Spinetti

Review By Greg Klymkiw

This is one great picture. I first saw A Hard Day's Night at the age of five. It is now almost half a century later and I have seen it innumerable times and in several formats – more times on a big screen in 35mm than I can remember, on 16mm with my own Bell and Howell Auto-load projector, Beta, VHS, laser disc, DVD and now Blu-Ray. It is a movie that never gets stale. Each time I see it, it seems like I’m seeing it for the first time and in this sense, it is truly timeless on a personal level. On every other level, it's just plain timeless. As a movie and in the larger scheme of things, it’s a gleefully entertaining movie - a mad, freewheeling portrait of the greatest rock and roll band of all time and surely one of the most influential motion pictures during the latter half of cinema’s relatively short history.

As well, it is one of the truly important works to come out of a period often referred to as the British New Wave where the silver screens lit-up with a new way of telling stories on both a stylistic and content level. A series of comedies and dramas from a combination of foreign expat directors living in the United Kingdom as well as indigenous talent were the order of the day. These pictures delivered cutting edge satire, anarchic laughs, kitchen sink realism, grim and/or humorous looks at working and middle class society and more often than not, focusing upon the hopes and dreams (both dashed and realized) of young adults.

There were, for example, the "angry young man" pictures featuring the likes of Richard Burton, Richard Harris, Albert Finney and Tom Courtenay - grimy little affairs that were depressingly cool. And then, there were the comedies - the best of which came from a director who contributed a great deal to changing the face of how movies could be made.

Richard Lester, the gifted American-born expatriate in London, was this very director and A Hard Day’s Night is unquestionably his masterpiece. Conceived just before the “Beatlemania” craze really exploded on an international level, Lester was probably the best man for the job of creating the sort of work that would have the greatest impact. Having directed and produced several British TV comedy programs featuring the iconoclastic Goons (including the likes of Peter Sellers, Kevin Connor and Spike Milligan) and with an Oscar nominated short film and a hit feature The Mouse on the Moon under his belt, Lester not only wore the shoes of director ever-so-comfortably on The Beatles' big-screen debut, he dove into the job with the mad passion of a Welles or an Eisenstein. This was not going to be just any rock and roll musical – it was going to be THE rock and roll musical – and as such, it informed filmmaking technique and style in ways we still experience in cinema even now.



Lester’s approach was to capture the slender tale in a documentary style with black and white photography; handheld cameras galore with freewheeling movement, but always gorgeously composed, all stunningly shot by the great Gilbert Taylor of Dr. Strangelove and Repulsion fame. Even more insanely, all sequences aboard moving trains were shot on, uh, moving trains! The approach to editing via John – Frenzy, Zulu, A Fish Called Wanda – Jympson's exquisite shearing would have made Sergei Eisenstein both dizzy and sick with envy.

The usual approach to rock movies at this time was to assemble a gaggle of performers and have them deliver a series of tunes in the dullest, most conservative fashion or worse yet, to plunk the likes of Elvis into (mostly) silly vehicles that were far below the dignity levels such performers demanded. Lester, on the other hand, wanted to propel us with lots of humour (sheer silliness mixed with sharply tuned wit), a dizzying camera and cool cuts that drew attention to their sheer virtuosity as well as performing the task of always moving us forward.

What this approach needed was a script like no other. Securing the services of the Welsh-born and Liverpool-raised actor, comedian, playwright and screenwriter Alun Owen. He proved to be a godsend to both Lester and the Beatles by crafting a simple narrative involving a day and a half in the life of the mop-topped Liverpudlians wherein they repeatedly shirk their responsibilities as rock stars and just have tons of fun – much to the consternation of their road manager (Norman Rossington), the bemusement of his assistant (John Junkin), the exasperation of a harried live TV director (Victor Spinetti) and to the delight of Paul McCartney’s (fictional) Grandfather (Wilfrid Brambell) who exploits his proximity to the rock stars to show himself a grand old time.

Amidst all this frivolity, Owen concocts several brilliant character-elements and plot-plots that tie both absurdly and realistically into the personae of the Beatles themselves. The one that infuses the movie with considerable conflict, but also knee-slapping laughs is when Ringo goes missing on a soul search.

Ringo on a soul search?

Ladies and gentlemen, I reiterate and give you - ONE GREAT SCRIPT!

Eventually, all are reunited for a totally kick-ass show in front of thousands of screaming, swooning kids and WOW! Can it get more simple and pure than this? Thankfully no! It’s just what the doctor ordered for this picture. Even more impressive is Owen’s brilliant dialogue and the endless opportunities to have the boys duck in and out of cabs, run from screaming teenyboppers and find as many different means of escape from both their fans and responsibilities – crashing through service doors, cascading down fire escapes and partying up a storm against the backdrop of the swinging-est London imaginable.

Not surprisingly, given the auteurist tendency to downplay the importance of screenwriters that aren’t the auteurs themselves, Richard Lester has uncharitably stated that much of Owen’s script was jettisoned in favour of letting the Beatles ad-lib. Enough statements from many others refute this assertion to support what really seems to be the truth of the matter – Owen spent a considerable amount of time with The Beatles on their journeys before setting narrative and dialogue to paper and went out of his way to create words perfectly suited to John, Paul, George and Ringo so that they’d be comfortable playing them and, on rare occasions have a solid springboard to ad-lib (which according to most reports is no more than 10 to 15% anyway).

And then there is the music! The title track “A Hard Day’s Night” (taken from one of Ringo’s delightful malapropisms), “Can’t Buy Me Love”, “Tell Me Why”, “She Loves You (Yeah, Yeah, Yeah)”, “I Should Have Known Better” and then some are featured in stunning concert footage and/or within the narrative body of the film, and most notably are not unlike music videos before the notion of music videos even existed. This latter point is especially important to add some illumination. Lester, always the consummate filmmaker didn’t throw images and cuts at us willy-nilly, but actually adhered to the conventions of filmmaking (establishing shots, mediums, reverses, close-ups, etc.) by making it seem like he did anything but.

It’s brilliantly, beautifully orchestrated cinematic anarchy in all the purity and simplicity that great pictures are ultimately endowed with, allowing, of course for differing levels and perspectives to grow and to flow naturally and organically out of the mise-en-scene. Most extraordinarily, even though it's a movie set in a different time and shot 50 years ago, it feels as free and original and fresh as if it had been shot, as that great Beatles tune reminds us: Yesterday!

THE FILM CORNER RATING (of the film and Criterion edition): ***** 5-Stars

The Criterion Collection Dual-Format Box set of A Hard Day's Night is now available for thine eternal edification.

Saturday, 30 November 2013

AKA DOC POMUS - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Save Your Last Dance, But Make Your First Movie Choice The Doc.

A nice Jewish boy from Brooklyn, struck down by polio at the age of six, turns to a radio for companionship and spends hours alone in his room, meticulously turning the dial until he discovers all the cool radio stations that "decent" kids weren't supposed to listen to.

This formerly athletic lad forgoes any dreams he harboured to follow such physical inclinations, but instead, connecting with glorious R&B tunes, he becomes a musically gifted Greenwich Village blues performer and eventually, is reinvented as the beloved go-to songwriter who almost single-handedly influenced each and every subsequent generation of popular American music makers. He was none other than Doc Pomus, the real King of rock n' roll! - G.K.


AKA DOC POMUS (2013) ****
Dir. Peter Miller, Will Hechter
Starring: Doc Pomus, Lou Reed,
Ben E. King, Joan Osborne,
Dion, B.B. King, Dr. John
Review By Greg Klymkiw

In 1973, songwriter Doc Pomus decided to attend the BMI Music Awards. He wasn't especially keen on attending as he found such affairs deathly dull, but he'd been out of the music industry spotlight for awhile and thought it would be a good idea to just get out there to be seen plus reacquaint himself with old pals and colleagues. The joint was hopping. With wall-to-wall people, Doc decided to just sit down at his table and wait for the awards to begin. One of the honourees of that evening's awards also considered skipping the event until he learned Doc Pomus was attending and agreed to show up. Moreover, he insisted he be seated next to Doc.

So Doc continued sitting at his table. By this point in his life, he was more morbidly obese than usual and needed to get around on his crutches or in a wheel chair because of the polio he'd contracted as a child. The last thing he needed to do was to try hobbling about in mingle-mode in a sardine-packed awards hall until a young man, the aforementioned honouree sat next to him, extended his hand and formally introduced himself as if Doc wouldn't know who he was. They had a great time together that evening. The young man, a living legend, told Doc what a huge influence his music had been upon him and as he was moving close to Doc's place, he gave his personal contact information to the remarkable old man who was, in his own right, a genuine living legend.

Doc Pomus and the young man in question, John Lennon, became friends, hanging out together in a nearby book store. Lennon would always be in disguise for these meetings so he could walk about freely without being mobbed by his adoring fans. And he and Doc, would sit together in that dusty old store and talk until the cows came home.

Sharyn Felder, Doc's daughter, was always spotting Lennon in places around the neighbourhood; in disguise, of course. Never wanting to intrude upon Lennon's privacy, she became increasingly anxious to meet him. She finally worked up enough nerve introduce herself as Doc Pomus's daughter in a local grocery store. Lennon's immediate response in this shop - crowded with customers - was to yell out Doc's name and then, sing, aloud, and a cappella, one of Doc's greatest songwriting achievements, the immortal "Save The Last Dance For Me".

These are but two of many extraordinary moments in AKA Doc Pomus that are so powerful and moving that I was compelled, for the umpteenth time whilst watching it to shudder like a sissy pants and release a deluge of tears.

For those who know a little, a lot, or nothing about the late, great music legend Doc Pomus, this is an extraordinarily uplifting tale about the human spirit and its link to the height of pure artistry in the form of a big, beautiful bear of a man who changed the face of rock and roll and touched everyone whose lives intersected directly (or from afar) with his genius and generosity. Directors Peter Miller and Will Hechter, editor Amy Linton and Sharyn Felder (not only Doc's daughter and a key interview subject, but the film's co-producer and originator of the entire project) get a cornucopia of enthusiastic doffs of the hat for bringing this great story to the screen.

It's a lovely, straightforward and beautifully crafted documentary portrait that charts the Great Man's life from childhood through to his tragic death from lung cancer - and beyond. Including wonderful interviews (new and archival), unprecedented access to film and photo footage, private archives and music - OH! THE MUSIC!!! - anyone who cares about or loves music will revel in the joy and occasional sadness of this great, great story so lovingly and skilfully told.

Actually, anyone who cares about the creative spirit will find great pleasure in the film.

No, better yet, anyone with any sense of humanity, will revel in the life of this great man.

Doc Pomus wrote over 1000 songs. He generated huge hits for the likes of Elvis Presley, Ben. E. King, Ray Charles, B.B. King, Dion and the Belmonts, Lou Reed, Andy Williams, Bob Dylan and . . . the list goes on. And on. And ever-on. Not only was he a major influence upon JOHN-LENNON-FOR-CHRIST'S-SAKE (!!!), but for a few generations of songwriters, performers and promoters of the best and brightest modern music has had to offer.

One of the most deeply moving sections of the film charts Doc's selfless generosity with his time and knowledge - mentoring young music artists, OLD music artists and giving FREE music lessons to anyone who needed them.

Though the movie doesn't go out of its way to do so, its superb rendering of Doc's life pretty much canonizes this sweet, brilliant little Jewish boy from Brooklyn who didn't let the pain of polio stop him from giving the world one of its greatest gifts - a wealth of music genius.

SAVE THE LAST DANCE FOR ME
THIS MAGIC MOMENT
VIVA LAS VEGAS

. . . and on and on and on.

I reiterate: OVER 1000 SONGS.

Ladies and gentlemen: Give the MAN a hand (and the film of his life, too)!!!

Oh, and have I mentioned yet that the personal journals of Doc Pomus are exquisitely read aloud by none other than the late LOU REED? I haven't? Well, now I have. This alone is worth the price of admission.

"AKA DOC POMUS" is playing theatrically all across Canada.
It's a film and a story that DEMANDS you try to give it all the support you can -
ON THE BIG SCREEN.

Canadian Playdates include:

Toronto Openings

Friday November 29 |
Cineplex (Yonge & Dundas)

Friday December 6 |
Varsity VIP

Friday December 6 |
Empress Walk

Winnipeg Opening

Friday January 10 |
Winnipeg Film Group Cinematheque

Vancouver Opening

Monday January 20 |
VanCity Theater

More Canadian cities to follow.


Friday, 1 November 2013

A HARD DAY'S NIGHT - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Wherein Ringo Starr Searches For His Very Soul

The Beatles' classic musical comedy as fresh today as if made just yesterday instead of 50 years ago!
A Hard Day’s Night (1964) ****
Dir. Richard Lester
Starring: John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison, Ringo Starr, Wilfrid Brambell, Victor Spinetti

Review By Greg Klymkiw

This is one astounding picture. I first saw A Hard Day's Night at the age of five. It is now almost half a century later and I have seen it innumerable times and in several formats – more times on a big screen in 35mm than I can remember, on 16mm with my own Bell and Howell Auto-load projector, Beta, VHS, laser disc, DVD and now Blu-Ray. It is a movie that never gets stale. Each time I see it, it seems like I’m seeing it for the first time and in this sense, it is truly timeless on a personal level. On every other level, it's just plain timeless. As a movie and in the larger scheme of things, it’s a gleefully entertaining movie - a mad, freewheeling portrait of the greatest rock and roll band of all time and surely one of the most influential motion pictures during the latter half of cinema’s relatively short history.

As well, it is one of the truly important works to come out of a period often referred to as the British New Wave where the silver screens lit-up with a new way of telling stories on both a stylistic and content level. A series of comedies and dramas from a combination of foreign expat directors living in the United Kingdom as well as indigenous talent were the order of the day. These pictures delivered cutting edge satire, anarchic laughs, kitchen sink realism, grim and/or humorous looks at working and middle class society and more often than not, focusing upon the hopes and dreams (both dashed and realized) of young adults.

There were, for example, the "angry young man" pictures featuring the likes of Richard Burton, Richard Harris, Albert Finney and Tom Courtenay - grimy little affairs that were depressingly cool. And then, there were the comedies - the best of which came from a director who contributed a great deal to changing the face of how movies could be made.

Richard Lester, the gifted American-born expatriate in London, was this very director and A Hard Day’s Night is unquestionably his masterpiece. Conceived just before the “Beatlemania” craze really exploded on an international level, Lester was probably the best man for the job of creating the sort of work that would have the greatest impact. Having directed and produced several British TV comedy programs featuring the iconoclastic Goons (including the likes of Peter Sellers, Kevin Connor and Spike Milligan) and with an Oscar nominated short film and a hit feature The Mouse on the Moon under his belt, Lester not only wore the shoes of director ever-so-comfortably on The Beatles' big-screen debut, he dove into the job with the mad passion of a Welles or an Eisenstein. This was not going to be just any rock and roll musical – it was going to be THE rock and roll musical – and as such, it informed filmmaking technique and style in ways we still experience in cinema even now.

Lester’s approach was to capture the slender tale in a documentary style with black and white photography; handheld cameras galore with freewheeling movement, but always gorgeously composed, all stunningly shot by the great Gilbert Taylor of Dr. Strangelove and Repulsion fame. Even more insanely, all sequences aboard moving trains were shot on, uh, moving trains! The approach to editing via John – Frenzy, Zulu, A Fish Called Wanda – Jympson's exquisite shearing would have made Sergei Eisenstein both dizzy and sick with envy.

The usual approach to rock movies at this time was to assemble a gaggle of performers and have them deliver a series of tunes in the dullest, most conservative fashion or worse yet, to plunk the likes of Elvis into (mostly) silly vehicles that were far below the dignity levels such performers demanded. Lester, on the other hand, wanted to propel us with lots of humour (sheer silliness mixed with sharply tuned wit), a dizzying camera and cool cuts that drew attention to their sheer virtuosity as well as performing the task of always moving us forward.

What this approach needed was a script like no other. Securing the services of the Welsh-born and Liverpool-raised actor, comedian, playwright and screenwriter Alun Owen. He proved to be a godsend to both Lester and the Beatles by crafting a simple narrative involving a day and a half in the life of the mop-topped Liverpudlians wherein they repeatedly shirk their responsibilities as rock stars and just have tons of fun – much to the consternation of their road manager (Norman Rossington), the bemusement of his assistant (John Junkin), the exasperation of a harried live TV director (Victor Spinetti) and to the delight of Paul McCartney’s (fictional) Grandfather (Wilfrid Brambell) who exploits his proximity to the rock stars to show himself a grand old time.

Amidst all this frivolity, Owen concocts several brilliant character-elements and plot-plots that tie both absurdly and realistically into the personae of the Beatles themselves. The one that infuses the movie with considerable conflict, but also knee-slapping laughs is when Ringo goes missing on a soul search.

Ringo on a soul search?

Ladies and gentlemen, I reiterate and give you - ONE GREAT SCRIPT!

Eventually, all are reunited for a totally kick-ass show in front of thousands of screaming, swooning kids and WOW! Can it get more simple and pure than this? Thankfully no! It’s just what the doctor ordered for this picture. Even more impressive is Owen’s brilliant dialogue and the endless opportunities to have the boys duck in and out of cabs, run from screaming teenyboppers and find as many different means of escape from both their fans and responsibilities – crashing through service doors, cascading down fire escapes and partying up a storm against the backdrop of the swinging-est London imaginable.

Not surprisingly, given the auteurist tendency to downplay the importance of screenwriters that aren’t the auteurs themselves, Richard Lester has uncharitably stated that much of Owen’s script was jettisoned in favour of letting the Beatles ad-lib. Enough statements from many others refute this assertion to support what really seems to be the truth of the matter – Owen spent a considerable amount of time with The Beatles on their journeys before setting narrative and dialogue to paper and went out of his way to create words perfectly suited to John, Paul, George and Ringo so that they’d be comfortable playing them and, on rare occasions have a solid springboard to ad-lib (which according to most reports is no more than 10 to 15% anyway).

And then there is the music! The title track “A Hard Day’s Night” (taken from one of Ringo’s delightful malapropisms), “Can’t Buy Me Love”, “Tell Me Why”, “She Loves You (Yeah, Yeah, Yeah)”, “I Should Have Known Better” and then some are featured in stunning concert footage and/or within the narrative body of the film, and most notably are not unlike music videos before the notion of music videos even existed. This latter point is especially important to add some illumination. Lester, always the consummate filmmaker didn’t throw images and cuts at us willy-nilly, but actually adhered to the conventions of filmmaking (establishing shots, mediums, reverses, close-ups, etc.) by making it seem like he did anything but.

It’s brilliantly, beautifully orchestrated cinematic anarchy in all the purity and simplicity that great pictures are ultimately endowed with, allowing, of course for differing levels and perspectives to grow and to flow naturally and organically out of the mise-en-scene. Most extraordinarily, even though it's a movie set in a different time and shot 50 years ago, it feels as free and original and fresh as if it had been shot, as that great Beatles tune reminds us: Yesterday!

“A Hard Day’s Night” is available on a Collector’s Edition Blu-Ray via Alliance Films (Universal Home Entertainment, Canada). The new Blu-Ray release will disappoint some home videophiles since the source material seems no different that what appeared on the previous DVD and laserdisc releases. That said, Blu-Ray still makes anything and everything look better and “A Hard Day’s Night” is no exception. This recent Blu-Ray release also contains a decent clutch of extra materials, which are surprisingly worth watching (since most of them on most releases, I find, are not). Until a complete re-mastering (or better one) comes along, this will most certainly do.





Sunday, 25 November 2012

QUADROPHENIA - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Klymkiw's CHRISTMAS GIFT IDEA FOR 2012 #3 - The Deluxe Must-Own Criterion Collection Director Approved Blu-Ray & DVD

Sting's the Ace Face, Coolest Mod of All!

No surprise, really!

Here's your Greg Klymkiw Christmas Gift Suggestion #3 for 2012. It's the magnificent Criterion Collection - Director Approved Blu-Ray (or, if you must, DVD) of Franc Roddam's classic dramatic realization of the rock opera by The Who. This magnificent Criterion release includes a newly restored digital transfer supervised by cinematographer Brian Tufano which retains the vibrant, varied palette of colours, the glorious grain, the deep natural blacks and the blasts of night exterior practical lighting. Included is the original 2.0 stereo soundtrack and for audiophiles and cinephiles alike, a brand new 5.1 surround mix supervised by the Who and on the Blu-Ray, it's presented in DTS-HD Master Audio. The bonus treat includes a superb commentary track with director Franc Roddam and D.P. Brian Tufano - one of the best commentaries I've ever heard - replete with clear details of the filmmaking process and married to the picture with considerable skill. Another great bonus is a 1979 segment from the legendary BBC TV series "Talking Pictures" with excellent interviews and behind-the-scenes footage - SHOT ON FILM!!!!! As if this wasn't enough, you also get a wonderful segment from a 1964 episode of the French news program "Sept jours du monde" that focuses on the phenomenon of mods and rockers AND a very cool 1965 episode of the French youth-culture program "Seize millions de jeunes: Mods” that includes some of the earliest footage of The Who. There's also the usual Criterion assortment of additional interviews, an audio restoration demonstration, trailers and a lovely booklet that includes a critical essay, a personal history by the "original" mod Irish Jack and Pete Townshend’s legendary liner notes from the 1973 album by The Who. Not only a stellar package, but easily one of the top Blu-Ray releases of 2012.

LOVE in LONDON on a LAMBRETTA

Can you see, the Real Me?

Can you? Can you?

Quadrophenia (1979) Dir. Franc Roddam *****

Starring:
Phil Daniels, Sting,
Ray Winstone, Leslie Ash,
Michael Elphick, Kate Williams,
Phillip Davis, Mark Wingett,
Gary Shail, Garry Cooper,
Toyak Wilcox, Trevor Laird,
John Bindon, Timothy Spall

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Franc Roddam's extraordinary film adaptation of Quadrophenia, the legendary rock opera by The Who, was unleashed theatrically over thirty years ago. Great movies never die, never date, never spoil, but do, in fact, get richer with each viewing and every passing year. Happily, Roddam's fictional rendering of the clashes between the Mods and Rockers, two ultra-cool youth subcultures of the early 1960s, blasts off the screen with the same unyielding force that it did in 1979. In my books, it's more than earned bonafide masterpiece status.

The writing by Dave Humphries, Martin Stellman and director Roddam yields, in the best collaborative tradition of cinema, a straightforward, but strong narrative that springboards from the emblematic music and Pete Townsend's dazzling liner notes on The Who's original album. Dialogue sizzles on a skillet, like pork bellies in an ocean of rich, heavily-salted butter, leaping with abandon into the mouths of the film's actors who, in turn, volley the finely foul, flavour-drenched, crepitating poetry of London's dirty, drizzle-drenched streets of the early 60s with the same force Martin Scorsese and Mardick Martin's writing did for New York's Little Italy in Mean Streets. Adding to the screenplay's savoury (or to some, unsavoury) broth is the wide array of vivid characters etched onto the compelling tale of youthful rebellion, camaraderie and disillusionment.

The writing is an ideal blueprint for director Roddam to take a running leap into a chasm of stylistically adventuresome helmsmanship - rendering a movie for the ages. Applying a documentary sensibility to the proceedings, Roddam creates a great picture that bristles with life itself against an exciting backdrop and a solid narrative backbone.

Jimmy (Phil Daniels), our decidedly uncharacteristic hero, works a dead-end job as a mail-boy, shuffling through labyrinthine corridors of an upscale advertising agency with all the excitement of a George Romero zombie bereft of even the desire to eat human flesh. In the evenings, he returns to his working class home wherein a harridan mother (Kate Williams) and abusive alcoholic father (Michael Elphick) harangue him over a lack of ambition and his lazy, hedonistic "carryings-on". Even his sister (Kim Neve), a Sirenian subungulate who spends endless hours lolling under a sunlamp is quick to condemn Jimmy's interests and lifestyle (which essentially boil down to The Who and partying).

He finds hi only real sense of family, of belonging, of being his own person within the Mod lifestyle, a hyper-snazzy youth culture devoted to impeccable fashion: suit jackets, thin ties, painted-on jeans, The Who ('natch), riding about on gloriously ornate Italian scooters and, of course, all the parties, pills and fellowship amongst like-minded scene-sters. There's also the shared rivalry Mods have with Rockers, the old style be-bop-a-lula types with their uncool leather jackets, ape-like pompadours and cumbersome motorcycles.

Gang warfare based solely upon mutual hatred is par for the course.

Mostly though, being a Mod is a whole lot of fun.

Jimmy has his eye on the beautiful Steph (Leslie Ash) with her glorious alabaster pigmentation, straight burnt-orange-coloured hair and (if we're to believe the Austin Powers movies regarding British oral health) a shockingly winning smile. His Steph's a bit of a tease, mind you, so our Pete Townsend lookalike (Jimmy has a poster of Pete above his bed) will settle for a few gropes and french kisses with the spunky Monkey (Toyah Willcox), a saucy, little devil with short-cropped platinum blonde hair and a grand, giggling sense of humour (as opposed to the vapid ice-queen Steph).

Monkey pines for Jimmy. Jimmy pines for Steph.

Ain't it always the way?

What's really on everyone's mind, however, is the upcoming May long weekend festivities at the seaside resort Brighton and preparations include the simple, but arduous task of getting pills (amphetamines, to be precise). Twixt parties and more parties Jimmy and his mates embark upon an odyssey to score their mind-altering drug of choice - searching high and low for their main connection Ferdy (Trevor Laird), visiting Harry North (John Bindon), a slimy gangster who rips them off with wax capsules and in desperation, a furious late-night attempt to break into a pharmacy.

Amidst the booze-and-pill-fuelled revelry, Jimmy happens upon Kevin (Ray Winstone), a boyhood chum. Flabbergasted to find his old pal is - shudder - a Rocker, he tentatively renews a friendship that eventually seems to pickup where it left off.

And then, it's time for the holiday weekend in Brighton.

Joy is imminent.

Disillusionment is potentially not too far behind.

A classic coming of age tale is born.

Astoundingly, Roddam achieves what few directors have been able to do with similar material (especially contemporary directors). He indeed makes the familiar tale universal without pandering to ephemeral needs of both audience and marketplace (save for one bit of expert casting). He does it by skillfully remaining true to the period in which the film is set and the era from whence the original album originated.

Here's a movie, made in the late 70s about events that at the time, were already well over ten years past and had been forgotten by much of the world outside of the UK. The Who were huge, as were other stellar lights of the British Rock Invasion, but "Mod" had become more synonymous with London style (and swinging) than an entire youth culture as significant as either the punks or skinheads or, for that matter, the Beat Generation.

Even a great American picture like George Lucas's American Graffiti offered, to most, a quaintly genteel nostalgic rendering of "happier times" a mere ten years after the "Where Were You in '62?" generation lived lives similar to those depicted in the movie. Lucas's film was, of course, instilled with the undercurrents and portents of the Vietnam War, but most audiences tended to don blinders to these aspects of the picture.

Not so, with Roddam's film.

Quadrophenia is a film firmly divided between haves and have-nots, youthful abandon and the dull maturity of adulthood, Mods and Rockers (of course), but most importantly, a sense of rage and rebellion in a world that demands conformity, a world fixed in a class structure determined and decided by those with no interest in the needs and desires of youth. One of the most simple and powerful moments that illustrates both the divide between classes and age occurs in the lavatory of the ad agency Jimmy works in. Two pompous executives natter-on and preen themselves whilst a hung-over Jimmy wretches in a stall, stumbles out towards the sinks and splashes water on his face. Throughout the entire scene, neither executive acknowledges the presence of Jimmy and even when he stands between them at the mirrors, they look at each other through him as if he was invisible.

Indeed, to the "ruling" class, people like Jimmy are always invisible. For Jimmy's generation and subsequent generations just like him, raging against the machine might not be the best solution, but sometimes it seems like the only solution.

Breaking Records Everywhere.

Even in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada

By the time Quadrophenia was released theatrically, the Punk and New Wave revolutions were in full swing. To the eventually gluttonous brokers of power during the latter portion of the 2oth Century (those lefty hippies who became pseudo-lefty capitalists of the most abhorrent kind), Quadrophenia was NEVER going to inspire innocuous nostalgic sitcoms of the "Happy Days", "Laverne and Shirley" or, God Help Us, the "Joanie Loves Chachi" variety. Nor would it have inspired the fake-grit-gussied-up-with-Disco-Fever in John Badham's Saturday Night Fever in 1977 and especially not the most ludicrous piece of cotton candy nostalgia of 1978's Grease. With Quadrophenia, nobody would have been "Hopelessly Devoted To…" the pompadoured 50s greasers of Randal Kleiser's inexplicably revered film rendering of the hit Broadway play that proclaimed to the world that "GREASE is the word!", nor would they be raging a storm in the "Disco Inferno" of Saturday Night Fever.

By 1979, young people from the tail end of the Baby Boom and on the cusp of the McJob Generation X were greeted with this equally nostalgia-drenched period piece that spoke directly to them, but rather than being a gentle reminder of how things were so much more simple "back then", Roddam's film was ingrained with violent energy and a cloud of disillusionment that gave even post-war disillusion a run for its money.

My own personal history with discovering the film was seeing it first-run in a packed-to-the-Gods 2000-seat picture-palace in Winnipeg and seeing it again and again and again - along with friends, colleagues and likeminded strangers. Punk and New Wave was raging amongst the youth culture of even this mid-western Canadian city surrounded by flat wheat fields in every direction. The picture sparked its own style revolution and spoke directly to young adults who frequented the punks bar and social events of this otherwise sleepy city. Of course when the film ended its surprisingly successful first run, I secured it for my own repertory cinema and played it incessantly at midnight shows and the like - to packed houses.

We lived as far away from London as one could imagine and certainly those of us who felt disenfranchised by our parents' generation and worse, those horrendous hogs-at-the-trough of the early-to-mid-baby-boom, embraced Quadrophenia as our own. Granted, Canada was, in fact, little more than a colonial remnant and was a country we grew up referring to as "The Dominion of Canada" and certainly in a city like Winnipeg, we were well aware of the province's unique history of rebellion against the old money WASPS in "Central" Canada.

This is a personal reminiscence, but illustrates how far reaching the film's grip on youth audiences actually went. People the world over - especially in English-speaking enclaves of the British Commonwealth - understood and identified with the plight of Mods and Rockers alike from a period of time over a decade old and in a film from a contemporary director who made a piece of Britain's youth history akin to our own.

Over the years, I've shown the film to younger generations and its power to thrill and move has not abated.

A lot of this, frankly, comes from Roddamn's brilliant work as a director. Though he casts his lens in verite fashion, he does so without the almost de rigueur shaky cam and sloppy non-lighting of the dogme-tistes of the late 90s and, even more offensive, the seemingly endless youth indie features from the last ten or so years (especially the wretched "mumble core" abominations).

Roddam, blessed with cinematographer Brian Tufano's first-rate lensing is, in fact, much closer to the Italian Neo-realist tradition - Vittorio DeSica in particular. Using deft compositions, elegant camera movement (not always flashy, but DRAMATICALLY effective) and an exquisite blend of practical lighting and just enough available light, the film paints a vivid, gritty portrait. The look never calls attention to itself save for when it's absolutely necessary in dramatic terms.

It's a rough-hewn classical approach that draws us in closer and/or presents a wide-eyed view to always place us squarely in the action of the story. When need be, we're fly-in-the-room viewers, following the action in long takes. Look, for example, to Jimmy's extraordinary entrance during the first party scene where the take appears to go on forever, but is so focused upon the dramatic action that we pretty much don't notice the camera work (unlike the numerous Scorsese/Goodfellas-inspired steadicam shots throughout the past 20 years).

To a certain extent, Roddam and Tufano even allow us to be participants in the dramatic action - look to some of the extraordinary shots during the Brighton riots sequence, or most evocatively, a scene where Jimmy and Steph, avoiding the cacophony of the riots, make out in a back-alley haven.

The casting and direction of the actors is so dead-on that again, we're reminded of DeSica's use of non-actors in dramatic roles. Phil Daniels as Jimmy was a complete revelation when Quadrophenia first appeared. His natural on-screen charisma was so strong that he lets us empathize and at times, even like a character who, at many moments, is downright obnoxious. Daniels here, was so tremendous, that lovers of BritPics across the pond scoured the movie ads for mention of his name and indeed, we thrilled to his occasional roles in works such as Scum, The Class of Miss MacMichael and Breaking Glass. (These days, after a successful stint as a rock musician, Daniels has become a prolific working actor on stage and screen. He even did the voice work on the Rat character in the popular animated film Chicken Run.)

Phil Daniels: Pete Townsend Surrogate "Jimmy"

As a sidenote, Johnny Rotten (Lydon) of The Sex Pistols (and eventually Public Image Limited) was auditioned and offered the role of Jimmy. Thank Christ none of the financiers were willing to pay the huge insurance premiums on Lydon since Daniels is so tremendous, I couldn't actually imagine anyone else playing Jimmy.

Besides, the film has a marvelous piece of stunt casting that works perfectly. Sting as the Mod King, Ace Face, is cooler than cool. Not only that, but I suspect it was a role he strongly identified with - he himself came from modest lower middle class beginnings and worked odd jobs for years - not unlike the one Ace Face is revealed to have during the picture's climactic moments. As well, it wasn't just stunt casting - the camera always loved Sting. Also, given that The Police had just released their first album a few months before the film's release, it made perfect casting sense on both a marketing level - as well as an aesthetic one. Quadrophenia was, after all, a film that appealed to punks and new wavers who strongly identified with the Mods. Decades later, Sting is not only emblematic to several generations for his always cool music styling, but his genuine activism on behalf of the disenfranchised the world over.

Given Sting's own early class struggles, and in fact, one of the huge flaws within Britain's class system

The young actors playing The Mods all acquit themselves strongly with the naturalistic verve of non-actors (some were, some weren't) and in the only supporting role of any substance representing the Rockers is the very young, handsome and hunky Ray Winstone as Jimmy's old school chum. Winstone's performance, given the eventual fate of his character, is genuinely moving - especially in how he and his character poignantly offer a foreshadowing of the negative aspects of fake individuality through conformity and signalling, the beginning of the end for even Jimmy's character.

All the adult roles are filled out beautifully with a winning array of Britain's best character actors. Michael Elphick and Kate Williams as Jimmy's Dad and Mom share the qualities Phil Daniels is imbued with - playing seemingly reprehensible characters, but with enough in the way of balance and layering to breathe humanity in them. The late Elphick (who tragically died a few years ago from a heart attack related to his extremely debilitating alcoholism) was a regular on the EastEnders TV series, but for me, he'll remain etched as the foul night watchman in the hospital housing John Merrick in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and here as the brutish, working class boozer, who below his gruff surface, just wants to understand his son.

The Late, Great Michael Elphick:

A Father's Love for his Son

Finally, that IS what Quadrophenia is really all about - understanding, or rather, the lack thereof. Because the picture is so well written and directed, it takes experiences from a long time ago in a world that no longer exists, but makes them universal. Pete Townsend's lyrics for "The Real Me" are as evocative a summation of the film's thematic resonance as any:

I went back to the doctor To get another shrink. I sit and tell him about my weekend, But he never betrays what he thinks.
Can you see the real me, doctor?
I went back to my mother I said, "I'm crazy ma, help me." She said, "I know how it feels son, 'Cause it runs in the family."
Can you see the real me, mother?
The cracks between the paving stones Look like rivers of flowing veins. Strange people who know me Peeping from behind every window pane. The girl I used to love Lives in this yellow house. Yesterday she passed me by, She doesn't want to know me now.
Can you see the real me, can you?
I ended up with the preacher, Full of lies and hate, I seemed to scare him a little So he showed me to the golden gate.
Can you see the real me preacher? Can you see the real me doctor? Can you see the real me mother? Can you see the real me?

I daresay the power of the film, what it hammers home so truthfully AND entertainingly is that thing we've all felt. Anyone who claims they've never wanted an answer to the question, "Can you see the real me?", is frankly, a liar.

Most importantly, like Jimmy, as the film and Townsend's great song reveal, we all pose the question and need the answer, but ultimately, we neglect to pose the question and look for the answer in ourselves.

It's Jimmy's journey.

And ours.

And it's one hell of a journey!

Tuesday, 10 April 2012

HARD CORE LOGO II - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Forging the personal w/artists & their art

BRUCE McDONALD
CARE FAILURE
Hard Core Logo II (2011) ****
dir. Bruce McDonald
Starring: Bruce McDonald, Care Failure, Julian Richings, Shannon Jardine, Peter Moore

Review By Greg Klymkiw

THE PREAMBLE: Part of my favourable response to Hard Core Logo II is on a personal level. My inaugural dive into director Bruce McDonald's canon was Roadkill, his mad, manic rock and road odyssey through Northwestern Ontario.

It was the fall of 1989 and the last year I'd be writing about films for a very long time. And I really did love writing about movies. I'd been doing so since the late 70s, but I was about to turn a corner in my life and this part of it would be ending a few months later. At the time I was attending the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) and in addition to doing some marketing work on behalf of the film co-operative The Winnipeg Film Group, I was moonlighting as a writer for the now-defunct "Cinema Canada" magazine and was presented with the task of reviewing McDonald's movie. It wasn't hard work at all. It was a terrific picture and my delight with it poured from my soul and through my fingertips and into my word processor like shit through the proverbial Canadian Goose.

At the time it reminded me of both David Lynch's Eraserhead and Allan Arkush's Rock n' Roll High School - hypnotic, dream-like, gloriously black and white, energetic, madly nutty,laugh-out-loud funny and pure rock and roll joy.

I've seen it a few times since and I stand by this assessment.

And goddamn! Roadkill was as Canadian as a fucking beaver pelt adorning Norman Jewison's pate. Every surreal moment from my punk years in Winnipeg seemed to spring miraculously to life. Endless nights in dark, now-defunct watering-holes like the "Native Club", "The Royal Albert Arms" and the basement of the "St. Charles Hotel" (AKA "The Chuckles") - seeing everyone who passed through (early XTC, the Popular Mechanix, the notorious rape-rockers The Mentors) to insane seven-hour drives to Thunder Bay to listen to heavy metal bands (often of the local variety) at the Inn-Towner - that miraculous dive where every chick had hair permed-out like Medusa which, under black light glowed with an almost radioactive "buy-me-some-fuckin-beer-and-maybe-we-can-fuck-eh" come-hither-with-a-stubby quality.

I felt as if I had died and gone to Heaven.

From here I followed Bruce's films passionately. Most of them I loved, some of them I liked and a number of them had me scratching my head with a kind of what-in-the-fuck-are-you-doing-you-psycho response. In 1996, when I saw his Hard Core Logo, which I loved, I remember being swept away by this road movie involving the crazy punker Joe Dick and his band on a comeback tour through the western prairies of Canada and was convinced McDonald would never top the film.

I was wrong, of course. Throughout the years he delivered one terrific picture after another - most notably his brilliant zombie picture set entirely in a rural radio station Pontypool and his truly whacked adaptation of Maureen Medved's novel The Tracy Fragments. The only film of his I didn't see was the notorious Picture Claire. At TIFF it was screening while 9/11 was happening. No matter on my end. Every director I love has one or two elusive "Holy Grail" pictures that I hope to see someday.

So let's fast forward to the present and how seeing Hard Core Logo II hit me where all the best movies should - on a personal level. Firstly, I bring you back to my own personal full-circle coincidence of HCL II being the first McDonald movie I've seen to write about since I stopped writing about movies. And yeah, here I am, 23 years later, back to the future, so to speak - again writing about movies. I have to admit to a certain sentimental attachment going in to seeing HCL II on this level.

Beyond that though, is the personal relationship one forges with certain artists and their art. Bruce was born about a month after me in the same year. He was born in Kingston and grew up in Scarborough. I was conceived in Detroit and born/raised in Winnipeg. Same difference, really. For many years, without knowing each other in any way, shape or form, we grew up with similar interests and experiences. On that level alone, he's a filmmaker who spoke to me as a contemporary and I've lived through 23 years of his work, connecting aesthetically, but also personally. His films are umbilically connected to my very being.

THE FILM: Hard Core Logo II is NOT a retread or reboot. It IS, a sequel. HCL I, a clever mock-doc wherein the lead character blew his brains out on-camera at the end seemed pretty much sequel-proof. What McDonald does, however, is turn the next phase of the tale into a semi-personal and quasi-fictional mock-doc - focusing on the character he himself played, "Bruce" the filmmaker.

And here, 23-years later, "Bruce" is working successfully in American television. He's the creator and director of "The Pilgrim", a ridiculously popular Christian western aimed squarely (and somewhat cynically on the part of the fictional/actual filmmaker) at the moronic religious right. When the star of the series Rufus Melon (a brilliantly scuzzy and hilarious Adrien Dorval) is caught in a horrendous sexual scandal, the show is immediately cancelled and Bruce is without a job.

Where he'd previously been ignoring reports that rock singer Care Failure (played, no less, by Care Failure of "Die Mannequin" fame) has psychically channeled the spirit of the late Hard Core Logo frontman Joe Dick, "Bruce" now drops everything to make a new documentary to reclaim his former glory as an independent filmmaker.

Going the super-kamikaze filmmaking route, he leaves his wife and child home alone and brings along only one crew member - his next door neighbour, the completely bonkers New Age Wiccan video/performance artiste Liz (Shannon Jardine). She mans, as it were, the camera, while he records sound, directs and interviews. He's promised Liz a co-directing credit, but as his personal notes reveal later on, he just needs (and treats her) as a glorified schlepper.

The two of them follow Care to Saskatchewan where she will record a solo album under the guidance of Joe Dick's former mentor Bucky Haight (Julian Richings, repeating his original HCL role and astoundingly proving again why he's one of Canada's greatest character actors).

McDonald and his co-writer Dave Griffith put together a number of scenes which give a strong sense of the drudgery and boredom involved in producing an album but when things threaten to get a bit too languid, we're tossed a few phantasmagorical montage sequences (something McDonald has been obsessed with in his latter output and which are handled with aplomb by editor Duff Smith). These insane patchwork quilts of exorcism, talking animals, flashbacks to Joe Dick blowing his brains out, etc. are worthy of such 70s and 80s head films like Alejandro Jodorowsky's The Holy Mountain and Slava Tsukerman's Liquid Sky.

The dreary Saskatchewan locations also add considerable Canadian chic to the whole affair. I used to think, for example, that looking at the topography surrounding my old hometown whenever I landed in a plane at the Winnipeg International Airport was the most depressing thing in the world. Hard Core Logo II reminded me that NO - landing at the Regina Airport is far more soul-sucking.

We're guided through this oddball low-key tale, contrasting nicely and unexpectedly with HCL's raging drive, through the laid-back journal entries of filmmaker "Bruce". If anything drives the engine of this happily sputtering engine it's exploitation.

Because this is a Canadian film in a Canadian setting with Canadian characters - the exploitation is, not surprisingly, Canadian. That is, characters gently, subtly remind each other how much they're exploiting each other. McDonald's film captures this exploitation ever-so subtly.

There are the newspaper clippings accusing "Bruce" of exploiting Joe Dick from the original film. There's the implication that Care is exploiting the memory of Joe and furthermore, by possibly pretending to be possessed to get "Bruce" to make a film about her. Bucky accuses "Bruce" of exploiting Care. "Bruce" accuses Bucky of exploiting her. Care accuses both of them of exploiting her. "Bruce" and Bucky gently suggest mutual exploitation of the dead Joe Dick. "Bruce" is clearly exploiting the mad schlepper Wiccan and even the disgraced actor Rufus Melon shows up to exploit "Bruce", in order to party with Care and to get a guest spot with CBC's "Strombo" to declare his "healing".

Gentle, subtle exploitation is always the Canadian way. Canadians prefer smiling and alternately stabbing in the back - gently. They almost never look someone squarely in the eyes to gut them.

And within the context of the world McDonald creates - nobody (much like Canadians in reality) seems to want anything of any real import.

Except for one thing.

And this is the surprising, profoundly and deeply moving aspect of Hard Core Logo II. When it is determined what is truly important, a sacrifice is made - one which takes us into an afterlife and where the spirit of love and of family overtakes and overwhelms us.

I must admit to being taken completely off guard here. I should have seen it coming, since the film is strangely bookended with something so uniquely personal that it's often the element that - subtly - sneaks its way through the entire film. And when this sequence occurs, I must admit that I was touched emotionally in ways I never expected. It's both a heartbreaker and a spirit-lifter.

The movie begins, builds and ends with a humanity that's been hinted at in some of McDonald's earlier work, but explodes in ways that will, I think, especially touch a particular generation of Canadian with an equally particular series of experiences.

The movie is probably not for everyone. Those expecting a replay of McDonald's earlier successes will be denied an easy road. He delivers an offbeat journey and one that perfectly exemplifies a segment of the punk generation - that generation (especially, I think, in Canada) that sprouted at the tail-end of the baby boom and created a whole group of rebels who existed between the hippie sellouts and the Gen-X McJobbers.

The real rebels. Those who truly had to pay a price for their ideals and in so doing, continue to clutch desperately and/or longingly at those things everyone thinks they want, but for this generation, when they discover that wondrous thing, they know it's exactly what makes life worth living.

"Hard Core Logo II" is playing at the TIFF Bell Lightbox and other select cinemas across Canada. It is being released by Alliance Films. For information of tickets, playdates and showtimes at TIFF, click HERE.

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