ALMOST FAMOUS (2000)



Some people knock Cameron Crowe's fictionalized cinematic memoir for viewing the '70s through rose-colored granny glasses...but, hey, it IS told from the point-of-view of a very, very happy 15-year-old kid who not only gets to write for Rolling Stone, but also loses his virginity to a trio of sexy groupies!  For me, the hero's starry-eyed wonder was the whole point: it's a rare movie that can honestly make me remember how exciting, innocent and mysterious life (and, for that matter, show biz) seemed before I became such a cranky old man. And I've always gotta give props to any Hollywood movie made with such heartfelt emotion, humanity and attention to detail...PLUS it’s got Philip Seymour Hoffman as cool-nerd Jedi Master Lester Bangs, Fairuza Balk in a well-deserved good role for a change, Kate Hudson (in her ONLY good role to date) as the embodiment of the Great Unattainable and Zooey Deschanel in a cool-ass stewardess uniform. It’s all happening!

THE COMMITMENTS (2001)



Alan Parker's once-a-decade good movie -- and now that I mention it, Alan, you're almost twenty years overdue for another one -- has a solid grounding in one of Roddy Doyle's exuberant novels about Irish life. Because Parker was able to get the milieu down right, he and his screenwriters -- Dick Clement, Ian La Frenais, and Doyle -- were able to fiddle with the book's cast of characters in order to accommodate the cast they assembled from the extensive audition process (for instance, changing the book's lead singer from a young George Michael type to a beefy lout after meeting Andrew Strong, a heavyset 16-year-old with a powerful voice) without losing its flavor. The cast also included Glen Hansard, who took to turning down subsequent offers of acting jobs so as not to distract from his music career, which would eventually yield its greatest success when he returned to the movies for 1996's Once.

GREENDALE (2003)



Neil Young has been dabbling with filmmaking since at least 1974's Journey Through the Past, but this companion piece to his album of the same name is his best work as a director. Like many artists who basically play around at making movies when they're taking a break from their real work, Young's work in film is amateurish, but the amateurism here is playful and lively, and it expands on the story and ideas of the ten-song cycle of the album, which is perfectly achieved but also a little cut and dried. The story involves three generations of Greens: Grandpa, who sits on the porch all day thinking sadly about how the world has gone to hell; his used-up son Earl, who winds up in a jail cell; and young Sun Green, who preaches rebellion and freaks out the military-industrial complex armed with a megaphone and some killer tats. Even after all the changes Young has been through, the hippie dream dies hard.

AMERICAN HOT WAX (1978)



When rock and roll was young and frisky, exploitation filmmakers threw together movies in which kids celebrated the new music with the help of actual music stars who stopped by to perform a number for a quick buck. This movie, directed by Floyd Mutrux, functions simultaneously as a parody of those movies and a fantasy of what it would have been like if someone had gotten one of them right. The terrific, late character actor Tim McIntire greased back his thinning hair and donned a succession of eye-abrasive sports coats to play the legendary disc jockey Alan Freed, who popularized rock and roll until he was destroyed in the payola scandal. (Freed himself was a mainstay of early rock movies, like Rock Around the Clock and Mr. Rock and Roll.) McIntire plays him as sweaty, medium-rung show business hustler who plays the role of Prometheus to the kids and comes to love it so much that he turns into a real hero in spite of himself. The cast also includes Laraine Newman as a character based on the young Carole King, the still-human Jay Leno and Fran Drescher, the child actor Moosie Drier as the head of the Buddy Holly Fan Club, and as themselves, Chuck Berry, Jerry Lee Lewis, Screamin' Jay Hawkins, and Frankie Ford. The whole thing builds to the big rock show, where the forces of repression, horrified at the sight of interracial dancing in the aisles, orders the house lights turned on while Jerry Lee Lewis is onstage pumping out "Great Balls of Fire", inspiring the indignant Killer to complain, "Folks, it's mighty hard to do a rock and roll show with the lights on. Can't do it!  Now, the police are over there doin' their job, Alan Freed's doin' his job, let Jerry Lee Lewis do his job and turn the damn lights off!" It is said that Abraham Lincoln sometimes reached comparable peaks of oratory, but there is no filmed record to confirm this.

PRIVILEGE (1967)



Filmmaker and media critic Peter Watkins trained his camera on rock'n'roll culture with the 1967 film Privilege, which examined the circus that sprung up around the (fictional) pop star Steven Shorter. Shorter is a worldwide musical phenomenon, and so rabid is his fan base that when Shorter stages a musical number in which he gets beaten and thrown into jail by police, an actual riot breaks out. In short, Steven's fans will follow him anywhere -- he endorses dozens of products Oprah-style, and when British farmers experience a surplus of apples, guess who they get for an advertising spot? As played by then-Manfred Mann lead singer Paul Jones (excellent in his big-screen debut), Shorter is a magnetic performer, but in the end, Watkins is more interested in him as a media commodity. The Steven Shorter we see in Privilege is less a three-dimensional person than a commodity, and indeed he seems to have little discernible personality when he's not onstage -- how ironic that Shorter's fans claim to love their idol "because he gives so freely of himself." In the end, Shorter is little more than a pure media image, as easily manipulated as any other, to the point where the establishment powers of the government and the Church of England can put Steven in front of a stadium full of fans and motivate them to chant "We will conform!" Privilege is the polar opposite of a rockin' good time -- it's a stark head trip in which even the most ruggedly individualistic of art forms can be co-opted and corrupted by the powers that be, and in which the populist media don't so much create stars as consume them and crap them back out when they're no longer needed.

Click Here For Part One, Three, Four & Five 

Contributors: Andrew Osborne, Phil Nugent, Paul Clark