The Screengrab : mick jagger

Werner Herzog Remembers the Good Old Days in Peru, the Bad New Days in New Orleans

Phil Nugent — Fri, 17 Apr 2009 20:00:00 GMT

Fitzcarraldo, the 1982 epic that Werner Herzog shot in the jungles of Peru, using a team of locals to pull a 320-ton steamboat up a mountain, may have been the most troubled production of the director's long and adventurous career, though the competition for that title is fierce. (Herzog had shot an estimated forty percent of the film when his star, Jason Robards, was sidelined by amoebic dysentery, after which his co-star, Mick Jagger, had to abandon the project to fulfill a commitment to tour with his day job, the Rolling Stones. Herzog wrote Jagger's role out of the script and replaced Robards with Klaus Kinski, the only known instance in movie history of someone bringing Klaus Kinksi in to stabilize a situation.) It's probably the most well-documented production in Herzog's career, though. The director Les Blank recorded it all in his won 1982 feature documentary Burden of Dreams, and now it's reported that, in June, Ecco Press is bringing out Herzog's journals written during the production, under the title Conquest of the Useless: Reflections from the Making of Fitzcarraldo. For those of you who can't wait, The Paris Review has a selection in their Spring 2009 issue. ("These texts are not reports on the filming --of which little is said. Nor are they journals, except in a very general sense. They might be described instead as inner landscapes, born of the delirium of the jungle. But even that may not be entirely accurate--I am not sure." Coming from anyone else but Werner, this sort of thing would count as discouraging.) The excerpt isn't available online, but hey, it's a good magazine, so throw them twelve bucks if you're so inclined.

Herzog also just checked in with John Patterson, giving him a quick rundown of the current busy state of his movie career at his Laurel Canyon home, because he still considers himself to be a filmmaker and all this "man of letters" business is making him nervous. Herzog, who credits his global viewpoint to the fact that he "had seen much of the world before I was 20, and I had experienced it in a very fundamental way - being on foot, in Africa, in danger," actually had to take his age into account--he's now 66--when deciding not to imperil his life by shooting some icy underwater footage himself on his Antarctica documentary Encounters at the End of the World. However, he braved New Orleans, Nicolas Cage, and the wrath of Abel Ferrara on the movie he recently finished, Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans. Werner insists that, previous reports to the contrary, this is not a remake or a reboot of or a sequel to Ferrara's 1992 scuzzball classic, which came complete with rape on a church altar, visions of Jesus, and full-frontal Keitel. It seems that producer Ed Pressman owns the rights to the title and just wanted to use it on a new project. "I was assured," says Herzog, "that this was not related to another film of a similar name. I told them, 'If you swear on the heads of your children.' I also had hints from Nicolas Cage that he wouldn't sign unless he knew I was directing, which is a good way to start a film." Herzog was keen to shoot in New Orleans "because, after Katrina, you were in a situation where civil life came to a breakdown. Not merely because the hurricane caused a lot of material destruction, but it also created a collapse of civility - looting and, by the way, the police were heavily involved in that, too." And the producers were hot to shoot there too, because of "the tax incentives."

Herzog is "also in the process of wrapping up another film, My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done, produced by David Lynch and loosely based on a gruesome matricide in San Diego in the 1980s, starring Michael Shannon...This being a Herzog movie, the suburban footage is interspersed with scenes - visions, perhaps - captured in Central Asia and Peru. He calls it 'sort of a horror movie'." This all amounts to the most time Herzog has spent working with actors and scripts for quite some time, now; most of his filmography for the last several years has been devoted to nonfiction filmmaking. (The biggest and most recent exception, 1996's Rescue Dawn with Christian Bale, was based on the same story that Herzog had already used a decade earlier for his documentary, Little Dieter Needs to Fly.) Not that he sees much difference, of course; this is a guy who, in 1991's Lessons of Darkness, presented footage of the smoking, apocalyptic aftermath of the Gulf War as a science fiction film, and who later, in 2005's The Wild Blue Yonder, intercut NASA footage with film of the actor Brad Dourif improvising a monologue recounting his life as an extraterrestrial immgirant. "The distinction between fiction and documentary," says Herzog, "is the last thing I would spend a sleepless night over."

Related stories: Werner Herzog's Very Bad Idea

Strangers in a Strange Land: Special All-Herzog Edition

Screengrab's Favorite Movies About Music: Fiction Edition (Part Four)

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 19 Mar 2009 21:30:00 GMT

SWEET & LOWDOWN (1999)

Woody Allen phones in a lot of half-cooked shit and Sean Penn frequently comes across as a self-important knob, but every few years, both men remind us why it is we liked them in the first place (and put up with them all the rest of the time). With Sweet & Lowdown, the stars aligned so both Allen and Penn were ascendant simultaneously (effortlessly restoring faith in both after late 20th century missteps like Celebrity and U-Turn, respectively). Penn earned an Oscar nomination for his tall-tale, faux-biopic portrayal of Emmett Ray, a selfish lout redeemed only by his outstanding talent as one of the world’s best guitarists (second only to Django Reinhardt) and an occasional awareness of his own flawed character. The enigma of humanity’s capacity for timeless beauty and mindless cruelty has always fascinated Allen, and here he explores the specific dichotomy of musicians (and, presumably, filmmakers) who are capable of great art, but also truly shitty behavior like, say, running off with a girlfriend’s adopted daughter...or, in Ray’s case, mistreating a sweet, adoring mute girl, played to perfection by Samantha Morton, who also received an Academy nomination for her efforts).

BROTHERS OF THE HEAD (2005)

Brothers of the Head is a ludicrous story, a faux-documentary about a protopunk band fronted by conjoined twins. However, despite the absurdity of the premise (someone is forming a novelty act with conjoined twins and allowed Ken Freakin' Russell on the grounds with a camera?), the movie does its level best to play the story out with a straight, and often tragic, face. The music is not bad and the sexual connotations are almost as clever as the sex in Velvet Goldmine. But the whole seems to be a little less than the sum of its parts. The twin themes seem pulled from Cronenberg's Dead Ringers. The dissolute rock lifestyle seems to be based on the Stones in Gimme Shelter and Cocksucker Blues. In some scenes, the twins appear to be exhausted by the constant filming, aching for some privacy. In other scenes, the documentary premise slides away, unneeded at the moment. Not a bad way to spend 90 minutes, but not the best way, either. Check out the reference materials first.

PHANTOM OF THE PARADISE (1974)

This wacked-out midnight spectacle, which was released and re-released between 1974 and 1976 without ever finding much of an audience, was written and directed by Brian De Palma, at a transitional period between his early satirical comedies (Greetings, Hi Mom!) and the horror movies that would make him bankable. The plot, which scavenges a shelfload of classic scare movies, involves a composer who runs afoul of a Phil Spector-like pop svengali (played by the mutant music and TV celebrity Paul Williams, who also wrote the score) and, after being robbed of his face and voice, returns to haunt the mogul's palace as a masked ghoul. De Palma uses this pretzel of a narrative as an excuse for an explosion of visual flash, with the kind of humor usually found only in classic MAD comics.

PERFORMANCE (1970)

This film, which marked the joint directorial debuts of Donald Cammell (who also wrote the script) and Nicolas Roeg (who did the cinematography), was originally finished in 1968 but so badly freaked out the studio, Warner Bros., that they sat on it for two years before exposing it to the light of day, probably in the hopes that it would have the same effect on it as Dracula. James Fox plays a gangster who is forced to take it on the lam and ends up bunking in a big house with Mick Jagger as a burned-out rock star and his playmates, played by Anita Pallenberg and Michele Breton. The movie had no end of trouble just getting made so that it could horrify the studio brass. It was part of the deal to get it made that it include a new Jagger/Richards composition to be performed by Jagger, but rumor has it that Jagger and Pallenberg got carried away during their love scenes and actually got down on the set, despite the fact that the filming coincided with Pallenberg's time as Richards' inamorata, with the result that Richards became sulky and was in no mood to do his usual collaborative songwriting work with his lead singer. Ry Cooder was reportedly pressed into service to help Jagger pound out "Memo from Turner", which he performs in a fantasy sequence that's the high point of the film -- an electrifying moment made all the more fascinating by the fact that for most of the film, Jaggger is a cipher with next to no screen presence. (As for Fox, he did his part for the movie's mystique by converting to evangelical Christianity and retiring from acting for a decade, inspiring rumors that the decadence of the experience had broken him like a dry twig in a hurricane. Brutal, unsettling, eye-popping and impenetrable, the movie remains one of the few true '60s head trips, like the movie version of the greatest acid-rock album covers you've ever seen.

Click Here For Part One, Two, Three & Five

Contributors: Andrew Osborne, Hayden Childs, Phil Nugent

Coming Soon[er or Later]: The Marianne Faithfull Story

Phil Nugent — Tue, 17 Mar 2009 16:00:00 GMT

Marianne Faithfull has reportedly signed off on plans to make a film about her life, using her 1994 autobiography Faithfull as the basis for a screenplay. "It won't happen right away," Faithfull says, "but we have found a director who I trust who wants to make a film of the book." Faithfull herself claims to have no interest in participating in the process beyond hoping the check clears. "I'm not getting involved. I'll read the script, when it's ready, which isn't for a long time, and then I'll leave it to the director and the actress he chooses. I don't want to have much to do with it. I want to read the script and like the script and then I'm going to let go of it and let them do what they want. That's the way to do it." Faithfull, who has acted in several films herself--she starred in the 1968 head trip Girl on a Motorcycle and more recently appeared in Patrice Chéreau's Intimacy (2001) and Sofia Coppola's Marie Antoinette (2006), and was also typecast as God in a few episodes of the TV series Absolutely Fabulous--has expressed confidence that her life would make a good movie because it's "a great story." She is not wrong, and it's also easy to see why she's prefer to leave it to somebody else to live it again.

In the 1960s, Faithfull's glistening, youthful beauty and her intimidating connections--which included not just her scandal-sheet ties to the Rolling Stones but a family that included a mother who had danced for the Max Reinhardt Company and a great-great-uncle, Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, who was credited with having lent his name to the term "masochism"--made her the face of Swinging London, healthy and happy and sexy on the surface but with the tantalizing suggestion of something unspeakable going on behind the palace gates. Faithfull had her own career as a pop musician, scoring hits that included the Jagger-Richards composition "As Tears Go By", and writing "Sister Morphine" for the Stones in return. In 1966, she began a very public affair with Mick Jagger, and would eventually serve as the cherry on top of an equally public drug bust at Keith Richards's place, where the cops burst in to find her draping her nude body in a fur rug. But the tabloid behavior that only enhanced the Stones' career-making images as their Satanic majesties was an anchor tied to her neck. "To be a male drug addict and to act like that is always enhancing and glamorising," Faithfull said years later. "A woman in that situation becomes a slut and a bad mother." Faithfull did in fact lose custody of her son, Nicholas--born in 1965, with her then-husband John Dunbar--in 1970, the same year she broke up with Jagger. By then, she was sinking deeper into drugs and well on her way to ending up as the subject of a where-are-they-now piece.

Faithfull spent most of the 1970s, addicted to heroin and cocaine, suffering from anorexia nervosa, and undergoing extended periods of homelessness. She came back, totally unexpectedly and with a vengeance, in 1979, when she released the album Broken English, a scream of rage that mixed covers of John Lennon's "Working Class Hero" and Shel Silverstein's "The Ballad of Lucy Jordan" with new classics such as the title song and the seething ""Why D'Ya Do It", the song that Alanis Morissette's "You Oughta Know" wants to be when it grows up. She continued to reinvent herself on records and in live performance as a chilly but not unfriendly diva for the postpunk agem, the Marlene Dietrich of St. Ann's Warehouse. Now 62, Faithfull told an interviewer a couple of years ago that she'd just realized that she "had no safety net at all" and needed to start thinking about putting something away for her old age, so let's all hope she manages to make a nickel or two off this movie thing. In the meantime, her new album, Easy Come, Easy Go, which includes support from Marc Ribot, Rufus Wainwright, Chan Marshall, Nick Cave, Teddy Thompson, and whatsisname, Keith Richards, arrives in stores today.

In Other Blogs: Freejackin'

Scott Von Doviak — Fri, 29 Aug 2008 15:30:00 GMT

The snarky sports blog Deadspin isn’t generally one of our go-to sites here in the land of movie blogdom, but this post containing the text of Roger Ebert’s kiss-off to longtime Chicago Sun-Times sportswriter/annoying douchebag Jay Mariotti is too good to pass up. “What an ugly way to leave the Sun-Times. It does not speak well for you. Your timing was exquisite. You signed a new contract, waited until days after the newspaper had paid for your trip to Beijing at great cost, and then resigned with a two-word e-mail: ‘I quit.’ You saved your explanation for a local television station. As someone who was working here for 24 years before you arrived, I think you owed us more than that. You owed us decency. The fact that you saved your attack for TV only completes our portrait of you as a rat…On your way out, don't let the door bang you on the ass.”

Are you a cinephile or a cinemaniac? Do you even know the difference? David Bordwell thinks he does. “What is cinephilia? Literally, the love of film. But everybody likes, even loves film, no? The term 'cinephilia' connotes an overwhelming passion for film, even an obsession about it. And not just particular films. I meet civilians all the time who are devoted to their favorites—The Godfather, The Princess Bride, The Matrix. But they’re not cinephiles. So is it just a matter of quantity? Is it just that the cinephile enjoys a great many movies? Partly, but there’s still more to it. The cinephile displays symptoms of cinemania, as chronicled in the film of the same name…But I do see differences. For one thing, most cinemaniacs like only certain sorts of movies—usually American, often silent, sometimes foreign, seldom documentaries. Do cinemaniacs line up for Brakhage or Frederick Wiseman? My sense is not. Cinephiles by contrast tend to be ecumenical. Indeed, many take pride in the intergalactic breadth of their tastes. Look at any smart critic’s ten-best lists. You’ll usually see an eclectic mix of arthouse, pop, and experimental, including one or two titles you have never heard of. Obscurity is important; a cinephile is a connoisseur.”

Guest poster Aaron Aradillas looks back at the box office charts from 25 years ago at Some Came Running. Do you remember the number one movie from this week in 1983? “Easy Money was Rodney Dangerfield's follow-up to Caddyshack. It was pretty obvious that Rodney could carry a movie. The only problem was creating a vehicle where he could do his thing. Easy Money wasn't it…Easy Money finds Rodney playing more or less himself in that seemingly reliabe story of a cheerful vulgarian being forced to change his ways in order to receive a big reward. In this case it is Rodney's Monster-In-Law who is leaving him $10 million if he promises to stop drinking, smoking, gambling, and doing all the things we love Rodney for. For some reason filmmakers think this story is a perfect fit for high-wire comic actors. It isn't. It neuters them from doing what we go to see them do.”

At The House Next Door, Steven Boone has another look at Carl Dreyer’s Day of Wrath and makes a surprising connection. “Watching Day of Wrath for the second time at age 35 (in a crisp new digitally restored print at IFC Center), I now see much more E.T. than Schindler's List: There are no villains, no evil—just weak and fearful individuals either hiding from or within a system that provides the cruel certainty and definition of wrathful law pretending to justice. Everyone in Day of Wrath is only trying to be as human and honorable as he/she can be within the limits of a paranoiac theocracy. What appeared to my 19-year-old eyes to be a dour, cold-eyed vision of corrupt power destroying innocents in the name of God now appears as delicate and wise about human drives as that scene in E.T. where Elliot, so used to having no one to really talk to or play with, shows off his toys to the extra-terrestrial and prattles on like no tomorrow.”

In List-o-Mania, Topless Robot brings us the 10 Most Unnecessary Movie Tie-In Comics. How did I ever miss the Freejack comic book? “This sci-fi opus starring Emilio Estevez and Mick Jagger (when was the last time you heard those three words?) didn’t exactly wow moviegoers, possibly because ‘FreeJack’ sounds like a euphemism for public masturbation. Now Comics inexplicably put out an adaptation of the movie long after it had left theaters and was largely forgotten by the general populace. Strangely, Mick Jagger is a far better actor in the comic version.”

Screengrab Q&A: Uschi Obermaier

Peter Smith — Tue, 15 Jul 2008 23:00:00 GMT

If anyone epitomizes a "wild thing," it's bohemian femme fatale Uschi Obermaier, sexual icon and successful model in 1960s Germany. She was the it girl, hippie rebel and rock-star player of the time (boasting affairs with Mick Jagger, Keith Richards and Jimi Hendrix). With her signature pout, big hair and fearless attitude, Obermaier's free and passionate spirit made her one of the most desired women of the times.

She first earned her rebellious reputation as girlfriend of Rainer Langhans, leader of Germany's leftist party Kommune 1, but found their ideals conflicted with the freedom she desired. Her lust for ultimate liberty was fulfilled when she won the heart of adventurer Dieter Bockhorn, with whom she traveled around the world in a bus he custom-made for her.

Obermaier's story of freedom amidst the sexual revolution is documented in director Achim Bornhak's recently released Eight Miles High, which adapts her biography High Times. Actress Natalia Avelon takes us through Obermaier's short-lived life of glamour from teenage runaway to nomadic model and fought-over Stones groupie. The movie is a whirlwind tour of her life, capturing the restlessness of the time and costs of free love. Talking to Obermaier on the phone, I found that at sixty years old, she's an even more potent figure of femininity and sexuality than the film portrays. — Bianca Merbaum

So life in the '60s really was one wild party, with lots of sex, drugs and rock and roll?
It really was like that with all the ups and downs. At that time everything — the music, the fashion, the politics — everything was really new. Germany at the time was really suffocating and you were supposed to do what your parents wanted to. I just did not want it. Other people around me didn't want to put up with it either. So we tried everything, and sometimes it was good and sometimes we made mistakes. When we were so young we wanted to try out everything. And also our hormones were raging. Right away you fall in love and you think sex is a beautiful language and you want to speak it, you want to try it.

In the movie, 'free love' is a struggle, with a lot of jealousy and pain. Do you think free love can really exist?
That idea of 'free love' was kind of put on by the Kommune 1. That you don't own the other person. I never felt it. The saying 'jealousy doesn't exist' is just in the mind. I never understood it. If I love someone, I'm jealous like hell. When someone slept with someone else it hurt me. I'm just like a normal person too.

The movie doesn't show your life after Dieter Bockhorn's death. This whole period of your life ended when his life ended.
Up to the time when Bockhorn died, life was very glamorous and I had everything thrown into my lap. After Bockhorn's death I really hit the bottom. I was too old for modeling, I was in America, I didn't want to go back to Germany like my parents hoped after Bockhorn died. They hoped that I would come back home like a dog with his tail between his legs. But I said no, I'm not going to do that. It was very hard times for me. I didn't know how to exist, but I always followed my heart and nowadays, being sixty, I'm exactly where I always wanted and wished for.

Where's that?
My place in Los Angeles is in the mountains. I have a lot of space and freedom, I have a beautiful house and I just do what I want. I'm into making jewelry, and that seems to take off. I'm really, very happy with my life.

Let's gossip a little bit about your affairs with Mick Jagger and Keith Richards. Were they good lovers?
Were they good lovers? Of course. Otherwise I wouldn't have been with them. But people always ask me, "Who was the best lover?" and I have to tell you, the best lover is always the man I'm with, right now.

And who's that?
[Laughs] I'm not telling that!

There is a brief part in the movie about your exchange with Jimi Hendrix, but did you have anything intimate with him?
Unfortunately that's not in the movie. We were only together for a short time but in my mind he was just the sweetest person. He was just — I can't really explain it in words — but there was something really really special about him, not just because he was "Jimi Hendrix." He had something that really hit my nerve. He was a wonderful person, wonderful. Very shy!

Did he play you songs?
Um... no, not really, because we were busy [laughs].

Do you think Natalia Avelon's sexy performance is an accurate depiction of you?
Yeah. Well, I would say I was even better [laughs]. I think she did a good job. What really disturbed me — just little things — is she had too much makeup on. Like the red lipstick. You would have never caught me in red — you would have caught me in purple. Then she tried to make my pout, which didn't come naturally, so I kind of cringed. But really, I don't want to put anything down because she really did a great job. She picked up on a lot of my habits and attitude. The whole cast was really good, especially the guy who plays Bockhorn. At times, sometimes, my heart stopped — I thought it was old footage. But Bockhorn had this incredible smile, and he couldn't bring that.

The Curse of the Rolling Stones

Scott Von Doviak — Tue, 01 Apr 2008 18:30:00 GMT

My profuse apologies for the lame Harry Potter prank. Here’s your actual Scorsese news of the day, concerning a movie that does exist: the new Rolling Stones concert film Shine a Light. Scorsese, as you may know, is no stranger to the rock and roll music. An editor on Woodstock, director of both the quintessential concert film The Last Waltz and the acclaimed Bob Dylan documentary No Direction Home, Scorsese was also an early adopter of the wall-to-wall classic rock approach to movie scoring, for better or for worse. His frequent use of Rolling Stones music, in particular “Gimme Shelter,” has become something of a running joke, with Mick Jagger noting that Shine a Light may be the first Scorsese movie that doesn’t feature the 1969 track.

“I'm not really that knowledgeable about how music is put together,” Scorsese told the San Francisco Chronicle, in an interview from the set of his upcoming adaptation of Dennis Lehane’s Shutter Island. “I love music. I wish I could write or perform music. I can't do it. I love it, and it's one of my main sources of information. I was fascinated that if Jagger would sing a line in lyrics, Keith (Richards) would respond with two notes on his guitar or a strum. I found I wanted to capture all that. I wanted to capture the look on Keith's face when he decided to respond to that lyric.”

The project may seem a tad redundant to anyone familiar with the cinematic history of the Stones. A number of concert films precede Shine a Light, and as the L.A. Times notes, most of them have been touched by controversy and even tragedy. “Most infamously, the 1970 film Gimme Shelter by the Maysles brothers documented the nightmarish scene the previous year at Altamont Speedway, where the Hells Angels were hired as security but went on a rampage. One 18-year-old concert-goer was stabbed and stomped to death. There had been other dark tinges to the film library. The Rock and Roll Circus (recorded in 1968 but not released until 1996), directed by Michael Lindsay-Hogg, turned out to be a grim time capsule as the last public performance of Stones guitarist Brian Jones. The politically ominous Sympathy for the Devil (filmed in 1968 and released in 1970) was beset by a studio fire, the arrest of Jones on drug charges and a dispute between director Jean-Luc Godard and the producer that climaxed with a fistfight at the premiere. Then there was Let's Spend the Night Together, directed by Hollywood rebel Hal Ashby, who filmed the band in 1981 at Arizona's Sun Devil Stadium and then hours later was wheeled out of the band's hotel on an ambulance gurney after slumping into a drug overdose."

You’d think the senior citizen Stones would have put all that behind them, but even Shine a Light fell victim to the Stones movie curse. No, we’re not talking about the mysterious appearance by Christina Aguilera (“I'm still not sure who that is,” says Keith Richards), but the death of Atlantic Records founder Ahmet Ertegun, who stumbled backstage and hit his head, never to recover. “I loved him,” says Richards. “But you know, what better way to go? Backstage at a Stones show? That's how I wanna go.”

“Pinocchio in Outer Space” and Other Forgotten Cartoons

Scott Von Doviak — Thu, 20 Mar 2008 16:00:00 GMT

Have you seen Mad Monster Party lately? “Featuring the final screen ‘appearance’ of horror icon Boris Karloff, Mad Monster Party was co-written by comics legend Harvey Kurtzman, creator of the original Mad comic books, and featured character designs by cartoonist Jack Davis of Mad Magazine and EC comics — a genius at combining humor and grotesquerie.” Or how about Down and Dirty Duck? “Likely assembled as a quick cash-in on the underground success of Ralph Bakshi's Fritz the Cat, Down and Dirty Duck was put together with the assistance of erstwhile Turtles (and Mothers of Invention) Mark Volman and Howard Kaylan (nee Flo and Eddie), who contributed voice, music and plot elements. (The duo’s former employer, Frank Zappa, makes a cameo appearance during a particularly bizarre segment in which his head rises, sunlike, in the sky over the main characters.)”

These are but two entries in Bullz-Eye.com’s eye-opening Animated and Forgotten: Feature Length Cartoons You May Not Remember. (The key words there being “may not.” It’s a fun list, but how could we ever forget The Incredible Mr. Limpet and The Iron Giant?) You can read the whole thing here, but if you want to see video clips from some of these obscurities, you’ve come to the right place:

PINOCCHIO IN OUTER SPACE (1965)

One advantage to being a wooden boy: when you travel to other planets, no space helmets are necessary. But why is that goofy turtle trying to romance him?

MAD MONSTER PARTY (1969)

Little Tibia and the Fibias rock, but what could be more disturbing than a stop-motion Phyllis Diller unwrapping the poor Mummy while he’s trying to get his groove on?

THE POINT! (1971)

The animation in this acid-trip inspired Harry Nilsson musical is a little, how shall we say, crude by today’s standards, but you’re never going to hear a more charming ditty about decomposition than “Think About Your Troubles.”

ROCK AND RULE (1983)

Apparently Mick Jagger didn’t care much for Lou Reed’s performance as “Mok Swagger” in this “post-apocalyptic tale of satanic magic and the rock and roll lifestyle among mutated, extremely anthropomorphic, cats, dogs, and rats.”

LITTLE NEMO: ADVENTURES IN SLUMBERLAND (1989)

Not to be confused with Finding Nemo, this adaptation of the Winsor McKay comic strip is hard to find, but you can watch the whole thing on YouTube starting here:

Stones, Scorsese Rock the Berlin Film Festival

Phil Nugent — Mon, 11 Feb 2008 18:00:00 GMT

Martin Scorsese's movie about the Rolling Stones, Shine a Light, has opened the Berlin Film Festival, marking "the first time a major film festival has dared to open with a non-fiction movie." Scorsese has been auditioning for this job for a long time. He worked on as an editor on such earlier rock docs as Woodstock, The Medicine Ball Caravan, and Elvis on Tour long before redefining the use of rock music in narrative movies in Mean Streets (where Robert De Niro's crazy badass Johnny Boy makes a show-boating entrance gliding into a bar to the tune of "Jumpin' Jack Flash") and perfecting the concert-documentary form with the 1978 The Last Waltz. As for the Stones, this project represents something of a return to one of their old habits — linking up with a name filmmaker to perhaps capture the "definitive" Rolling Stones experience on film — that for most of the past several years has been sublimated by Pay-Per-View TV gigs. (Classic examples include Jean-Luc Godard's studio-set Sympathy for the Devil, the Maysles brothers' end-of-the-60s Gimme Shelter, and Hal Ashby's 1983 Let's Spend the Night Together, which turned out as an accidental record of why the 1980s would not be remembered as the creative high point of either the Stones' or Hal Ashby's careers. The most notable of all these films is probably Robert Frank's 1972 Cocksucker Blues, which Mick Jagger had legally suppressed, thus giving it automatic street cred.) The new movie, which reportedly brought the house down in Berlin, was filmed over the course of two days at New York City's Beacon Theater in 2006, with guest appearances by Jack White, Buddy Guy, and Christina Aguilera, by an all-star camera crew headed by Robert Richardson. (The performance footage is intercut with highlights from decades' worth of Stones interviews. Questioner: What do you do before going on stage? Keith Richards: "I wake up." Not at a couple of shows I've seen, you didn't. Hiiiiiii-oh!) In addition to giving audiences the chance to see the band perform some of its standard numbers on a big screen, the movie also gave Scorsese the chance to preserve one of his standard numbers: it opens with him having a high-pitched meltdown because nobody will give him a finalized song list, and without it, he can't be sure that he'll have one of his seventeen cameras pointed right where he wants it for the first shot.