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The
Spin Sheet
DVD
reviews by Peter Schorn of The Digital Bits
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That
Thing You Do!
Tom Hanks' Extended Cut
- 1996/2007 (2007) - 20th Century Fox
Film Rating: B+
Disc Ratings (Video/Audio/Extras): B-/B+/C+
I'm sure that just about every practitioner of every vocation -
from doctors and lawyers, soldiers and secretaries to public
safety and law enforcement personnel, basket weavers and race
car drivers - has had serious quibbles with how their
professions have been portrayed in movies and TV shows. Even
allowing for dramatic license, it's got to be hard for a
patrolman to do his job when the public has been fed a steady
diet of cops who are hard-drinking, burned-out and crooked (or a
least compromised) or wild rogues breaking the rules while
fighting crime.
As a musician, my bane has been the trite portrayals of my
brethren in countless films. Even those with real-life musicians
involved like the Cheri Lovedog-penned Prey
for Rock & Roll somehow fail to capture the
dynamics of what it's like to be a musician in a band, diluting
the musical aspects with banal melodrama, probably in an effort
to make it accessible to civilians.
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Rock
Star turned the story of how Judas Priest replaced their
singer with a bloke from a tribute band into a snooze; Almost
Famous was mostly about groupies and Cameron Crowe's
childhood; Paul Schrader's Light of Day
captured some of the grit of Rust Belt bar bands, but wasn't really
about music as much as family and scandal.
Excluding the too-true-but-still-a-spoof This
Is Spinal Tap, the best depiction I've seen came from the
most unlikely of sources - America's sweetheart, Tom Hanks - with
his 1996 directorial debut That Thing You
Do!, which he also wrote and is now available in a deluxe
two-disc Tom Hanks' Extended Cut
edition.
Set in 1964, it's the sprightly tale of a band from Erie,
Pennsylvania fronted by serious singer-songwriter-guitarist Jimmy
(Johnathon Schaech). Along with smart-aleck guitarist Lenny (Steve
Zahn) and their unnamed bassist (Ethan Embry) - I'm not kidding,
he's credited as T.B. Player, as in "The Bass Player" -
they're all set to play a college talent contest when drummer Chad
(Giovanni Ribisi) breaks his arm the night before the show. To bail
them out they beseech Guy (Tom Everett Scott), who works days in his
family's appliance store and plays drums along with jazz records at
night, to sit in for just one song: a dirge-tempo ballad entitled,
ta-da, "That Thing You Do". When Jimmy's girlfriend, Faye
(Liv Tyler), keys off a comment by Guy, the combo gains a moniker to
go with their song: The Oneders (pronounced correctly as "won-ders",
but butchered as "oh-need-ers" in a running gag.)
At the show, though, Guy counts off the tune at a much more upbeat
tempo and thus Jimmy's sappy ballad becomes a pop sensation, winning
the contest, getting them a gig at a restaurant and rapidly-swelling
following. One person who takes notice is Phil (Chris Ellis), who
offers to manage the band and get their song on the radio. Despite
his shaky offices - he works out of a camper - they sign and true to
his word, he gets them on the air and takes them to play a show in a
theater in Pittsburgh where he hands them over to Mr. White (Tom
Hanks), an A&R man for Play-Tone Records. Re-spelled as The
Wonders, they immediately join a caravan of other Play-Tone acts
barnstorming the state fair circuit while their hit song rockets up
the charts, eventually leading them to appear in a beach party movie
and on a national television before the ride ends in death and
misery. (OK, there isn't any death, but there is some crying.)
While the overnight rise and fall of the band is compressed even
for those fast-moving times; the label's roster is an eclectic
mish-mash of a Bobby Darin type and a Motownesque girl group in
addition to our fabbish foursome; and there is no end of music
business people who have nothing but the band's best interests at
heart; That Thing You Do!
succeeds in great part due to the Hanks' astute attention to detail.
As far as I know, Hanks never did a stint in a van, so to speak, but
there isn't a false note struck (groan) as he portrays the
occasionally dissonant chords (ouch) that occur when creating sweet,
fizzy pop music. (Try the veal!)
The overly-uptight songwriter freaking out over a drummer not
sticking to the designated tempo; I've been that guy. Having the
band muffed; there's a photo in the archives of a marquee that
misspelled my band's name despite it containing common English
words. The jubilant reaction of the band when they first hear their
song on the radio; even if you don't dance around an appliance
showroom, it's an amazing moment when you realize that there are
thousands of people also listening to what was once heard only in
your bedroom. These set pieces along with countless other grace
notes (I can't stop myself!) will bring a knowing smile to anyone
who's been in a band without becoming an inside joke that fails to
entertain civilian audiences.
In a stern rebuke to such movie conventions as the band magically
knowing the arrangement and harmonies of a song they've never heard
before - I'm looking at you Purple Rain
- the first time through the sped-up song, the band is ragged and
spends the first half struggling to mesh what they've always done
with the way things suddenly are. (Keep this in mind whenever the
whole prom crowd suddenly busts those intricately choreographed
moves in a teen movie.)
Of course, none of these details would've mattered if we couldn't
believe that The Oneders/Wonders actually had a song that could be
such a sensation. Fortunately, Fountains of Wayne and Ivy major domo
Adam Schlesinger delivered an Oscar-nominated bit of wonder (help!)
that sounds swiped from the Lennon/McCartney scrapbook and never
wears out its welcome after being significantly heard at least eight
times during the film. That it was denied the Oscar in favor of the
merely adequate "You Must Love Me" (from Evita)
is just another badge of shame for a category that also slighted "Blame
Canada" and "Mean Green Mother From Outer Space" over
the years. When a song is integral to a movie's frigging plot, some
ballad tacked on over the end credits shouldn't best it.
This extended version adds over 30 minutes of deleted footage and
the difference between the theatrical cut - also available here - is
like the difference between an album and single version of a song,
say, The Doors' "Light My Fire." While the single fills
the bill, the full-length version has additional dimensions that the
longer time frame allows to be explored. The most immediately
noticeable addition is a lot of material involving Guy's girlfriend,
Tina (Charlize Theron - yeah, I forgot she was in it, too), and her
budding romance with a hunky dentist while Guy is on the road. This
adds nothing to the plot and was an easy omission in 1996; it's only
returned here because Theron is now an Oscar-winning actress.
More significant are the added band scenes with nicely flesh out
the story. We see Guy being taught the song; a riot break out at a
gig; the band inadvertently crashing the dressing room of
Pittsburgh's mattress king, Boss Vic Koss (Kevin Pollack); their
wide-eyed wonder (no pun, really!) as they try to comprehend playing
a 2000-seat theater; and many more scenes that could've always been
left in, but were cut for time. Inflated to nearly 2-1/2 hours, it
never feels as long as it is, but it definitely tests the limits of
brevity. Going back and watching the original cut, the additional
scenes felt missed, but it also serves as a useful example of the
editorial process.
The cast is uniformly excellent with Zahn stealing scenes with all
the great lines he's been gifted from Hanks' pithy script and Scott
coming off as a young Hanks doppelganger. Schaech is suitably
brooding and even the usually limpid Tyler is adorable here as The
Girlfriend who just wants her man to succeed in his musical
endeavors. (I've seen excellent local bands destroyed by witchy
girls - it wasn't just The Beatles and Yoko - and I've dated a "Tina"
and currently date a "Faye" and believe me, it's better
with a Faye!) Other than a too-cartoonish Alex Rocco as the
Play-Tone chief, Hanks maneuvers his players deftly and prevents his
nepotistic casting of family and pals like wife Rita Wilson, Bosom
Buddies co-star Peter Scolari, son Colin Hanks, and Chris
Issac from calling attention to themselves.
While the story and music are bright and shiny, the 1.85:1
anamorphic transfer has some issues, starting with great difficulty
with handling not-so-fine details like pegboard walls and some
fabric patterns. They pulse and shimmer distractingly and squander
the clean print and Tak Fujimoto's pastel cinematography. The 5.0
Dolby Surround audio is punchy and resonant even without the
dedicated LFE channel and possesses a well-mixed environmental
ambience.
Be-bopping to the second disc - too bad they didn't do this as a
flipper so I could say "on the B side" - we have a "Feel
Alright" Video (2:31), pieced together with movie
clips for a song I frankly didn't recall. The featurette The
Wonders! Big in Japan (6:56) has new reminiscences of a
fun press tour to Japan intercut with home movies from the trip.
The Story of the Wonders
(30:47) is a vintage featurette delving into the background of the
story and characters in a manner that's more than just PR fluff.
Making That Thing You Do!
(13:42) and the HBO First Look: The
Making of That Thing You Do! (13:00) are self-explanatory
with the former being comparable to the Story
featurette and the later being a straight-up hype piece.
The sole all-new featurette is That
Thing You Do! Reunion (10:15) which brings together the
entire cast including Theron (but minus Hanks) to Algonquin about
their casting, making the movie, and the wacky fun shooting love
scenes. It's lightweight, but fun. A trio of trailers and a TV spot
rounds out the extras.
While the special features are passable what is sorely missed is a
commentary track of any kind, new interviews with Hanks, and, most
egregiously, absolutely nothing about the music of this sublime
music flick. How did Hanks so perfectly nail the experience of being
in a band on the rise? We never learn. Hanks co-wrote most of the
film's songs, but we get no insight into this talent. Couldn't
someone have taped Schlesinger's thoughts about his ability to catch
Liverpool lighting in a bottle? It's very disappointing how this
most crucial aspect of the production got the least attention.
There is a cool Easter egg on the main menu which will bring a
smile to the face of anyone who remembers when music came on 45 rpm
singles and the sonic possibilities. One caveat: the redundant
cardboard sleeve on my copy got stuck on the ridiculously tacky
residue of the three security tape strips that sealed the keepcase
and I ended up destroying the sleeve and tearing the plastic cover
on the case in the process of extricating it. (Whoever changed the
tape glue formula; clean out your desk!)
That Thing You Do! is a sweet
treat of a film that manages to enlighten non-musical viewers about
the experience of being in a band without making it too arcane or
inside baseball. Veteran musicians should recognize themselves as
one of The Wonders, too. Either way, it's a darn fine movie well
worth checking out.
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B4MD:
Before the Music Dies
2006 (2006) - B-Side Entertainment (B-Side Entertainment)
Program Rating: C
Disc Ratings (Video/Audio/Extras): B-/B/C+
It's not much of an insight to say that the current state of
the music business is pitiful; seemingly youth-obsessed and
vacuous; obsessed about the business more than the music; unable
to reconcile quality and quantity. It's a legitimate question to
wonder if The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, Bruce Springsteen or any of
the legends of contemporary music could've gotten signed and
built a thriving and long-lived career in today's climate.
This appearance of favoring commercialism at the expense of
musical diversity is the underlying thesis of Before
the Music Dies, a well-intentioned, but haphazard
documentary by rookie filmmaker Andrew Shapter.
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Comprised
of interviews with major stars like Elvis Costello, Bonnie Raitt,
Dave Matthews, The Roots' Questlove, and Erykah Badu as well as
artists more known to the Volvo-driving NPR/crunchy granola music
set such as Doyle Bramhall II, Steve Poltz and Joey Burns of
Calexico, B4MD (as the makers
refer to it on their web site) follows the well-worn path of
complaints about how bad things are, how they got this way, and how
the future may play out with alternatives such as the Internet
providing a direct conduit between artists and the public
circumventing the Big Bad Record Industry.
We get a taste of all the usual complaints including "tween"
girls outside an Ashlee Simpson concert praising her awesome voice
while professing ignorance of Bob Dylan's existence; the evils of
Clear Channel and media consolidation; and the injustice that so
many "valid" artists aren't able to be big stars while
fabricated pop garbage rules the charts. Illustrating the latter is
a sequence in which Poltz - who co-wrote Jewel's hit "I Was
Meant For You" - extemporaneously dashes off a ditty about a
girl waiting for a phone call. We then meet a pretty teenage model
who has the vocal strength of a cat in need of euthanasia, but never
fear for with the help of Autotune and a skilled engineer her atonal
vocal stylings are manipulated into listenable shape. A brief music
video illustrating the final result caps the segment.
While the intention was surely meant to outrage the viewer at the
dishonest superficiality of "artists" who employ such
technical shenanigans, in a world where McDonald's and Pamela
Anderson are viable commercial enterprises, it's hard to muster up
much opprobrium over something that's been happening since rock &
roll first started. What were Pat Boone and Ricky Nelson other than
palatable alternatives to those frightening Negroes with their "Satanic
race records" in the Fifties? Listen, we know Britney is fake
and we're cool with it; give the audience some credit, please. It is
possible to eat prime rib and Twinkies without dying.
The closest B4MD gets to
explaining why the music biz is so screwed up comes when the effect
of giant conglomerates buying up the labels is touched upon. The
labels, flush with cash from people rebuying their record
collections on CD, were ripe targets for acquisition. In the quest
to hit quarterly financial targets, risk-taking and creativity had
to be jettisoned in favor of supposedly proven marketing formulas.
But blaming the mass-produced nature of modern pop music on soulless
bean counters doesn't explain why the public persists in buying this
sonic Velveeta (i.e. pasteurized process music product); someone
must like it.
The greenness of the filmmaker is apparent from the beginning as it
opens with a vintage video of an ebullient Billy Preston performing
"Mister Double O Soul" before Ray Charles' band. It then
cuts to photos of Shapter and his brother (who was a musician) while
the director narrates that they'd been discussing the state of music
shortly before his brother's death and that despite lacking any
inside connections, sought to find the answers. Then the documentary
proper starts with narration by Forest Whittaker, rendering the
director's preface both moot and a slightly cheap play for sympathy.
It should've been relegated to a commentary track or
behind-the-scenes featurette for it gives the initial impression
that he would be narrating the whole film in keeping with the
personal inspiration.
Another problem stems from the title itself: Before
the Music Dies. Is the music dying? In between sections
of the film, we're treated to snippets of performances of various
left-of-the-dial flavor performers. If the music world were on the
brink of extinction, where are all these musicians coming from?
There are about three million bands on MySpace and even if the vast
majorities are terrible, it refutes the idea that music is dying.
While the old music industry may be slouching toward the tar pits,
musicians creating music are thriving, if not necessarily rolling in
the bling. Since no one outside of the expense account A&R
weasels has much sympathy for the record industry, a more accurate
title such as Before the Record Business
Dies probably would've been a non-starter.
Shot on a shoestring budget on Mini-DV, the 1.78:1 anamorphic
presentation can't really hide its technical shortcomings despite
processing to mimic a film-based look. There is noticeable aliasing
and bleeding in colors and some 4:3 content has been obviously
cropped vertically, but considering its intentions, these are
understandable and non-fatal flaws. The audio is simple English
Dolby 2.0 stereo without subtitles and does a no-frill job of
presenting the music and interviews clearly. It's not going to
replace Transformers as your
go-to reference disc, but that's OK.
Supplemental materials include extended interview snippets with the
featured participants with the Poltz and Questlove excerpts being
particularly informative and entertaining. Poltz is hilarious in his
anecdotes - I probably could've watched everything they shot with
him - and Questlove has some fascinating insights as to how The
Roots sharpened their act and worked at building a scene in their
adopted hometown of Philadelphia. He is so articulate that it's hard
to believe he is a, you know, a drummer. (I kid! I kid!)
A live clip of Bramhall performing at the film's SXSW release party
and a half-hour long audio interview with Bob Edwards on XM Radio
wind things up and the interview really illustrates the problematic
storytelling of the feature by covering the material in a more
concise manner in a third of the time. It shows that what impact an
astute editor - or lack thereof - can have on a documentary.
Anyone who knows the basics of the contemporary music scene will
find little new information in Before the
Music Dies that they didn't already know and total
neophytes won't get a clear enough picture of what's happening to
truly grasp the filmmaker's intended point. While the intentions are
noble and the quest was valiantly pursued, the lack of cohesive
narrative flow undermines the ultimate results rendering what was
meant to be illuminating merely pedestrian.
Peter Schorn
peterschorn@thedigitalbits.com
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