Rating: 
Summary: Oh demon alcohol, sad memories I can't recall...
Review: This is a harrowing and disturbing movie, particularly if, like me, you were a fan of the Pogues, whose best stuff (their first three LP's) is arguably as good as anything anyone has released in the last 30 years. Unfortunately, the stereotypical tormented drunken Irish poet, the object of romantic fascination in his youth, whose talent inspires awe and envy, almost invariably becomes, if he lives long enough and learns little or nothing, an old, drunken, bloated, tedious, annoying, former poet, who hasn't written anything worth reading (or singing or hearing) in years. He may become the subject of a "whatever became of" DVD. At this point, Shane MacGowan is probably an object of pity among many of his fans from his glory days, if they've noticed his current condition, which may inspire an uncomfortable guilt among many of them. They may believe they owe him allegiance because his self-destructiveness was an integral element of his performance, and to "abandon" him (as if someone is keeping score) would be wrong. The younger fans who weren't around when he was compelling, and who refuse to let him go gently into that good night because they didn't get their fill, attend his performances, and cheer this shadow of his former self (check the age of the fans at what was then a fairly recent show that opened the movie). Had Shane MacGowan's reputation not elevated him to icon status, the younger fans probably would have seen him for what he was - a dissipated wreck who had lost his voice and his talent (the fact his front teeth are also, finally, completely gone probably also affects his ability to enunciate). Note to self-destructive, tormented drunken Irish poets, and similar performers: When you intend to live fast, be bad, and leave a beautiful corpse, make sure you leave a beautiful corpse. Otherwise, you may become Ozzy Osbourne, Iggy Pop or...Shane MacGowan, or one of the other relics who haunts us with memories of what they were, and what we were, 10-20 (or 30-35) years ago. As I watched this movie I wondered, what happens when the cameras are off? Does he ever stop drinking? Does he ever become coherent? Do these people still tolerate him? Does he remember the lyrics to "Kitty" without pausing to search his memory? The only time I've seen eyes as vacant as Shane MacGowan's (at the time this movie was made) are among stroke victims, punch-drunk former fighters, and victims of Alzheimer's Disease. He was in his early 40's then. What a harrowing lesson concerning the dangers of alcoholism and drug abuse. I shudder to think what the several years since this movie was made have done to him. What will the rest of his life be like? Fifteen to 20 years ago I think I'd have enjoyed spending time with him (although this may be nothing more than embarrassing and frustrating celebrity worship). I wondered then and wonder now how someone so outlandish and self-destructive could write such beautiful and haunting lyrics, or even such enjoyably uproarious odes to drinking, bad women, and sea faring. Perhaps self-destruction is an element of all beautiful or entertaining art or entertainment. Unfortunately, as the preacher said, when you're 20, you send boats out to sea. When you're 40, you go to the dock and unload them. Be careful what cargo you put on them. Youth covers up a lot of sins. One's "youth" (in that sense) is gone by 40. At this point, I'm not sure I could spend more than 5 minutes with Shane MacGowan (at least as he appeared in the "current" portions of this movie). Beyond that, I don't think I'd have the patience to tolerate the tediousness of a self-absorbed drunk. If you're a Pogues fan, you may enjoy this movie for the videos and/or concert film. Songs include "If I Should Fall From Grace With God," "Waxie's Dargle," "Streams of Whiskey," "Dirty Old Town," "The Irish Rover," "Fiesta," "Fairytale of New York," and "White City," as well as a couple of Popes songs from the mid-90's - "That Woman's Got Me Drinking" (with Johnny Depp, and some incredibly beautiful voluptuous women) and "Haunted" (featuring a duet with the remarkably lovely Sinead O'Connor with hair). I have no idea whether any of those videos or film clips were shown on MTV or anywhere other than in Europe, but they're worth the price of the DVD if you're a fan. The Pogues songs were recorded 15-20 years ago, and the Popes songs about 10 years ago. If you watch this movie, you'll know why Shane MacGowan hasn't released anything worth hearing since. A sad waste of a once great talent.
Rating:
Summary: Choose for yourself
Review: This is a must-have for fans of Shane and/or the Pogues, if for no other reason than the performance & video clips, which range from the fantastic (Shane and the Pogues backing a classic Irish singer on "Irish Rover," the Top-of-the-Pops performance of "Fairytale of New York") to the awful (the videos from "Love and Hate"-era Pogues) to the both fantasic AND awful ("Summer in Siam," "That Woman's Got Me Drinkin.'") As for the film itself, well, it proves that Shane MacGowan is today's Brendan Behan. Whether you interpret that as the highest possible praise, the most dangerous possible warning, or a good dose of both (or if you respond by saying, "Who is Brendan Behan?") says a lot about whether or not you'll enjoy this disc.
Rating:
Summary: Paddy Public Enemy #1
Review: This is a vast improvement over the BBC's doc, THE GREAT HUNGER a few years back. The film makers here aren't rubbernecking nor deifying their dentally challanged subject. On the contrary, they succeed in giving you some insight into MacGowan's resiliant & unrepenting character. Sure, they talk about the booze & drugs. & Yes, MacGowan is suitibly lit up like a X-Mas tree in July throughout. But though his speech is garbled through booze, accent & lack of 2 front teeth, he is remarkably lucid behind the seeming haze. One of the more poignant moments comes when he hands all his cash to a homeless geezer, gently gesturing for the camera man to stop filing. They don't. He gets his revenge later when he playfully pokes the camera with a stick swiped from the Irish countryside. This is must have for fans due to the live footage alone. "Waxie's Dargle" captures the band in all their glory, while "The Irish Rover" shows MacGowan at his stately best. Among the interviews, Philp Chevron's are the most revealing, especially in regards to Shane's leaving of the band. While they wanted to branch out beyond Irish music, MacGowan wanted to stick to his guns. Ofcourse, the booze & dope were part of it as well, but that's nothing new. Nick Cave pretty much sums up the p.o.v. of this film when he says, "I have no right to admonish anyone for their drug intake". Rather than moralizing, this doc does it's candid best to reveal the man behind the drunken legend & pretty much succeeds. So hopefully, you'll walk away with a sense of respect, rather than tragedy. Rock's answer to Brendan Behan he may very well be, but the story's far from over.
Rating:
Summary: Perfect
Review: This is an excellent documentary of the Pogues' former frontman. Arranged in such a way that Shane's story is told through interviews with family members, past and present acquaintances and the man himself, it is neither preachy nor tear jerking. MacGowan shares several similarities with Ozzy Osbourne:
- he has lost the ability to talk in complete sentences or hold a single thought for more than a few seconds
- he has a very strong female figure in his life, Victoria
- his family is quirky and interesting
- through what can only be the result of a pact with Satan, he is still alive. He has bonus features as well:
- his snake-like laugh
- he continues to drink incessantly despite impending death
- his mouth has rotted to something more disgusting than a Ren & Stimpy-scape Seamlessly mixed into the story are many classic Pogues videos and live performances. Additionally, a classic Nipple Erectors performance and MacGowan solo videos and performances are included. The production quality is superb--even the old footage has been cleaned-up well.
Rating:
Summary: Fascinating, sad
Review: This may be the best rock documentary ever made. If it isn't, it's certainly in the top 3. "If I Should Fall from Grace," is an excellent introduction to McGowan and the Pogues. It also cements in the viewer's mind the group's importance. I use the term "group" pretty generously. This was MacGowan's group, and he was the engine, as much as the other members thought it some sort of democracy (and there does seem to be bitterness between McGowan and the group).
"If I Should Fall from Grace" is also a sad affair. McGowan is a waste case, and in a shocking way. The only time he really lights up, shows there's still a brain left in that stew, is when he talks, quite intellegently, about the importance of the Sex Pistols, and the whole music scene of that time. Another interesting aside, is how McGowan views "Rum, Sodomy, and the Lash," which is a favorite album of mine. He's very so-so on it. Elvis Costello produced it, and McGowan essentially overprodued it. But you wonder if this is sour grapes, since Costello would take away the Pogue's bass player, Cait O'Riorden, and marry her. The rest of the present time in the documentary McGowan shuffles along, a lot like Ozzy Osbourne, mumbling, drinking, laughing like Aqualung on a park bench, with bottle nearby. McGowan's mate, Victoria Clark, seems less a lover now, and more a nursemaid. In contrast, interviews with Nick Cave, an admiring friend and contemporary of McGowan's, who was also a bad boy rocker, shows who made the right choice regarding drugs and booze. McGowan choice will probably send him to an early grave. It's impossible to imagine he has any music left in him. The video probably should had an R rating due to the awful state of McGowan's teeth, which seem to be rotting out of his head. But despite all of that, the great music clips from the past show the Music, the Man, and the Time, and this is director Sarah Share's triumph, and despite McGowan's current state, also his.
Rating: 
Summary: The last mark is sadness
Review: While not my usual musical bailiwick, I've loved some rugged Pogues fans over the years. I always admired the approach. Knowing this, much of what I witnessed in this provocative, and sometimes stunning, film comes from a perspective of both the naive and understood. A "for instance" would be that Shane himself strikes me as the best and worst of what anyone has to offer, as he moves from a dorkily cute young punk to an inspired tamer of a musical tradition which he both embraces and rejects. Another example, in the same vein, is his eerily growing detachment from the meaning of anything but his own (be?)muse as his outer image deteriorates at an even faster rate (we've found Dorian Gray, methinks). Either it's the point or it's a point.
Of course, even trying to separate Shane from the Pogues, or, conversely, raises numerous issues, many discussed in the documentary, but I believe this illustrates my bifurcated take on the matter perfectly. In short, my supposed insights might mean a lot to a newcomer viewer, or perhaps even a novice Pogues fan; the "real" ones, however, would likely scoff or dismiss me outright (I've no doubt Shane would). My only credibility, I suppose, is that I've spent much of my life looking at the world through lenses whose prescription ain't far off from his; I'm no musical shepherd, but I do know the herd's mentality to the point of blastoff. Shane's "walk" of life is natural on many planes, and in certain worldviews; this is what makes it both palatable and horrific, sacred and profane. We cannot see what we don't know; we only feel/see it as we go through it; good and bad crash together because they must. This generates and restores spirit while potentially destroying motion. That's about as close as I can get in the hope I will inspire both the uninitated and the accolytes to buy (or at least peruse; Shane himself will make the sale, if you care to watch) this amazing new filmography treating one of the greatest sound explosions to grace our late (great?) 20th century ears.
|
