CREEMEDIA

CREEMEDIA

DEPARTMENTS

NEUROSES

THE ROSE

Directed by Mark Rydell (T wentieth Century-Fox)

by Jeffrey Morgan

Despite its numerous failures (not the least of which is a complete lack of in-depth characterization), this electic stew-brew of Apocalypse Now (rock-as-spectacle), The Young And The Restless (rock-as-melodrama) and Ziggy Stardust (rock-as-saviour) makes for good entertainment but, unfortunately, bad rock n roll.

Not that everybody involved didnt give it their best shot—Im sure they did. But lets face it; rock n roll, by its very volatile nature, does not allow itself to be transferred onto film as fictional drama. What we need is a fictional rock n roll movie that hits as hard as Meredith Hunters death does in Gimme Shelter (a documentary whose structure The Rose owes more than a little to).

And although rock n roll can be approached head-on on record (Tonights The Night) and in print (Up And Down With The Rolling Stones), the very framework of Hollywood will not allow the realthing (even if its fictional) to be seen. Or as William Burroughs told me in March 79 CREEM: "As far as box office is concerned, its not very good box office. They dont want to see people sticking needles in their arms."

Robert Frank tried it with the Stones—and did such a good job of documenting it that the finished film will never see the light of day.

Bette Midler pulls off a professional job of acting the part of Rose—no mean feat considering the dismal trade record of past musicia ns-turned-actors— and she may indeed be this decades Streisand if she continues to hone her very real skills of being able to instill life into a fictional character. (And make no mistake: Rose is a fictional character. To say that Rose is Janis Joplin because of certain similarities in mannerisms and dress holds about as much water as saying that because the inclusion of scenes in mens baths and drag dubs the film is about Midler herself.)

Bettes major accomplishment is that she actually makes you forget that youre watching Bette Midler acting. As a matter of fact, everyone comes off with their credibility intact: several dramatic scenes have tremendous emotional impact and a scene showcasing Bette in a deserted parking lot is a personal tour-de-force triumph.

Why is rock n roll such an important—and necessary—high? How did Rose get into rock n roll? What were her musical roots? These are a few of the important questions that The Rose fails to ask, let alone answer. Still, its a step in the right direction: Midler finally sings hard rock n roll under lights. The Rose band itself cooks in a hard-edged (if slightly dinical) way—and I assume that Messrs. Gian, Weis and Hunter (all former members of Lou Reeds old band) were, drafted for active duty because they were used to the sight of seeing a rock star being carried up on stage night after night.

In spite of its flaws, The Rose is important because it indicates the possibilities for dramatic rock films to come. It wontbe an easy job, but maybe—just maybe—somebody will be able to do it right some day. W

PAINT IT, HACK

UP AND DOWN WITH THE ROLLING STONES

by Tony Sanchez (Morrow)

Trying to deal with a book thats purportedly an "inside look" at the Rolling Stones arouses a veritable Bowl-Ring Buildup of ambivalent feelings. While, on the one hand, you cant wait to get the dirt on such fabulously successful biota, you also find yourself greasily wondering why you should care about the everyday lives of such a bunch of cretinous assholes. Still, the slime-wallow is half the fun. Its kind of like when a million-year-old egg starts to hatch on some uncharted desert island: you dont know what its going to be, but youre sure to enjoy watching it terrorize Japan.

Tony Sanchez journal of his years as Keith Richards drug connection and gopher supplies most of the promised dirt in a style just slightly to the left of a Sunday supplement, where much of this material first slithered. Getting to the hot fax about Micks zits, why Keiths dog was naimed Syph or the candy bar up Marianne Faithfulls ass means wading through such great moments in phrase making as "buzz of magic" and "permanent twilight world" (hereafter referred to asB.O.M. andP.T.W. respectively) and Sentences From Outer Space like his description of heroin withdrawal: "like rolling around naked on a bed of barbed wire whileyou gulp down a bottle of detergent." Hey, its better than watching High Rolle rs!

"Spanish" Tony also displays a sycophant's tendency to whine about his idols misfortunes. Awww, the nasty cops set police dogs on rioting fans and entourage alike in Sweden. Lucky they werent police sharks. Or boo-hoo, discourteous customs officials strip-searched the band for drugs before they could enter Italy. Naturally, Tony thinks that all they wanted was a peek up Micks perfumed asshole. Probably they wanted to know, cpn it tweet?

Equally unfortunate are the authors meanderings into pop sociology, his favorite topics being the Simmering Discontent Of Youth, Cocaine And Goose-Steps and the potentially evil powers of rock n roll, particularly as practiced by the Stones. " “Sympathy For The Devil," he writes, "was indisputedly the closest brush ever between rock n roll and voodooism." Oh yeah? What about "Music Box Dancer"?

Gossip fans, however, will receive enough B.O.M.s to put them in a P.T. W. Keith gets high with the Moody Blues and Graeme Edge spends the entire evening "laughing inanely," thus inspiring the Moodies first five LPs. After the news report of Brian Jones death, Keiths lady friend (and Jones ex) Anita PaDenberg mutters blandly, "Thank Christ, itwas only Brian." Well, at least she didnt say "It tastes better cold." Then theres the inside poop on Jaggers secret desire to become a Member of Parliament (second choice: Dowager Queen), Keiths trips to Switzerland to get his heroin-saturated blood changed (low lead, please!) and more than youll ever want to know about Anitas changing meat storage needs. Oh Moulty!

Whats missing, of course, is the sleaze behind the sleaze. An ideal subject for some investigative digging would have been the extremely suspicious circumstances surrounding Brians death, but Sanchez merely repeats hearsay instead of pointing fingers. Now that I think about it, hes probably the one that dunked the drugged guitarist in the first place. Not only are other mysterious demises linked to the Stones—Grani Parsons the most prominent among them—glossed over or ignored, butSherlock doesnt even name the critic who had the stunning insight to compare Mick Jagger to a "cut-rate sardine." Throw that man the Nobel Chinook!

If you cant live another day without learning who picked the name Rolling Stones, how much they each earned at their first gig or just whose, night deposit Margaret Trudeau took to the bank (Brian, $4, Ron Wood) (Ron Wood?), then this is the book for you. However, if youre interested in why old Rubbermaid-mouth and his band of stooges do cute and zany things like driving their friends to an early grave or creating Altamont, youd better stick to the time-honored method of Dy lanologists and similar life-forms who wear out their headphones coming up with arcane interpretations of song lyrics.

Heres a good one to start with: "It is the evening of the day."

Rick Johnson