I caught Anton Corbijn's new Ian Curtis biopic
Control last week, and while I thoroughly enjoyed the first half, the second hour proved that music biopics tend to be, on the whole, a rather dour affair. As realizations go, this one hardly boggles the mind. After all, who would watch a movie about a happy, well adjusted singer/songwriter who just kinda lucked into stardom, stayed on the straight and narrow, aged gracefully, and settled down to a fulfilling, monogamous family life? Mormons, that's who! But the shopworn Behind-the-Music trajectory of most movies about musicians demands that filmmakers be at the top of their game in order to avoid the grim torpor of shitpiles like
Stoned, Stephen Woolley's execrable Brian Jones project. Hell, the formula nearly killed the well-regarded
Walk the Line, a painfully by-the-numbers film that was only redeemed by its stars and T-Bone Burnett's music supervision. Todd Haynes' offbeat Bob Dylan film
I'm Not There (November 21) shows a lot of promise, but given the casting rumors floating around Hollywood (Mike Myers as Keith Moon; Elijah Wood as Iggy Pop; Don Cheadle as Miles Davis; Usher as James Brown; etc.), the future looks fairly grim.
Of course there are a fair number of variations on the theme, including wink-wink "fictionalized" biopics like
Velvet Goldmine and
The Rose (loosely based on Bowie/Iggy and Janis Joplin, respectively), or
200 Motels (1971), in which Ringo Starr plays Frank Zappa. And there are the wink-wink "fictionalized" autobiographical gems like
Purple Rain, 8 Mile, and
Get Rich or Die Tryin' (not to mention bizarre diva vanity projects like Mariah Carey's
Glitter or Britney's
Crossroads).
There's also a surprisingly rich history of music biopics, although rock and country didn't really get their due until the 1970s... mainly because the excesses of the '60s hadn't started killing people off yet. And since Black people still weren't getting credit for the music they invented, all movies were about lily-white jazz musicians. Also, all movies about musicians were subject to certain union-mandated naming requirements: they all had to be called "The *insert name here* Story."
The most popular archetype of the early period was THE TRAGEDY, typified by the mysterious fate of big band demigod Glenn Miller (played by Jimmy Stewart in
The Glenn Miller Story), who's plane disappeared during WWII en route to a gig entertaining GIs in France. In fact, plane crashes account for many of the films in this particular category. Gary Busey's turn in 1978's
The Buddy Holly Story earned an Oscar nomination, and Lou Diamond Phillips's performance as Ritchie Valens in
La Bamba (1987) made him a star. Only the third victim of that fateful crash, the Big Bopper, has failed to make the jump to the big screen. Yet the tragedy has waned in popularity, probably due to our growing appetite for scandal and the dearth of soulful, Christlike innocents in the entertainment world. A notable exception was JLo's starmaking performance as
Selena (1997). (The biggest tragedy in
Backbeat (1994) wasn't Stu Sutcliffe's untimely departure from the Beatles and sudden death; rather, it was Stephen Dorff's performance.)
Sweet Dreams (1985), with Jessica Lange in the lead as Patsy Cline, is something of a transitional piece. Despite its glaring inaccuracies, the film walks a tightrope between tragedy and the more "juicy" fare we're used to today.
The most fun form of music biopic portrays the Icarus-like fate of the TORTURED GENIUS (aka THE SELF-INDULGENT FUCKUP). Naturally, these films are also frequently tragic, but their protagonists are usually consumed by their own greatness, for better and (inevitably) for worse.
Control is a recent example, as is
I Walk the Line. But it's an overdose that truly secures your place as a Tragic Genius, whether that reputation is deserved (Forrest Whittaker as Charlie Parker in Clint Eastwood's
Bird [1988], Diana Ross as Billie Holiday in
Lady Sings the Blues [1972]) or not (hello, Jim Morrison and Sid Vicious). The best male performances tend to occur in this category too: the aforementioned Whitaker, Gary Oldman in
Sid & Nancy (1986), Val Kilmer in
The Doors, etc. Of course, there are always exceptions. I haven't actually
seen El Cantante, but I'm still fairly confident that Marc Anthony's performance will not go down in the annals of history. (Speaking of shit, I don't even know where to start with Kevin Spacey's Bobby Darin project,
Beyond the Sea, which is by all accounts the closest a non-porn actor has ever come to on-screen autofellatio.)
Another popular biopic trope is the AGAINST ALL ODDS film, in which the protagonist overcomes a massive obstacle by virtue of their indomitable spirit, talent, and/or drive.
Ray is a terrific example of this (Obstacle = blindness, being a Black man in a white man's business), as are
Coal Miner's Daughter (1980) (Obstacle = poverty, domestic turbulence) and
What's Love Got to Do with It (1993) (Obstacle = Ike Turner's fists). Naturally, there is a huge amount of overlap between these types, and they are meant only as loose categorizations. When the junkie doesn't die, their battle with addiction can come close to an against-all-odds type story, and when they do, it's often pretty tragic. But you get the point. There are also maverick movies and movies about mavericks that don't quite fit at all. (See Michael Winterbottom's
24 Hour Party People [2002] and the Jerry Lee Lewis bio
Great Balls of Fire! [1989], respectively.)
And for the record, I haven't forgotten the prissy, prep-school arm of music biopic studies: classical composers and movies about Cole Porter. Even these rarefied subjects fit some of the traditional biopic formulas, though. In the pulpy (but still awesome)
Immortal Beloved (1994), Gary Oldman makes Beethoven into a petulant, punk-rock, tortured genius, and
Shine (1996) is 100% against-all-odds story (Obstacle = being batshit crazy).
Amadeus (1984) and
Thirty Two Short Films about Glenn Gould (1993) are less conventional. But, all in all, I'm not sure these dudes count. I know piano is an instrument, but it's just not the same thing. And the Cole Porter of
Night and Day (1946) (in which he's a straight Cary Grant) and
De-Lovely (2004) (in which he's a gay Kevin Kline) is strictly a composer. Plus, you could fill the Grand Canyon with what I
don't know about classical music and show tunes, so let's just leave this stuff aside.
So how does the music biopic neophyte know the
Stoneds from the
Sid & Nancys? Well here's an abbreviated little guide to...
The 16 Best Music Biopics16.
Selena (Selena [Quintanilla-Perez])
1997, Dir. Gregory Nava
Jennifer Lopez gets murdered because her maid betrayed her? Or something. I dunno... I've seen this movie like eight times at my local laundromat but I never really payed attention. People seem pretty fond of it. Edward James Olmos is the shit.
15.
Great Balls of Fire! (Jerry Lee Lewis)
1989, Dir. Jim McBride
Dennis Quaid's hair does most of the acting, but he
does hook up with his 13-year-old cousin, played by Winona Ryder. Plus her understandably pissed-off dad is played by John Doe, and Alec Baldwin plays
Jimmy Swaggart.
14.
Walk the Line (Johnny Cash)
2005, Dir. James Mangold
Amazing vocal performances make up for this film's cliché-ridden screenplay and sub-After School Special pacing.
13.
Sweet Dreams (Patsy Cline)
1985, Dir. Karel Reisz
Great performances, bad lip-synching, and little regard for veracity combine to make this a notable sub-success.
12.
The Doors (Jim Morrison)
1991, Dir. Oliver Stone
A film even more bloated than its subject,
The Doors is pretty fun nonetheless. Only a self-obsessed drama queen like Jim Morrison could be captured perfectly by a as megalomaniacal a pair as Oliver Stone and Val Kilmer.
11.
Ray (Ray Charles)
2004, Dir. Taylor Hackford
I think it's way overrated, but no one agrees with me.
10.
Lady Sings the Blues (Billie Holiday)
1972, Dir. Sidney J. Furie
This film hasn't aged well, but it sure as hell beats
The Wiz.
9.
The Buddy Holly Story (Buddy Holly)
1978, Dir. Steve Rash
Believe it or not, Gary Busey was nominated for an Oscar for this role.
8.
Control (Ian Curtis)
2007, Dir. Anton Corbijn
About as heartwarming as a cold shower in a cancer ward, but the first half has some electrifying music sequences, and the performances and the photography are stunning throughout.
7.
The Glenn Miller Story (Glenn Miller)
1953, Dir. Anthony Mann
Jimmy Stewart = awesome
6.
La Bamba (Ritchie Valens)
1987, Dir. Luis Valdez
The film that catapulted Lou Diamond Phillips into such masterpieces as
Bats and
Young Guns II.
5.
What's Love Got to Do with It (Ike & Tina Turner)
1993, Dir. Brian Gibson
I would not want to be battered by Laurence Fishburne.
4.
Bird (Charlie Parker)
1988, Dir. Clint Eastwood
Jazz fanatic Clint Eastwood and Forrest Whitaker? Need I say more?
3.
Coal Miner's Daughter (Loretta Lynn)
1980, Dir. Michael Apted
In one of those super-method roles, Sissy Spacek
is Loretta Lynn. Tommy Lee Jones is also amazing as her ne'er-do-well hubby.
2.
24 Hour Party People (Tony Wilson*, Factory Records)
2002, Dir. Michael Winterbottom
(*Tony Wilson was not a musician at all, but this movie counts because... I said so.) The story of Factory Records, as told by co-founder Tony Wilson, along with Joy Division, Happy Mondays, and everyone else. Possibly the most idiosyncratic film of the bunch, and certainly my personal favorite.
1.
Sid & Nancy (Sid Vicious)
1986, Dir. Alex Cox
This harrowing film recounts the tragic tale of Sex Pistol bad-boy Sid Vicious (Gary Oldman) and punk groupie Nancy Spungen (Chloe Webb), rock's most infamous star-crossed junkies. The couple's rapid descent culminates in Sid accidentally stabbing Nancy to death, only to OD himself while awaiting trial. The really spooky part? Nancy clone Courtney Love appears in a bit part!
One last note: I've never seen the 1976 Woody Guthrie bio
Bound for Glory, starring Keith Carradine, but it is, by all accounts, awesome.
An even last-er note: No, I didn't forget about the dirty little guilty pleasure that is the made-for-TV movie. A 1979 John Carpenter movie about Elvis, starring Kurt Russell, and called, daringly enough,
Elvis? Who could forget such a thing? (Not to mention Jonathan Rhys Myers as Elvis again in 2005's imaginatively titled
Elvis.) My personal favorite is 1992's utterly shameless
The Jacksons: An American Dream, and it's unholy 2000 offspring
The Beach Boys: An American Family. And then there's Judy Davis in 2001's
Judy Garland: Me and My Shadows. These are all classics, but I am only one man.
