It is said that numerous famous rock musicians and bands do not like 'This Is Spinal Tap' beacuse it's so close to their own experience it's unfunny, and even slightly spooky. It is also said that
many people, for many years (continuing to this day) believe 'This Is Spinal Tap' to be an actual documentary about an actual band, despite the fact that the principal actors themselves are famous
for many other things. The actors themselves have somewhat perpetuated this by performing shows and even tours as 'Spinal Tap', thereby raising the question of whether they are, in fact, a real
band.
The fact remains, however, that the film itself - 'This Is Spinal Tap' - was created originally as a spoof documentary about a pretend rock band, mocking both the musicians of the day and the
documentary style itself that is still very familiar today. Mostly ad-libbed and then created by Rob Reiner from editing the huge amount of material this produced, it works on so many levels and
even follow-up releases such as the DVDs contain commentary tracks with the actors discussing the movie scene-by-scene actually IN CHARACTER as the band themselves. So, in many ways, 'This Is
Spinal Tap' (and indeed the entire universe created around it) can best be seen as a sort of long-form improvisational comedy routine.
Mostly, of course, it's funny. And as a music fan it's fun to watch it just to figure out who (or what) is being parodied at any given moment, and beyond that just to recall the set-piece sketches,
whether it's the stonehenge prop disaster, the airport metal detector moment or the spontaneously-combusting drummers. And you just know they must have had a ridiculous amount of quality footage
that they simply didn't use. Genius stuff.
And all that without mentioning that it goes up to eleven.
Another 'what if' story: what would you be doing if you were Truman? What would make you sit up and think 'hang on, this isn't real'? And what is it about the world around you today that makes you sit up and think that?
And that's why it works - it's a human story, a good strong narrative but beyond that it raises so many questions at some many levels. All the way from 'what is reality' through 'how can it be ethical to adopt a baby and use a human life in this way?' right through to 'practically, how WOULD you prevent him trying to escape?' and even how you'd handle all the extras, where the holes in the system would be and what's the psychological relationship of Cristof to Truman? And if Kristoff is there, where's Olaf? (Sorry, wrong movie).
But the best way to watch it is just to watch it and enjoy a performance that you wouldn't have thought Jim Carrey was capable of, but as it turns out he's perfect for it: a huge over-actor, here he gets to over-act a dull 1950s straight-man and it suits him down to the ground.
I do need to declare some degree of bias here: the fact that this is a Terry Gilliam movie does give it added points. Frankly Gilliam could make a film about painting a wall in grey and beige and I'd watch it. Not that 12 Monkeys wouldn't have made the list without it being a Terry Gilliam film, but there would be at least a chance that I'd simply have passed it by and never watched it.
That said, once you get into it you do forget that it's Terry Gilliam, at least the first couple of times through. This is because not only is the cast list absolutely first-rate - Bruce Willis was NOT the first choice for this role, I understand, but frankly can you imagine anyone else doing it (least of all Nick Nolte)? Bruce Willis has this way of doing 'action hero' without making it totally unbelievable that he has vulnerabilities, a subtlety to his acting that many of his peers simply don't have. And then the story, the story...
The thing is, you really don't know where it's going next, but somehow when it does go all over the place (and it does: first world war, really?) you are able to follow it and just go with it, however crazy it may seem. And by the end you've seen the loose ends pretty much all tied up, along with a good prototype of the paradoxical time-loop plot thing that Steven Moffat likes to use in Doctor Who every week (where something causes itself). And at the end you breathe, and think 'wow, that was a journey but we made it' and the slightly ambiguous ending gives you hope without letting you know that everything is totally resolved and the virus is going to be stopped.
Thoroughly enjoyable, re-watchable and with enough twists and turns to keep everyone interested without being able to predict what's going to happen. And bonus Gilliam points as well.
The original interviews are, of course, legendary - the moment when David Frost essentially got Richard Nixon to admit to criminal behaviour and apologise to the nation. And in this movie, Peter Morgan adapts his own stage-play version of the events to the big screen. Michael Sheen and Frank Langella play the leads and, with some artistic licence (the late-night phone call mainly) they recreate both the background to the interviews and the sessions themselves. And the movie - since its release in 2008 - has been a critical and commercial success, not setting the world alight by any means, but justifying its existence and its budget.
So why is it in the Top 40 when, say, 'Life Is Beautiful' is not? Primarily because of a couple of very well-judged, well-written and amazingly-directed scenes. Firstly the moments when Frost realises the only way it's going to get decent television viewership is by syndicating the interviews - as the movie puts it "buying a network for the night". The sheer amount of investment of both money and reputation that went into this thing was enormous, and represented an enormous gamble by Frost. And I never knew that before this film - quite how much Frost put on the line for this, and what it would have cost him if it didn't work.
And secondly, of course, is Frank Langella's performance, particularly in the climactic scenes where he gloriously and deliberately stumbles his Nixon persona to a place where he can only say "when the President does it, that means it's not illegal." And the audience of the film, even though it already knows all this and probably has already seen the original interviews, is mermerised and stunned by what is happening on the screen. To be able to do that on a recreation of existing and known filmed content - and be able to draw such drama out of it even though it's not the original - is an amazing achievement.
And of course once you've seen the movie, the next thing you want to do is watch the original interviews again. Which is a further achievement in itself.
I don't particularly like Westerns and I don't particularly like John Wayne. So when my Dad sat me down and encouraged me to watch The Shootist with him, I did so much more out of a sense of duty rather than any expectation of cinematic greatness. And yet here it is in the list, and indeed I've watched it several times since that original viewing, and it always strikes me as fascinating because of what it says about the times - both the time the movie was set and the time the movie was made - as much as for the usually-trotted-out piece that it was essentially all about John Wayne.
The premise is this: John Wayne plays an old cowboy in the year 1901 and doesn't really know how to handle both getting old and the fact that his old wild west seems to be ceasing to exist. Add to that the fact that his doctor friend has just diagnosed him with terminal cancer, this old boy just wants to go out a way of his own choosing. So he comes to town, gets to know a few people, he reads a newspaper, organises a shoot-out in a bar and dies in said shoot-out.
And the usual thing trotted out at this point is the following: this was John Wayne's last movie, after he had already lost one lung to cancer and knew he didn't have long to live, and thus the movie is a reflection of the man. Right? Well, maybe, but that's not the point for me. What struck me the most was the observations of the townspeople during the film.
Firstly you had the mother-and-son combination of Lauren Bacall and Ron Howard, and Wayne's uncertainty over whether a rough, gun-toting (read: very capable of killing people) cowboy is the right role model for a young lad in the new century. Which is interestingly played out all the way through.
But even more so was Wayne's confrontations with the town marshall, played by Harry Morgan (yes him from MASH). Morgan's character makes it clear that there's no place for old cowboys in the new world they're trying to create:
"The old days are gone, and you don't know it. We've got waterworks, telephones, lights. We'll have our streetcar electrified next year, and we've started to pave the streets. We've still got some weeding to do, but once we're rid of people like you we'll have a goddamn Garden of Eden here. To put it in a nutshell, you've plain, plumb outlived your time."
And that was the quote I always remember. In 1901, when people were planning and building the towns, cities and what has become the 'urban jungles' of today, the people of the time really, honestly thought they were building a "Garden of Eden". That was the vision behind our cities today, our concrete wastelands, our brownfield sites, our dilapidated city centres and our urban sprawls. It was supposed to be a Garden of Eden. And the people at the time really thought that.
And maybe I'm over-reacting but that one line has stuck with me all these years, helping me understand how our world - our urban world of the UK and US at least - came to be the way it is. And it was John Wayne who took me there.
Who'd have thought a documentary about the life cycle of Emperor penguins could be so compelling? From start to finish, you're on the edge of your seat thinking alternately "how do they do this?"
and "hang on - WHY do they do this and not just live somewhere nicer?" For a generation familiar with penguin-based animations (Happy Feet being the prime example, but there's Madagascar of course
and that one about the surfing penguins), this is the real deal. They don't sing and dance, but what they do is far more amazing - they survive where no other form of life can survive.
Add to that the superb voice of Morgan Freeman and you have the recipe for success. He's not David Attenborough, nor does he need to be: you're not going to cut to a scene with Morgan Freeman
hiding behind a snowdrift peeking out at the penguins while doing an aside to camera. But his voice lends a gravity and real-world emotion to the proceedings without anthropomorphising too much.
What you may NOT know is that the original version - which is French, by the way - was voiced by two people, a female and a male, in the first-person rather than the third, telling the tale as the
voices of the parent penguins in question (negating my earlier point about anthropomorphism), with a child's voice providing dialogue for the chicks as they appear on the scene. What you may also
not know - or not like to hear - is that the penguins in reality aren't as altruistic as the film-makers may like us to believe: some of the 'adoptions' of chicks by other parents may be more
forced than not. In other words, we're talking about kidnapping. Or chick-napping I suppose.
Either way, it's an amazing spectacle to watch, and Freeman's voice really does give us hope that, among other things, someone other than David Attenborough can do natural history documentaries.
How do you know your movie is going to be a hit? Well, when it works despite the main co-star being an anthropomorphised volleyball, you're probably on the right lines (although I note Wilson was not nominated for any Academy Awards in the 'supporting' category). Seriously, a huge percentage of the film is spent with Tom Hanks talking to a punctured ball and yet it becomes not only believable but also emotionally wrenching - you really feel it when Wilson is eventually lost at sea, and I understand that some people did cry in the cinema at that point.
But beyond that the questions it raises - primarily 'how would YOU survive?' make it fascinating viewing on so many levels, from getting drinking water right the way through to tooth problems. The gradual reveal of his time on the island, including why there isn't any more rope, is very carefully handled, and the triumphant crescendo associated with the eventual escape from the island is well-earned. The ending also is just purely believeable: people HAVE moved on, including the Tom Hanks character himself - and what ARE you going to do now, if it's you in that situation?
Not perfect, but intriguing, and just strong enough to keep 'Silent Running' off the Top 40.
The next Top 40 At 40 is very different. Not because it's a different category - frankly after music the next one you'd probably expect would be films - but I almost feel the need to apologise in advance because it's not going to be anything like as varied as the music category, and there definitely won't be as many that you've never heard of, although there are one or two surprises in there (38 and 12 in particular). Probably the 'didn't make it' lists will be more interesting, featuring stuff like 'Roman Holiday', 'Silent Running', Three Colours Blue' and 'Life Is Beautiful'.
But you'll have to wait another forty-or-so days for that. Most of the Top 40, whichever way you look at it, are mainstream to some extent, either through Hollywood studio funding or through audience reaction over the years. There will not be anything like Stephen Roach or Richard Searles popping up here.
The other difference between movies and music is that it's not so important to be 'repeatable'. Some music items failed to make the list due to the fact I haven't listened to them in fifteen
years, despite being undeniably great pieces of music. However some of these films I have only seen maybe once or twice, although towards the top of the list - certainly the top 20 - I've seen
multiple times and never yet started enjoying them any less. Still, it didn't seem quite so important since a film is dual-sense (sight and sound) for an hour and a half (or more), and most of the songs were only
around four minutes.
On the question of spoilers, I'm going with the approach that you've SEEN it and I don't care if I'm presenting plot points that give it away - although for the most part I'm not focusing on that side of things. But that assumption is in place, so don't say you haven't been warned. (And no, Sixth Sense is not in the list so I don't have to deal with that.)
Oh, and one more thing - I'm going to say this now and get it dealt with early on: there are NO 'Star Wars' films and NO 'Godfather' films in my Top 40. There just aren't. We'll somehow just have to get over it and get on with our lives.
And that guy in the photo? Mark Kermode. More about him as we progress through the list.
Rounding out the music part of Top 40 At 40 with the final batch of tunes that didn't make it...
Desperado - Eagles: Stronger in my view than "Hotel California", this didn't miss out by much. Musically interesting also - no chorus, just verses and a couple of sort-of-bridges. Last verse really build well. But no Don Henley in the Top 40, even if he's hiding in a band.
I Want You Back - Jackson Five: Infectious beat, brilliant bassline, unique vocal performance. But that's just the chorus. If the whole song was as good as the chorus this could have been top twenty material, without question. More, Jackson Five, we needed more!
Galveston - Jimmy Webb/Glen Campbell: A slow-burner over the years, and I've now finally come to realise what an amazing piece this is. Definitely prefer Campbell's more upbeat original version than the slow ballad arrangement he took to performing live, although I believe Webb meant it as a folksy anti-war song originally.
Bridge Over Troubled Water - Paul Simon: The thing is, I'm a real Paul Simon/Simon and Garfunkel fan. But nothing totally stood out as a single song. Graceland makes it if we talk albums, so does the album that contained this track; as far as individual tracks go, this is the only one that really screams "musical genius" loud enough to even make the short-list. The Boxer, Graceland, American Tune and Only Living Boy In New York all got cut at the long-list stage.
Moon River - Henry Mancini: Beautiful, whoever performs it. But not quite enough to make the list. Like the Jackson Five, we needed a little more. Andy Williams' version gets the nod over Audrey Hepburn for which video to show.
Voices - Dario G: Never knew this until 'The Beach' movie soundtrack but very clever building from initial instrumental through to the chanting at the end. Not a top 40 song, but everyone should listen to this one.
Promise Me - Beverley Craven: Overall tune puts it in the shortlist, little piano instrumental in the middle almost puts it over the top. Not quite enough mystery in the music - although there's certainly some - and not quite the start of the journey like Piano in the Dark. But this really could have been in there.
The Boys Of Summer - Don Henley: It's good - especially the guitar - but put in a straight fight against any of the 30-40 list it lost out. I think the final time it was replaced in the list was by 'From The Inside Out' by Hillsong, a very different song and that was the moment I realized that Don Henley just wasn't going to make the list.
I Can Only Imagine - MercyMe: Good lyrics, good music, good song, but like 'Stairway to Heaven' I just don't listen to it any more. Not quite enough staying power to make the final list.
Bohemian Rhapsody - Queen: How could this not be in the top 40? It's great - truly great - and Brian May's guitar is the strongest part of the piece (particular towards the end), it checks a lot of boxes (getting to the end makes you feel you've achieved something; it 'earns' the right to do 'loud'; musically very interesting and varied without being up itself too much). But not quite enough overall in each area to push it over the top. 'Shine On You Crazy Diamond' beat it, but then so did 'Going Home' by Runrig.
