Storefront Hitchcock

Robyn Hitchcock is an eccentric, literate, musical survivor. His elliptical lyrics shrink his potential audience, and his success as a musician requires an effective connection between performer and audience. This film steps in to enhance that connection, boosting the effectiveness of Hitchcock's music in exactly the right way.

This is an intimate performance that requires concentrated attention. Where Talking Heads stimulate your brain while activating your dancing shoes, Hitchcock teases, confounds, and animates your brain while stealing your heart. He's also an entertaining acoustic and electric guitarist.

Mr. Demme, may I humbly suggest a Jazz Butcher film next?

A beautiful film starring one of modern music's most endearing (and brilliant) cult artists. It's interesting to compare "Storefront Hitchcock", recorded late 1996, with his 1985 concert with backing band The Egyptians, captured on the video "Gotta Let This Hen Out!" - great, if weird rock, the subjects may be mordid, but the tone is optimistic. Zoom to 1996 and the boyish cult star has become a greyhaired, matured solo-artist, offering introspective, haunting tales of death and despair. There's an almost majestic sadness to songs like "Glass Hotel", "You and Oblivion". Highly recommended.

Yes, Awful. Dated by the time I see this. Our singer in a self indulgent rant about things gone by. Thankfuly warned ahead of time by our opening credits that there will be 15 songs. Better to have been sung in his personal shower. Off key voice that cracks and scratches it's way through some of the most awfully written lyrics. The music in a basic form, any high schooler could follow.

Not impressed to say the least, a complete waste of my time. Smallish, unseen audience, must be close family and friends because someone is clapping after the songs. The onlookers in the background are amusing, but then the curtain closes and we see Hitchcock in a dark, candlelight setting rambling on about who knows what, and then you start to miss the actual entertainment from the street side of things.

Hair whipping? Really? His hair is short and has enough hairspray to hold back a gale force wind, yet he's trying to flip something from his face?

His in between song ramblings I could clearly do without. Is this some kind of British humor? I just didn't get it. His tidbits of personal reflection I could do without. Could have shaved off painful minutes if it was left on the cutting room floor. I can clearly see why I've never heard of this guy and his act. And why it grossed $3,000 at a box office? Must have been that set of close family and friends watching the movie to see if they were in it?

Sorry, this one's a loser.

I finally saw the movie today. It was on the Sundance Channel.

I love Robyn's music and have had the good fortune to seem him twice in concert. This replicated those experiences.

You can't truly appreciate Robyn by just listening to a CD. He has such a unique outlook on everything and tells the most interesting stories.

That's what makes the movie valuable as a chronicle of Robyn. It captures his music and some of his stories.

Fantastic!

English singer songwriter Robyn Hitchcock (no relation to Sir Alfred) became a cult performer in the 1980s through the American college radio circuit. He made during that time some good, though perhaps overrated, records. Their lyrics were odd and eccentric, the music somewhat reminiscent of the rock of the late 60s (Pink Floyd legendary founder Syd Barrett is a name that came up in many profiles about him). In 1998, he decided to make a concert film, directed by none other than Jonathan Demme, who has directed the Talking Heads' widely acclaimed Stop Making Sense. Unfortunately, this movie is really disappointing, a concert film as dull as it can possibly be. We have a single camera fixing at Robyn blurting out his songs with an acoustic guitar and without much interest in a stage set in a deserted shop (thus the title, I guess). There is no audience inside, but wee see the people on the street outside passing by, occasionally stopping and looking what is going on inside. The songs are punctuated by some unfunny and rambling comments by Robyn. Unless you are a committed Robyn fan, you can safely skip this.