dloft59

The makers of this documentary have struck a fine balance between their various tools -- fuzzy historic stills and video clips of the band's earlier incarnations (Hill and Beard based in Dallas with Lady Wilde and the Warlocks; Gibbons with The Moving Sidewalks down in Houston), brief animations of key early moments (especially those involving their late manager Bill Ham), very short concert clips in their early prime, and memorable footage from their first music videos directed by Tim Newman for MTV in the early Eighties.

There are also testimonials from fans such as Billy Bob Thornton, Steve Miller, Josh Homme of Queens of the Stone Age, Dan Auerbach of The Black Keys, and others.

But the strongest two elements are the interviews with the individual members throughout -- recalling their origins, early choices, war stories (the best involve opening for Hendrix, the Rolling Stones in Hawaii, an early Memphis Blues Festival, Beard's dissection of his substance abuse problems in the late Seventies) -- and footage of the band "today" (that is, 2018) playing some favorite, signature tunes at historic Gruene Hall expressly for this film as they closed in on an astonishing 50 years as a working unit with no personnel changes.

What comes across clearly -- especially if, like me, you were not a rabid fan and follower of this band's career -- is that there was more to ZZ Top than met the eye. Though they had a distinct and unmistakable sound (a brand, if you will), this band also were both smart and lucky enough to hire very good people to handle their promotion, sound production, video work -- everything that was ancillary to the actual music, but crucial to helping it find the massive audience it eventually did.

That, and the fact that the band managed to absorb interesting currents from the larger music industry as it evolved, such as disco and punk, and were sharp enough to plunge immediately into MTV to promote their work.

The ZZ Top "mystique" was largely cultivated by their manager. They would have liked to appear on Johnny Carson and do interviews, but Ham nixed all of that. Do your music, and make everybody come to you, he said. (Other than Beard's brief mentions of leaving Dallas with a wife and a kid, and destroying a relationship with his substance abuse, there isn't a whiff of a mention of their personal lives otherwise. You get no idea whether Gibbons or Hill ever married or have any children.)

The story pretty much ends with 1983's _Eliminator_ album and the "Gimme All Your Lovin'" and "Legs" videos. That's all that's essential to tell the story of the band's origins and success; the rest is disposed of in two sentences on a black screen.

But the movie goes on to finish with a live performance of "Blue Jean Blues" (going all the way back to 1975), intercut with each of the band members talking about why they think they stuck together so long. It's nicely done.

I went to see "Rocketman" in early June 2019. It's a fine movie for its type, with the usual strengths (hardworking talent, no expense spared for artistic set design, undeniably great music) and weaknesses (somewhat pedestrian and predictable as well as episodic and fragmentary plot) of the genre.

It does make greater imaginative use of both music and visuals than last year's slightly more straight-ahead biopic, "Bohemian Rhapsody." But I also found it oddly less moving.

I never owned a single Elton LP. At the peak of his fame, in my mid teens, I was already a dedicated prog-head, spending endless hours listening to Yes, ELP, and Gentle Giant (a band led by three brothers who had previously been a UK pop outfit known as "Simon Dupree and the Big Sound," with whom young Reg Dwight toured for a time), as well as my older Deep Purple and Creedence albums, and select items from my father's extensive classical and jazz library.

But I know I had the "Crocodile Rock" and "Daniel" 45rpm singles. And Elton was an integral part of the general, public soundtrack of my adolescence. My girlfriend had the _Madman Across the Water_ LP, someone in my college dorm perpetually blasted "Funeral for a Friend" out the windows into the courtyard, and all the singles drilled themselves into my brain from the radio.

It struck me that these classic rock biopics are pretty similar to all the comic superhero feature films of the past decade or more (most of which I've skipped). Both types begin with the same easy appeal to one's nostalgia, hooking you swiftly into your past -- the people you dated, the places you hung out, the friends you had, maybe even the clothes you wore, as well as your more direct memories and feelings about the tunes and plots.

Which is what makes them instantly enchanting but ultimately -- for me -- disappointing and even empty. They can never fully bring back our past, and too often they fail to hook precisely into our deepest personal zeitgeist. There's an initial thrill of recognition as a character or melodic motif sneaks into the story, and then an almost inevitable letdown as it does its thing, which is never quite what your thing was with it when you were young and much more impressionable.

Several times during "Rocketman" as well as "Bohemian Rhapsody," I just wanted to close my eyes and shut out the visuals because -- no matter how imaginative, how colorful, how hard-working the actors, dancers, and set design -- it didn't live up to my rich emotions and memories about the item being evoked . . . because it was mine, and because it's long gone.

Whatever I was seeing mostly diminished the beauty and majesty of the songs, rather than embodied them or did them justice. Sometimes I want to cringe.

I find myself much more deeply moved and impressed by movies about people I've never heard of, in stories I've never encountered (e.g., "Blinded By the Light," "Maiden," and "Can You Ever Forgive Me?").

Never a Springsteen fan, I never owned any of his records. I was certainly aware of him all along -- I had a girlfriend who bought and loved the obscure "Nebraska" album, and I well knew the hit singles by Manfred Mann and Patti Smith I heard over the years had been penned by the Boss -- but like certain other bands and composers (e.g., Frank Zappa, Kansas, even Bob Dylan), Springsteen was more someone I respected from afar, and sensed I might like if I had bothered to acquire his albums . . . but I never did.

You shouldn't be concerned about that if you're just as ignorant of the music or even more. You don't really have to know a thing about Springsteen to love this movie.

It contains so many cinematic tropes that might sound old and tired (first-generation immigrants struggling to make a way for their kids in a new land while the latter fail to appreciate them and ache to get away . . . the fear, ignorance, abuse (and occasional discreet encouragement) of the locals . . . a teacher who sees the spark in one quiet outcast and nurtures and pushes him . . . fellow misfits of various stripes discovering and helping one another to get along . . .), but they all work beautifully in this tale based on a true story.

The movie makes no obvious missteps or easy use of cliches. And it's tremendously moving and inspiring. Although I knew -- and had even bought and owned -- quite a bit of the music in "Bohemian Rhapsody" and "Rocketman," this movie -- so much smaller, less ambitious, and unassuming -- wins my heart over those two.

What I wrote at the conclusion of review of "Rocketman" was borne out by watching this film and my response to it, so I'll just quote that:

"It struck me that these classic rock biopics are pretty similar to all the comic superhero feature films of the past decade or more (most of which I've skipped). Both types begin with the same easy appeal to one's nostalgia, hooking you swiftly into your past -- the people you dated, the places you hung out, the friends you had, maybe even the clothes you wore, as well as your more direct memories and feelings about the tunes and plots.

"Which is what makes them instantly enchanting but ultimately -- for me -- disappointing and even empty. They can never fully bring back our past, and too often they fail to hook precisely into our deepest personal zeitgeist. There's an initial thrill of recognition as a character or melodic motif sneaks into the story, and then an almost inevitable letdown as it does its thing, which is never quite what your thing was with it when you were young and much more impressionable.

"Several times during 'Rocketman' as well as 'Bohemian Rhapsody,' I just wanted to close my eyes and shut out the visuals because -- no matter how imaginative, how colorful, how hard-working the actors, dancers, and set design -- it didn't live up to my rich emotions and memories about the item being evoked . . . because they were mine, and because they are long gone.

"Whatever I was seeing too often diminished the beauty and majesty of the songs, rather than embodied them or did them justice. Sometimes I want to cringe. "I find myself much more deeply moved and impressed by movies about people I've never heard of, in stories I've never encountered."

And that's what happened with "Blinded By the Light." I wasn't taken back to my Springsteen past, and certainly not my Japanese immigrant past (which, being third generation, I mostly skirted, save for only a few vague personal encounters with racism) . . . but I was taken back to MY teenage, oddball, hoping-and-wishing past, and remembered how other music lifted and supported me and my "mates" and my girlfriend, helped me get here, and stayed with me all the way.

And yeah, even though I've read his excellent memoir and possibly at least one biography, I thought I ought to check out more Springsteen.