HOW THEY GOT OVER (B) - This is an unimaginative but endearing look back at the gospel singing groups who flourished in the middle of the 20th century. The subtitle is "Gospel Quartets and the Road to Rock & Roll," and filmmaker Robert Clem focuses on the years leading up to the 1950s explosion of rock music that arrived with Chuck Berry, Little Richard, and Elvis Presley, though Clem struggles to craft much of a narrative that ties the two genres together.
Instead, he pretty much offers up a clip collection of great gospel performances alongside reminiscences from some of the surviving singers, as well as a few historians as talking heads. It's a shame that Clem could not have crafted this into more of a lively treatise, but it serves a purpose as a sort-of YouTube curation of videos seasoned with narration.
The filmmaker does manage to explore the tightrope-walk that the groups navigated between the religious and secular worlds. The introduction of the guitar, around the late 1940s, was seen as a tipping point. By the 1950s, breakout stars began to cross over, including the smooth Sam Cooke, Lou Rawls and much later, Aretha Franklin. And there are hints from both the performers and historians that the singers themselves were not immune to the pitfalls of the secular world. But in the end, this is about the music, and it is a joyful celebration.
SPARKS (C+) - You had to be there, apparently. Somehow, I have never heard of the band Sparks, which has performed for five decades now, or -- and this is possible -- I did know of them and blocked out any memory of the band. Edgar Wright's documentary about the Mael brothers' musical journey is suitable to explain either possibility -- their music and their story are not very memorable. The question now becomes, do you spend 140 minutes indulging them with this documentary.
The answer is no. Unless you are a fan. Or unless you have a lot of patience for theatrical '70s art-rock diehards. And maybe Wright has misrepresented their music (though I don't think so), but the best thing you could say about the music of Sparks is that their clever avant-garde recordings are an acquired taste. Imagine their contemporaries, Queen, recording "Bohemian Rhapsody" over and over again. In the end, Sparks represents the full flower of Theater People. Lead singer Russell frequently lapses into falsetto, while brother Ron, on keyboards, mugs into the camera, almost always a practiced creepy glare.
It probably helps if any of these songs are even vaguely familiar and if you have an affinity for their derivative recordings. In the '70s, they emulated bands of the era, a trite mix of T-Rex, Meat Loaf, Devo, and the Raspberries. At the turn of the decade, they segued into disco and new wave, creating nothing as memorable as Donna Summer or Human League threw up the charts. (Not hard to believe with songs like "Tits" and "Balls.") Wright has a habit of playing the songs in the background, while talking heads chatter, making the songs a little more annoying. One exception is a tedious composition called "My Baby's Taking Me Home," which consists of the title being repeated ad nauseam and is featured nearly in its entirety as some sort of unappreciated anthem. Good Lord.
Wright himself appears on camera, identifying himself as a fanboy, and his failure -- and the failure of his mostly older male talking heads -- is in not translating their fervor to us casual or non-fans. (Sparks was very popular in Europe, kind of like Jerry Lewis being treated like an auteur in France.) Wright marches through every single album, methodically, as if tasked with creating an exhaustive definitive history for the future benefit of mankind, and it's exhausting. He spends the last 20 minutes -- beyond the two-hour mark -- belaboring a series of false endings, pounding his way to the inevitable maudlin conclusion.
I was not converted. At the hour mark, I thought it would be fun to see if I could finish this review before the end of the movie. That was easy. The writing helped pass the time as the band's career soldiered on. There is no doubt that these are two talented men who have persevered over the years to entertain a lot of people while staying true to their art. But this is a movie for them and their ardent fans, not the rest of us.
BONUS TRACK
Sister Rosetta Tharpe tears it up with "Up Above My Head":
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