AKA DOC POMUS (2012) (A-minus) - You might not know Doc Pomus, but you know his songs -- and you know his struggles, or at least some version of them. "Save the Last Dance for Me," "This Magic Moment," "A Teenager in Love," "Viva Las Vegas," "Can't Get Used to Losing You," "Lonely Avenue." Ray Charles, Elvis Presley, the Drifters, etal. He was a songwriter's songwriter, widely admired for generations.
That resume is enough to get you a documentary. But it's the poignant personal story of Pomus -- nee Jerome Felder -- that plays out like an old Hollywood drama. He was stricken with polio as a child and used crutches as an adult until he needed a wheelchair. He wanted to be an R&B singer -- and actually had some success as a teenager, a Jewish kid from Brooklyn trafficking in a black world. But he knew he'd never make it big, and so he headed over to the famed Brill Building to take part in the explosion of songwriting in the nascent rock 'n' roll era.
What makes his songs so indelible is the mature melancholy that underlies even the poppiest of tunes. The story of "Save the Last Dance for Me" -- inspired by the experience of watching his bride dance with others at their wedding reception -- is simply heartbreaking. (Despite his ordinary looks, he managed to marry two beautiful actresses over the years.)
The only points taken off here are due to the incestuous production -- the film was produced by Pomus' daughter, Sharyn (who also appears), and relies heavily on family members (including his famous lawyer brother Raoul Felder) and ex-wives to tell the story. But there is no denying the power of Pomus' biography. He was a fascinating man. After the hits dried up when the '70s arrived, he hosted illegal poker games at his Upper West Side apartment. His health deteriorated, and he died of lung cancer in 1991 at age 65.
There also is no denying the thrill of the music, liberally sampled throughout the film. Pomus is praised by fellow songwriters like Leiber & Stoller, Hal Willner and Dr. John (Mack Rebennack); by performers such as Ben E. King, Shawn Colvin, Dion (& the Belmonts) DiMucci, Marshall Chapman and Joan Osborne; and by critics and scholars, including Peter Guralnick and Dave Marsh.
In the end, it is the songs that hold their own and stand up to this day. This is a man whose music and lyrics sounded good even coming from Andy Williams.
[The documentary, which we saw at the Santa Fe Film Festival about 10 years ago, never got a proper release. It is available, at least for now, on YouTube.]
A-HA: THE MOVIE (B-minus) - For the first half of this documentary about the 1980s Norwegian synth band A-ha, I was thinking that this was an insider story for fans only. But as I stuck with it, the movie revealed itself as an honest portrayal of three men who have struggled off and on with creative collaboration and with worldwide stardom.
"Stardom?!" you say? Wasn't A-ha merely a one-hit wonder, known for that classic video for "Take on Me"? Actually, they had a few other hits in the mid-'80s and beyond, and they have been one of the most popular touring bands -- playing to 200,000 fans at times -- for more than three decades. Their music won't make you nominate them for the Hall of Fame -- they hit my ears as an adult-contemporary Depeche Mode -- but it's not disposable Eurotrash.
The three men -- Paul Waaktaar (guitars), Magne Furuholmen (keyboards), and handsome lead singer Morten Harket -- are now grizzled but still creatively engaged, if not always with each other. The band has taken breaks over the years and solo albums have been released, but the group continues to get back together for new albums and tours. The directors, Thomas Robsahm and Aslaug Holm, spent several years digging deep into each man's personality and observing them together in the studio and in concert, and a touching picture emerges here of challenges of being pop stars. It's easy to dismiss those who complain about fame as mere divas, but here the trio come off not as whiny brats but as grumpy middle-aged men who truly struggle with the expectations to produce music and put on a great stage show every night. They each now live in different countries and know that they can tolerate each other every few years, perhaps the secret to surviving so long as a band.
The filmmakers borrow the iconic animated-sketch style of the "Take on Me" video to an annoying degree, but they mostly abandon it in the second half. It's a good call, because the gimmick would detract from the points each world-weary man makes. A slow, spare, mournful live version of "Take on Me" powers the final scene, and you realize two things -- these guys are more interesting than we thought they'd be, and that really is an irresistible song (and synthesizer riff). (And, no, we won't feature the video, which has been viewed 1.5 billion times on YouTube.)
BONUS TRACKS
"Save the Last Dance" and "Magic Moment" will endure for generations. Perhaps the ultimate Doc Pomus song is "Lonely Avenue," a hit for Ray Charles":
He wrote "Little Sister" (and "Suspicion") for Presley, which became a hit in 1961. Here is the version by Robert Plant and Rockpile at the Concert for Kampuchea:
One of Pomus' final contributions was a 1981 hit for B.B. King, "There Must Be a Better World Somewhere" (starting at 1:30):
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