THE GREATEST NIGHT IN POP (B-minus) - Anyone over 40 is likely to find something to like in this tick-tock about the making of the "We Are the World" charity single, in which Lionel Richie and Quincy Jones assembled a who's who of mid-'80s superstars together in a recording studio for one long night devoted to one sappy song.
It's a mildly interesting reminiscence of a time nearly 40 years ago when the culture was more bunched around familiar faces and names from the worlds of rock, pop and R&B. Richie hogs the limelight with his stories, and he is joined by Bruce Springsteen, Smokey Robinson, Cyndi Lauper, Dionne Warwick and a particularly humble Huey Lewis. We also hear from a few tech people who were crucial to the recording and who tell some of the liveliest stories. (My favorite is the one who looked around at the end of the long night wondering when he'd get paid only to be told that everyone was working for free. Charity, you know.) There's a bit of fun to be had when glimpsing some flash-in-the-pan talent. (Remember Kim Carnes?)
Many of Richie's stories seem embellished, especially the allegedly hectic nature of writing the song at the last minute, which also involved Stevie Wonder and Michael Jackson. There is a fun side story of whether Prince was going to show up or not (and how Sheila E felt like she was treated as bait). The song was recorded into the wee hours of the morning after the most of the stars had attended the previous evening's American Music Awards (hosted by Richie). Too much of the film seems like generic build-up, involving the recording of the group parts. Things don't pick up until the second half. In one scene it's fun to watch a bevy of superstars crowd around a piano and start to try out their solo parts, as if they're rehearsing a high school musical. Lewis, Lauper and others recall how nervous they were to deliver their one big line each and how drunk Al Jarreau got during the session. We cringe watching an uncomfortable Bob Dylan (his drugs have either kicked in or run out) having no clue, it seems, how to deliver his solo lines but then finally (finally) nailing it (or thereabouts), with the help of Wonder.
It might be tough for most people to get excited about that era again, especially a night devoted to such a generic song. You get the feeling that some of the juiciest scenes might have ended up on the cutting-room floor, so as not to offend the likes of Billy Joel, Tina Turner or Willie Nelson, or one of the dozens of others who got roped into a long, trying night amid a sea of egos.
ANVIL: THE STORY OF ANVIL (2009) (A-minus) - In the holy trilogy of metal movies, we consecrate "This Is Spinal Tap," "Some Kind of Monster" and this indie gem from Sacha Gervasi, a tribute to an early '80s phenom, a band that had a moment before the Metallica surge and dwindled into obscurity back in its hometown of Toronto. This documentary tells the story of two childhood pals, frontman Steve "Lips" Kudlow and drummer Robb Reiner, now north of 50, working dead-end jobs but still clinging to the dream of superstardom.
Gervasi, their former roadie, returns in 2006 with a camera to follow Kudlow and Reiner everywhere they go, creating a portrait of two longtime pals near the end of their tether, with Reiner more resigned to an unhappy fate but Kudlow refusing to believe that their career is finished. They muddle through a slapdash tour of Europe, missing trains and hitting rock bottom when they show up two hours late to a gig in Prague such that Kudlow has to physically threaten the owner to pay them after they perform. They toss a hail mary to a former producer who agrees to record a comeback album in the English countryside, but that turns into a catastrophe when Reiner threatens to pull the plug and they can't find a record label to distribute the CD.
The nods to "Spinal Tap" involve more than just a similar vibe -- they playfully echo the "Hello, Cleveland" line and make a pilgrimage to Stonehenge. Their wives and families are supportive (Kudlow's sister foots the bill for the recording), and Kudlow's Muppet-like good cheer is endlessly appealing. Gervasi manages to humanize the men without mocking them or their art. The songs -- including the foundational "Metal on Metal" -- are generic, but it's fun to watch these guys give it their all in front of middle-age fans who never outgrew their own head-banging fandom. Talking heads including Lars Ulrich, Lemmy and Slash bookend the film, offering respect to these two diehards who never allowed mediocrity to defeat them.
THE ORDER OF MYTHS (2008) (B) - This documentary examines the queasy detente of segregation beneath the surface of the annual Mardi Gras celebration in Mobile, Ala. It can be fascinating in its granular detail at times, but it sometimes comes off as merely quirky and inconsequential.
Filmmaker Margaret Brown would go on to make documentaries about the Deepwater Horizon oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico and, more recently, about the Clotilde, the last African slave ship to reach U.S. shores, an incident that gets name-checked here, too. She obtains VIP access to both main organizations that crowns kings and queens of Mardi Gras each year -- one run by the white community and the other by the black community.
Everyone claims that this is the natural order of things and that no one is offended by this 21st century remnant of a more venal segregated past. Toward the end of the film, we'll watch the black couple pop in at the white gala (and mostly get ignored), and then the white couple will pay back the courtesy the following night, looking quite awkward the whole time.
Brown's deep dive into an unusual, quaint ritual has a cult-film feel to it; her devotion to the subject is admirable. But, racial politics aside, her painstaking examination of a subculture comes off a bit too esoteric to land solidly.
BONUS TRACK
Anvil's signature tune was "Metal on Metal." Kudlow often performed in a S&M harness and like to use a dildo as a slide for his guitar. It was the '80s.
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