THE GO-GO's (B) - This slick Showtime production focuses on the origin story and early phenomenon of the only all-woman band in history who played their own instruments to have a number-one record. The Go-Go's themselves -- even the spurned members who missed out on the glory days of the '80s -- are game for this exercise, making it an endearing time-capsule opening.
Australian director Alison Ellwood shows a deep appreciation for the band's early years, drawing out heartfelt memories from the band members about their dues-paying in and emergence from the Los Angeles punk scene of the late 1970s. Ellwood also allows each woman's personality to flourish, and we are treated to distinct moments from each popster, all of them now in their 60s. Jane Wiedlin is as perky as ever, but she reveals some dark emotional issues that she has only recently come to terms with. Charlotte Caffey, the other main songwriter, who looks like she never aged, unfurls some rough tales of her heroin addiction. Belinda Carlisle still has the whiff of diva (and maybe a little cosmetic surgery). Gina Schock, the drummer, still seems to have a bit of a chip on her shoulder about being paid the least. And rhythm member Kathy Valentine seems to be perhaps the most well adjusted after all these years (though her creation story involves joining the band in late 1980 and learning the bass parts during a cocaine binge).
The documentary goes hard on those early years, including a harrowing trip to Maggie Thatcher's London just before they exploded into fame -- and really, there isn't much of a thread to follow beyond the band's third album, which showed them already starting to lose their footing as early as 1984. This film makes an argument for these women as pop-punk troupers who had some serious songwriting chops, despite their place in history as many folks' favorite guilty pleasure. In fact, songwriting stories from Caffey and Wiedlin are some of the highlights here.
Admirers include Miles and Stewart Copeland, members of Madness and the Specials, and, god bless her, MTV veejay Martha Quinn. And, maybe secretly, you.
HORN FROM THE HEART: THE PAUL BUTTERFIELD STORY (2018) (B) - This biography of the white bluesman who broke out in Chicago in the 1960s feels like a doted-on labor of love and turns out to be a workmanlike study of another troubled rocker. Butterfield, a Hyde Park native, habituated black blues clubs of Chicago and studied at the feet of Muddy Waters and others.
He was praised for his spirited harmonica playing and soulful voice, and he assembled a tight crew of musicians in the '60s and '70s, including Elvin Bishop on guitar. Bishop and a host of former friends and colleagues -- including keyboard wizards Al Kooper and Paul Shaffer, drummer Sam Lay, saxophonist David Sanborn, and backup singer Clydie King -- heap praise on Butterfield as a true blues soldier, making this a rather hagiographic portrait. An ex-wife and son are on hand to put Butterfield's personal demons -- drugs and alcohol -- into perspective.
Butterfield spent much of the '70s living among the Woodstock, N.Y., royalty of Dylan and the Band and the diehards, like Happy Traum, featured here. He seemed devoted to his craft, and it's a shame that he couldn't keep his act together. Director John Anderson (who is apparently preparing a follow-up documentary about the '60s Chicago blues scene) ably mixes archival footage with talking-head interviews that have a crudeness suggesting 1980s videotape. If you don't know much about Butterfield's story, don't run off to Wikipedia; try this instead, and appreciate the arc of one man's life.
BONUS TRACK
One of my favorite covers is the Pixies' version of the Paul Butterfield Blues Band staple "Born in Chicago":
The Go-Go's' debut album predated the dawn of MTV by just a few months, and they were a natural match, such as this cheapo video for "Our Lips Are Sealed," which was made for about $6,000 left over in an IRS Records budget for the Police:
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