Review: Supersonic

Supersonic
Cert: 15 / 117 mins / Dir. Mat Whitecross / Trailer



Yeah, a documentary about a band's drunken exploits twenty years ago was the most experimental film I watched that day. I'm the guy who goes to Leicester Square during the opening weekend of the London Film Festival and sees regular screenings of general release films. Look, Cineworld weren't showing any of the LFF entries that day, and I've got that card for a reason, y'know…

Anyway. I'd almost (almost) forgotten how gloriously narcissistic the Gallagher brothers were (are). Mat Whitecross' retrospective documentary is an extensive wading through the Oasis video and audio archives running from their pre-formation days when Noel was a mere roadie for the Inspiral Carpets, up to their near-legendary 1996 gigs at Knebworth. With voice-over interviews from the band and close associates, the film tells a chaotic story seamlessly, without external narration; everything here is down to trust in the film-maker, reminiscences and interpretations, and fantastic (plus exhaustive) editing.

On the next tier down from (let's be fair) fanboy treasure-troving, the film shows a pair of young men trying to express anger and frustration through indie-music (albeit with dirty production values), when most kids would choose metal as their social weapon-of-choice. Their backup plan of booze and drugs seems pretty universal, though. The story of Oasis' early days exists in a unique time. Before the age where the minutiae of self-shot-video and information could be widely shared online, but when analogue-tech was commonplace enough that plenty of behind-the-scenes footage was recorded (and not by everyone in the room, as it is now). And it was a time when new music still excited me, unlike the jaded, middle-aged film-bore I've become*¹. The music in Supersonic gave me goosebumps, and it's not like I don't listen to the first two Oasis albums any more…

For anyone who's ever been in a band, that film in April brought us the adrenaline of playing in a strange town, the film in May brought us the heart, and this film in October brings us the sweat, the tears, the bad language and broken furniture.

Whitecross' film is candid, self-effacing and, in places, blisteringly funny (I haven't heard a cinema audience guffaw this much since Deadpool). At times there's even a dusting of humility in there, although that never lasts for long, obviously. Best line is awarded to Noel, with "What can I say, y'know? I'm a bit of a cunt."

If you like Oasis, you'll love Supersonic.
If you don't like Oasis, you'll despise Supersonic.

The film shows the band at their very best and very worst, which is quite often the same thing…

Oasis, really.



Well the problem (if you see it as a problem (and, to be fair, I do)) is that of the pre-digital era, the majority of archive-footage is from VHS or camcorder tapes, so looks like shit. That particular aspect of the film will work much better in your living room.

Although if you're the two patrons in the row behind me who chattered and sang along for the whole movie, you could just pretend the cinema is your living room, anyway…



Yes.



I'm ashamed to tell you that I can't really say, as I haven't seen enough of Mat Whitecross' work to know.



Nope.



There isn't.



Level 2: Director Mat Whitecross was the man behind 2010's Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll, starring Andy 'Snoke' Serkis.





*¹ Although to be fair, I get equally - if not more - excited by films, now. And I intake way more new movies (and in more genres) than I did new albums, back in the day. What I'm trying to say is that present-day me is fantastic and past-me was a bit of a dick. Future-me's up his own arse, though…


DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.

26: (I am) The One and Only

CAUTION: Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.


No, not Newcastle Brown (although that IS on my mind at the moment), I'm talking about being unique. About being a lone point of light in the darkness. A little melodramatic, but you'll see what I mean.



I overheard someone's iPod on the bus yesterday. They were listening to Wonderwall by Oasis. It wasn't a problem; I like the song (although I could hardly hear it 'properly'), and it was only because the battery had died in my generic MP3 player that I wasn't subjecting other passengers to my own taste in music. Anyway, it occurred to me that I haven't listened to the song properly in ages. Which is to say, I haven't played it myself, or sat through it in its entireity on the radio etc.

But it's a very popular song. VERY popular. As of September '08, There are an estimated 6.72 billion people on this planet. While they haven't all got iPods, I'd say it's a fairly safe bet that at any given point, there will be someone in the world listening to Wonderwall. If it's not being played in someone's living room, it'll be on someone's iPod, or being played on a radio station, or even just being covered by a band in a pub somewhere or a busker on the street. The song, it would appear, is a constant.

This won't last forever, of course. Sooner or later it'll drop out of fashion, and ultimately be forgotten by all but a few historians. But for the forseeable future, it's with us.

Which got me thinking about the probability of other songs falling into the same category. Surely, out of 6.72 billion people, 'someone' is listening to Chain Reaction by Diana Ross? Or what about Fade to Black by Metallica?

Let's scale it down a bit (no offence to the following artistes). What about You Can Talk to Me by The Seahorses? Or Birdhouse in Your Soul by They Might Be Giants? The Stutter Rap by Morris Minor and The Majors? Maybe even Superstitious by Europe? I listened to that one myself on the way to work this morning.

No matter how obscure the song, would you really put money on no-one out of 6.72 billion people playing or singing it at that moment in time? It'd be a long-shot wouldn't it?

...what about the song from the start of Pigeon Street?



It was fairly popular back in the early 80's with the pre-school crowd, but I can't remember the last time I saw an episode on TV (although bizarrely, Keith Miller was watching it on Eastenders a couple of years ago, so who knows).

While I'm sure it gets regular-ish outings on obscure TV stations, and VHS players on a drunken whim, and even YouTube clips... I can't believe that the opening titles to Pigeon Street are being CONSTANTLY played somewhere around the planet.

Which brings me (finally) to my point. When you sing the immortal lines:

If you lived, in Pigeon Street,
Here are the people, you could meet.
Here are the people who would say,
Hello, goodbye, hello, goodbye,
Every day...

...there's a STRONG possibility that you're the only person in the world giving voice to Pigeon Street. Not every time, but most, for sure. Think about that. No, really.

Unless you make your own clothes, someone else will be wearing the same colours and even items of clothing today. Again, chances are someone will be wearing the same combination as you. You think you're the only one with that haircut? Is that tattoo of yours truly unique?

Make your mark on the world today.
Be the one and only.
Sing the song to Pigeon Street.




DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.

• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organizations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.