MOVIES IN REVIEW: ROCK OF AGES
It is frustrating to see a film come so close and yet fall short. Rock of Ages leaves us with that sense of what might have been. The movie comes mere millimeters away from joining Showgirls in the pantheon of fantastically bad movies, but in the end, it lacks the courage of its convictions to carry itself to its logical conclusions and settles for being merely tedious, clunky and awkward.
Actually, though, Rock of Ages isn’t just a little tedious it is richly tedious, it makes an art form out of tedium. By doing the same unspectacular things over and over and over again, it manages to bend time and space and make two plus hours of movie watching feel like a lifetime. An accomplishment to be sure, but not one on the order of “No wire hangers ever!” or “It must be weird not having anyone cum on you.”
I think we can safely write off the possibility that they were trying to make Rock of Ages be good. Any film that has a joke like the one in the strip club bar:
“Brandy, cognac”
“One drink is plenty.”
“No, that’s her name, Brandy. She’s bringing you cognac”
can not seriously be trying to be good. And that is the pattern that repeats itself roughly every 10 seconds or so throughout the film: ridiculous clunky non-joke followed by explanation of why the joke was funny. Again, that’s almost bad enough to be great, but in the end, to be a fantastically bad requires a certain unhinged sense of reality. I won’t say it’s necessary that filmmakers be on massive amounts of drugs to achieve this sort of greatness, but something has to step in to break their bonds not only with conventional storytelling but with conventional concepts of truth. Which is why excessive exposition can only be boring, never fantastically bad; it is digging its feet into reality, trying to raise itself by nailing itself down even further rather than flying off into space.
And then there’s the thing with these jukebox musicals. Not to be a complete grump about this but in the olden times, songs were written specifically for the characters and thus carried a big burden of advancing the plot, filling in the characters, etc. But in these things, where we know the songs, there is a second of getting into the mood of “Here I Go Again” but then you immediately recall you know that song and you know for a fact these aren’t personal thoughts coming out of the mouth of the annoying puppy dog barback hero, but he’s just singing “Here I Go Again.” On which some points:
• First of all, Here I Go Again is not a great song. It captures the beer commercials of an era. For those of us who made it out of the 80’s alive, it’s not a memory we ever need give three minutes of our full attention; hearing it in beer commercials of the future will cover our needs what little nostalgia that song provokes.
• Sorry to say it but same goes for most of these golden oldies of the 80’s. They were born to be background music then and 20 years later, still are not meant for center stage.
• Considering this is directed by Mr Step Up Adam Shankman, he doesn’t even choreograph the zillion musical numbers well. In fact he doesn’t even really try. Almost every song is sung by a couple characters staring at each other and maybe thrashing their heads around.
Also (ENORMOUS SPOILER AHEAD and if you care, God help you), the finale of this film involves the puppy dog barback salvaging his one last shot at fame before all his dreams are destroyed by unveiling his new song entitled Don’t Stop Believing. Which is in most respects identical to the song you know as Don’t Stop Believing. The song becomes a massive hit and makes him a star. The film concludes, as all art must conclude, with a heartrending monster rendition of the song.
I just don’t understand what universe these jukebox musicals live in; one where we don’t know that Don’t Stop Believing is actually a song that we’ve heard to death so we can jump for joy in excitement for the character when he writes it? It’s almost like an old DeMille film where we meet Mr. Mason and Mr. Dixon heading off to draw their line. Except that makes actual sense.
But then amidst the never ceasing string of listless musical numbers, the dangling subplots…at about an hour into the film, Tom Cruise’s Stacee Jaxx character appears and has a 15 minute scene. And then suddenly, just as you had given up on the film and perhaps life itself, you find yourself bolting up in your chair and saying, Wait a second, this scene is really good. Like really actually great.
Somehow, under our noses, Tom Cruise has become the master of creating these brilliantly intense but very real comic characters - from Frank TJ Mackie in Magnolia, to his Tropic Thunder appearance, to this. The script really offers him nothing. The lines are predictable and unfunny, but he brings so much thought and dramatic focus to the part that it just runs right over the mediocrity of the film. Really, Cruise just staring at people in Jaxx character is worth the ticket price.
But then that scene ends and there is still an hour of film to go. And believe me, that will be the longest hour of your life. For a big part of me, that hour never ended and I’m still in the theater watching the dreariest version of “I Want to Know What Love Is” I’ll ever see.
The Rushfield Babylon Recommendation: Two stars out of ten.
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