Morrissey 25: Live – can it relight my fire? - The Guardian
A new US concert film celebrates Morrissey's 25 years solo, but can it mend fences and bring back alienated fans – like me?
Alex Needham
theguardian.com, Tuesday 30 July 2013 11.38 EDT
Excerpt:
Filmed in March, at a gig at Hollywood high school by director James Russell, Morrissey 25: Live opens with backstage shots of Morrissey in moody black and white, and breathless testimonials from fans. For those of us who deplore his Little Englander tendencies, it's great to be reminded of Morrissey's massive Latino fan base, and that his constituency is still essentially indie kids, with bushy beards and pierced septums even as they approach middle age. But the fans also provide the most excruciating moments. I've been to dozens of Morrissey gigs, but never seen the mic passed around the front row so the fans can declare their devotion to the room at large. One even said "thank you for living," a sentence which elicited groans from the hacks watching the film. Surely even Morrissey doesn't need such an extreme form of ego massage.
But what of the object of the fans' obsession? His voice is on top form, and the performance has a showbiz veteran's confidence and craft. Lit well and filmed in a hectic style replete with unusual angles and flashy jump-cuts, Moz lashes the floor with the microphone cable like a disgruntled lion-tamer, wearing a shirt which appears to be covered in a giant Rorschach test. The band are considerably less stellar. Sadistically forced into tight t-shirts by their master (Boz Boorer looks particularly uncomfortable), they get their revenge by putting the aural equivalent of hobnailed boots on some of the Smiths' most quicksilver songs: plodding would be too kind a term for The Boy with the Thorn in His Side.
A new US concert film celebrates Morrissey's 25 years solo, but can it mend fences and bring back alienated fans – like me?
Alex Needham
theguardian.com, Tuesday 30 July 2013 11.38 EDT
Excerpt:
Filmed in March, at a gig at Hollywood high school by director James Russell, Morrissey 25: Live opens with backstage shots of Morrissey in moody black and white, and breathless testimonials from fans. For those of us who deplore his Little Englander tendencies, it's great to be reminded of Morrissey's massive Latino fan base, and that his constituency is still essentially indie kids, with bushy beards and pierced septums even as they approach middle age. But the fans also provide the most excruciating moments. I've been to dozens of Morrissey gigs, but never seen the mic passed around the front row so the fans can declare their devotion to the room at large. One even said "thank you for living," a sentence which elicited groans from the hacks watching the film. Surely even Morrissey doesn't need such an extreme form of ego massage.
But what of the object of the fans' obsession? His voice is on top form, and the performance has a showbiz veteran's confidence and craft. Lit well and filmed in a hectic style replete with unusual angles and flashy jump-cuts, Moz lashes the floor with the microphone cable like a disgruntled lion-tamer, wearing a shirt which appears to be covered in a giant Rorschach test. The band are considerably less stellar. Sadistically forced into tight t-shirts by their master (Boz Boorer looks particularly uncomfortable), they get their revenge by putting the aural equivalent of hobnailed boots on some of the Smiths' most quicksilver songs: plodding would be too kind a term for The Boy with the Thorn in His Side.
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