An American hardcore punk film! It sounded exciting. I was looking forward to it. Unfortunately it fell a little flat, and felt as though it didn’t engage the audience. There was no new breakthrough info, no dirty scandals, nothing.
I’m not a heavy hardcore punk fan, but I do enjoy it occasionally. There’s just something about passionate screaming and ultra speedy drums and guitar riffs that get me in a mood to commiserate with the disillusioned, dejected singer. I really enjoyed the personal accounts of events, which were one of the only appealing factors in the film, especially Black Flag singer Henry Rollins. He had such an odd Californian surfer accent that didn’t match his tattooed, rough look. It was quite strange listening to the personal accounts of the bands. I mean, these all used to be hardcore, thrashing, stage-diving deviants, and now most are 40-50 year old fogeys with the monotonous jobs and lives they sang against.
I expected music…lots of music. It was a music documentary after all, but sadly I was not fulfilled by the sparse stock footage scattered here and there. After an hour the film felt so dull, a great disservice to the punk scene. I’m not really sure who to recommend this film to. Die-hard hardcore punk lovers would just be disappointed by it, and laymen would simply be bored. Hmmm, I think I just won’t recommend it.
DIRECTED BY PAUL RACHMAN