Warning – Due to the graphic content contained within the title of the film I will be reviewing this week I have decided that for one week, and one week only, I will remove my self-imposed language restrictions and allow myself to curse like a sailor if the mood strikes. Trust me, it will.
This week’s entry provided a bit of a challenge. How does one review a film that isn’t supposed to be seen? Perhaps a bit of history might be in order first. Cocksucker Blues was shot during The Rolling Stones concert tour of 1972. Finally returning to the United States after the tragic conclusion of the 1969 tour, vividly caught in the landmark documentary Gimme Shelter, The Rolling Stones embarked on what is now considered their greatest concert tour of all-time, made all the more infamous by documentarian Robert Frank (Me and My Brother).
Frank was enlisted to capture the grandeur of The Rolling Stones and he set about filming hours of footage both on stage, back stage, and at other various points of the tour. He also allowed band members, roadies, and hanger ons to film short vignettes as well. Upon completion of the film Frank screened it for The Rolling Stones and they promptly set about blocking its release. Lawsuits were filed and eventually a sentence was handed down that the film could only be screened once a year, and Frank must be present at the screening. Thus the film was effectively banned. But sure enough the film found renewed life in bootleg copies, and coupled with the risqué images in the film and the possible consequences for viewing the movie, the film has reached legendary status among both music and film fans.
So the question for myself is how do I review a film that isn’t to be watched? The smart person would answer “Very carefully.” and proceed in a cautious and conservative manner. Neither referencing the movie directly, nor indirectly implicating themselves. An artistic person would perhaps answer “Very slyly.” Perhaps inserting a different phrase as a stand-in for the title, subtlety referencing it in other, more discreet and tactful, ways. But since I am neither smart nor artistic I’m simply going to dive straight in to Cocksucker Blues, balls deep if you will, and leave everything to chance.
Most people who have seen Cocksucker Blues grew up during the time this was filmed, or even had the chance to watch The Rolling Stones on that famous tour. I myself wasn’t even born until 1976, so I am more then a little bit separated from what it was like growing up and living during that period in time. The Rolling Stones were THE band to watch, and with them finally returning to the United States after not being here in three years it created a fervor that anyone would be hard pressed to duplicate nowadays. The Rolling Stones also have always seemed to be as much about being The Rolling Stones as they were in being a Rock n Roll band, even if it was the best Rock n Roll band in the world. Rumors always swirled over what happened on rock tours and Cocksucker Blues rips back the curtain and shows you what it is like to be The Rolling Stones.
It takes all of 5 minutes into the movie for the film to launch into the debauchery that would become the stated reason for The Rolling Stones blocking the film. From playing the controversial song that the film is named after during the opening credits, to Mick Jagger filming himself masturbating Cocksucker Blues certainly isn’t aiming to disappoint those who wonder just how much sex is around a touring rock band. And the actions of the subjects only devolve from there.
One of the things that was difficult for me to get out of my head was the similarities in Cocksucker Blues to the critically praised Almost Famous. While Cocksucker Blues is simply a documentary film crew following around a major rock band while on tour, Almost Famous has a remarkably similar premise in having a young writer following around a rock band that is on the cusp of becoming a breakout hit with mainstream audiences. Both films focus on the mind numbing drudgery of touring, as well as the now clichéd actions of groupies, drunken acts by band members, drug use, and so on and so forth.
Now I have never been a fan of Almost Famous. I find the film trite and it too often relies on convention to tell and otherwise unconventional tale. That and I also feel it is simply an excuse for writer/director Cameron Crowe to flop his cock out and proclaim, “Hey, did you know I wrote for Rolling Stone and knew shit tons of totally cool people. People I now call my friends. Dude, I am totally a golden God.” That and I fucking hate Tiny Dancer. But after watching Cocksucker Blues I can’t help but hate Almost Famous even more.
Cocksucker Blues is quite honest in revealing that a tour is both boring and monotonous for everyone involved. Members of the band are caught nodding off during concerts, and performing reckless and dangerous acts in their free time as a means to pass the time. Drug use is rampant, groupies are shedding dignity left and right for the chance to become a hanger on to someone famous, the fans are raucous and pretentious, and even other celebrities pass by in the hopes that something special will happen and thus replenishing their own self-worth. The film is plain and simply populated with bored and maladjusted children masquerading as adults in the only manner they know how, and failing miserably at it in the process.
But while Cocksucker Blues is revealing in the flaws of fame and the grind of the road, Almost Famous romanticizes it beyond naive dogma to almost ridiculous proportions. The film has no intention of revealing something even slightly true, merely acting as an elixir that will spur even more adolescent douche bags into thinking that fame is the cure for whatever ails them, rather then it being the machine that will bring about their self-destruction. It is nothing but the illusion of art, and serves no purpose other then to elevate its creator above the viewer. But by refusing to condescend to such levels, Cocksucker Blues soars and inspires as its cast trudges along fending off unconsciousness and sobriety. These are flawed Gods at their worst, your next door neighbor’s at their best. Neither special nor important, they simply are trying to revel in the spotlight before it wanders off to someone more important or in the now.
But while the insipid nature of the film is both marvelous and eye opening, the unending drudgery can’t help but overcome many of the positives contained within the film. Cocksucker Blues might be an event, but it is going to make you earn every solitary second of enjoyment.
