Notice I didn’t say “five great movies about rock & roll.” If they’re specifically about the music, or the players, that considerably reduces the field—sometimes down to the size of a stage. I wanted to single out films in which rock & roll plays an implicit, if not integral, role. You won’t find Gimme Shelter in the list below.
West Side Story: There isn’t a note of real rock 'n' roll in this vintage musical masterpiece, but the spirit—the “restless youth syndrome” that was initially inseparable from rock 'n' roll—is exploited to great effect. The birth of the music in the ‘50s caused a generation-divided uproar. It was as if a new breed of music consumers had fallen for the bad boy. West Side Story is only impressionistically rock & roll—but some tunes, like the finger-snapping “Play It Cool,” actually prefigure the jazzy rockabilly of the Stray Cats. West Side Story is all about rebelling—not only against family and the police but one another. In this modern retelling of Romeo and Juliet, street gangs supply the tragedy. And although it may not seem very hip to draw a direct line from West Side Story to contemporary hip-hop, graffiti speaks louder than words, and it’s not that much of a thematic stretch from the west side of New York City in the 50s to East LA in the ‘90s.
A Hard Day’s Night: This choice is predictable, I suppose. In many ways it prefigured that movie creature yet to come—the “mockumentary.” The Beatles were real, of course, and the movie seemed to chart the band’s success in real time—but it cleverly showed us a cartoon-ready Beatles, unreasonably carefree and always ready with a wisecrack. This may have indeed been life on the road, but it was paved with the gold of the band’s future success.
The Graduate: This pivotal comedy-drama was wound tightly around the music of Simon & Garfunkel. Without those autumnal songs, the film might have been merely a good comedy instead of a generational signpost. Paul Simon’s music was like a running commentary, filtering the story through sardonic folk-rock observations. It ups the emotional ante of The Graduate, highlighting tragedy over comedy.
Tommy: Seeing this indulgent rock opera in a movie theater back in ’75 was like the Me Generation equivalent of a head trip. I was just a kid, however, so the whole rock 'n' roll thing kind of tripped over my head. But who could forget "Pinball Wizard” Elton John preening around in the biggest, most ridiculous platform shoes known to man? Or sultry Ann-Margret walking the fine line between having been miscast and owning every inch of her role? And Jack Nicholson singing? Tommy was widely panned when it came out, and it didn’t exactly break box-office records despite the guitar-breaking, symphonic excitement of the Who’s famous songs. It’s also one of the few Ken Russell films in which the director rolls in the mud of his pretensions instead of hosing off the same old vehicle. It’s the Rolls Royce of rock operas.
Head: After their show was canceled, The Monkees seemed to embark on a mission to retroactively lace their bubblegum with acid—to deconstruct their plastic pop-band image, which was just to the left of wholesome. Head did exactly that—but it’s less memorable to most people than the band’s upbeat, irreverent series. Head tries to mirror the peaks and valleys of an LSD journey, depicting the experience in Alice in Wonderland-ish broad-strokes. Comedy takes a back seat to a strange—almost grotesque—sense of seriousness. Head is a vain film. It tries to legitimize The Monkees as true hippies instead of allowing their minor legend to speak for itself. But the music is excellent, topped by the dolphin-safe psychedelic treat, “The Porpoise Song.”
