No music scene has ever been able to memorialize itself quite as effectively as the New York East Village of the late '70s; even before key members left this mortal coil, the essayists, photographers and filmmakers of that world were already fast at work, creating a lasting memory of a time and place that few could, or would, get to experience firsthand. Members of that scene, like Patti Smith, Jim Carroll, Lee Renaldo and others have, over the years, perfected their skills in lionizing the dead and the alive, the great and forgotten. From that core group of singer-songwriter-multi-media-artists, along with many more, we’ve seen books, films, tribute albums, even art retrospectives, which have tied in the affiliated Basquiats and Mapplethorpes and Warhols. As self-mythologizing goes, the New York post-punks set a very high bar for all scenes to come.
That said, the 1980s were a particularly rich period in the history of Los Angeles rock’n’roll, and there’s been no shortage of documentation toward bands like Jane’s Addiction, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, X, Fishbone and their catalyst, the legendary KROQ broadcaster Rodney Bingenheimer, all of whom have enjoyed filmed representations of their careers (many which are still underway, to one degree of success or another). Bob Forrest, a member of the could-have-been-famous Thelonious Monster, is the latest member of that generation to be given a full-length documentary treatment, with the Kierda Bahruth-directed Bob and the Monster.
Forrest’s tale follows a path that fans of rock documentaries have traveled down before, with a mostly-chronological retelling of his rise in the melting pot that was the post-punk, pre-grunge, hair metal-loving Los Angeles of the late ‘80s. In time, the rotating membership of Thelonious Monster coalesced, Forrest’s role as a vocalist and songwriter grew more proficient and the major labels swooped in, just as the group’s self-immolation through drug abuse and egomania took hold. Forrest, as many a vocalist/songwriter before him, took the solo route, which failed miserably, to the almost-glee of a few former bandmates, who seem to still exult in the failings of their troubled frontman.
But a funny thing happened on way to Forrest’s almost-certain death by overdose: sobriety and a deep-seated desire to help others in his condition. As viewers of the VH-1 staple Celebrity Rehab would realize, Forrest has had an on-off relationship with addiction specialist (and personal brand) Dr. Drew Pinsky, and so Forrest’s televised time in recent years has largely come through his efforts in helping other quasi-stars kick longstanding habits of their own. And Forrest’s own, 20-plus stints in rehab surely establish his first-person knowledge of abuse, along with his empathy, a point hammered home through the doc.
Because the film’s primary audience is already aware that: a) Thelonious Monster never broke as they could have; and b) Forrest has gained a measure of curious fame (if not riches) through his recovery work, it’s up to director Bahruth to tell a compelling story with an already-known ending. This is accomplished, though, through the use of interviews with Forrest’s contemporaries (including St. Louis expat and Thelonious alum Zander Schloss), along with some clever, bridging elements including animation and claymation. These come during key moments of Forrest’s twisted and harrowing descent into abuse and are visually striking additions to the usual complement of period concert footage and stationary-camera discussions with old friends (and even a few folks who don’t have rose-colored memories of working with the film’s subject).
Modern documentary cinema’s got no shortage of musically-based tales, and it’d be easy to dismiss, out-of-hand, another look at a would-be star who burned too brightly, too early. But with Forrest, you’ll find yourself drawn in, amazed by his will (and his body’s ability to fight off what was put into it), a story augmented by a solid selection of LA alterna-rock, during one of that city’s golden, musical eras.
Bob and the Monster screens Saturday, Nov. 19 at 9 p.m. at The Tivoli Theatre.Tickets are $12, $10 for Cinema St. Louis Members. For advance tickets, call 314-725-6555, ext. 0, or visit cinemastlouis.org.
