jack
The Legendary Troll King
I passed on this in the theaters, but gave it a glance this past week because I was listening to "Celebration of the Lizard" and realized I had forgotten all about him.
The Doors were a powerful, interesting spectacle in the day. Since it wan authentic part of the weaving, it would appear Morrison gave it up the way Hendrix and Joplin did. To the all and to the end.
It's one of several compensatory surprises in this foray into the '60s that, as Jim Morrison, erstwhile paperweight Val Kilmer almost does for screwed-up rock stars what De Niro did for hapless middleweights; and less so that Stone all but manages to save his biopic of the hazy, crazy days of yore from becoming just another well-worn variation on the theme of self-destructive cock-rock and self-styled shamanism.
This swirling dervish of a film charts the Doors' rise from avant-gardists to pop sensations to notoriety symbols, with Morrison rapidly alienating his less visionary and far less pretentious colleagues, led by MacLachlan's pragmatic Ray Manzarek. Stone sometimes loads the narrative with too much sub-Freudian baggage about Morrison's childhood, but the music, the excess and the excitement come across well; there are splendid cameos of the likes of Warhol and the Velvet Underground's Nico (giving Jim good head in a New York elevator); and Meg Ryan (as Jim's 'lady') shows commendable patience in the role of band ornament.
I really enjoyed watching it, and forgot why I passed on it first time around.
:::shrugs:::
The Doors were a powerful, interesting spectacle in the day. Since it wan authentic part of the weaving, it would appear Morrison gave it up the way Hendrix and Joplin did. To the all and to the end.
It's one of several compensatory surprises in this foray into the '60s that, as Jim Morrison, erstwhile paperweight Val Kilmer almost does for screwed-up rock stars what De Niro did for hapless middleweights; and less so that Stone all but manages to save his biopic of the hazy, crazy days of yore from becoming just another well-worn variation on the theme of self-destructive cock-rock and self-styled shamanism.
This swirling dervish of a film charts the Doors' rise from avant-gardists to pop sensations to notoriety symbols, with Morrison rapidly alienating his less visionary and far less pretentious colleagues, led by MacLachlan's pragmatic Ray Manzarek. Stone sometimes loads the narrative with too much sub-Freudian baggage about Morrison's childhood, but the music, the excess and the excitement come across well; there are splendid cameos of the likes of Warhol and the Velvet Underground's Nico (giving Jim good head in a New York elevator); and Meg Ryan (as Jim's 'lady') shows commendable patience in the role of band ornament.
I really enjoyed watching it, and forgot why I passed on it first time around.
:::shrugs:::
