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Haven't We Seen This Gig Before?: Lack of Originality Mars Rock Star's Message of Self Discovery September, 2001 Though his role of Captain Davidson in the misguided remake of "Planet of the Apes" (the unfortunate remake of "Psycho" obviously didn't teach the studios anything about the untouchable greatness of classic film) cast doubt on "Marky Mark" Wahlberg's ability to single-handedly "carry a film," there's no question the former "Funky Buncher" is as qualified as any pop icon to play the lead in "Rock Star's" paean to, and deconstruction of, heavy metal clichés. Fortunately, he has plenty of help this time around. And as we saw with the virtuoso "Boogie Nights" and the more-than-passable "Three Kings," when the Markster has support, the Markster delivers. The problem is that "Rock Star" is a tribute band of a flick yearning to be real deal cinema. The theme of being true to oneself, and true to who and what you love you most, echoes territory covered in "Almost Famous." The theme of subtle wisdom coming from unlikely sources mirrors the cagey humanity of "Clueless" and "Forrest Gump." And the predictable arc of a young man coming of age and into his own through the unraveling of adolescent fantasy and the selfless love of a woman with her priorities "straight" is Hollywood stock-in-schmaltz. Still, director Stephen Herek, screenwriter John Stockwell, and actors Wahlberg (as perfectionist lead singer Chris Cole for Steel Dragon tribute band Blood Pollution, who, by a cruel fluke, ends up singing for the band he adores) and Jennifer Aniston (as girlfriend/manager Emily Poule, who's genuinely "devoted" to Chris, not the newly named and predictably changed rock star "Izzy") manage to bring emotional life to a familiar tale of id gone wild. And there are some clever touches too--from David Lee Roth's version of the Beach Boys' "California Girls" (a nod to the detailed obsessions of heavy metal fans), to some poignantly layered repartee: Poule's "I'm going to make an honest man out of you" and a rock star chick's seemingly shallow advice about letting the boys off the leash for an occasional romp manage to be both ridiculous and, by film's end, surprisingly sublime. As a result, "Rock Star" delivers a complete archetypal package, and a little psychological savvy too, but with an unfortunate hole at the center: the film never quite captures the pathos, eccentricity, and touching tragedy of the "real" cover bands that bleed for rock 'n roll. Nebraska native James M. Crotty grew up listening to Foghat and Bachman Turner Overdrive. |
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