CBGB
is titled after the Bowery-section, East Village Manhattan nightclub
established
by Hilly Kristal (played in the film by Alan Rickman,
The Butler) in 1973, mostly known for
being one of the first places to break in many American punk rock and
new wave acts. It wasn't Kristal's intent to become the "Godfather
of punk rock", as he thought that his first love, country music, would be what brought in
the patrons, hence the name of 'CBGB', which stands for 'Country,
Bluegrass, Blues'. Later on, Kristal would add the provocative
sounding second title of 'OMFUG', which stands for 'Other Music for
Uplifting Gormandizers', as a way of denoting that the club's clientele
had largely become underground rockers, who had very few venues willing to
cater to 'their kind', and far removed from the likes of a bluegrass or
country crowd.
Though CBGB's doors remained open through 2006, the film concentrates
mainly on the club's humble beginnings in 1973 and throughout the
remainder of the 1970s, where it would become an institution for many
underground bands to perform in front of a small, packed house full of
music devotees. As the story covers several years and spotlights
a great number of famous musical acts, much of CBGB feels
compressed in order to squeeze in as much as it can in a short amount
of time, which does make the story seem glossy and superficial. Many of the musical acts spotlighted have no real significance to
the club's actual story save to spotlight the sheer breadth of how
many popular musicians got their start in that tiny space.
The lack of adequate time does become an issue as the focus of CBGB
is all over the map. Had writer-director Randall Miller, and
co-screenwriter Jody Savin, concentrated more on one area, there would
have been plenty of opportunity to build a compelling story, even if
it isn't all-encompassing. For instance, they could have made it
strictly a Hilly Kristal biopic, and concentrated on his rise to
prominence in music circles,
his philosophy on showcasing music and entertainment, his family issues, his
bankruptcies, and his battle with the lung cancer that eventually took
him in 2007. Or, the film could have just made Kristal a
supporting player, instead concentrating on the overall life span of
the club itself and the
ups and downs of its existence, and the day-to-day operations as it
became, quite inadvertently, an iconic institution. Or,
perhaps best of all, it could have solely concentrated on the impact
it had on the punk rock scene, skipping over all of the trials and
tribulations of its owner and his financial struggles, solely giving
us the story of the rise and fall of punk rock through the windows of
the famous nightclub mecca throughout the 1970s.
By giving us all three, CBGB gives us none of them enough to
satisfy,
breathlessly running from one to the other to the other, never quite
lingering long enough in any of them for poignancy to set in.
Miller edits the film using a visually appealing comic-book paneled
style, as if the film were ripped right out of the illustrated pages
of Punk magazine (the publication's origin itself exists as a
prominent subplot of the film), which was one of the main publications
that wrote at length on the CBGB scene at the time. It whooshes
from point to point, only occasionally stopping to catch its breath as
it name drops a plethora of bands portrayed by mostly no-name actors.
However, on a positive note, this technique does bolster the amount of
great punk and new wave songs on the film's soundtrack, which may be
the most appealing aspect of CBGB to many viewers.
Then there are the acts that get a bigger share of the spotlight,
particularly the Dead Boys, a punk band from Cleveland that would
become known for their outlandish live performances, which included
self-mutilation, mock attempts at suicide and sexual acts performed on
the stage. Hilly would try to manage their act, though their
brash style wasn't always just an act, as their self-destructive
attitude made them a wild card to handle as a musical act.
Television (the band) also is given a bit more time as the one of the
first bands of the punk era to perform regularly at CBGB's.
Blondie's Debbie Harry (Akerman, Rock of
Ages) and Iggy Pop (Foo Fighters' drummer, Hawkins)
recur quite often, possibly for their eye-candy appeal more so
than their importance to the club's story. In most regards,
however, these musicians are portrayed more as larger-than-life
caricatures than as real-life characters.
One can almost see the checklist Miller may have had in hand in striving
to make sure to cram in every prominent musical act, every major
event, and every notable facet of the club itself (the disgusting
bathrooms, pest control issues, and unhealthy kitchen conditions among
them). While it's nice to see such bands as The Police and
Talking Heads portrayed in the film, these appearances could have been
relegated to an end-of-movie montage without stopping the story
momentum every two minutes. It's also disappointing that the
famous acts performing on stage are not really performing, as the
studio version of the songs kicks out and the actors or actresses
merely lip-sync off of their well-known album tracks. Even if they didn't
quite sound like the original acts, having live, grungy performances
would have gone a long way to the authentic CBGB feel than a cavalcade
of all-too-polished make-believe, though I will concede that it may
have compromised the nightclub's rule on only playing original
material on the stage to have what is essentially nothing but covers.
Despite lots of verve and visual energy, CBGB doesn't garner
enough laughs to succeed as a comedy, nor relatable moments to be an
absorbing drama. Nostalgic punk rock aficionados may be more forgiving
in what ends up being a high-budget fan film, though the glossy
treatment, glaring anachronisms, and lack of actual punk rock pedigree
will limit the street cred (not to mention much of the film is shot,
not in the Bowery, but in Savannah, GA). While Rickman, who also
starred in Miller's previous film, Bottle Shock,
is fine in the role as the occasionally unlikeable Hilly, at 67
years old, he's a bit long in the tooth to be playing a man in his
mid-40s, and his lack of connection with the music scene may result in
a lack of connection with its intended audience as well. Had
CBGB been filmed with the same vibe as the music it portrays --
underground, filthy, edgy, improvisational, rebellious, and in-your-face -- it
would probably be an instant cult hit, instead of the
shallow, sugar-coated and touristy overview we get here.
