When You're Strange: A Film About The Doors
When You’re Strange is director Tom DiCillo’s loving yet flawed homage to The Doors. The film is comprised almost entirely of original footage of the band, shot between 1966 and 1971. It follows members John Densmore, Robby Krieger, Ray Manzarek, and Jim Morrison from their first performance to heated recording sessions, and ultimately, to Morrison’s tragic death at the age of twenty-seven. When You’re Strange survives on the momentum of the bands’ energetic presence and explosive sound. Footage of live performances prove entrancing, with Morrison’s unpredictable behavior and chaotic energy filling the stage.
The film portrays the band as the voice of a generation—musical innovators voicing the anxiety and hope of the 1960s youth movement. DiCillo places the personal narrative of The Doors against the national narrative of the United States, illustrating how The Doors’ music fed off of the violence of Vietnam, the hope of the Civil Rights movement, and the anxiety of a nation at war. DiCillo is perhaps too enamored with the idea of Morrison as a tragic hero, as the narration refers to Morrison as a “shaman” with a poet’s soul “trapped between heaven and hell.”
Unfortunately, the frenetic pace of the original footage is undercut by the stilted narration, provided by Johnny Depp. Even Depp’s thoughtful reading cannot surmount the series of bland factual statements and flowery metaphors that comprise the script. Throughout the film, the band (particularly Morrison himself) is visually and aurally described in relation to fire and flames—an obvious and groan-inducing reference to The Doors hit “Light My Fire.” These aural metaphors are reinforced by the image of an extinguishing flame.
Ultimately, When You’re Strange is an enjoyable and reverential examination of The Doors that accurately presents the zeitgeist of the time. The film sustains itself on the vibrancy and charisma of the original footage, which keeps the film from sinking under the weight of its fragmented narration. Doors fans will enjoy it for its rare glimpses into the band’s history, but the film itself lacks the verve of its subject.
Written by: Joanna Chlebus, April 9th 2010
What exactly is the verve of the subject? Do you not think that perhaps the concept of Morrison being in limbo between heaven and hell - that metaphor you so didactically informed us of, was not rather a allusion to "The Marriage of Heaven and Hell", a piece by William Blake (a poet Morrison deeply respected and admired ) and not, instead, in regards to a song written by the band's guitarist, Robbie Krieger?
You make some interesting points though. I particularly enjoyed the way you put together your strike against Dicillo's writing in the second paragraph. It works, but I still disagree: Morrison has a shroud of mystique in numerous circles so thick that to this day it's difficult to call the man a drunk without having someone in the room perk up wherever you are and trudge over like an over-zealous vegan feminist - being barraged by - well, someone who thinks the world has bigger issues such as climate change or capitalism or religious fundamentalism! - who cannot be shunned and will make you read - no, believe in all the sentimentality they share. I may not be one of these people, but I'm 24 - I hopefully will be someday - just as I'm sure you might be too in your own way.
Good review. But you must admit, the rockumentary docks; Morrison isn't at fault here as your review somewhat underlies. It's the director - that's two now, that haven't been up to par in representing the Doors. Do you not agree?