Virtual Fools

Sorry for the impossibly long title to this post. Back in 2005, I was lucky enough to provide some support research and capsule reviews for John Kenneth Muir’s book The Rock & Roll Film Encyclopedia (eventually published in 2007 by Applause Books).  The book is jam-packed with information about rock films and the conventions of the “rock genre.”  I wrote several reviews for the book–though you’ll have to get a copy to find out which ones–but two were left on the cutting room floor.  Below is one of those reviews, which didn’t work for space issues (the other, coming soon, dealt with what could more appropriately be called a “Rap” film, a genre that John decided deserved its own full-length book treatment).

The London Rock & Roll Show (1973)

Film Editor: Thomas Schwalm.  Cinematography: Peter Whitehead et. al.  Produced by: Peter Clifton.  Exec. Produced by: Ron Faulk and Ray Faulk. Directed by: Peter Clifton.  Running Time: 84 min (some prints as short as 24 min)

Peter Clifton’s film of the historic pioneers of rock and roll, shot at Wembley Stadium on August 5th, 1972 and produced for theatrical release the following year.  Both nostalgia and energy hover over the sets by Bo Diddley, Jerry Lee Lewis, Bill Haley and the Comets, Little Richard, and headliner Chuck Berry.  The mixture of performance and interview gives a good sense of the paradox confronting most of the musicians: despite a decline in popularity, the demands of the show are to bring a slate of greatest hits to a new generation of rock fans more familiar with The Who and The Rolling Stones (Mick Jagger makes an appearance and puts the age question into perspective).  This mini-festival drew the gamut of British youth sub-cultures, and part of the pleasure in watching the film now is in witnessing the Teddy Boys, Bikers, Rockers, and proto-punks strut their stuff.

Diddley’s bluesy set sports solid renditions of “Road Runner” and “Mona.”  Lewis brings his rollicking showmanship and outspoken personality to the fray, indirectly clashing with Little Richard for the title of the King of Rock (a title later given to Bill Haley by an announcer).  Compared the stage presence of Lewis, Haley’s run-through of “Rock Around the Clock,” though a crowd-pleaser, is trite and hopelessly dated.  Little Richard, in extensive interview sequences, points out the greatest irony of all—for all of his showmanship and passion, his music (and rock music in general) has always been consumed by a mainly White audience.  Richard’s extended set brings bravura to “Tutti Frutti” and “Good Golly, Miss Molly,” amongst others, but his pessimism dampers the celebratory veneer of most of the concert.  Berry closes, combining the performative sense of Little Richard with the mastery of Diddley.

As a movie, The London Rock and Roll Show feels haphazard, though the inclusion of candid interviews makes it a curiosity piece worth searching for.  The mixture of “the old” with the burgeoning possibilities of “the new” attests to the longevity of rock, but in the process gives a truncated shelf-life to some of the tamer aspects of the Golden Age sensibility. Available on DVD.

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Note: One of the lead cameramen on this film was Peter Whitehead, whose film TONITE LET’S ALL MAKE LOVE IN LONDON is one of the best on the British scene of the 1960s.  Whitehead had a knack for capturing the energy of rock.  He was responsible for chronicles of The Beach Boys, The Rolling Stones, and Pink Floyd.