Doc a tame look at Pop, The Stooges
Iggy Pop — who was born James Osterberg — is the baboon of the rock ’n’ roll animal kingdom. Footage of his psych-rock band The Stooges shows a man brilliantly tapped in to the most primitive and animalistic of energies, channelling his soul through a mesmerizing, primate-like dance. If musicians were Greek gods, Iggy Pop would be Dionysus, God of Having A Good Time.
In contrast, Gimme Danger, Jim Jarmusch’s documentary on The Stooges, is tame like sheep. In its wide array of clips — interviews with band members, quirky animations that give colour to anecdotes, faded photos and concert footage — Gimme Danger presents a cerebral celebration of a band that rarely gets its due for influencing the psych and punk movements of the 1970s, in part because it disbanded prematurely, in 1974.
Gimme Danger starts with the end, when the washed-up band members, burnt out from their horrible mismanagement by record execs, decide to call it quits after producing three semi-successful records. The film paints a picture of a band that was too weird too soon — yet one that thanklessly set the stage for music eccentricity from future acts like The Ramones. One of the film’s final shots features a cornucopia of bands and musicians influenced by The Stooges, and it goes on forever.
The out-to-lunch headspace of The Stooges is revealed through little details, such as the story of a phone conversation that sounded like it came from another planet, when band members Scott and Ron Asheton talked to their sister Kathy, whom they hadn’t touched base with in months. The development of Iggy’s physical eccentricity is also whimsically narrated — his voice-over comes from nowhere to describe his influences, but instead of naming musicians, he lists television comedy personalities such as Clarabell the Clown and Soupy Sales. Gimme Danger is interested in encapsulating all of The Stooges’ cultural touchstones.
According to Jarmusch, The Stooges is the greatest rock ’n’ roll band of all time. Gimme Danger bears witness to the director’s personal bias, rarely criticizing the band or exploring its dark sides. This is not intended to be a confessional film, but a celebration. Even the band’s drug use is shrugged off as desperate measures for desperate times.
This should be no surprise to anyone familiar with the work of Jarmusch. From casting musicians, to directing music videos, Jarmusch is the most passionate musicophile in cinema. Heck, his last film, Only Lovers Left Alive, is about vampires who are responsible for all the major music movements.
Of course, Gimme Danger is going to focus on the actual music of The Stooges.
Perhaps that’s entirely warranted. The typical music doc of late tends to focus more on the personal woes of its subjects — in the last year alone we had Amy and What Happened, Miss Simone? and Cobain: Montage of Heck. There’s nothing wrong with choosing a particular angle and letting other narrative details fade into the background, especially when a famous subject has had multiple films made about them. Sometimes a laser focus does more justice for a documentary subject than a hazy, all-encompassing approach that perfunctorily tries to tick every box.
Which is why Gimme Danger, as incomplete and biased as it may be, offers the perfect template for Jarmusch’s hyperbolic thesis. It’s a clear-headed and knowledgeable film that still knows how to have fun. Gimme Danger tells the story of The Stooges, yes, but it also reveals a filmmaker’s deep passion for music.