DVD: Rolling Like A Stone
The Rolling Stones are rarely out of the news for long. Recent rumours of a fiftieth anniversary reunion remain unconfirmed, Keith Richards has been named GQ’s author of the year for his impressive autobiography, and Mick Jagger has fallen out with his former band mate for revelations made in said memoir. With that in mind, it’s a relief to see a nostalgic look back at a more harmonious time in the band’s history in the form of Swedish documentary Rolling Like A Stone.
"Despite hanging the concept for the entire documentary on The Rolling Stones, they have very little presence in proceedings."
The documentary takes an amateur 8mm home movie as its starting point. Filmed at a Malmo house party in 1965, it features footage of Keith Richards, Mick Jagger and Brian Jones schmoozing with local musicians and fans.
Forty years on, directors Stefan Berg and Magnus Gertten revisit many of those captured on film to recall their memories of the Stones and examine how their identities were shaped during the ‘60s…
The film opens with the grainy footage of the fateful night forty years previously. There is no audio; just hand-held shots of the three Rolling Stones mingling with the partygoers. Voiceovers from those involved identify friends and wonder aloud what words were being exchanged in the conversations between silent participants. There’s nothing remarkable about the footage at all – save for the youthful faces of the world’s most famous band.
Fast forwarding into the future, that unremarkable air remains. One of those present at the party, Tommy Hansson, reflects wistfully on his past life as a member of rock group Namelosers. The group were huge in Sweden, but unlike his famous peers, fame has faded for Hansson. Initial shots of the erstwhile rocker look extremely televisual – framed uninventively and bleached of colour. Subsequent images of stills and concert footage from the era are more interesting, but the visual impact of the opening is lost immediately.
Hansson’s story is, quite frankly, dull. Perhaps a Swedish audience would care more for a character who is part of their musical fabric (Namelosers were once referred to as the ‘Swedish Stones’), but his perfunctory story is uninspiring and presented unimaginatively. It’s very difficult to care very much, despite Hansson himself appearing to be a fairly affable man.
Predictably, footage of The Rolling Stones themselves is more interesting. But it’s hardly original or inspiring watching stock footage of the group getting off an aeroplane. Seeing the band flushed with youth is relatively interesting, but such images are easily obtainable elsewhere – and often presented more stylishly.
Given how little has been done to create a compelling narrative between the characters, it is very difficult to maintain interest.
Occasionally, there are flashes of insight. 8mm footage of Brian Jones at the party leads to some interesting sound bites regarding his vanity and obsessive hair-washing routine – providing a neat link to Ola Ström’s tales of being the first long-haired boy in Malmo. A former member of The Gonks, Ström’s story is interesting, primarily due to the obvious parallels between his fashion sense and musical style – both of which could have seen him pass for one of The Beatles – and the British sensibility of the ‘60s. Again, though, the combination of talking heads interviews and old concert footage lacks style or impact.
A multitude of the partygoers are presented in Rolling Like A Stone, but the links between them are, at best, tenuous. Attending one particular party forty years ago offers no guarantees that any of the subjects will have gone on to live interesting or remarkable lives. And so it proves. The domestic dramas of little known pop stars are no more interesting than the domestic dramas of anyone else – and given how little has been done to create a compelling narrative between the characters, it is very difficult to maintain interest in the film: it’s only the hope of snatches of original Stones coverage which keeps the audience interested. Yet, even when that footage crops, it seems slightly incongruous – like it doesn’t really belong alongside the everyday tales of those who just happened to have met the group once.
The truest link between the band and the subjects of the documentary is Mona Ovendal – a former lover of the late Brian Jones. Her very real relationship with one of The Rolling Stones ought to have been the focus of the film – she’s the most striking visual presence, as well as having he only genuinely interesting tale to tell. Her expressive face and personal insight into the tortured Jones holds the attention far more effectively than anything else in the film – and it’s clear that she still wonders whether she could have done something to help save him. It’s a mystery as to why the directors didn’t make this the centrepiece of their production: not least when they captured on camera a wonderfully poignant (yet wordless) exchange between Ovendal and her current husband.
Despite hanging the concept for the entire documentary on The Rolling Stones, they have very little presence in proceedings. Occasional snatches of 8mm film, a few insights into their habits or characters, and very little of their music (presumably the rights were too expensive) are all there is to be seen of the band. Instead, the film focuses on characters who, outside of their native Sweden, are unlikely to be of great interest to viewers. Coupled with the televisual style of the film, this means that there is little of interest for anyone but the most obsessive Stones fan or music historian.
