Following the success of his TV productions "Culloden" and controversial "The War Game", Peter Watkins turned to the subjects of fame, consumerism, the church and the pop music business for this ambitious black satire set in the near future. Recalling John Lennon's (in)famous remark about the Beatles being bigger than Jesus Christ, here we are presented with a young, handsome pop singer, Paul Jones, late of Manfred Mann, mass-marketed to the public as some sort of Messianic figure, but whose every move and utterance is controlled and scripted for him by his management team.
The film starts with a well-staged powerful scene demonstrating the Steven Shorter character's impact on his adulatory public in a staged concert situation to brooding, pounding music as he acts out a bizarre crime and punishment retribution scene driving his fans of mostly young women into a frenzy of excitement. It seems that this young man is the most successful star the entertainment industry has ever known and we see him used to advertise the most banal of products. With seemingly no artistic input to his work, here we have a man of the people set apart from society, with no inner life of his own. He has no friends or confidantes, not even his band mates, manager or record producer until he runs into a beautiful young female artist, played by Jean Shrimpton, top model of the time, with whom he starts a tenuous human connection. Can she help him find himself, even as he's propelled into a ludicrous business enterprise promoting, of all things, religion which sees a change in his material from the dark power of his recent rebellious-sounding music to rock versions of "Onward Christian Shoulders" and "Jerusalem"?
Rather like young Steve himself, the film ultimately can't bear the various loads piled upon it. I found the tie-in with the church just too ridiculous and obvious to accept, especially as Lennon had already effectively enunciated its fast-fading influence in society. It works slightly better as an exposé of the shallowness of fame and the machinations of moneyed interests in the music industry but ultimately this too lacks incisive focus.
The set-piece musical scenes are well-staged, the opening scene-setter I've already mentioned but particularly Shorter's coming-out as a Christian at a major outdoor concert, deliberately staged as a neo-Nazi type event, with his blackshirted group wearing Union Jack armbands, giving Nazi salutes in a setting reminiscent of Leni Reifenstahl's work in Germany before the war. However, it's all a bit heavy-handed and slow-moving, with too many static scenes over-staying their welcome.
Jones and Shrilmpton are undoubtedly pretty faces but there's little spark between them and their limited acting experience and indeed ability is obvious throughout. One wonders if the more charismatic Mick Jagger, who I readily appreciate is no Olivier in the acting stakes, or Julie Christie might have worked better in the lead roles, while no one else in the cast really steps out of the background to act as a makeweight for their deficiencies, where again you could imagine someone like Dirk Bogarde, for one, perhaps giving more heft to the role of the profiteering financier pulling the strings behind the scenes.
Still, the film doesn't lack ambition, the musical soundtrack by Mike Leander is as interesting as it is sometimes odd (especially the Byrds-like take on "Jerusalem") and the crowd-scenes exemplify Watkins' already-acknowledged skill in these. Ultimately though, it was hard to really care for "our Steve" in a film which couldn't quite bear the cross it had made for its own back.
The film starts with a well-staged powerful scene demonstrating the Steven Shorter character's impact on his adulatory public in a staged concert situation to brooding, pounding music as he acts out a bizarre crime and punishment retribution scene driving his fans of mostly young women into a frenzy of excitement. It seems that this young man is the most successful star the entertainment industry has ever known and we see him used to advertise the most banal of products. With seemingly no artistic input to his work, here we have a man of the people set apart from society, with no inner life of his own. He has no friends or confidantes, not even his band mates, manager or record producer until he runs into a beautiful young female artist, played by Jean Shrimpton, top model of the time, with whom he starts a tenuous human connection. Can she help him find himself, even as he's propelled into a ludicrous business enterprise promoting, of all things, religion which sees a change in his material from the dark power of his recent rebellious-sounding music to rock versions of "Onward Christian Shoulders" and "Jerusalem"?
Rather like young Steve himself, the film ultimately can't bear the various loads piled upon it. I found the tie-in with the church just too ridiculous and obvious to accept, especially as Lennon had already effectively enunciated its fast-fading influence in society. It works slightly better as an exposé of the shallowness of fame and the machinations of moneyed interests in the music industry but ultimately this too lacks incisive focus.
The set-piece musical scenes are well-staged, the opening scene-setter I've already mentioned but particularly Shorter's coming-out as a Christian at a major outdoor concert, deliberately staged as a neo-Nazi type event, with his blackshirted group wearing Union Jack armbands, giving Nazi salutes in a setting reminiscent of Leni Reifenstahl's work in Germany before the war. However, it's all a bit heavy-handed and slow-moving, with too many static scenes over-staying their welcome.
Jones and Shrilmpton are undoubtedly pretty faces but there's little spark between them and their limited acting experience and indeed ability is obvious throughout. One wonders if the more charismatic Mick Jagger, who I readily appreciate is no Olivier in the acting stakes, or Julie Christie might have worked better in the lead roles, while no one else in the cast really steps out of the background to act as a makeweight for their deficiencies, where again you could imagine someone like Dirk Bogarde, for one, perhaps giving more heft to the role of the profiteering financier pulling the strings behind the scenes.
Still, the film doesn't lack ambition, the musical soundtrack by Mike Leander is as interesting as it is sometimes odd (especially the Byrds-like take on "Jerusalem") and the crowd-scenes exemplify Watkins' already-acknowledged skill in these. Ultimately though, it was hard to really care for "our Steve" in a film which couldn't quite bear the cross it had made for its own back.