Image courtesy of Vertigo Films
Punk rock warlord versus world-weary repentant
The Future is Unwritten, Julian Temple’s tribute to Joe Strummer, traverses the link between the man and the legend
By Sheba White
Published: November 20th, 2007 | 9:43am
English rhythm guitarist, vocalist, and lyricist Joe Strummer lived
the ultimate rock hero’s life by the time he unexpectedly died from
heart failure three days short of Christmas 2002. By all accounts
Strummer fit more into his 50 years than most: evolving from bohemian
commune leader (the 101ers) to legendary punk frontman (the Clash) to
reflective rock-polka guru (the Mescaleros). The arc of Strummer’s life
was the stuff that millions of little boys dream about, a sort of white
man in rocknroll palais to pun a much-loved Clash song. Identity
changes, doting girlfriends, international success, and an egomaniacal
cast of characters infiltrated Strummer’s life and are now inextricable
from the punk legend that has become Joe Strummer©. With such textured
life fodder to mine, one wonders how a documentary film about
Strummer’s life could go wrong.
Julian Temple’s Joe Strummer: The Future is Unwritten is the
answer. Beginning with Strummer’s childhood as the son of an
intercontinental politician and a kinetic, free-spirited mother — The Future
is chock full of enough schmaltzy effects to give noted PBS
documentarian Ken Burns a run for his money. “I’d like you to write
punk rock warlord,” Strummers’ sultry, gritty English voice says at
film’s open. “With warlord being one word,” he adds. From there it’s a
series of primarily predictable interviews with foes, friends, and
family, made all the more confusing in that the interviewees go
unidentified. Not a fan of the Clash or unaware of key players in
Strummer’s life? Well then tough punk luck.
Occasionally Temple spliced these interviews with timely, but primarily
uninteresting, archival period footage and interesting, but not nearly
enough, rare footage of Strummer’s still powerful, hair-raising
performances tossed in for the Clash-o-phile. The bulk of the film,
however, rests on the bonfire-lit interviews with early punk
provocateurs, interviewees who build a steady argument for Joe
Strummer, the man, and depressingly center around his struggles with
his identity. Most of these interviews are, like The Future,
filtered through the lens of a grief-stricken love — a perfectly
understandable quality, given how recent and unexpected Strummer’s
death still feels and how very much he is and was loved, but it’s hard
to say if this tactic gives good documentary for its subject. A mature
portrait is sensitively drawn here, but the excitement that Strummer
represents for fans outside the bonfire is lost.
If the documentary focused on the film’s tantalizing, admittedly
immaturely provocative, and faster-paced moments: audio excerpts of
Strummer DJ’ing, the animated exigencies of Strummer’s prolific and
charming lifetime collection of doodles (which surprisingly evoke John
Lennon’s similar impromptu artwork), or fan interviews outside of those
closest to Strummer, it may have succeeded in a way that would have
seemed more in keeping with the punk aesthetic of its likely viewers.
Unfortunately what Temple seems to be downplaying is exactly the thing
audiences familiar with Strummer will want: Tell us about Joe Strummer,
the punk rock warlord. Tell us how he unarguably had a hand in writing
so many futures.
Issue #35
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