Good news this week! Cinemas in West Virginia will be reopening next weekend, so hopefully soon we'll have something new to talk about. Until then, let's revisit a sentimental favorite of mine: the Decline of Western Civilization Part II: The Metal Years. With Ratt's classic 80s nugget Round and Round having made its way back to the Top 40 (thanks, Geico!), it feels timely!
Following the original Decline's look at the world of punk rock, director Penelope Spheeris dives into the 80s Sunset Strip scene with Decline II.
This will be more of a discussion than a review, so do expect spoilers.
I was 21, almost 22 when the Metal Years was released. The 80s were my heyday, and if there's a band in this movie I haven't met, I've probably at least talked on the phone or exchanged letters (remember those?) with them. I am, perhaps, too close to the subject matter to be entirely objective, but, looking at it with 53-year-old eyes...perhaps not.
Artists featured in the Metal Years are fairly easily divided into three groups: bona fide rock stars (Lemmy, KISS, Alice Cooper, Ozzy, Poison, Aerosmith, Megadeth), the real up-and-comers (Faster Pussycat, Vixen, WASP), and the wannabes, ranging from groups like Odin and London, who were actually gigging on the Strip at that time but didn't get much further, to random kids the film doesn't even bother calling by name, all of whom are absolutely certain they'll soon be taking their rightful places among rock's royalty. Interviews tend to take two roads: wild tales of debauchery, and plans for stardom that are confidently spoken, but loosely planned at best. Sometimes it plays like a hilarious parade of idiots; sometimes it's just sad.
Decline II's subjects freely discuss sex, drugs, and rock n' roll, and it is glaringly apparent how poorly their attitudes and affectations have aged. KISS' Paul Stanley is interviewed in bed with a bevy of scantily-clad women who bat their eyelashes seductively and giggle on cue. His bandmate Gene Simmons overtly gives a female shop employee a bawdy once-over and unconvincingly pretends to be distracted by her looks. Bill Gazzarri is every bit the creeper as he oversees a tacky dance contest at his legendary club, its aspiring model and actress contestants rivaling the rock-star hopefuls with their vacant looks and dopey comments. Cathouse's Rikki Rachtman gleefully relates how his club never turns on its air-conditioning so its female patrons won't wear too many clothes. Members of the less (and not-at-all) famous groups tell rude tales with which I'm sure they hoped to shock their female interviewer. It's all too stupid to be genuinely offensive, but it is willfully grotesque and the opposite of cool to anyone whose emotional growth wasn't stunted in their early teens. It also raises the interesting question of how much change the the #timesup / #metoo era has brought to a business where this sort of behavior has not been accepted as a dark secret, but rather has been encouraged and considered a matter of pride. Maybe the subject of the next great documentary?
Not everyone featured in Decline II comports themselves so poorly. A remarkably coherent (if a little bumbling) Ozzy Osbourne fixes breakfast while opining wisely and amusingly about the ups and downs of the industry. Standing high in the Hollywood Hills, Lemmy is clever, tough, and entirely unintimidated by...well...anything. I mean, he's Lemmy, right? Members of Megadeth pragmatically explain that it's all about the music for them, while Alice Cooper and Aerosmith's Steven Tyler and Joe Perry frankly discuss their many excesses, minus lesser mortals' clumsy attempts to shock for shock's sake.
Decline II's best and worst moments collide in Spheeris' meeting with WASP's Chris Holmes. The interview was unexpectedly rescheduled, leaving a fresh-off-the-road Holmes exhausted, intoxicated, and floating, fully dressed, in a swimming pool while alternately guzzling from a bottle of booze and pouring its contents over himself. His mother sits poolside, looking on with what must have been a broken heart as Holmes calls himself a "pile of crap," and remarks, "I don't dig being the person I am." It is a brutal, heartbreaking look at the ugly side of stardom, and — though yesterday was the first time I'd seen the movie in more than 30 years — it is a picture that has haunted me every minute since the first time I watched it. Spheeris' questions are neither mean nor indulgent, and Holmes' responses are uncontrived. It is a painful, memorable, very real bit in a movie that might otherwise be brushed off as a superficial memoir of a goofy dot on the rock history map.
Three decades on, it's impossible to watch the Metal Years without at least a tiny bit of sadness. I fear many of the wannabees didn't survive the 80s, though in my heart I hope they're all happy being accountants or insurance agents these days, with white picket fences, a few kids, and maybe bands that rehash 80s hits on weekends. Against all odds, Chris Holmes is alive and well, and continues to make music (https://www.facebook.com/ChrisHolmesOfficial/). There's a lot I still love about hair metal and the scene in general, and about this film in particular. We still repeat many of the funny and stupid quotes at my house, some so often that I'd forgotten this was the source until I rewatched it yesterday. I've never stopped listening to Faster Pussycat; I still think they're fantastic. And, even if he's a bit of a goof, I stan Riki Rachtman.
The Decline of Western Civilization, Part II: the Metal Years, clocks in at 93 minutes and is rated R for language, adult content, brief nudity, smoking, drug use, and, if I may add, generally poor taste, all of which probably make its subjects very, very proud. It is now streaming for free on Amazon Prime.
I'm too nostalgic to objectively point you towards the Decline of Western Civilization, Part II, as a great documentary, but it's a sometimes fun, sometimes sobering, sometimes downright embarrassing trip down memory lane.
Of a possible nine Weasleys, the Decline of Western Civilization, Part II gets eight.
Until next time, dear reader(s), please stay safe and well, and I'll see you at the cinema very, very soon!
