Live Forever John Dower First Look (2003) DVD Available at Amazon.com

However, having been as entrenched in the Britpop phenomenon as was humanly possible in North America during the halcyon days of the mid-nineties (Toronto was recognized both culturally and industrially as the music's home-away-from-home during this period, a claim supported both by per capita sales of singles and LPs and the prevalence of warm-up gigs and one-offs immediately north of the US border), my main gripe with Live Forever is how casually Dower ignores or fails to identify the other major components of the genre's foundation. Specifically, there is no mention of the role independent labels played in building the community of listeners that would catapult Oasis into stardom (i.e Creation Records), nor is there any real consideration of the more marginal (but certainly no less influential) artists.

Sure, Oasis, Blur and Pulp proved to have a global impact and thereby assured that their names traveled far beyond the craggy coast of the United Kingdom. But what of seminal groups like Catherine Wheel, Radiohead and The Verve? These groups played just as significant a role in the Britpop explosion, identifying the margins of the sound's commercial potential with their varied brands of guitar-driven madness, academic doodling and drugged-out psychedelia. The biggest of these holes is the one left by The Verve -- their name is used in the film's promotion material, and an excerpt of "Bittersweet Symphony" appears more than once during the film itself, yet not a single member of the band appears in the film, nor does the filmmaker acknowledge the role the group played in Britpop's commercial translation in North America. Radiohead, also acknowledged in the film's promotional campaign, is only included by way of a brief uncredited excerpt from the "Street Spirit" video. Far too many bands are silenced by the history Live Forever presents.

The inclusion and regular appearance of Massive Attack's Robert "3D" del Naja are similarly odd. Three Massive Attack releases are featured in the film's Britpop chronology (a recurring visual cue that informs the viewer of the most significant Britpop releases), and 3D is interviewed at length, but apart from his comments on Massive Attack's unique brand of music and geographic distance from the centre of the pop phenomenon, the filmmaker fails to properly situate trip-hop in relation to the global successes of Blur and Oasis. When Portishead's Dummy finally makes its appearance in the aforementioned chronology, it seems clear this is a style of music the filmmaker appreciates; he was simply unable to negotiate its place in his historiographic exercise.

Aesthetically, Live Forever is quite beautifully shot -- on film! -- and there's a flair to the images that underscores the excesses of the short-lived cultural phenomenon. Specifically, interior and exterior establishing shots of significant rehearsal spaces, studios, venues and social hang-outs are introduced by way of striking, slow-moving tracking shots; these serve as welcome relief from the cavalcade of talking heads that comprise most of the film.

The true strength of Dower's film is how many of the interview subjects have responded to his off-screen, often unseen questions with remarks that are easily unified within sequences that subsequently cut straight to the point of the director's central thesis: that Britpop was as much a political phenomenon as a cultural one, and its life and quick death were influenced by the decline of the conservative Tories and the rapid rise to power of Tony Blair's Labour Party. Sleeper's scary smart (and still gorgeous) Louise Wener and Blur's Damon Albarn offer insightful cultural and political analyses of Britpop and give the film an intelligence too often lacking in music documentaries. Hell, even the bonehead Gallagher brothers chime in with a few words that suggest they've really given the whole hullabaloo some serious thought (well, at least Noel has). (I should note here that I hadn't realized how difficult it is to understand the various regional British accents and colloquialisms until my girlfriend confessed to not understanding a single word from the film -- the lack of optional English subtitles thus appears to be a major oversight.)

The disc itself suffers in terms of presentation and supplemental material. A terribly annoying introductory menu pathway requires that a series of promotional trailers is screened before the film itself begins. There is no "title menu"; the film begins as soon as the trailers have passed. Apart from the film, there is nothing else to see -- no background on the production of the film, no introduction to the filmmaker (except for the trailer for his first film), and no guide or bonus material in relation to the music itself. I can't help but think that it couldn't have been terribly difficult to include a few videos from the featured artists, or at least some unedited interview material to further flesh out their thoughts on the subject at hand. For these reasons, Live Forever seems better suited to be rental item than permanent part of your collection.

-- Mike Baker