The Next Big Thing

Now that I’ve watched “You’re Gonna Miss Me” twice, I feel slightly better versed to blog about it. I purposely didn’t write anything earlier because my first encounter totally depressed me. That and the fact that I didn’t want to spoil anything for readers who I knew would go along tonight. Anyway, it’s not what I expected and although there is performance footage in it, the main crux is a kind of Erickson Vs Erickson for custody of Roky. It's also too long. The stuff with his dad and Sumner’s therapist border on Larry David territory, but not in a good way. Patti Smith, Byron Coley, Gregg Turner and Thurston Moore get a short anecdote each and there are a few major players in Roky’s career missing that might have been able to balance the viewing experience away from being almost exploitative. In his apartment, where he tended to lock himself away, he turned on all kind of instruments and appliances to create a din that may somehow have kept his demons at a fathomable level. Like a sonic force field. I wanted a film that concentrated on the music, that celebrated what he means in the rock firmament. Roky is responsible for some of the most heart-rending music ever made. Any hint of that is buried deep in dysfunctional ugliness that ends up tainting any positive trajectory this may have set out with. By the end, Roky seems to be making progress and as we know he’s been doing shows since so that’s something. My overall feeling with the film is of disappointment. I know you most probably need to see it for yourself and by all means do but beware of the doldrums it may banish you too is all.