Gimme Danger

Gimme Danger is a 2016 documentary directed by Jim Jarmusch about Iggy Pop and the Stooges.  Jarmusch is an interesting filmmaker and I admire many of his features.  Gimme Danger is rather conventional and its subject will not be to all tastes. Iggy Pop, aka Jim Osterberg, is a handsome ex-drug addict who was beautiful and reckless as a child.  He's still a good-looking and formidable old man with the grizzled appearance of a character actor in an old Western.  He's fairly articulate, although he speaks with a stutter and seems to be a reasonably competent raconteur.  However, since he spent half his life under the influence, it's not exactly clear what he recalls or how accurate his recollections might be.  The film studies Iggy's Stooges as well, the Asheton brothers from Detroit and a man named James Williamson.  When the band flamed out in 1973, the Asheton boys withdrew to Michigan and spent thirty years working in warehouses, driving cabs, and laboring in factories.  They seem to have lived for most of that time with their parents and sister, a blonde old lady who must once have been a beauty of considerable repute.  Williamson, a blonde and gorgeous child  himself (he was about 22 when the Stooges collapsed) was a protegee of David Bowie, but escaped the clutches of the Glam Rock star (a figure in many ways the exact opposite of musicians in Iggy's band), went back to college and, apparently, studied mathematics.  Williamson went into the production end of the music business, was apparently an innovator, and retired as one of the top executives of Sony Records -- this was in 2001.  About that time, Iggy was plotting the reunification of the Stooges (not the "reunion" as he insists), a successful venture in which he gathered the surviving band members (the Asheton boys and Williamson) playing a notable gig at Coachella in 2003, I think.  It seems that the Stooges may have been briefly successful again and toured until 2007 or 2008 when the heavy-set Asheton died (he went around in Nazi regalia but denied any political significance to his accoutrements).  Iggy and the rest of the band were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2010.  At the ceremony, Iggy saluted his young wife (about a third his age) and made a memorable statement that he read off a 3 by 5 card:  Music is Life and Life isn't a Business -- a sad commentary on his past fame and the various betrayals that he endured at the hands of record company execs a lot like James Williamson. A record company executive notes that he loved the Stooges but that they were "highly unprofessional"; by contrast, the Ramones were well-behaved.  

There's nothing distinctive about the film.  It consists of interviews with the charismatic Osterberg -- he sits on a kind of throne with two human skulls on adjacent tables.  (There's a lurid Basquiat-style painting behind him.)  Interspersed with Osterberg's recollections are archival footage of old Stooges concerts, mostly between 1967 and 1973 when the band collapsed since all of its members were then addicted to heroin among other things.  The period between 1973 and 2001 (that is, 28 years) is mostly ignored -- it's completely unclear what, if anything, Osterberg was doing in that period.  There's some scant footage taken at Coachella in 2003 and the ceremony at Hall of Fame, but otherwise the movie, more or less, flames out -- like its subject -- in 1973.  Iggy and the Stooges evolved a stylized approach to performing:  the band stoically plays garage-band riffs at high volume while Iggy, who seems to be double-jointed, dances around wildly on the stage.  Iggy is always shirtless when performing, exposing his rather gaunt and emaciated torso which is sometimes covered in blood.  He cuts a bizarre figure, squatting as if to defecate on the stage, strutting like a bantam rooster, and whirling around in circles while clapping his hands.  (He looks like he's imitating Mick Jagger although, for all I know, Mick may have stolen some of his trademark moves from Iggy.)  Iggy has a curious posture -- he throws back  his shoulders and contorts his back into a curve like an integral sign so that his belly is thrust forward.  He probably thinks he's leading with his pelvis, but, objectively, it looks like he's sticking out his tummy at the audience.  From time to time, he bends over backward so that he actually touches the stage with his hands held out behind him.  In one alarming sequence, he does a back flip up onto his feet, a movement that shows spectacular athletic aplomb.  He's lithe but grotesque -- it seems that he wants to move in serpentine way that is completely (and to the viewer, instinctively) repellent.  Often he dives off the stage, gets trampled, and has to be dragged like the dead Christ being removed from his cross, semi-conscious onto the stage.  The music sounds a bit like the Ramones, very fast and aggressive but with little variety -- the songs all sound the same. more or less (All Ramones songs sound alike and all Ramones songs are good -- I would hesitate to apply this principle to the Stooges' music.)  Iggy and the Stooges were a niche act, more or less a novelty, and most listeners probably would have found them annoying.  I never had any particular interest in their schtick although certain very vivid and enthusiastic writers proclaimed them to be the "world's greatest rock and roll band"; I think Robert Christgau may have made this claim as did Lester Bangs.  Osterberg is smarter than he looks and knew a lot about music -- he was a clerk in a record store in Ann Arbor (where much of the action takes place) and he carefully studied the music of people like John Cage, Miles Davis, and Sun Ra.  The film gives relatively short shrift to the Stooges' music -- I think the assumption, which is reasonable, is that if you are inclined to watch this documentary (it's about 94 minutes long), you already are a fan of the music.  There's a weird backstory to Iggy's childhood -- his parents apparently lived in a long lemon-yellow house-trailer -- but we don't learn enough about this to understand why this was.  Jarmusch provides some clips of the Lucille Ball and Desi Arnez movie The Long, Long Trailer to comment on Iggy's childhood, but this doesn't really explain why his parents lived in such a vehicle.  (There's an implication that Iggy's manic performing style was a reaction to being mercilessly bullied when he was a child.) There's a fair bit of old TV footage, fascinating if you're my age, but probably not if you are younger.  Jarmusch also provides some ugly, poorly contrived animated sequences -- this stuff doesn't add anything to the movie. The film makes big claims for the central importance of Iggy Pop and the Stooges in rock and roll culture and, for all I know this may be a correct evaluation of their influence -- I can attest hat I've known about Iggy Pop all my life, but have to admit I'd never heard a single song by Stooges until I watched this documentary.  There are cameos by all sorts of famous rock and rollers -- the MC 5 are particularly prominent in the movie since they were from Detroit and Fred "Sonic" Smith, Patti Smith's husband, is seen briefly.  Of course, Andy Warhol, Lou Reed, and their circle are also shown from time to time -- I think Jarmusch was a habitue of the same venues where these performers plied their trades.  There's a funny story about one of the Asheton brothers worrying about getting permission of the Three Stooges (some of whose routines are a highlight in the film) to use the name.  Apparently, Asheton called Moe Howard who is said to have responded to his inquiry by saying: "I don't care if you use the name the Stooges just don't fucking say you're the Three Stooges."