Unfortunately, the rest of the movie sucks on ice.
The "characters" are either overblown clichés (death-obsessed goth girl? Check. Drugged-out drummer with mod haircut? Check check. Ubiquitous use of eyeliner? Check check check!) or ridiculously annoying people who you'd never spend six seconds with in real life.
Script-wise, this is a soggy mess. There are three people credited with the story, which makes sense as there are at least three movies stitched together. My guess is that Dave Warner wrote a comedy, Alex Proyas penned a tragedy, and Michael Udesky scribbled in a notebook while tripping on liquid acid. Then each of them tore out every fourth page of his script, threw the remaining pages up in the air, and stapled the resulting mess together.
The, um, cinematography is aggravating. Tarantino is not hip, MTV is not edgy and that disjointed text-on-screen technique went out of vogue around the 1890's. As for the trip/rave/ingestion scenes, they're as effective as PSAs: Don't do drugs! Why? They're boring as all get-out.
Overall this is a sickeningly inauthentic movie. The acting is laughable, the comedy is unfunny, the pathos makes you hate these people even more than you previously did. All the tattoos look like they were drawn on with Magic Marker. And the band's total playing time is less than two minutes. 90 seconds of that is a fantasy scene.
The ONLY reason to acknowledge the existence of this celluloid horror is its soundtrack. Featuring the Jam, the Femmes, the Cure, Roxy Music and Tom Jones - that's entertainment. Just buy the record and skip this movie entirely.
The "characters" are either overblown clichés (death-obsessed goth girl? Check. Drugged-out drummer with mod haircut? Check check. Ubiquitous use of eyeliner? Check check check!) or ridiculously annoying people who you'd never spend six seconds with in real life.
Script-wise, this is a soggy mess. There are three people credited with the story, which makes sense as there are at least three movies stitched together. My guess is that Dave Warner wrote a comedy, Alex Proyas penned a tragedy, and Michael Udesky scribbled in a notebook while tripping on liquid acid. Then each of them tore out every fourth page of his script, threw the remaining pages up in the air, and stapled the resulting mess together.
The, um, cinematography is aggravating. Tarantino is not hip, MTV is not edgy and that disjointed text-on-screen technique went out of vogue around the 1890's. As for the trip/rave/ingestion scenes, they're as effective as PSAs: Don't do drugs! Why? They're boring as all get-out.
Overall this is a sickeningly inauthentic movie. The acting is laughable, the comedy is unfunny, the pathos makes you hate these people even more than you previously did. All the tattoos look like they were drawn on with Magic Marker. And the band's total playing time is less than two minutes. 90 seconds of that is a fantasy scene.
The ONLY reason to acknowledge the existence of this celluloid horror is its soundtrack. Featuring the Jam, the Femmes, the Cure, Roxy Music and Tom Jones - that's entertainment. Just buy the record and skip this movie entirely.