6/10
Good-Natured Story of Irish Rock Band.
21 June 2010
Warning: Spoilers
A couple of working class kids in Dublin decide to put together a band that mirrors the soul music of the USA in the 1960s. Not the Beatles, not Elvis, but do-wop and Motown. "The Irish are the blacks of Europe. Dubliners are the blacks of Ireland. And North Enders are the blacks of Dublin!" As they audition other young semi-hoods of varying talents, I kept thinking of what a curious diffusionary path this musical style -- with its African rhythms and call-and-response technique -- had taken: from West Africa, on slave ships to the Southern US, morphed into Christian gospel music, adapted by Detroit, and back across the ocean to Dublin.

It's not a style I groove to. The three young ladies who are backup singers are, by and large, okay, but the lead singers screeches and shouts and weeps with simulated transport. The sidemen on alto sax and trumpet are kewl, however, although one chides the other for spiralling -- "That's JAZZ." It's a movie that elicits smiles rather than laughter. The young folks are all pretty quirky and have problems dealing with unemployment and baby sitting. There's an almost constant use of a word pronounced "fook" or "fewk," which I take to be some kind of Dublin slang, possibly relating to fish and chips.

And there ARE a number of smiles in it. They watch tapes of performances by one of their heroes, James Brown, who does his emoting on stage, then falls to the floor after one particularly strenuous number, as if knee-capped. Aides rush to him, help him to his feet and guide him off stage. "Fluke!", says one of the kids, "Oi'd bust me knees!" Another assures him, "It's all part of the ACT." If you enjoyed "The Full Monte," which appeared six years later, you'll get a kick out of this. Also if you grew up during the Motown era.
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