March 29, 2006

Stoned
Directed by Stephen Woolley
Opens March 31

By LESTER GRAY
Arts Editor

There is no bottom to the well from which film producers bring up drugged-out musicians: pianists on the nod, singers tripping over microphone stands, and guitar players, especially guitar players, hellbent on overdosing.

Guitarist Brian Jones (Leo Gregory) founded The Rolling Stones, which along with his flamboyance, was the alpha and omega of his contribution to rock and roll. According to the biopic Stoned, his disillusionment over the commercialization of the band, propensity for heavy drug use, and refusal to even show up at studio recordings soon led to his parting with Mick and the boys. He was fired.

The ensuing drawn-out separation process that informs this fictionalized account includes the events leading up to Jones’ mysterious death. Musically dormant, yet still receiving checks from the Stones organization, Brian continued to partake in the perks afforded the working members of the band, including an endless supply of substances to abuse and fawning women. With the purchase of an English countryside estate once belonging to A.A. Milne of Winnie the Pooh fame, he settled into a Peter Pan lifestyle of maturity deferred.

Tom Keylock (David Morrissey), the Stones’ road manager, brings in Frank Thorogood (Paddy Considine), a contractor, ostensibly to remodel the Milne place. But what really needs maintenance is Brian, and Frank’s most consuming jobs are as the rock star’s babysitter and on-call sycophant.

The relationship between Frank and Brian raises Stoned somewhat above checkstand celebrity pulp. We have the portrayal of the guitarist battling ennui, an artistic block of sorts, a character much like any other get-high in the ’60s, smoking dope, contemplating his belly button and his pecker. Jones, however, is also a prima donna in need of adulation, if not worship.

And then there’s Frank, a regular bloke who lost an eye in the military. A married man, with little on the horizon besides the start of another work day, his life could have been ordered out of a Sears catalog. He’s not a rock ’n’ roller or counter-culture sort. But what with the feel-good drugs, the drop-dead gorgeous women, and the leisure he witnesses, it’s hard not to be a bit envious — and with Brian, more than a little obsequious.

The relationship’s cruel dynamics, a study of pop idolatry, make a predictable narrative less so. But this story line develops at its own leisurely pace and until it takes shape, we must satisfy ourselves with peeking into prosaic scenes of duplicitous managers and pampered rockers.

There’s really not much in the way of musical performances, which is rather odd when you consider that we’re talking about one of the most famous bands in history. In fact, there is no real Stones music in the film at all (curiously, what we get are bands covering the Stones’ covers).

So the real mystery here is not about Brian Jones’ death, but rather his extended celebrity. And why, after he squeezed so much out of so little, 40 years later, anyone would try to squeeze any more. n