Gilbey on Film: rock on

Follwing the release of rock parody "Get Him to the Greek", here's the Top 10 songs in the Fictional

Get Him to the Greek is a hit-and-miss affair. Jonah Hill is Aaron Green, a timid record company stooge; and Russell Brand reprises the role of Aldous Snow, the extravagant and ridiculous English rock god and lead singer of Infant Sorrow, who falls spectacularly off the wagon shortly before a high-profile comeback gig in Los Angeles. (Brand previously played Snow in Forgetting Sarah Marshall, in which Hill was a different character -- a starstruck and possibly lovestruck waiter.) It is Aaron's job is to do whatever it takes to get Aldous from London to LA in 72 hours, although I couldn't fathom why there were only three days between the tickets going on sale and the gig itself. Oh well... It's essentially a debauched spin on My Favourite Year, with Brand in the Peter O'Toole role, and apart from the Hill/Brand rapport (they have the unforced tomfoolery of siblings) its choicest moments come in the digs at rock-star pomposity, which are no less hilarious for being so easy-peasy.

A running joke revolves around Aldous's atrocious single "African Child", with its accompanying video featuring the singer as a "white African space-Christ" and giving birth to an African baby. Those images may be freakishly funny, but the lyrics are no worse than anything in "Russians" by Sting, "Zombie" by the Cranberries or Culture Club's "The War Song" ("War, war is stupid/ And people are stupid").

There's a ripe tradition of fictional musicians conjured up within the alternative universe of cinema. If they're vivid enough, they achieve a life beyond the movie that spawned them -- think The Rutles or Spinal Tap, both of whom produced such lovingly crafted pastiches of their respective targets that the music itself acquired an autonomous worth. With his forthcoming Scott Pilgrim vs the World, released in August, Edgar Wright has taken the unusual step of assigning a different band or musician to write the music for each of the film's various fictional band; Beck, who has already scored one behind-the-scenes triumph this year by writing and producing Charlotte Gainsbourg's album IRM, has been given responsibility for the hero's band, Sex Bob-omb, so it'll be interesting to see, or rather hear, how he bends his talent to suit a group which, in the original graphic novel at least, are hopelessly undistinguished.

For now, here is my Top 10 from the Fictional Rock'n'Roll Hall of Fame:

1.The Juicy Fruits: "Goodbye Eddie Goodbye" from Phantom of the Paradise (1974).
Written by the great Paul Williams (best known, cinematically speaking, for his Bugsy Malone soundtrack). Williams also appeared in Phantom..., Brian De Palma's wacko rock spin on The Phantom of the Opera, as the toxic producer Swan, the very essence of slimeball.

2. Ellen Aim (Diane Lane): "Nowhere Fast" from Streets of Fire (1984)
A big hot chunk of operatic jukebox rock by regular Meat Loaf collaborator Jim Steinman. All that's missing is a title with parentheses.

3.Steve Shorter (Paul Jones) in Privilege (1967)
The rock star as crypto-fascist instrument of the State. It's a long way from "Do-Wah-Diddy" for Manfred Mann's Paul Jones.

4. Randy Watson (Eddie Murphy) and Sexual Chocolate in Coming to America (1987).
"You can't take away my dignity..."

5.The Hong Kong Cavaliers in The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension (1984)
Meet Buckaroo (Peter Weller): speed racer, physicist, brain surgeon, leader of his own band of adventurers, Team Banzai... and, of course, jazz-funk maestro.

6.Turner (Mick Jagger): "Memo from Turner" in Performance (1970)
"I like that. Turn it up." Performance was much sampled on Big Audio Dynamite's "E=MC2", the band's tribute to one of the film's directors, Nicolas Roeg. (That film also lent Happy Mondays two song titles -- "Mad Cyril" and "Performance" -- on their Bummed album.)

7. Curt Wild (Ewan McGregor): "TV Eye" in Velvet Goldmine (1998)
Curt Wild was raised by wolves, subjected to ECT, but still remained able to knock out a damn good Iggy Pop impression. See also the perfect "Ballad of Maxwell Demon", by Bowie surrogate Brian Slade (Jonathan Rhys Meyers).

8. The Carrie Nations (nee the Kelly Affair): "Sweet Talking Candyman" from Beyond the Valley of the Dolls (1970).
"I'd like to strap you on sometime..."

9 The Ice Plant: "Come Pet the P.U.S.S.Y" from Fear of Black Hat (1994)
Almost-forgotten hip-hop parody. The title is an "analagram" (sic) for Political Unrest Stablises Society -- Yeah!

10. The Rutles: "Goose-Step Mama" from The Rutles All You Need is Cash (1978)
Obviously.

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Ryan Gilbey is the New Statesman's film critic. He is also the author of It Don't Worry Me (Faber), about 1970s US cinema, and a study of Groundhog Day in the "Modern Classics" series (BFI Publishing). He was named reviewer of the year in the 2007 Press Gazette awards.

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Brexit… Leg-sit

A new poem by Jo-Ella Sarich. 

Forgot Brexit. An ostrich just walked into the room. Actually,
forget ostriches too. Armadillos also have legs, and shoulder plates
like a Kardashian.  Then I walked in, the other version of me, the one
with legs like wilding pines, when all of them

are the lumberjacks. Forget forests. Carbon sinks are down
this month; Switzerland is the neutral territory
that carved out an island for itself. My body
is the battleground you sketch. My body is
the greenfield development, and you
are the heavy earthmoving equipment. Forget
the artillery in the hills
and the rooftops opening up like nesting boxes. Forget about

the arms race. Cheekbones are the new upper arms
since Michelle lost out to Melania. My cheekbones
are the Horsehead Nebula and you are the Russians
at warp speed. Race you to the finish. North Korea

will go away if you stop thinking
about it. South Korea will, too. Stop thinking
about my sternum. Stop thinking about
the intricacy of my mitochondria. Thigh gaps
are the new wage gaps, and mine is like
the space between the redwood stand
and the plane headed for the mountains. Look,

I’ve pulled up a presentation
with seven different eschatologies
you might like to try. Forget that my arms
are the yellow tape around the heritage tree. Forget
about my exoskeleton. Forget
that the hermit crab
has no shell of its own. Forget that the crab ever
walked sideways into the room.
Pay attention, people.

Jo-Ella Sarich is a New Zealand-based lawyer and poet. Her poems have appeared in the Galway Review and the Poetry New Zealand Yearbook 2017.

This article first appeared in the 17 August 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Trump goes nuclear