Mossman on music: American Idiot

The Green Day-inspired musical reviewed.

The new Green Day musical reminds me of the bit in Naked Gun 33 1/3 where they’re reading out the Oscar nominations for Best Supporting Actress. “Fatal Affair: One woman’s ordeal to overcome the death of her cat, set against the background of the Hindenburg Disaster”; “Basic Analysis: One woman’s fight against a yeast infection, set against the background of the tragic Buffalo Bills season of 1968”. Billie Joe Armstrong’s two-hour stage show is one man’s failure to put his trousers on, set against the backdrop of 9/11 and the invasion of Iraq.

It is churlish to criticise the plot of a Juke Box musical. Queen’s We Will Rock You follows a group of “Bohemians” fighting against “Radio Gaga” (processed music, boy bands) and searching for the elusive “Brighton Rock” (a guitar buried in a cave); Rock Of Ages has developers trying to knock down the club where all the characters hang out, simply to facilitate a segue into Starship’s "We Built This City". In many ways, the worse the link, the more fun that moment of recognition.

But there’s something grim about Green Day’s attempt to turn their Grammy-winning concept album (“a response to the realities of the post 9/11 era”) into a stage musical – not because the subject is too heavy, but because, judging by how fearfully they tiptoe around it on stage, the “promise” of 9/11 has simply been used to put bums on seats.

Of course you don’t want to see people dancing round the Twin Towers (and you don’t). I’m not living in America: perhaps this masterpiece of vaguery worked better there – it managed 421 nights on Broadway, though Armstrong had to start appearing in it himself in order to up the ratings. But two dozen TV screens broadcasting a garbled narrative about all sorts of nasty things like AIDS and earthquakes (and terrorism) while lead character Johnny cries “I’m fed up of afternoons of shit-talking and blah-fucking-blah” is not a poignant rumination on an era, and shouldn’t be billed as one.

In Green Day’s original 2004 album, Johnny was called Jesus of Suburbia. He met a punk freedom fighter and fell in love with a woman (called Whatsername) who represented “mother revolution”. It wasn’t Bertolt Brecht but it meant something – it was impassioned, and ambitious, and bold for a snarky little punk rock band to come out with a song called "Wake Me Up When September Ends".

It’s assumed that the musical-going public are too thick to handle allegory, so rather than those abstract figures we’ve got Johnny, Tunny and Matt. The former becomes a junkie, and when that doesn’t work out he comes home deducing, “She was right, I am an idiot … This is my rage. This is my love. This is my town.” Apart from its visualisation of chronic loserdom in Johnny, the show’s political content is focused on Tunny, who is seduced into war with the baffling libretto “[his] dream turned red, white and blue! But I thought that good guys don't wear red, white, and blue! Nobody seems to agree on anything these days!” The stage is briefly awash with dancing soldiers but no actual war is mentioned, just as no president is mentioned (there’s a truncated clip of George Bush’s “you’re either with us…”) and no real-life, world-changing event.

Stage shows generate regular cash and introduce your back catalogue to a new audience. Billie Joe is not exactly up the dumper – Green Day’s new album ¡Uno! has been met, as the saying goes, with a mixed critical reaction, he’s now 40 and he went into rehab last month following a meltdown on stage in Las Vegas: it’s not hard to guess why someone thought this musical would be a good idea. But Green Day, unlike Queen or Abba, don’t have enough hits to fill a full-length stage show – just three or four; they’d have been better off harnessing their “slacker” thing and going down the Avenue Q or Loserville route, if they really wanted to see their name in lights. And maybe there is a “post-9/11” musical to be written one day – by Stephen Colbert, or David and Amy Sedaris, or Jon Stewart, or maybe all four of them together. Well, maybe.

Green Day’s "American Idiot" is at the Edinburgh Playhouse next week and on a national tour, ending at London’s Hammersmith Apollo in December.

Billie Joe Armstrong on Broadway with the cast of American Idiot. Photo: Getty Images.

Kate Mossman is the New Statesman's arts editor and pop critic.

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Commons confidential: Alastair Campbell's crafty confab

Campbell chats, Labour spats, and the moderate voice in Momentum.

Tony Blair’s hitman Alastair Campbell doesn’t have a good word to say about Jeremy Corbyn, so perhaps that helps to explain his summit with Theresa May’s joint chief of staff Fiona Hill. The former Labour spinner and the powerful consigliera in the current Tory Downing Street regime appeared to get along famously during an hour-long conversation at the Royal Horseguards Hotel, just off Whitehall.

So intense was the encounter – which took place on a Wednesday morning, before Prime Minister’s Questions – that the political pair didn’t allow a bomb scare outside to intrude, moving deeper into the hotel lounge instead to continue the confab. We may only speculate on the precise details of the consultation. And yet, as a snout observed, it isn’t rocket science to appreciate that Hill would value tips from Campbell, while a New Labour zealot plying his trade to high-paying clients through the lobbyists Portland could perhaps benefit by privately mentioning his access to power. My enemy’s enemy is my friend.

Is Ted Heath the next VIP blank to be drawn by police investigations into historic child sex abuse? The Wiltshire plod announced a year ago, with great fanfare outside the deceased PM’s home in Salisbury, that it would pursue allegations against Sailor Ted. Extra officers were assigned and his archive, held at the Bodleian Library in Oxford, was examined. I hear that the Tory peer David Hunt, the ermined chair of the Sir Edward Heath Charitable Foundation, recently met the cops. The word is that the Heath inquiry has uncovered nothing damaging and is now going through the motions.

The whisper in Labour circles is that the Momentum chair, Jon Lansman, is emerging as an unlikely voice cautioning against permanent revolution in the party and opposing a formal challenge from within Corbynista ranks to the deputy leader, Tom Watson. His strategy is two steps forward, one step back. Jezza’s vanguard is as disputatious as any other political movement.

The Tribune Group of MPs, relaunching on 2 November in parliament, will be a challenger on the Labour left to the Socialist Campaign Group, which ran Corbyn as its leadership candidate. Will Hutton is to speak at the Commons gathering. How times change. I recall Tony Blair courting “Stakeholder” Hutton before the 1997 election, but then ignoring him in high office. With luck, the Tribunites will be smarter and more honourable.

Politics imitates art when a Plaid Cymru insider calls the nationalists’ leader, Leanne Wood, “our Birgitte Nyborg”, a reference to the fictional prime minister in Borgen. Owain Glyndwr must be turning in his grave, wherever it is.

Kevin Maguire is the associate editor (politics) of the Daily Mirror

Kevin Maguire is Associate Editor (Politics) on the Daily Mirror and author of our Commons Confidential column on the high politics and low life in Westminster. An award-winning journalist, he is in frequent demand on television and radio and co-authored a book on great parliamentary scandals. He was formerly Chief Reporter on the Guardian and Labour Correspondent on the Daily Telegraph.

This article first appeared in the 20 October 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Brothers in blood