GETTING BACK AND MOVING FORWARDS: a review of "Paul McCartney: Man On The Run"

 

"PAUL McCARTNEY: MAN ON THE RUN"
Directed by Morgan Neville
***1/2 (three and a half stars)
RATED R 
Running Time: 1hr 55min

I find it almost impossible to pick a favorite Beatle. 

The Beatles and the four men who constituted that band--John Lennon, George Harrison, Ringo Starr and Paul McCartney--have existed within my life for the entirety of my life, influencing, educating enrapturing and inspiring me every single step of the way to a degree that it is impossible to imagine my existence without their immense presence. 

I love all four men for differing reasons yet equally and beyond their superlative musicality. For John, it was (and still remains) the unwavering passion, brutal honesty and brave fragility of self examination, witty and questioning surrealism, for being a dream weaver. For George, it was (and still remains) the ocean that lived behind the quietness, his steady resolve, the spirituality that was ever present and all encompassing and certainly, the dry yet biting humor. For Ringo, it was (and still remains) the euphoria, the open emotional honesty demonstrating that tears are a display of strength, the patience and beauty of listening as a path to discovery and inventiveness. 

And still...if forced...if I searched within my deepest heart of hearts...I would have to say that Paul McCartney is the one who speaks to me most emphatically.

From a sheer musical standpoint, it always amazes me with how much music exists within a band due to the members that exist inside of said band. This feeling became gradually apparent to me once The Beatles disbanded and they al began embarking upon solo careers. By the time I was cognizant of The Beatles, their story had essentially concluded and my formative years experienced them as solo artists, the Beatles experience then a thing of a newly fresh past. Despite having been introduced to both "A Hard Day's Night" (released July 10, 1964) and "Abbey Road" (released  September 24, 1969) as an infant, I began truly ingratiating myself with The Beatles discography through my Dad's introduction due to my unshakable obsession with Director Michael Schultz's universally maligned yet eternally beloved by me, rock opera musical fantasy "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" (1978). 

One obsession rapidly led into another, and greater obsession as "Beatlemania" soon existed within me. Allowance money granted me a new album from the mall record store. Frequent trips to my school library, where I could easily listen to records on the turntables complete with headphones, itself became its own obsession (and deepening my love of libraries), allowing me chances to hear this music and immerse myself more and more. It was in this particular space when I first decided to try the album "Ram" (released May 17, 1971) credited to Paul and Linda McCartney and Paul McCartney's second post-Beatles effort. While I knew the stunning storm to sunshine suite of "Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey" from radio play, the album completely threw me off. I just did not get it at all. I could hear Beatle-esque qualities but it was decidedly not The Beatles and I didn't know what to make of it whatsoever. And for many years, even after gradually acquiring more post Beatles McCartney albums, I never listened to it again.

Yet, when I did re-acquaint myself with that particular album decades later...the re-introduction proved itself to being more than enlightening.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with or have even rejected to varying degrees the 1970's output of Paul McCartney as it existed so deeply within the immense shadow of The Beatles and the collective societal grief of the band's conclusion, Director Morgan Neville's documentary "Paul McCartney: Man On The Run" goes a long way into allowing us a greater insight into that period, offering us--as well as McCartney himself-an opportunity for a re-evaluation, re-appraisal and deeper understanding of not only the existence of Wings, but the why alongside the how. 

In many respects, one could think of this film as a spiritual sequel to both Michael Lindsay-Hogg's "Let It Be" (1970) and Peter Jackson's resplendent "Get Back" (2020) as "Paul McCartney: Man On The Run" begins with the ending of The Beatles due to the four members growing up, growing apart and becoming entangled in messy legal issues which pitted McCartney against Lennon, Harrison and Starr thus causing considerable strain and tension with their friendships. 

By this time, Paul had met, fallen in love with and married New York photographer Linda Eastman. The twosome, along with Linda's daughter, Heather-from her previous marriage and whom Paul would adopt-found refuge in a remote, dilapidated farmhouse in Scotland to escape the constant pressures boiling over in London. Faced with legalities and an angry press and fan base convinced that he was single handedly disbanding The Beatles, despite John Lennon's more private departure, months earlier, Paul fell into an alcohol fueled depression. 

The now Linda McCartney immediately became his port in the storm, his anchor, his soul mate and their love plus their growing family began to rejuvenate his mind and creative spirit, resulting in raw, intimate, purposefully unpolished home studio recordings that would ultimately become his debut solo album "McCartney" (released April 17, 1970), which itself was followed by the more polished yet still home grown effort from Paul and Linda, the aforementioned "Ram." 

Feeling a newfound sense of inspiration to combine with his restless creativity and need for invention, Paul McCartney decided that he wanted to continue making music knowing full well that anything he produced would inevitably be compared to the majesty of The Beatles. So...let's not form a supergroup of the rock and roll elite but return to the absolute basics, completely starting over in the formation of a new band, which happens to star a former Beatle...and his wife, Linda, musically untested and unprofessional but fully engaged with a "Why not?"/can-do spirit.    

Morgan Neville's "Paul McCartney: Man On The Run" is a lovely, kaleidoscopic voyage through a misunderstood decade in the artistic life of its subject, often narrated by the man himself, and resulting in an experience that functions mush like a Paul McCartney song. Whimsical, vibrant, joyful, inviting, engaging with its fair share of oddities and flying by the seat of the pants imagination and still tinged with a poignant sense of melancholy, bittersweetness, pathos and a crucial injection of optimism.

For as much of the music of this particular decade is on display within the film especially through an enormous amount of archived visual material that I know that I have never seen before, making for one piece of this multi-layered experience, Morgan Neville's film is not necessarily about the music itself. "Paul McCartney: Man On The Run" is decidedly not a song-by-song, album-by-album feature and while it is a tad surprising, that decision is not harmful to the film's overall impact in the least. What we are ultimately given is a more intimate portrait of an iconic figure that is warmly humanizing in its display and portrayal. 

Before I go any further, I wish to address a comment made by my very best friend during our college years together. There was one night, during our marathon conversations, be it in her dorm room or dining hall or wherever we happened to be when we were talking about McCartney's then recently released solo effort "Flowers In The Dirt" (released June 5, 1989), at the time, largely seen as a return to form. I vividly remember her remarking, concerning Paul McCartney's then 1980s/1990s era recollections about his past during he Beatles and Wings, that she felt him to being somewhat of an unreliable narrator as she expressed, "his story keeps changing." At the time, I was unsure as how to respond to that sentiment but over time, I think that perhaps it is not McCartney's story that keep changing but his perspective about the times and lives in which he lived. 

Morgan Neville's "Paul McCartney: Man On The Run" offers McCartney, as well as us in the audience, to also gather a greater and even newfound perspective over this specific decade of his life. As McCartney is a Producer on the film and as stated, he narrates as well, it would be conceivable to ponder if the film is a self-congratulatory puff piece. I will offer to you that it is not and although while I feel that he is again allowing us inwards as far as he wishes to, I found his candor and willingness to offer new shades enlightening. 

I was fascinated that Neville was able to display a sense of Paul McCartney, the eternal optimist, when he is in the throes of insecurity, feeling excited and proud of the work while creating but then unsure to even dismissive of the same work when critical reactions are poor to brutal and even then, watching him ultimately validated when the tide turns regarding public opinion. I was further fascinated to hear him express stages of anger he felt, towards John Lennon certainly but also towards the earliest Wings bandmates, guitarist Henry McCullough and drummer Denny Seiwell, upon their departure from the group shortly before the recording sessions for what would become "Band On The Run" (released November 30, 1973) due to financial strains, McCartney's relentless pace, wildly unpredictable self-starting touring schedules via multi-colored double decker bus complete with kids and animals and not truly feeling as being full democratic musical partners despite McCartney's assertions that they all existed in a true band. 

What affected me most were the sections where Neville offered us glimpses into McCartney's anxiety, occurring through the aforementioned alcohol laced depression, a nightmare recounted by McCartney himself, and even his difficulty with processing deeply disturbing events in his life from legal struggles, the drug related death of Wings guitarist Jimmy McCullough in 1979, John Lennon's murder in 1980 as well as his own 10 day imprisonment in Japan for marijuana possession, ultimately the catalyst for the disillusion of Wings.   

All of these elements ensured that we could begin to see an icon, a living legend as mere mortal, a human being with foibles and failures just as any of us walking the same Earth as himself. And to that end, Neville's film allows us to witness McCartney's tenacity, his work ethic, his undeniably restless sense of creativity and imagination and the forthright nature in which he pursued his muse regardless of what everyone outside of his word (and sometimes within his world) felt what rock and roll could and should be.

If he wanted to make an album from the comforts of home in a pure DIY fashion, playing all of the instruments himself, recordings raw and real, he did it. And as a result, he became a pioneer in one-man and home recording and the bedroom pop studios that are commonplace in the 21st century. If he wanted tr record protest songs and drug anthems-"Give Ireland Back To The Irish" (released February 18, 1972 UK) and "Hi Hi Hi" (released December 1, 1972 UK) respectively--both of which banned by the BBC, then so be it. If he wanted to record a nursery rhyme in "Mary Had A Little Lamb" (released May 19, 1972), then so be it. If he wanted to create a decidedly corny and goofy television variety show program, complete with a dance sequence and a cartoon mouse in "James Paul McCartney" (broadcast April 16, 1973) then so be it. 

It is that very adherence McCartney possesses towards his muse Neville presents confidently within "Paul McCartney: Man On The Run." For it is through McCartney's unbridled confidence in the act of creation that propelled him past all of the gatekeeping and rules created by critics, fans and even rock and roll itself thus elevating him to the status of existing as a pure artist. The film allows us to gain a greater appreciation for the timelessness of his output regardless of the time period in which everything was created. 

Most triumphantly, Morgan Neville's "Paul McCartney: Man On The Run" is a love story. From Paul to Linda McCartney and the family they created together as well as a powerful tribute to the unimpeachable strength of Linda McCartney entering an unforgiving and sexist world of rock and roll fully untested to not only survive it but to thrive and further ascend as an artist in her own right, always existing as an equal partner in creativity, family and life. And it is precisely through that love in which everything throughout this pivotal decade was created. Wings was birthed because Paul McCartney wanted to be in a band after The Beatles and he simply did not want to be away from or leave the love of his life behind...so WHY NOT do it together? It is fully due to that WHY NOT? that we can now see the roots of every artistic decision made during the1970's and the full existence of Wings.

The union of Paul and Linda is a celebrity romance that has always stuck with me and I truly appreciated the time Neville devoted to this essential portion of Paul McCartney's life. Even moreso, I loved seeing and hearing the copious amounts of archived interview footage and sound bites from Linda McCartney herself, a woman whose speaking voice I realized I have barely heard throughout my life, even as her vocal harmonies are forever riveted in my brain through the Wings discography. 

Long after The Beatles' disbanding, George Harrison once expressed regarding the enormity of the time, "They gave their money and they gave their screams, but The Beatles kind of gave their nervous systems." 

Ringo Starr expressed that if not for Paul McCartney's determination and endless enthusiasm, The Beatles would have amassed a far smaller output. John Lennon also once expressed that perhaps out of the four of them, and despite what critics and fans may have believed to the contrary, Paul McCartney maybe wanted The Beatles to exist the most. Morgan Neville's "Paul McCartney: Man On The Run" meets the subject at that precise point in his life where uncertainty and possibility collided and what resulted was purposefully not The Beatles for what could be...but what emerged is something equally pure and true in its intent and therefore, so worthy of reassessment and a deeper understanding.

For Paul McCartney, a self described "playaholic," because for him, he does not "work" music...he PLAYS music, his life and art has always existed as an invitation for us to join in. Morgan Neville's graceful documentary affords us another opportunity to do just that.

FEAR OF A BLACK PLANET: a review of "One Battle After Another"

 

"ONE BATTLE AFTER ANOTHER"
Inspired by Vineland by Thomas Pynchon
Written and Directed by Paul Thomas Anderson
**** (four stars)
RATED R
Running Time: 2 hrs 42 min

PTA...welcome back!!!

I was ready to throw in the towel regarding Writer/Director Paul Thomas Anderson. Now, do not get me wrong. I have used Savage Cinema for much of its existence to extol my deep praise for Anderson as a filmmaker. As being one of the few current Directors--among the likes of Christopher Nolan, Quentin Tarantino, Jordan Peele, Wes Anderson and quite possibly, Greta Gerwig--who can open a film and generate passionate interest solely upon his name and filmography, ever new release is a veritable event. That being said, my reactions towards his films as of late have produced diminishing results with me.

Beginning with "The Master" (2012), and even with "Phantom Thread" (2017), which I admired but was also confounded by due to their oddly emotional starkness and inscrutable presentation, I have felt that Paul Thomas Anderson's storytelling approach has taken on a increasingly akin to Stanley Kubrick's, a colder, more cerebral, somewhat detached emotional core, a more bird's eye view of the subject matter rather than the often intensely heart pounding propulsiveness as displayed in Anderson's earlier films like the extraordinary "Boogie Nights" (1997) and the roaring steamroller of "Magnolia" (1999). 

With "Inherent Vice" (2014) and what I feel to be his weakest effort by a wide margin in "Licorice Pizza" (2021), Anderson created visually elegant, top tier appearing films which all received various levels of rapturous critical praise yet all landed poorly with me. Perhaps, Paul Thomas Anderson was not making films for me anymore. Perhaps his aesthetic was no longer within my sense and sensibilities. Perhaps...possibly...Anderson was falling in love with his own legend and praise to an extent. Whatever the reasons, and especially after "Licorice Pizza," I found myself feeling unhurried to engage with a new feature from him. Not exactly giving up but not remotely excited either. 

Until now...

Paul Thomas Anderson's "One Battle After Another," his 10th film, is a superior return to form for me. In a career in which I feel that Anderson has already created three masterpieces, in the aforementioned "Boogie Nights", "Magnolia" and unquestionably, the towering "There Will Be Blood" (2007), he has now created his fourth. It is an experience that speaks with piercing directness to our nation's past and present while providing dire warnings about our future as it simultaneously ensures that we receive a cinematic experience that is profoundly involving, deeply engaging, shockingly visceral and startling satirical. To that end, it is also a movie about our relationship with the movies as Anderson has weaved an undeniably a classic widescreen 70MM Dolby motion picture event, which for me now exists as his most adrenalized and entertaining film since "Boogie Nights."  Furthermore, and directly alongside Ryan Coogler's masterful, untouchable "Sinners" (2025), Anderson has delivered one of the pinnacle films of not only 2025, he has delivered one of the finest films of the 21st century. 

Opening at the Otay Mesa Detention Center in quite possibly in the year 2009, Paul Thomas Anderson's "One Battle After Another," introduces us to the French 75, a far left revolutionary group featuring the efforts of explosives expert "Ghetto Pat" (Leonardo DiCaprio) and his lover, the voracious, unrepentant Perfidia Beverly Hills (a volcanic Teyana Taylor). 

The group quickly runs afoul of the detention center's commanding officer Steven J. Lockjaw (Sean Penn), who grows rapaciously obsessed with Perfidia, leading to a series of betrayals, a hunting down of the members of the French 75 and the abandonment of Perfidia, who leaves Pat and their infant daughter, Charlene behind, forcing the two to go into hiding under new identities. 

Sixteen years later, bringing us up to the present day, Pat and teenager Charlene (Chase Infiniti), now known as Bob and Willa Ferguson, are living off the grid in the sanctuary city of Baktan Cross, California. Where Willa is fiercely independent, Bob, despite being a devoted Father and protective, has become lost in substance abuse and paranoia. Meanwhile, due to his anti-immigration efforts, Lockjaw has become a Colonel within the U.S. security agencies and he further wishes to advance his standing by becoming a member of the White supremacist secret society known as the Christmas Adventurers, an initiation that hinges upon his past with Perfidia, whom he remains obsessed with.

From here, under the pretense of controlling illegal immigration efforts, Lockjaw targets Baktan Cross as his relentless pursuit of Bob and Willa hungrily continues.

Paul Thomas Anderson's "One Battle After Another" speaks to our present moment in history with such clarity and severe urgency, it feels as if the film was made just five minutes before I entered the theater to screen it. It's all here and then some. The demonization of immigrants. The targeting of and trauma plus survival within the Hispanic community. Clashes between protestors and the military under politically fabricated and racially driven community crises. The aforementioned Christian nationalist White supremacist secret societies at work. 

That being said, and due to his collaborative efforts with Cinematographer Michael Bauman and the insistent, percussive piano based score from Composer Johnny Greenwood, the film exists in a sort of hallucinatory, David Lynch-ian "What year is this?" time warp, where the experience carries the tonality and aesthetic of a 1970's conspiracy thriller. And even further, the film contains a simple, pulpy storytelling thread not unlike Quentin Tarantino's "Kill Bill" (2003/2004), "Inglourious Basterds" (2009) and "Django Unchained" (2012), which allows the modern day narrative to also function as a political satire, an espionage caper, an urban Western a la the films of Walter Hill, a white knuckle action film, and a heartfelt love story between a Father and daughter. All of these elements fuel Anderson's dissertation of what it means to live in 21st century America, and I think most specifically, it is an examination of the increasing fear of White male impotence in a growing multi-cultural world. 

But, I am getting a little ahead of myself... 

There is absolutely no way to regard "One Battle After Another" without taking proper stock of the film's clear social, political and racial overtones and subtexts. What remains provocatively unclear are the motivations of Paul Thomas Anderson on a precise level, which makes this film open for much needed conversations and debates as there are no easy answers and Anderson is clearly not trying to instruct the audience as how to intake this material. In doing so, Anderson is continuing the utilize the cerebral Stanley Kubrick side of his cinematic personality by delivering a certain detached bird's eye view of the proceedings, giving the film an askew perception while being present and prescient a la "Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Bomb" (1964).  

Yes, Anderson visualizes a world where Black and Brown communities are under siege, traumatized, victimized yet pragmatic and unyielding and an unwillingness to capitulate to the larger White societal power structure who wishes for us to not exist. That being said, there has been much controversy-especially from Black journalists, critics and viewers, surrounding the depiction of Perfidia, a Black woman who is often viewed through a hyper sexualized lens, and since Anderson is the Director, a White male's gaze. 

Speaking solely for myself, and openly to you readers out there as a Black man, I profoundly understand the criticism yet I do not align myself with it. In fact, to illustrate the point I am about to present, I turn to a quotation from a 1962 speech from Malcolm X in which he proclaimed, "The most disrespected person in America is the Black woman. The most unprotected person in America is the Black woman. The neglected person in America is the Black Woman." 

I turn to another as expressed by activist, author and philosopher Angela Davis when she said, "I am no longer accepting the things I cannot change. I am changing the things I cannot accept." 

Furthermore, it felt oddly fitting that on the day before I saw this film, coincidentally, revolutionary, civil rights activist, member of the Black Panther Party and Black Liberation Army and fugitive Assata Shakur died in Cuba, where she had resided after being given political asylum after her 1979 escape from a U.S. prison where she had been serving a life sentence for the killing of a police officer.   

For me, the entire soul of the film rests within the actions and arcs of three Black women: Perfidia Beverly Hills, Willa and French 75 member Deandra a.k.a. "Lady Champagne" (played by Regina Hall), as they are figures attempting to navigate a violently unforgiving world on whatever terms they feel fit as well as carry the burden of the continued existence of a society that may not want to be saved in the first place. 

As for Perfidia in particular, it is especially precarious because she feels to be simultaneously filtered through a certain reality, hyper reality as well as cinematically, a la how Black women were depicted in 1970's Blaxploitation films starring Pam Grier and the White male's gaze, in this case, Paul Thomas Anderson's. That being said, Anderson is a filmmaker who makes movies about movies as much as the subject matter he is tackling, which may have led to some aspects of his storytelling and directorial choices, which do indeed blur the lines between a very real world, Black feminist, revolutionary agenda and film fantasy...or more pointedly, a White male fantasy. And in doing so, I wonder if those blurred lines are intentional.

Again for me, Perfidia Beverly Hills as fueled by the hurricane force winds of Teyana Taylor's performance is truly the boiling engine of the film for the first 30 minutes or so, and she hangs and hovers over every minute afterwards as the consequences of her actions endlessly reverberate. I found her to being such a deeply complex character that even after viewing the film twice, I remain a little unsure of her every motivation or if it is single minded all of the time. For all of her reckless rapaciousness, relentless passion, bottomless rage plus her ravenous sexual appetites, I am still not certain that she necessarily cares terribly much about the French 75 at all or even the revolutionary agenda of the group in the first place. Additionally, she clearly does not hold much passion for Ghetto Pat or their child due to the whiplash self preservation of her choices. 

And then, there are her confrontations with Steven J. Lockjaw, moments that have been given considerable criticism. To that, I offer this: Who is holding power in their scenes together? Who possesses any sense of an upper hand? Who exhibits strength and who exhibits weakness? And as for the sexual fetishization of this particular Black woman, is she being used or is she knowingly exploiting his proclivities for her own personal agenda? 

For me, Perfidia Beverly Hills is far beyond caricature. She is a narcissist, certainly. She is the definition of an anarchist, a human hand grenade against all perceived societal norms, be it political, sexual, personal and entirely for her own self preservation consequences be damned, for she will move, live and exit this world on her own terms. And maybe for Perfidia, as painfully unsettling as she is, this is her race for any sense of freedom she can attempt to possess in this world and as evidenced in the sequences where she is ferociously pounding the pavement, she is trying to outrun everything from the government to the thoughts inside of her head. For if she stops moving, she is done for. 

With all of this in mind, I do not feel that the tenor of "One Battle After Another" is to promote any sense of racist agendas, intentionally or no. In fact, what I think is honestly on Anderson's mind is exploring the anxiety and impotence of White men in the 21st century regarding their sense of relevance and purpose, especially as the racial make up in global demographics is rapidly changing towards people of color rather than Whites. While I do not wish to deeply imprint anything about Anderson's personal life into the proceedings of the film, I also cannot help to wonder if something has filtered in as he is married to Maya Rudolph and with whom they are parents to four biracial children. 

Any possible blind spots or fears Anderson may or may not harbor regarding race could be seen as being represented by the characters portrayed by Leonardo DiCaprio and Sean Penn plus essentially all of the major White characters in this film in which there are deliberately no White savior characters.

As far as Ghetto Pat/Bob is concerned, there is no question that he is a devoted Father to Charlene/Willa as he has loved her from the start, has never abandoned her, he even attends her Parent/Teacher conferences (!!) and has protected her as best as he has been able despite his dilapidated, brain addled state after decades of narcotic fueled intoxication. Once the threat to their lives becomes a stark reality, leading the two to become separated with Father on the search to save his daughter. 

With this portrayal, Leonardo DiCaprio, again one of our most committed actors, immerses himself completely delivering a performance that is by turns frustrating, feverish, comical, passionate, and frantically skittish, often upending the cinematic archetype of what a White male hero is, should be or could be. Bob literally flails his way through the course of the film, constantly failing himself at the expense of rescuing his daughter. He is unable to charge his cell phone or remember any of the old secret passwords and phrases from the French 75 as they are mentally melted away from his drug usage. He possesses no real skills or talents save for his love and determination but regardless of his Whiteness and maleness and the relative power those characteristics possess in the world, he may still be unable to save the one he loves most.   

This aspect is no more apparent then when he enlists the aid of Willa's karate instructor and Baktan Cross community leader Sensei Sergio St. Carlos (a terrific Benicio Del Toro). Where Bob is panicked, Sergio is the epitome of measured calm and serenity, even under the greatest of pressures as Lockjaw's fraudulent raids inspires Sergio to activate his own "underground railroad" system to protect his community. 

"Don't get selfish," he exclaims to Bob, a crucial statement as in that one line, Bob's rightful urgency and trauma cannot overtake the urgency and trauma of an entire community historically under siege. Further, Sergio takes the time to introduce Bob to his community name by name, another instance demonstrating not only Sergio's sense of empathy but of his sense of purpose, responsibility and even education of Bob. To respect the humanity of those other than himself. To respect the lifelong trials of those other than himself. To understand that he is indeed a piece of a larger global community existing symbiotically with each other (I think brilliantly illustrated in a key scene by a lone Indigenous bounty hunter faced with making a decision of clear moral imparity). To understand that while his own situation is in crisis, his Whiteness will not make him the center of every crisis, especially those which have never touched him personally.

Ghetto Pat/Bob Ferguson is a stand in for the essential liberal White male, yet in his own drug fueled brain fog state of mind, it is as if he-like some White liberals in 2025-is at long last waking up and viewing the world anew, realizing the futility of his place within it regarding the one he loves most. Despite his efforts, realistically, he can't save his daughter, Willa. Even in the film's astounding climax, a rampaging car chase through the barren desert landscape save for a cascading river of hills, Bob is always just this far out of reach. For in this world where disenfranchised communities and people, especially Black women, are disrespected, degraded, disregarded and ultimately discarded, Willa is forced to save herself. It is her imperative and her birthright, for she, and all Black women are not going backwards. Like the song says, Willa is the "American Girl," regardless of how many White men aim for it to not be so 

As Steven J. Lockjaw, Sean Penn operates at his most psychotic. It has truly been ages since I have witnessed him in a film, expressing such a feverishly magnetic command that it reminded me of the work I loved from him when I was a teenager during Penn's rise. 

Lockjaw is a vulgar nightmare--yet all to true--representation of the White male in a sense of existential crisis as to his perceived place in the world and the overall Caste system placing him above all others. It is a darkly comic performance while also being terrifying in its brutality for his rampant cruelty and violence against a world becoming Browner and more multi-cultural exudes from the clear masquerade he is enacting largely against himself as he is desperate to be included into a club which would no sooner discard him due to his hidden desires, wants and attitudes. 

His exaggerated gait and ramrod physique. The way he preens himself in order to inflate his ego and desirability with the Christmas Adventurers. A comment towards his possibly closeted homoerotic tendencies combined with his obvious salacious fetishization of Black women. Everything about himself dictates the lack of self control he sees within himself -not to mention acceptance of who he truly is--and therefore he acts outwardly and with vengeance. This is why his pursuit and potential capture and elimination of Willa is so crucial to him. For her existence at all, based upon his racism, undeniably. For what her existence says about him, unquestionably. 

Ghetto Pat/Bob and Lockjaw are two sides of the same coin: White men who have no idea of what their places in the larger world actually are, each one respectively flailing and failing to keep pace and they are spiraling out of control...if they ever had any. Perhaps, with "One Battle After Another," Paul Thomas Anderson is confronting or at least, wrestling with his own White male fears and dilemmas considering his real world life and family during these especially perilous times in 21st century America, where old battles long fought and barriers believed to have been, if not broken, severely damaged, are all being re-erected by a cabal of White supremacists of money, influence and enormous power. 

Is Paul Thomas Anderson as a White male human being, as well as being one of our most prominent filmmakers, a figure with the capacity for the understanding needed to remove himself from the grander narrative to place his non-White family members and characters first? Is it his responsibility to try? This may not even be the point to be taken from the film but this is what the great movies are supposed to do, to create thought, questions and debate while also being enormously entertaining.

Paul Thomas Anderson's "One Battle After Another" more than meets this moment during these precarious times, as it simultaneously explores our past and gives dire warnings towards the future, making it a perfect companion piece to Alex Garland's devastating "Civil War" (2024). It is a staggering achievement propelled by exhilarating filmmaking and captivating, compelling storytelling, a quality in lessening supply during our most generically driven and conceptually toothless cinematic era.

This film's teeth are sharp, fully bared and ready to strike and sink deeply to the marrow.

HE LED WITH HIS HEART: a review of "The Uncool" by Cameron Crowe

 

THE UNCOOL: A Memoir
CAMERON CROWE

Published by Avid Reader Press/Simon & Schuster
October 28, 2025
336 pages

"Seek out heroes and role models. Most will not disappoint you."

-Alice Crowe

Despite my own intense desires and vivid imagination, I am not entirely certain that I am one who fully ascribes to the adage of "never meeting one's heroes."

Now, for the ones who have been heroes to me throughout my life, I do have to admit that the prospect of meeting any of them certainly would've tested that adage. If I were ever to have met Prince, for instance, I do not have any idea of what I could have possibly done or said to even be able to brake through a persona that felt impenetrable to the point of being alien. To that end, I wonder if John Hughes would've been dismissive or if Todd Rundgren would prove to be mercurial. 

However, there have been a few moments in my life, where I am more than thankful for the times when I found myself in positions where I was able to meet figures who have deeply influenced or enriched me. Molly Ringwald, for instance, I met while she was on a book tour stop promoting Getting The Pretty Back (2010), her self described "girlfriend's guide." Or the time, when I met musicians Wendy Melvoin and Lisa Coleman of Prince's band The Revolution, behind the theater after a 2016 performance in commemoration of the then recent passing of their bandleader and collaborator. Or another when I met keyboardist Greg Hawkes of The Cars, right on the sidewalk outside of the venue where he had just performed as a member of Todd Rundgren's touring band. Or especially, and whole not face to face, the time in which I was able to conduct an extended interview with Moe Berg, leader of The Pursuit Of Happiness-one of my favorite bands-for my Savage Radio program on WVMO 98.7 FM (an experience in which I thought to myself, "I have to 'Cameron Crowe' this," so I don't waste Berg's valuable time).

In all three of those occasions, I was thankful to have encounters that were warmer and more engaging than they perhaps any right to be as I was just one face of many, hearing words that they have all heard variations of time and again. And still, they each found something to ensure the meeting was unique to me, creating a moment, while most likely not overtly memorable to themselves, but one that would be  everlasting for me. 

What else could I truly ask for? All I could wish for is just enough time to deliver a "thank you" as heartfelt as I could possibly elicit in a manner that did not exploit their time and energy as well as one where I didn't embarrass myself profusely. As I think about public figures-or better yet, a hero--whom I wish that I could meet, Cameron Crowe has long existed at a peak...and honestly, that desire has only elevated further.

Cameron Crowe has existed as an instrumental figure in my life, creative and otherwise for so long, it is actually a little difficult to think of a time when he was not a passionate influence. Granted, during his time as an adolescent writing music articles and interviews for Rolling Stone, I was too young (I am a little over 10 years his junior) to have experienced his work, despite our shared passion for music. Yet, by the time I was 13 years old and experienced Director Amy Heckerling's "Fast Times At Ridgemont High" (1982) for which he wrote the screenplay and the original novel from which the film was based, he became a fixture. It was the film I felt that officially began what I like to think of as the "Golden Age Of Teen Films" during the1980's and I watched it repeatedly, knowing full well the truth of what I was seeing, even as I was just a hair too young to have had the similar experiences of those as depicted within the film. It felt real and because of that, I would've followed Crowe anywhere,  

While not nearly as prolific as John Hughes, Cameron Crowe, like Hughes, had this uncanny ability to reveal a new project at precisely the perfect time in my life, at an exact point when I needed to experience it. 

I was a 20 year old college student when his directorial debut "Say Anything..." (1989) arrived in theaters, and for me, brought that aforementioned "Golden Age Of Teen Films" to its beautifully melancholic conclusion. I was exactly 23 years old, a college graduate, living with my then girlfriend now wife, just trying to figure out a life direction when his deliriously romantic cinematic short story collection "Singles" (1992) was released. By the time of his filmmaking artistic breakthrough of "Jerry Maguire" (1996), I was 27 years old and had experienced just enough of adulthood to receive that film as a work of spiritual deliverance so profound that I would need an entirely different essay to convey every moment that spoke to me as guidance, as truth, and as the wise words from a treasured older figure reminding me that integrity is not weakness, having empathy is not a fault and the act of just trying to be a good human being in an unforgiving world is an act of heroism. 

And of course, there is his magnum opus, "Almost Famous" (2000), a film to which I have expressed my towering love on this blogsite many times over, still contending it as existing as one of the finest films of the 21st century unquestionably, artistically and emotionally. 

I could continue through his creative life and my relationship with it, but I think you get the picture. And through everything over time, I still harbor my deepest hopes that I could one day meet Cameron Crowe, for if I could just have the chance, I would love to not only thank him, but to be able to have a conversation. His eloquence and loquaciousness precedes him and I would be forever grateful.

While the likelihood of such a meeting is highly unlikely, I am feeling that I have just experienced what has got to be the next best thing. The Uncool, Cameron Crowe's recently released memoir, is masterful. It accomplishes a tremendous feat of being simultaneously nostalgic and so very present as Crowe returns to the same conceptual territory of "Almost Famous" to weave a more extensive tale of his family and upbringing alongside his teenage experiences on the road writing about and interviewing rock stars, making for a work that informs the beloved feature film, grounding it in a more emotionally precarious context than maybe already felt. From end to end, Crowe's literary voice is elegantly warm with a meticulous sense of time and place firmly injecting the reader into periods and spaces, both external and internal, where emotional truths rise to the surface within every anecdote, adventure and aphorism, whether victorious or painful, ensuring every passage is felt purely and deeply.

And there are surprises to be felt as well. The memoir's opening section, during which Crowe recounts his own sense of mounting anxiety during rehearsals towards the opening of the stage version of "Almost Famous: The Musical," coupled with his relationship with Alice Crowe, his formidable Mother, who at this stage, was nearing the end of her life, I was instantly struck with the brave fragility of which Crowe revealed of himself upon the page. He pulled me in closer, as I was sensing that I was about to read something not dissimilar from the very best of his writing and filmmaking efforts. 

It is not easily achievable, to conjure the emotional liminal space of what Crowe celebrates as the "happy/sad," which to me is greater and deeper than mere bittersweetness. It is the existential space where hearts connect, ache, break and somehow find the strength to uplift, hope and rise again. Cameron Crowe's The Uncool accomplishes this feat consistently with honesty and grace, making for an enormously rewarding reading experience where the stories and the emotions linger in the air much like the afterglow of a treasured concert experience. 

As Cameron Crowe's The Uncool returns to the same conceptual ground as "Almost Famous," what has been delivered is no retread whatsoever. Our understanding of Crowe's life and the tender and tenuous relationships within his family is expanded to include his Father, James Crowe, and both of his older sisters Cathy and Cindy, who tragically ended her life when Cameron Crowe was a child, and with whom music served as a connective tissue and understanding even in a home where rock music was banned. 

From here, The Uncool details his journey of self discovery and attaining a sense of belonging with the figures who would make up his chosen tribe of rock writers, including mentors like the inimitable Lester Bangs, and the musicians they each revered. In doing so, and like "Almost Famous," The Uncool allows the reader to live vicariously through Crowe's teenage rock journalist experiences making for us wheat feels to be a magic carpet ride through a crucial period of rock music history precisely when it was all happening. If that were all the book offered, it would still be compulsively readable but this is Cameron Crowe we're talking about and salacious, superficial tell-alls are the furthest thing from his mind when there are deeper emotional waters to plunge into.  

The Uncool firmly exists as a collection coming of age stories. First, there is Cameron Crowe himself, where he is exactly like the teens he chronicled in "Fast Times At Ridgemont High," as he willingly exposed himself to, and therefore experienced and endured, a life that was indeed too fast and he was clearly not developmentally ready for but was forced to adapt in order to achieve his dreams let alone survive.    

To that end, it is a coming of age story for the rock stars Crowe wrote about for so many of these larger than life figures were also relatively young people just trying to gain footing in an unpredictable, uncompromising world where art, business, creativity and fame often collided and clashed. 

In one vignette after another, Crowe elicits what could almost be lost songs from the individuals profiled. Interior moments, like ones of pensive sadness with Jim Croce, an 18 month chrysalis phase with the ever shape shifting David Bowie and especially, a brutally striking sequence of grief and sorrow starring Gregg Allman, succeed tremendously with humanizing those who have always been quite unknowable and have existed as out of reach legends. Now that many of whom have passed on, The Uncool graciously opens up windows reminding us that these same legends were also once kids with talents and dreams all trying to discover just how to navigate this thing called life. 

The book is also a coming of age story for a family, as we witness the respective odysseys of Crowe's parents, through their occupations, as marriage partners and as parents to three children navigating triumphs and tragedies. Wisely, we regard the process of  "coming of age" as not being limited to the young but as an ongoing, lifelong process where, if we truly allow ourselves, we are able to try, fail, try again, learn, discover, unlearn and re-discover all the while hopefully formulating precisely the person we wish to become in the lives we are blessed to have with the people, experiences and the music we love all playing essential puzzle pieces. And as the perfect bookend, Crowe returns to himself at the book's outset, at his present age, a myriad of life lessons learned while openly acknowledging that he is still learning. 

The Uncool often reminded me of Crowe's beautiful documentary "The Union" (2011)--now, extremely difficult to find as it is not available on physical media and is not streaming anywhere in the HBO archives, the format in which I saw the film--starring Elton John and Leon Russell and surrounding the creation of their duet album of the same name (released October 19, 2010). For me, it was a film that fully transcended the fly-on-the-wall making of aesthetics to become a work of supreme gratitude, from Elton to Leon certainly, but for everyone who wishes to reach back to the key individuals who first inspired you, championed you, who somehow noticed that inexplicable spark in you, to just say "Thank you." 

The Uncool accomplishes the same feat as every encounter led to another and then another, each one inspiring confidence to keep placing one foot in front of the other onto every stepping stone. I loved  how this book, much like how Writer/Director James L. Brooks' peerless "Broadcast News" (1987) meticulously captured the pinpoint when television news crossed the Rubicon from the ethics of  journalism into the heartless business of entertainment, Crowe offers a love letter to journalism, physical print media publications and passionate writers who once existed in a healthy fashion for readers desiring a window into an otherwise unattainable world. It is a love letter to every music journalist, like himself, who harbored a genuine, unassailable passion towards their favorite art form as well as for writers who simply harbored an equally genuine, unassailable passion for the art of writing. 

It should be noted that The Uncool is not necessarily a complete memoir Crowe takes the narrative largely up to his beginnings in the film industry. That being said, over and again, Crowe offers his gratitude to all who showed him, in gestures both large and seemingly throwaway (a tiny moment with Tom Petty, in particular, is seismic), a path forwards and in all honesty, and Crowe's thankfulness, we would not be holding this book in our hands without any of them. In turn, Crowe's memoir offers all of us reading an opportunity to think to those who aided us and how we can inspire those coming up alongside or behind us whatever our station in life happens to be.

Which of course, brings me to what might be the book's greatest love letter, from Cameron Crowe to his Mother--which then made me ponder my own relationship with my Mother, who is, like Alice Crowe, a formidable, force of nature of a woman. Even now, at her advance age, she remains seemingly unstoppable, forever busy and involved with one excursion or another, and unshakable in her beliefs and lifelong role as a leader, guide, mentor and teacher (which was indeed her profession--a Chicago public high school Science teacher). 

My Mother is the one who shaped my love of libraries. She was the one who read to me as we shared books together. She was the one who refused to allow me to fully slack off during Summers as it was expected that I continue with Math workbooks and other learning excursions to keep my brain operating as she saw fit. She ensured I had swimming lessons and was involved in church activities and alongside my equally formidable Father, she was uncompromising with my academic progress. And, also like Alice Crowe, she is forever armed with aphorisms. This, of course, led to considerable friction as the person she wanted me to be clashed with the person I already knew that I was. Even now, seven years after my Dad's passing, there is still something tenuous between us that rides directly with the love we share. For can we truly accept each other for who we each happen to be, especially now as the remaining time we have to share is lessening as we age both separately and together.

The final sections of The Uncool, which crosscut between Alice Crowe's last days on the eve of the musical's opening night free fall into the happy/sad majestically. If you allow me to set the scene for you...

I was reading these sections to the end of the book, two evenings after Christmas while listening to Ben  Watt's wintry album "Fever Dream" (released April 8, 2016). As I reached this portion of the book, the album coincidentally reached its finale, the plaintive, meditative track "New Year Of Grace," and within that combination, an emotional, ephemeral alchemy began to just...happen. The words on the page were augmented by the song, which I began to play on repeat so as to not lose the spell being weaved, and before long, my face was flushed with tears. Trust me, while films and songs can easily bring forth tears, I am able to count on one hand the books that unlocked that level of emotion and I firmly believe that The Uncool accomplished this not through any sense of unearned manipulation but for the purest thing...Cameron Crowe led the storytelling with his heart. 

Cameron Crowe's The Uncool is as warm and as personal as if he is right in the room with you speaking directly to you. Writing this book is one that he clearly wrote for himself as the pleasure of just writing is palpable. But...it also feels like a book he wrote directly to you, inspiring feelings and memories, creating a dialogue even though he is unable to hear our side of the conversation.

Perhaps this book really was my way to meet a lifelong hero...even so, I still wish for a day when I can have that chance to say "Thank you." And for someone who has always been uncool, that is possibly them most uncool wish to have.