There was a screening of Quadrophenia in Monopol as a part of, would you believe it, “St.George’s Week” (22—28 April), so Timur and I went to watch it.
The film turned out to be not quite what I expected, even though I didn’t exactly knew what to expect. I love the album which I bought back in my English life. Surprisingly little of it is heard in the film. But then, the album is the rock opera while the movie most categorically is not. The Who’s music is no more (albeit no less) than part of the soundtrack. Now if we forget for a moment about soundtrack, there is simply not enough story, or message, or lovable characters for a two-hour feature. In the same time, as movies go, this one feels very authentic, almost painfully so. For that reason alone, it is worth watching. Also, if anyone needs a cure from misplaced nostalgia for the “good old sixties”, Quadrophenia will supply it.
I mean, London we see is not exactly swinging — not yet, at least; “shithole” would be a more apt description. The idea of a well-spent weekend for Jimmy and his friends is to get high, ride to the seaside and to have a bit of a punch-up with Rockers. Fair enough, yet it all seems to be rather tame. The protagonists, being English, are perpetually embarrassed, on drugs or not, even when chanting “We are mods” (supposedly they have to be euphoric), even when they get lucky (sorry love, love does not enter here). Why, football hooligans must be more passionate. The only guy who has any class is “Ace Face” (played by Sting). Thankfully, there are sparks of humour which make the whole thing watchable.
A masterful film, but in the end I was grateful when it was over.