"Listen up everyone, the fire exits are here and here. Please form an orderly queue."
By Owain B.
EXT. SUPERFLUOUS FRAMING DEVICE
Titular rock star MARKY MARK WAHLBERG, who is definitely NOT TIM "RIPPER" OWENS, is in a terrible WIG and being interviewed about his days with the Funky Bunch.
MARKY MARK WAHLBERG
Look, if I'm going to have a shot at pulling off a credible turn as the frontman of a metal band, we're going to have to ix-nay on the Unky Bunch-Fay, okay?
MARKY instead talks about his time singing with tribute band Blood Pollution, which is somehow an even worse name than the Funky Bunch. Then the SUPERFLUOUS FRAMING DEVICE is basically jettisoned for the rest of the movie.
INT. DEFINITELY NOT A JUDAS PRIEST GIG
MARKY and his funky friends are attending a gig by definitely NOT JUDAS PRIEST, who go by the name Steel Dragon. The band's singer is definitely NOT ROB HALFORD, and is instead JASON FLEMYNG in a terrible WIG.
Okay folks, this next song is called 'The Guys Dubbing These Voices Deserve More Credit'. Rock on!
(singing along from the front row)
Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaahhhhh!
JASON is perturbed by the kind of FREAK OF NATURE that can sing loud enough to be heard un-mic'd over an entire ROCK CONCERT. Later, MARKY bumps into grotty tour manager TIMOTHY SPALL, who is in a terrible WIG and is handing out backstage passes to equally grotty groupies.
Hey, slightly fatter 80s Ozzy, can I get one of those?
No chance mate! As a fat old perv, I think you'll find I only talk to hot chicks, or more precisely, to their boobs.
Damn! If only my girlfriend was here with me tonight and was exactly as hot as, I don't know, Jennifer Aniston.
(for it is she)
It might as well not be me anyway, given how terribly I've been miscast.
After the gig, there is a random scene with a disconcerting CLOSE-UP of MARKY'S erect NIPPLE getting pierced.
INT. BLOOD POLLUTION GIG
MARKY is singing with his band, which includes TIMOTHY OLYPHANT in a terrible WIG on guitar, and some other guys who are ACTUAL REAL MUSICIANS and therefore can be trusted to provide their own hair.
Okay folks, this next song is called 'Sounds Just Like The Rest Of Them'. Rock on!
(singing)
TIMOTHY improvises a solo, but MARKY disapproves and they WHISPER ANGRILY, somehow hearing each other over the entire band's backline.
I can't convincingly mime this guitar part and talk at the same time, can it wait?
Look, just don't play any more guitar solos. I won't compromise the crowd's enjoyment of this music I've held so dear and pure all my life, and if there's one thing hard rock fans hate it's wanton guitar soloing!
I respectfully disagree.
(solos)
The CROWD eats up the guitar solo like red snapper from a groupie's clunge.
What did I tell you, the crowd not only hates it, some of them didn't even get the reference!
MARKY smashes up TIMOTHY's amplifier and starts BRAWLING with him, ending the gig early and thus ensuring the crowd's enjoyment of the music is in no way compromised.
As the band's manager and a self-avowed hardline businesswoman, I can only see this being good for business.
INT. BLOOD POLLUTION PRACTICE ROOM
The band has replaced MARKY with STEPHAN JENKINS from Third Eye Blind, who is in a terrible WIG.
You have to be kidding. Third Eye Blind are just terrible, you might as well have hired Scott Stapp.
Marky, there's no easy way to say this, but...
(dramatic pause)
...you haven't made it through to the judges' houses. Er, I mean, you're out of the band.
Huh, I somehow didn't see that coming after I destroyed thousands of dollars worth of your gear and assaulted you in public.
Strangely, I don't seem to care about that. We want to write our own songs, and by "we" I mean "everyone in the band who gets more than one line of dialogue", by which I mean "me".
Look, clearly music has reached its peak in 80s hard rock and is never actually going to get any better! All we can strive to do is rehash the same old stuff time and time again, like
(insert 80s band of your choice here to complete joke)
Well, that's a fairly defeatist attitude. I hope it doesn't come back to bite you in a moment of delicious irony.
I can confidently state that there's absolutely no chance of that happening. Now let me go and mope about in the rain with Jennifer.
It's what any competent businesswoman faced with the loss of her primary income stream would do, probably.
Eventually someone realises the story should actually GET THE FUCK GOING, and MARKY is invited to see Steel Dragon at the home of guitarist DOMINIC WEST, who is in a terrible WIG.
Jason, you're fired.
(angrily acting like a diva)
Why, because I constantly miss shows and turn up late to recording sessions, costing the band thousands?
Any of that might actually be a valid and coherent reason. But instead we're going to strongly imply that it's just because you're gay.
(removes terrible wig and flounces out)
Wait, you're going to let everyone believe you fired him because of his sexuality? Doesn't that make you horrible, horrible people?
Why yes it does.
(tears apart a live chicken for emphasis)
Anyway Marky, now that you've discovered your heroes are apparently rampant assholes, how'd you like to come on tour with us and spend nearly all your time in our company?
I'm on it like Gene Simmons on every filthy cent he can find.
First things first - if you're going to join this band that already includes two Americans, it's vitally important for some unspecified reason that you put on a rubbish British accent.
Well if it's going to prove so crucial, I can do that. Lawks a lawdy Mary Poppins, this one goes up to eleven!
MARKY uses the accent in one public appearance, and then it is thankfully FORGOTTEN and never used again.
EXT. ON TOUR, FOR WHAT SEEMS LIKE YEARS
The band plays some shows, MARKY gets wasted and bangs some strippers, JENNIFER gets wasted but then sobers up and moves to Seattle, and there is assorted rock n' roll excess. Meanwhile, a ROCKIN' MONTAGE that would have gotten this fluff out of the way so the movie could expand on its actual interesting themes, SOBS QUIETLY to itself in a corner.
INT. STUDIO
MARKY has sobered up, done a complete 180 and decided to write a bunch of original songs, for no more cogent reason than there needed to be some more DRAMA.
In case you've forgotten your heroes are rampant assholes, I'm forbidding you from writing any songs. But didn't you already go on a big rant about how you didn't want to do that anyway?
Oh, the delicious irony, how she bites deep!
This is the aforementioned DRAMA.
INT. BAR
MARKY and TIMOTHY SPALL are sharing a drink, while TIMOTHY recounts a genuinely moving tale of how he married young and abandoned his wife to pursue the ROCK N' ROLL LIFESTYLE.
...and so, I left her sitting there in that restaurant and walked out of her life, abandoning her twenty years ago just like Axl Rose abandoned all credibility.
Wow, that's actually quite a dark story.
And no doubt if the movie hadn't been paced so abysmally we could be delving into intriguing potential subplots like this, but there's no time to waste now, we've got more terrible wigs to showcase!
INT. STEEL DRAGON GIG
MARKY is on stage in body but not in spirit, unless the spirit in question is Jack Daniels.
Okay folks, this next song is called "Doesn't Zakk Wylde Look Strange Without A Beard". Rock on!
Oh, clever callback! I see what happened there.
MARKY invites MYLES on stage to finish the gig, thankfully neglecting all the HEALTH & SAFETY FORMS that would probably be necessary in real life.
Since this appears to be the first singer in the movie with real hair, he's going to take things over here. I'm off, leaving this band like they were my wife sitting in a restaurant.
(winks at Timothy)
Also a clever callback! At least, it would be, if it was doing anything more than referencing the goddamn previous scene.
INT. BAR, SEATTLE
MARKY has reunited with TIMOTHY OLYPHANT, and is playing in definitely NOT EVERY SEATTLE GRUNGE / ALT-ROCK BAND. They both appear to have different, but no less terrible, WIGS.
Okay folks, this next song is called "Whiny Early 90s Rock Ballad".
Whooahhrrrr, yaaeerrrryeahrrrr, turrrrned myrr worrrrld to blarrrrck...
JENNIFER is entranced from nowhere by MARKY'S horrible yarling siren call.
Oh Marky, I'm glad you finally realised that you should follow your heart and dream your destiny passion feelings yadda yadda. Now let's wrap it up with a hurried reconciliation and call it a day.
And all it took for a happy ending was to embrace the one emergent music genre that was diametrically opposed to everything musical I've been passionate about for my entire life. Rock on! But not too hard, though.
The movie STOPS fifteen minutes too soon to make use of its myriad subplots and themes, presumably because the WIG BUDGET ran out.
Owain B.
More by Owain B.
The Day the Earth Stood Still (2008)
A Perfect Storm