"That Thing You Do" -- a Movie About a Fictional Rock Band in 1964

Danelectro Bass Guitar

Yesterday I watched the Tom Hanks film "That Thing You Do," about a fictional rock band in Pittsburgh in 1964.  This band calls themselves the "Oneders" (pronounced "wonders") but everyone thinks the name is pronounced "the Oh-Needers."  Cute.

The drummer, Guy Patterson, is the chief protagonist.  He is asked to sit in for the Oh-Needers regular drummer (who has broken an arm) at a talent competition.  The band plays their own composition, "That Thing You Do."  It's supposed to be a ballad but drummer Guy speeds up the beat considerably, making it an up-tempo tune, over the objections of the band leader Jimmy.  The song is an instant hit and the band wins the talent contest.

After playing in a local pizza parlor and making an amateurish record of "That Thing You Do," the band is discovered by a talent scout and are on their way to fame and glory.  They trade in their cheap Silvertone guitars and Danelectro bass guitar for better instruments.  I liked the portrayal of the instruments, and found them to be historically accurate for the time period.  Lead guitar player Lenny upgrades to a Fender Jazzmaster guitar, and the bass player trades his Danelectro for a Fender Jazz Bass, which was identical to my first bass, a 1960 Fender Jazz Bass in three color sunburst, complete with chrome tailpiece and string cover.

The only sour note in this accurate depiction was Jimmy's 12-string, '63 Rickenbacker guitar, identical to that played by George Harrison of the Beatles.  There is no 12 string sound in any of the songs, and the instrument seems out of place in what is essentially a bubblegum band -- toothless music targeted for pubescent schoolgirls.  (When I think of Rickenbacker, I think of the earthy blues of Creedence Clearwater or the British Rock of the Beatles, or the psychedelic rock of the Jefferson Airplane.)

Other things about the movie bugged me.

Fender Jazz Bass, 1960

Young people are shown with small portable radios with white earphones, similar to those used today for iPhones.  Portable radios and even earphones were in use back then, but were rarely (if ever) seen on the street.  No one in the band has long hair, though by 1964 every male teenager in the country was busily growing it out to emulate the Beatles.

Jimmy, the guitar player, comes closest to an authentic 60's hairstyle.  He resembles Dave Clark of the Dave Clark Five, also popular around that time period.  Indeed, in one shot of the band, they are wearing white turtlenecks under black suits, making them look very much like the Dave Clark Five.

Blacks depicted in the film were politically correct to an absurd level, portraying them as beings of light rather than real human beings with faults and frailties.  They include Lamarr, the head bellhop of the Los Angeles hotel where the band stays.  Lamarr is Mr. Effervescence, nicer than pie, positive-thinking-on-steroids, and matchmaker to Guy and Faye (the band's only groupie).  He is too nice to be real.

Likewise for Del Paxton, the piano player of a jazz band and musical hero to Guy, who finally meets his hero in an L.A. club called "the Blue Spot."  Del is also super positive, upbeat and offers sagacious advice to Guy, some of which is memorable, like never depending on a band, because "bands come and go," and you have to keep playing with whomever you can.  I like the Del character, but again, he is almost too nice to be real.  Now if he smoked cigars, had a few tattoos, maybe an earring, knocked back a few more whiskeys and swore a little, I could believe he's real.  The characterization was too saccharine for me.

Other blacks included a female singing group reminiscent of the Supremes, highly coiffed, dressed in pastel colors and looking pretty, but singing tunes even too cheesy for the early 1960's.  In one scene they are singing "When you're holding my hand, you're holding my heart," followed by hand claps.  I had a brief mental image of a doctor holding a beating heart during surgery as I suppressed a brief wave of nausea.  C'mon!  The Sixties were never that corny.

In the end, of course, the band is dissolved by the same forces that destroy many popular bands:  egos, the desire to play some other genre of music other than the one that made them famous, differing goals and visions, personal jealousies and annoyances.

Del Paxton had that right:  you can't depend on a band, so play when you can, with whom you can.  If you're good enough, you'll always have opportunities to play and perform.

Jim Morrison: Dionysian Shaman or Acid-Addled Freak?

Pamela Courson and Jim Morrison
Dead by Heroin

Photo:  Jim Morrison and Pamela Courson.

I watched Oliver Stone's 1991 movie on the life of Jim Morrison, on Hulu.com.  It stars Val Kilmer as the strange rock star of the Doors, an acid rock band that performed and recorded from 1967 to 1971.  The Doors are famous for such rock hits as "Light My Fire," "LA Woman," "Riders on the Storm," and "No One Here Gets Out Alive."

Kilmer actually sang the Morrison songs in the 1991 film, and he was simply awful.  He portrays Morrison as he most likely was in life: a narcissistic, self-absorbed addict who made a concerted effort to erase all viable brain cells with a steady regimen of hard liquor and drugs.  In the process, Kilmer's Morrison goes on stage wasted, insulting the audience, improvising incoherent lyrics to songs, and greatly aggravating both club owners and fellow band members.   Off stage, Kilmer's Morrison is depicted as screwing every female within a three mile radius.  Naked women are seen running through the halls of his hotel while his common law wife, Pamela Courson, suffers the infidelity.  When he isn't copulating, Morrison is depicted smashing things and screaming at Courson.

The film portrays some real events in the life and dubious career of Jim Morrison:  his confrontation with the police in a New Haven, Connecticut concert, where he was arrested on stage, leading to a fan riot in the streets; his alleged indecent exposure on a Miami stage.  Per Wikipedia:

During a Doors concert on March 1, 1969, at the Dinner Key Auditorium in Miami, Florida, Morrison gave a controversial performance. The restless crowd was subjected to Morrison's lack of interest in singing, as well as to his emotional outbursts, screaming challenges to the audience, and making irreverent social statements. A few days later, on March 5, the Dade County Sherrif's office issued a warrant for Morrison's arrest claiming Morrison deliberately exposed his penis while on stage, shouted obscenities to the crowd, simulated oral sex on guitarist Robbie Krieger and was drunk at the time of his performance. Morrison turned down a plea bargain that required The Doors to perform a free Miami concert. He was later convicted, sentenced to six months in jail and ordered to pay a $500 fine. However, Morrison appealed this conviction and died in Paris before serving his sentence.

In fairness, the bit about exposing himself was later proved untrue; only one witness claimed to have witnessed Morrison's penis, and she was a cousin of the arresting officer.  However, Morrison was guilty of all the other charges, e.g., public drunkenness, public obscenities, etc.  Some sources say he tried to induce the Miami audience to riot, but failed in the attempt.

At the end of his career, Jim Morrison was showing signs of substance-abuse dementia at the band's last and final concert:

During the Doors' last public performance, at The Warehouse in New Orleans, Louisiana, on December 12, 1970, Morrison apparently had a breakdown on stage. Midway through the set he slammed the microphone numerous times into the stage floor until the platform beneath was destroyed, then sat down and refused to perform for the remainder of the show.

Morrison moved with his common law wife, Pamela Courson, to Paris in March 1971.  He spent several weeks taking walks through the city and visiting all of the usual tourist attractions.  However, on July 3, 1971, after spitting up blood and complaining of chest pains, decided to take a bath.  Courson found him dead in the bath tub at 5 AM.  Morrison had apparently died of a heart attack induced by a drug overdose.  No autopsy was made, however, to confirm the cause of death.  He was 27 years old.

Morrison was buried in the famous Parisian cemetery Pere Lachaise on July 7, 1971.  This cemetery holds the remains of many famous people, such as Frédéric Chopin, Eugène Delacroix, Marcel Proust, Gertrude Stein, and Oscar Wilde.  One of my favorite French singers, Yves Montand, is buried there as well.

Morrison's grave was soon a gathering place for fans who share Morrison's fascination with death; they scaled the walls at night to place lighted candles on his headstone, while smoking pot, shooting up or drinking booze, leaving used needles, flowers, empty bottles and other paraphernalia behind. Morrison's bust (a statue of Morrison's head and shoulders) on the grave, as well as surrounding walls and tombs, were soon festooned with graffiti. In later years, someone stole the bust and cemetery officials removed the graffiti. Night patrols now discourage nocturnal visits from drug-addled fans, but they still come in the daylight.

Morrison's wife, Pamela Courson, went home to California and died of a heroin overdose in 1974 [see death certificate].  Her ashes are entombed there.

The Jim Morrison story is interesting to me. He, like Obama and many other "celebrities," has become a fantasy for fans, who impute great poetic, intellectual or shaman-like qualities to their idol. Morrison, however, was a weak man of limited talents who self-destructed in an orgy of nihilistic self-indulgence.

Here's a video of Morrison performing his most famous hit, "Light My Fire":