Bula Quo. (PG.)
Directed by Stuart St John.
Starring Francis Rossi, Rick Parfitt, Craig Fairbrass, Laura Aikman and Jon Lovitz. 90 mins
Spielberg doing a film version of The Small Faces’ album Ogden’s Nut Gone Flake. A 3D motion capture remake of Yellow Submarine directed by Robert Zemeckis. Britpop wonders Supergrass in a TV series that would be a 90s equivalent of The Monkees. Almost pension aged rocker Status Quo in a light hearted action romp on Fiji, made some years after their last hit. Film folklore is full of bizarre notions for rock/ film hybrids, none of which came true.
Except this is not a notion, a late night absurdity, a drunken proposal, it is an actually thing, it exists and is expecting to be dealt with like it is in some way no big deal, just a run of a mill movie like all the others. But of course it isn’t – it prompts a self-perpetuating flurry of questions; a series of whats and whys and hows that if answered would just lead into other whats and whys and hows for all eternity.
Now there is moment at the start, as Rockin’ All Over The World pumps up over footage of their plane landing in Fiji that you think this might just work but then they start talking and you know that this is engaged in a fight to the death with Run For Your Wife for the title of the year’s most wretched release. The set-up is that Parfitt and Rossi (technically there are five members of Quo but the other three only get to stand around and watch) are mischievous little scamps who are forever running off, getting into trouble and making life a misery for their manager Fairbrass, who always has to go and rescue them.
Sound like A Hard Day’s Night but works out more Scooby Doo as the pair uncover a local Russian Roulette/ human organ racket run by Jon Lovitz – who would’ve gotten away it hadn’t been for you meddling geriatric rockers. (At one point I swear I heard the line “Syrups on, let’s go!”)
Music critics always looked down on Quo for the simplistic and repetitive nature of their 12 bar boogie, and the script pays homage to it. It just repeats a series of comic chase sequences in which The Boys evade the same set of angry henchman (led by a look-a-like of Alf from Home and Away) on foot, train, or scuba diving accompanied by a classic Quo track. Occasionally there will be a dialogue scene to try and explain the incomprehensible plot but the film makes more sense if thought of as a geriatric workout video, aimed at the super affluent.
In a film whose very existence is a mystery, the oddest thing about it is that Rossi and Parfitt look like they don’t want to be there. They treat the camera with an aloof disdain, as if it was an intrusive paparazzi. They look so self-satisfied on screen, like this is their holiday and we’re just lucky to peak at them having fun.
Status Quo have been going for almost as long as the Stones and have sold a lot of records but even so, they must have some fantastic accountants to allow them to flush away money on a vanity project like this.
Directed by Stuart St John.
Starring Francis Rossi, Rick Parfitt, Craig Fairbrass, Laura Aikman and Jon Lovitz. 90 mins
Spielberg doing a film version of The Small Faces’ album Ogden’s Nut Gone Flake. A 3D motion capture remake of Yellow Submarine directed by Robert Zemeckis. Britpop wonders Supergrass in a TV series that would be a 90s equivalent of The Monkees. Almost pension aged rocker Status Quo in a light hearted action romp on Fiji, made some years after their last hit. Film folklore is full of bizarre notions for rock/ film hybrids, none of which came true.
Except this is not a notion, a late night absurdity, a drunken proposal, it is an actually thing, it exists and is expecting to be dealt with like it is in some way no big deal, just a run of a mill movie like all the others. But of course it isn’t – it prompts a self-perpetuating flurry of questions; a series of whats and whys and hows that if answered would just lead into other whats and whys and hows for all eternity.
Now there is moment at the start, as Rockin’ All Over The World pumps up over footage of their plane landing in Fiji that you think this might just work but then they start talking and you know that this is engaged in a fight to the death with Run For Your Wife for the title of the year’s most wretched release. The set-up is that Parfitt and Rossi (technically there are five members of Quo but the other three only get to stand around and watch) are mischievous little scamps who are forever running off, getting into trouble and making life a misery for their manager Fairbrass, who always has to go and rescue them.
Sound like A Hard Day’s Night but works out more Scooby Doo as the pair uncover a local Russian Roulette/ human organ racket run by Jon Lovitz – who would’ve gotten away it hadn’t been for you meddling geriatric rockers. (At one point I swear I heard the line “Syrups on, let’s go!”)
Music critics always looked down on Quo for the simplistic and repetitive nature of their 12 bar boogie, and the script pays homage to it. It just repeats a series of comic chase sequences in which The Boys evade the same set of angry henchman (led by a look-a-like of Alf from Home and Away) on foot, train, or scuba diving accompanied by a classic Quo track. Occasionally there will be a dialogue scene to try and explain the incomprehensible plot but the film makes more sense if thought of as a geriatric workout video, aimed at the super affluent.
In a film whose very existence is a mystery, the oddest thing about it is that Rossi and Parfitt look like they don’t want to be there. They treat the camera with an aloof disdain, as if it was an intrusive paparazzi. They look so self-satisfied on screen, like this is their holiday and we’re just lucky to peak at them having fun.
Status Quo have been going for almost as long as the Stones and have sold a lot of records but even so, they must have some fantastic accountants to allow them to flush away money on a vanity project like this.
