Look back, don't stare: Review

"I learned to be a pop star before I learned to be a man. I didn't know how to sing that well, I didn't know how to play any instrument. I didn't contribute a thing to the writing. It could just as well have been someone else. Apparently, I smiled the right way. I won the smile competition in Oldham when I was 5 or 6 years old; apparently that was my training." This sober confession from Mark Owen, the British-born singer-songwriter, is the key to understanding "Look Back, Don't Stare," a documentary that follows his band, Take That, as they record their reunion album.

According to the tagline, this is "a film about progress," a wordplay on the title of the new album, "Progress," but the linguistic quip misses the point. This is a film about masculinity, or to be more precise, about men who have finally found their masculinity.

I never thought of "masculinity" as a word that might surface in the context of Take That; that it might provide an alternative perspective to "teenage-girl idols," "kitsch," "toys," "commercialism," "manipulation," "marketing machines" and "ego." Certainly not after the album cover of "The Circus," which was released before Christmas two years ago and featured the band members, then still without Robbie Williams, dressed as acrobats wearing clingy, striped sailor shirts as if they were getting ready to make the usual jokes about sexual orientation.

The plot underlying "Look Back, Don't Stare" is of course the reunion of Robbie Williams with his old friends who still bear a grudge. His departure at the height of the band's success, his decision to embark on a solo career that positioned him as the talented and charismatic member of the band, the dirt he made sure to spread about Gary Barlow and the others whose solo careers flopped while he was packing stadiums and selling millions of albums, left accounts that sorely needed to be settled. Particularly painful was his absence from a television program that sought to get the guys together and eventually prompted Gary, Mark, Howard and Jason to hook up again.

Robbie's condescending attitude toward the band from which he sprouted is a key juncture in this relationship. It also marks the moment when things turn around. From that point on, Robbie's career starts sinking while the resurrected Take That emerges improved, mature and more popular than ever. When Robbie comes groveling to those who shaped him, it is an admission of his failure and a major victory for Take That. This is how the wayward son who thought he was better is brought back to the fold. A film crew is invited to document the rapprochement.

The main difference between then and now is that Robbie does not come back to the band he fled, the consumer product that was totally crushed by producers, managers and public relations executives. He returns to a band which for the first time in its history is holding itself accountable for results and functions as a real band that knows what it wants of itself. This band is hungry for success, it has a mission, and it has independent control of its artistry. Even more important in the context of "Look Back, Don't Stare" - it has the dynamic of a band.

In this respect, the film is not different from "Some Kind of Monster," which followed events in Metallica's studio room, and "No Distance Left to Run," which followed the return of Graham Coxon to Blur. A band is a band is a band; whether it is dressed in black, freaks out over distortion and sings about justice for all and children's nightmares, bangs out Britpop anthems or prides itself on choreography, disco innovations and shrieking female fans. In all three band films, there is an internal struggle between the two leading creative forces, yin and yang: the megalomaniac with his feet on the ground - that could be Lars Ulrich, Damon Albarn or Gary Barlow - and the complex negative counterpart with the wounded ego - that could be James Hetfield, Graham Coxon or Robbie Williams - who, like Homer in "The Odyssey," just wants to go home.

The greatness of "Look Back, Don't Stare" is that it is a human drama of conflict with great emotional complexity but not only that. It succeeds in doing what until now seemed impossible: it makes you appreciate Take That.

Fuente: Haaretz.com