The rock documentary is a peculiar subgenre of the documentary, itself a film subgenre that was relatively ignored as the realm of PBS and nature films until recently. However, the music documentary is a particularly tricky subject. It is, at worst, a badly veiled fan letter or promotional tool, and at best a fascinating look into the mind of a performer (“Don’t Look Back”) or creative moment (“Sympathy for the Devil”). One of the best recent music documentaries (winner of last year’s Independent Spirit Award for Documentary), “Metallica: Some Kind of Monster” is infinitely watchable, but also has an undeniable melodramatic quality. The ultimate quandary for the documentary filmmaking – allegiance to “truth” or entertainment – was somewhat mitigated by the fact that Metallica is unbelievably fucked up, and were perfectly willing to expose their pseudo-psychological-reality TV recovery on film. No such luck awaited Sebastian Schrade when he followed the band Low through Germany and England during the tour for their 2002 album “Trust.” As the band describes themselves, they are just three normal people from Minnesota who play simple music.
This is the challenging aspect of “Low in Europe”: Alan Sparhawk, Mimi Parker and Zak Sally are all erudite, friendly, engaging people. Yet there does not really seem to be an internal or external conflict driving this movie. Therefore, “Low in Europe” comes off more as informational than dramatic. While there’s nothing inherently wrong with this, the movie will likely be far less interesting to people who are not fans of the band already. Areas of potential drama are hinted at throughout the band conversations. Sparhawk and Parker are married with a young daughter. They are both devout Mormons who play music with only slight traces of spirituality to a fanbase that is largely unbelievers. The three of them have been touring together for over ten years. For a determined documentary filmmaker, these could be points of potential dramatic intrigue. However, Schrade seems like too much of a gentleman and/or fan to press.
While less captivating to the casual observer, “Low in Europe” will likely be appreciated by fans of Low, a band who doesn’t receive extensive press coverage because of their easygoing temperaments. The backstage interviews here are revealing, painting the band early on as provocateurs railing against the punk scene’s conformity by playing uncomfortably slow music. We see their growth into a group that are now fortunate straddlers of the line between credibility and success. Sparhawk especially comes across as even keeled and well spoken, revealing that the band doesn’t preach politically because he feels real political awareness happens on the individual, not mass, level. The clips of him are startling considering his recent admissions of long suffering severe depression, events that have put the band’s future on hold.
There are also some worthwhile discussions of musical independence by the band, and what the term truly means. In this manner, it reminded me a bit of Justin Mitchell’s documentary on the Pacific Northwest punk scene in the 1990s, “Songs for Cassavetes.” Discussions of above-ground versus underground are thoughtfully posed in each. However, this is the kind of shit you’d shoot with your pals over tall boys, and not exactly the makings of documentary gold.
Perhaps there are legal or copyright issues, but it is also frustrating that the many live concert clips of the band (excellently captured) are not included as extras, and very little bonus material exists with a documentary that runs only fifty minutes. “Low in Europe” is a nice keepsake for longtime and new fans of the group, especially considering their current indefinite hiatus. However, as a documentary, a film that should interest its viewers in its subject whether they have previous interest/knowledge of that subject, it is not as successful. To find why someone should be compelled to give the group extended consideration, you’ll have to direct yourself to their lengthy and impressive discography. |