There’s the sense that, in making this, Dom wants to stand on the shoulders of giants, but without looking down at the legendary names – Jagger, Bowie, the lot – who are holding him up. He wants to be his own thing, but with the grandiosity of an old-fashioned capital-R rock star. The film is mostly shot in a classy black-and-white, but the colour segments have an aged appearance, as if the film is being thought about as an archival document to be pored over by fans decades into the future. He’s full of big, profound statements throughout.
“Complacency is the biggest killer for any artist,” he says at one point. It’s about real emotion, he tells us. These scenes are meant to be art. This film wants to be thought of as art.
That said, the film is at its best when it isn’t trying so hard. The most beautiful parts are when he’s not thinking, and just feeling. Sometimes, that’s when he’s just goofing around, such as the endearing moment when he attempts to slide down a banister. Other times, it gets raw. We see Dom lashing out at himself when he’s suddenly unable to hit the high notes in The Greatest Parade. In a scene with an entirely black screen, Dom throws objects about, cursing himself, spiraling further. “What the fuck is wrong with me?” he yells. “I’m better than I’m giving you.”
Later, he gets almost unduly cross with his band when he believes they’ve made some music sound too much like pop. The greatest gut-punch, however, arrives when he discusses stepping away temporarily from his relationship with the love of his life, Jesse Jo Stark. “Now I’m here, what I want is her,” he confesses. “I love her.” The segue into Ghosts that follows weighs even heavier as a result.