Anvil: The Story of Anvil

Posted as part of Operation 101010
Category: documentaries / In category: 3 of 10 / Overall: 15 of 100

I’ve never had much time for that old saw about whether the glass is half empty or half full. The answer is so self-evident it amazes me the question still gets asked. If the glass was empty to begin with and then had water/fruit juice/alcoholic substances [delete as applicable] decanted into it up to the half way mark, then it’s half full. If the glass was full to begin with and then half its contents were drunk/spilled/evaporated [delete as applicable], then it’s half empty. End of fucking story.

But wait, you say. The question is hypothetical. It’s designed to test perception, to determine whether one has an optimistic or a cynical outlook. To which I say: that’s as may be, but it’s still a stupid question. As stupid as that one about whether a tree falling in a wood makes a sound if there’s no one around to hear it. Of course it does. It’s a fucking tree. Falling. The bastard’s going to make one hell of a racket.

And besides, the half full/half empty glass question has now been made redundant. Here’s a new perceptional test: is ‘Anvil: The Story of Anvil’ a testament to the power of dreams and never giving up, or is it a study of terminally delusional behaviour?

Much of the blogosphere (as well as a goodly number of film magazines) favours the former, finding in Sacha Gervasi’s documentary a poignant, affectionate and affirming portrait of friendship, self-belief and against-the-odds staying power. All of which is undeniably evident, but I’ve watched the film twice now and, beyond the easy laughs (Gervasi, realising he has a real-life ‘This is Spinal Tap’ for a subject, slyly evokes any number of Tap-isms), I can’t help but find it hopelessly sad and pathetic in places.

Singer and founder member Steve “Lips” Kudrow’s unflagging commitment to the band, never mind that a brief meteoric burst of success in the early ’80s which saw them playing to huge stadium crowds (granted, mainly in Japan) reduced – over the next two decades – to venues of a significantly smaller calibre, is the chief reason for the all “power of dreams”/”never give up” encomium. Fair enough, but hearing him talk about the band as the thing that keeps him going or telling guitarist and co-founder Robb Reiner he’s “the closest person I’ve got in the world” when the man barely acknowledges his wife just doesn’t sit well with me.

Nor is his unflagging commitment always buoyed up by unflappable optimism. There is frequently a palpable sense of despair over him. He comes close to trading blows with a Czechoslovakian club owner who threatens to withhold payment. A potential brawl erupts between him and Reiner. As often as he extols the band’s longevity, he complains that it’s eternally down to him to hold things together. Notwithstanding the semi-happy ending (a gig at a rock festival in Japan where they wow the crowds), ‘Anvil: The Story of Anvil’ contains more than its fair share of moments so squirmily embarrassing you’re almost willing them to call it a day; put themselves out of their misery; pay a little more attention to their wives.

Perhaps the most incisive scene has Reiner’s sister (the interestingly named Droid) and his wife Jane jointly interviewed. Droid is brutally straightforward in her assessment of where Anvil are at: “He [Reiner] has got a son, he’s got a wife, he’s got two stepdaughters, he’s got a mortgage … Anvil, they tour but they don’t make a lot of money and he’s basically telling me it’s got to happen or I’m done.” Jane adds: “I’ve been very patient as a wife. How long do I have to keep waiting?”

The movie’s tagline has it that Kudrow and Reiner, at fourteen, “made a pact to rock together forever. They meant it.” Which is fine for a couple of teenagers; even for two guys in their twenties with no responsibilities. But Kudrow and Reiner are a lot further down the line and life has freighted them with responsibilities beyond the band. Yet the band – certainly for Kudrow, who demonstrates a frightening degree of tunnel vision – is the be all and end all.

Yes, ‘Anvil: The Story of Anvil’ is often funny – the attempts of well-meaning but borderline incompetent would-be manager Tiziana Arrigoni to orchestrate a European tour are jaw-droppingly hilarious – and despite a plethora of embarrassing moments, the film achieves an engagement of even the most cynical viewer (in this case, yours truly) guaranteed to have you cheering for Anvil when they take the stage for the final cathartic concert in Japan. But it’s a sense of sadness that stays with me; a tinge of melancholy that’s all the more disconcerting because so much of its context provokes laughter.