Review of Stoned

Stoned (2005)
5/10
Cliché-heavy but mildly entertaining rock biopic
14 November 2005
Warning: Spoilers
The turbulent life and mysterious death of Rolling Stones guitarist and founder Brian Jones has all the elements of a cracking thriller, and has already inspired at least three books prior to this film. "Stoned" concentrates largely on the relationship that developed between Brian Jones and Frank Thorogood, the building contractor hired to spruce up his dilapidated country pile, in the final, fateful months of the musician's life. While this bond strengthens and ultimately, inevitably sours, flashbacks tell the key events of Jones's earlier life – his disintegrating relationship with model Anita Pallenberg; his spiralling addictions to drink and drugs; and his increasing estrangement from a band he still thought of as his long after Jagger and Richards had wrestled the creative reigns from him. While the story of a working class outsider being inexorably drawn into the decadent demi-monde of a fading and reclusive rock star has already been told with far more style and imagination in "Performance", thanks largely to the talents of Britain's finest young actor, Paddy Considine, as Thorogood, it's not here that this film falls down. Rather it is director Woolley's inability to resist hackneyed clichés and ham-fisted symbolism that makes "Stoned" such a chore at times. For instance, when Jones takes a swing at Pallenberg in a Moroccan hotel room, inadvertently smashing a mirror, Woolley can't help but give us a shot of Brian's despairing reflection in the shattered glass; likewise, as Jones sinks to the bottom of his swimming pool in the final reel, a shooting star streaks across the night sky (no, really); while the decision to use Jefferson Airplane's "White Rabbit" to score an acid trip is an 'idea' so trite that the screen practically groans beneath the weight of it's obviousness. And that's not the only soundtrack faux pas either – actual Rolling Stones recordings are conspicuous by their absence, while the use of music by The White Stripes and, of all people, Kula Shaker, jars like the sudden appearance of a digital watch in a Merchant Ivory period drama. That said, the action rattles along with gusto, and the non-linear narrative structure is confidently handled, meaning that, despite his best attempts, Woolley doesn't quite manage to make a complete pig's ear out of this silk purse.
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