The mystique of the Rolling Stones isn't well served by Stoned, a speculative film about the last three months of the life of original guitarist Brian Jones. But nor will their legend be marred by this inept and ineffectual bio-pic.
Directed by famed producer Stephen Woolley (The Crying Game, Breakfast On Pluto), Stoned shows us Jones final days through the eyes of Frank Thorogood (Paddy Considine), a contractor brought into the fold by the Stones road manager Tom Keylock (David Morrissey) to help with the landscaping of his East Sussex manse and, eventually, keep an eye on the free-spirited rock star.
Since we know that Jones (Leo Gregory) drowned in his pool, Wooley stages it with a flash forward of the body's discovery near the start of the film. But any mystery about the relationship of the working-class Thorogood and the rich Jones begs for more incisive scenes than the clichéd mise-en-scene of all too familiar 60's tropes. To believe that the contractor could be moved to murder Jones, we need more than a mild scene of humiliation and a dismissal without final pay. We need shadings of Thorogood's psychological discord, and a fuller performance from the usually reliable Considine.
Not that the other actors fare any better. Gregory plays Jones as a Lost Boy and an opportunist, sporting a Little Lord Fauntleroy shag that turns him into David Spade's somewhat sexier brother. The women are lovely, but basically negligible whores or hangers-on and the rest of the band loose approximations of the younger Stones, with Keith Richards the moral center of the film.
Neither the script, by Neil Purvis and Robert Wade, nor the director, shapes scenes for drama. Jones life, like the film, seems aimless; we never understand his importance as the architect of the original Stones. On the evidence of Stoned, one can rightly say that as a director, Woolley is a great producer.
Directed by famed producer Stephen Woolley (The Crying Game, Breakfast On Pluto), Stoned shows us Jones final days through the eyes of Frank Thorogood (Paddy Considine), a contractor brought into the fold by the Stones road manager Tom Keylock (David Morrissey) to help with the landscaping of his East Sussex manse and, eventually, keep an eye on the free-spirited rock star.
Since we know that Jones (Leo Gregory) drowned in his pool, Wooley stages it with a flash forward of the body's discovery near the start of the film. But any mystery about the relationship of the working-class Thorogood and the rich Jones begs for more incisive scenes than the clichéd mise-en-scene of all too familiar 60's tropes. To believe that the contractor could be moved to murder Jones, we need more than a mild scene of humiliation and a dismissal without final pay. We need shadings of Thorogood's psychological discord, and a fuller performance from the usually reliable Considine.
Not that the other actors fare any better. Gregory plays Jones as a Lost Boy and an opportunist, sporting a Little Lord Fauntleroy shag that turns him into David Spade's somewhat sexier brother. The women are lovely, but basically negligible whores or hangers-on and the rest of the band loose approximations of the younger Stones, with Keith Richards the moral center of the film.
Neither the script, by Neil Purvis and Robert Wade, nor the director, shapes scenes for drama. Jones life, like the film, seems aimless; we never understand his importance as the architect of the original Stones. On the evidence of Stoned, one can rightly say that as a director, Woolley is a great producer.