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Mary Lucia: Iggy Pop and The Stooges get rock-doc treatment in 'Gimme Danger'

Iggy Pop in 'Gimme Danger', a Magnolia Pictures release. Photo courtesy of Amazon Studios / Magnolia Pictures.
Iggy Pop in 'Gimme Danger', a Magnolia Pictures release. Photo courtesy of Amazon Studios / Magnolia Pictures.Byron Newman

by Mary Lucia

November 08, 2016

Jim Jarmusch gives Iggy Pop and The Stooges his rock-doc treatment in Gimme Danger.
Here are a few thoughts I had about the movie.

Gimme Danger's primary goal is to explore the influence of the Stooges' three classic albums — The Stooges (1969), Fun House (1970) and Raw Power (1973) — on the punk revolution that followed a few years later. This documentary is about The Stooges: Ron Asheton, Scott Asheton and Dave Alexander, and not exclusively Iggy Pop, although there's plenty of Iggy-related material for fans.

I love that the majority of interviews with Iggy take place in someone's laundry room. Being the nerd that I am, I strained to see if there were folded shirts sitting atop the dryer. This would at least establish if it was indeed Iggy's laundry room. On that note, I did learn that Iggy's signature shirtless style was influenced by Egyptian Pharaohs.

In many other rock bands' histories from the proto-punk era, the band members talk of finding like-minded people in their schools to form friendships and musical collaborations. "Do you like The Stooges?" seemed to be the litmus test. So what was The Stooges' band of inspiration? They all seemed inclined to be fans of Detroit's other cacophony makers, The MC5, who took the Stooges under their wing like a baby-brother band. Michigan's industrial backdrop served the band's sonic influence; machines crushing metal and the general clanking in car factories seemed to speak to the young Midwestern band.

It was interesting also to learn that Iggy was a fan of children's TV programs like Howdy Doody and The Soupy Sales Show, incorporating things from both kiddy shows into his future Iggy Pop persona. Clarabell, the rogue clown who was unpredictable, might never have self-slashed with a broken bottle, but Iggy's anything-goes performance was intriguing. Soupy, meanwhile, had encouraged young viewers to write to his show in "25 words or less"; Iggy speaks of the resonance of those simple instructions when he was writing lyrics — less is more. Cue Jarmusch's cartoon image of Bob Dylan with the bubble above his head saying "Blah, blah blah."

Born James Osterberg, Iggy's musical aspirations began while playing drums in his family's trailer-park home. His parents seemed genuinely encouraging of young Jim's interests and eventually gave him their bedroom, which was larger, to accommodate the setup. Iggy speaks sweetly about his folks, saying that living with them as he began to enter adulthood afforded him the opportunity to get to know them as people.

Tired of looking at people's butts behind the drum kit in The Iguanas was enough motivation for Iggy to move up front as lead singer of The Stooges. I appreciated Iggy's classic move ofnhurling his entire body forward to catch himself on the mic stand as a tribute to children everywhere who have meltdowns at Target and their primal impulse is to throw themselvesnonto the floor out of frustration.

Borrowing some of the droning repetitive sounds of The Velvet Underground helped shape the Stooges' songs, like "I Wanna Be Your Dog" (sleigh bells have never sounded more sinister … thank you, John Cale).

Upon release of the Stooges' first self-titled record, the band met Andy Warhol at The Factory and the entire cast of characters that went along with it. Nobody but Iggy seemed to be overly impressed with the New York speed freaks. Danny Fields of Elektra Records commented that, "You kind of expected that Iggy would be someone Nico would fall in love with. He was everything she would like in a guy: wounded, brilliant, fragile but made of steel, insane, demented."

It's a bummer that Jarmusch doesn't dig very deep into Iggy's relationship with David Bowie; god knows that could've been its own documentary given their musical collaborations, the Berlin years. (If you're only half-assed interested in that story, you might be satiated with Todd Haynes' semi fictional Velvet Goldmine.)

With Gimme Danger, the reality is a huge archive of Stooges footage doesn't exist, so combined with interviews from band members and some rare televisionnappearances, Jarmusch fills out the flick with animation and clips from cult-like old movies.

Also filling out the film are interviews with Mike Watt, who stepped in to play bass with the Stooges in the last decade, and Dinosaur Jr.'s Jay Mascis; both play pivotal roles in keeping the legacy of the band in the now. Perhaps were the Stooges not inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2009, Jarmusch's film might have made a mighty fine case for why they deserve to be there.

The biggest takeaway I had was that Iggy is a perfect example of a well-evolved primate: he's whip smart, childlike, and yet musically maintains a sense of the most primal aspects of rock. He's a beautiful rock 'n' roll simian.

Resources

Gimme Danger - official site

Iggy Pop - official site

Theatrical one-sheet for GIMME DANGER
Theatrical one-sheet for GIMME DANGER, a Magnolia Pictures release.
Magnolia Pictures