It
is quite a sinister hall of fame. Of course, it is a coincidence, but quite a
few legendary recording artists died at the age of twenty-seven, including
Robert Johnson, Jimi Hendrix, Amy Winehouse, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, and the
Grateful Dead’s Ron “Pigpen” McKernan. It is a steep price to pay for success,
but there are still musicians who are desperate to make that Faustian bargain
in Patrick Fogarty’s The 27 Club,
which releases today on VOD.
Lily
Glance has more talent for burning bridges than for singing. She is also
twenty-six years old—a prime candidate for the 27 Club. Conveniently, that
happens to be the topic of film student Jason Reed’s thesis documentary. The
torch-carrying roommate of her sister’s boyfriend should be easy for her to
manipulate. He might even be worth the effort when he discovers the evil Necronomicon-like book that holds the secret
of attaining infernally-derived fame. However, the former bandmates of the 27
Club victim who died in the prologue are also out to find it and they play
rough.
The
coolest thing about 27 Club is that it
is dedicated to the memory of the late, great R&B-jump blues saxophonist
Big Jay McNeely, but frustratingly his scenes were cut from the film for
continuity reasons, because he died before they could be completed. We’ve seen
this film. Trust us, “consistency” is not a word anyone will use to describe
it. He’s Big Jay McNeely—make what you’ve got work.
Indeed,
if all the questionable continuity were edited out of 27 Club, there would hardly be any film left. Is possession of the
book necessary or not? Are the Faustian stars always demonically possessed or just
occasionally? Do we care? Not really. At least it is entertaining to watch Todd
Rundgren chew the scenery as Prof. Crawford, Reed’s rock & roll faculty
advisor.
Maddisyn
Carter plays Glance in a similarly vampy spirit, but Derrick Denicola plods
along painfully as dopey Reed. Yet, perhaps the most awkward and exploitative
moments come from the tacky interludes portraying real life 27-ers like Johnson,
Winehouse, and Curt Cobain as they reflect on their mortality and legacies,
shortly before their deaths.
The
circumstances of the so-called 27 Club are eerie enough to inspire a good
horror movie, but this isn’t it. Admittedly, Fogarty’s film is a more
professional piece of work than Phoebe Dollar’s unwatchable Sunset Society, but it cannot touch Rob
Stefaniuk’s Suck, the gold standard
of rock & roll horror comedies. Not recommended, The 27 Club releases today on VOD platforms.
