#50 PJ20

In 1995 a mob of ticketless Pearl Jam fans ripped down the fencing around the Sidney Myer Music Bowl in Melbourne, zig-zagging around police on horseback and down into the crowd. This wasn't your traditional rag-tag bunch of sweaty dudes running in diagonals hoping they'd make it past security - thousands of people streamed into the venue. Such was the kind of frenzy Pearl Jam did inspire in their hey day. I was one of them.

Fast forward to the present day: the long-running grunge icons are the subject of a new documentary to celebrate their 20th anniversary. It kicks-off with director Cameron Crowe (Almost Famous) narrating over a montage of shiny high definition video and old footage to set the scene - the clips are raw, discoloured and wonderful. Crowe explains how he moved to Seattle as a music journalist and found himself friends with the band at their inception. Now, trusted with 1200 hours of archival footage including interviews, touring, mishaps, band gags and tragedies, Crowe digs it all up, adding some new interviews to tell the story of the band. Twenty years compressed into a history lesson and character analysis.

We first meet Stone Gossard and Jeff Ament, hustling and playing in Seattle with their band Mother Love Bone in the late '80s, prior to the arrival of Eddie Vedder. The raw, shaky video footage beautifully captures drunk nights, long hair and the energy fuelled by Seattle's live music scene. The history lesson continues as Mother Love Bone morphs into Pearl Jam following the overdose of front man Andy Wood - a tragedy that leads the band to discover a shy singer from San Diego called Eddie Vedder.

Crowe picks the pivotal moments and links together a dramatic and insightful express tour. The first half of the documentary pulses with energy and you can't help but enjoy watching the young group in their formative stages; being interviewed at shows; yelling at bouncers; Eddie throwing himself off scaffolding into crowds; recording albums; on tour; rejecting a Grammy; finding mainstream success and the inevitable backlash. Crowe tells the bands deeply personal stories artfully and we share the stage with them during some pivotal moments. Vedder is an intense presence and the build up of interviews from twenty years is interesting and devoid of cliches. Fans will love hearing the frontman talk about fame, his life and music, but the interviews pale next to some ferocious live performances that reek of danger; live footage that reveals more about the band than the interviews could ever.

So it's disconcerting then that Crowe stumbles in the second half of the film. A not so subtle shift in tone occurs as the band becomes more introspective, and the vital, shaky pink video footage is replaced with HD crane shots. It feels like Crowe is trying to prove that the late stage of Pearl Jam's career is just as important as the first. He stops showing  cool footage from the vault and instead hits upon multiple fan testimonials and new clips that feels staged; covering each band member for an equal allotted time, rather than presenting the most important moments. Its shift from archival madness and chronological story-telling to a hefty slab of promotional material, seems less like the vision of an objective story-teller and more like a rose-tinted love-letter to his employers.

Every fan will love the shit out of this film, regardless of the cringy promo vibe. The archival footage is thrilling and the history lesson is sharp. The band members give honest accounts of all the events, and it doesn't seem like they're holding anything back from Crowe. The history of Pearl Jam is a one-in-a-lifetime story; it's a shame then that Crowe couldn't let it speak for itself.

Marc Goldenfein