Review: Sad Vacation: The Last Days of Sid and Nancy

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2017

Images from the Internet

Sad Vacation: The Last Days of Sid and Nancy

Directed by Danny Garcia                  

Chip Baker Films / MVD Visual

94 minutes, 2016

www.chipbakerfilms.com

www.mvdvisual.com

I’ve certainly been in the same room with Sid and Nancy, especially the latter considering the sheer number of times I’ve seen the Heartbreakers, her band of choice before latching onto Sid. But my strongest connected and contributing memory is coming home from a show (if I remember correctly, the bands were The Fast and Crayola) in the late 70s, after the break-up of the Sex Pistols and before Nancy’s death, and seeing an inebriated and stumbling Sid kicking a guy passed out on the sidewalk on 8th Street, between McDougall and Sixth (Ave of the Americas, to those who don’t know better). Needless to say, I walked on, without talking to him. About a year later, he and Nancy were legends and newspaper fodder.

It makes sense that this documentary was made by the same people/director as the excellent Looking for Johnny: The Legend of Johnny Thunders [reviewed HERE], because Thunders and his band the Heartbreakers were a key catalyst in the lives of Sid and Nancy. Y’see, Nancy Spungen was a Heartbreakers’ friendemy/groupie who joined in with the band in its proclivity for hard drugs. These bits of fact, mentioned as raindrops at the beginning, including the elements of the Heartbreakers going to London to tour with the Sex Pistols, thereby opening up an opportunity for Nancy to go to the UK to get herself a Sex Pistol (much in the way the story goes that Linda Eastman did the same with the Beatles, and ended up with Paul).

There is a bit of irony in the whole story of the Pistols and Heartbreakers, as the Pistols famously wrote a derogatory song about the Heartbreakers (or New York Dolls, depending on how you read the lyrics) in a song called “New York” (“You're just a pile of shit / You're coming to this / You poor little faggot / You're sealed with a kiss”) to which the Heartbreakers responded with their own “London Boys” (“You're telling me 'shut your mouth' / If I wasn't kissing, you wouldn't be around / You talk about faggots, little momma's boy / You sit at home, you got a chaperon / You need an escort to take a piss”); you didn’t think in-song insults started with rappers, did you? After all that, Thunders and Vicious became good buds at some point.

The introduction of these elements led to a drug shitstorm that would rock the music scene as the Heartbreakers (and Nancy) introduced the use of heroin to Punk’s British Second Wave. Nancy, of course, latched herself onto Sid, but with all the tenuousness of the violence and mind/physical altering substances of their relationship, it’s hard to argue that they loved/needed/were dependent on each other (much as Linda and Paul were an actual couple beyond how they met). With Nancy holding the needle and the dime, she brought Sid into a world he may never have explored (though that is debated in the film), and eventually to New York.

As the film demonstrates through a large number of oral history interviews with varying memories and opinions about what would happen between the death of Nancy and that of Sid on Feb 3, 1979 (exactly 20 years after the crash that took the life of Buddy Holly, Richie Valens and J.P. The Big Bopper Richardson). The general consensus seems to be that Sid could be a sweetheart or a terror, depending on the day or what was flowing through his system, but Nancy was just a horrendous human due to mental problems, substance abuse, and a “whiney” voice that could shatter glass. Her mom, Deborah, tried to explain it in a defensive and angry, self-serving auto/biography, And I Don’t Want to Live This Life (the book goes unmentioned, and Debbie is only brought up once).

To get down to the nitty-gritty, the film is extremely well put together with a very limited budget. I have always enjoyed different theories types of documentaries, that doesn’t try to come any real conclusion by itself, or have an answer in mind, and that uses the interviews to support ideas, rather than coming to one on its own. While one of the two trailers included in the extras claims it does, I’m happy to say it doesn’t really. However, it does posit a bunch of credible theories and lets the viewers come to its own possible choice of solution. The latter part of the film sometimes feels more like a murder mystery than a narrative, which I feel is a plus.

There are so many people from the period present, especially in the New York Scene of the 1970s, from fans to musicians, that experienced the Sid/Nancy phenomenon first-hand. Some include Walter Lure, Rockets Redglare, Cynthia Ross, Donna Destri, Lenny Kaye, Andy (Adny) Shernoff, photographer Bob Gruen (who went on the bus with the Pistols for their US tour), the late-great Leee Black Childers (who owned a leather jacket back then I truly envied), Howie Pyro (of The Blessed and D Generation, and who infamously snorted some of Sid’s ashes), Hellin Killer (who was with him the night Sid died), Sylvain Sylvain, and so many others. It also includes the one person I really wanted to hear, which was “Neon” Leon Matthews, a musician and fellow Chelsea Hotel resident that disappeared for a number of years after Sid died (only to resurface decades later in Europe). For a long time it was believed he held the key to the answer to what happened that night, and I am really grateful to be able to hear his side of that night.

Wisely, the interviews are intercut and short, so no one story goes on long enough to become burdensome to anyone who doesn’t really know these people talking about their affiliation to these two desperate and media-legendary victims. Also, the stories themselves are interesting and keep apace. Hearing the differences in opinion and events makes for conversations on what happened with the viewers going after the film ends. My only gripe is that the names are only shown the first time the talker is presented. I knew most of them, but the few I didn’t got lost on me as I heard more of their involvement. Also, it is a pleasure that everyone who talks had some direct action in the events, rather than hearing from journalists who report their indirect opinions on second-hand stories (as I hypocritically do at the end of the review).

As for the budget, well, it’s pretty easy to see the constraints, and I’m saying this as a positive considering the achievement and fascination of the film. For example, we see a B-roll of the Pistols playing live, and the Heartbreakers’ “All By Myself” is playing on the soundtrack. In fact, there is no Pistols music at all, and only a quick live snippet of Sid at Max’s; Sid’s “My Way” and “C’mon Everybody” is mentioned, just not heard. There are some pretty infamous clips though, including the drugged out Sid & Nancy in bed from the film D.O.A. (1980). The big head scratcher for me is that we don’t hear Johnny Thunders’ elegy for Sid, for which this film is named.

Other than the two trailers mentioned previously, there is also a Heartbreakers music video for “Take a Chance” that is linked to the film through clips. But the standout for me is the 18-minute extra of interviews. There are five, and it was right to take them out of the film due to their length and as they don’t really contribute to the story; however they were among my favorite anecdotes, especially the one by Donna Destri. Definitely watch it all of this extra all the way through. And did I mention the DVD comes with a free film poster?

So, yeah, the director/producers certainly achieved what they set out to do, and it makes sense that they preceded this with one about Thunders. I’m really looking forward to what’s next (I’m hoping one about Stiv Bators of the Dead Boys, though I haven’t heard anything about it).

And, for what it’s worth, here is the version of the story as I heard it at the time, though I can vouch for none of the validity: Sid and Nancy were expecting to have a big drug deal go down, and so they gave much of their valuables to friends for safeguarding; Johnny got Sid’s jacket, which he wore from then on, in good faith (i.e., he never sold it for, well, let’s say rent). The drug dealer gave them samples, enough to knock out Sid, and then made a move on Nancy; she rejected him, and he stabbed her. When Sid found out what happened, he felt guilty that he had passed out, and then left her to go to his methadone appointment in the morning, saying to the police, “I killed her,” meaning he didn’t protect her. The cops heard it as a confession (parts of this are echoed in the film).

Who know what would have happened if Sid had cleaned up. Would he be famous rather than infamous? Ponderous thoughts.

Film Review: D.O.A. (Don’t Overlook Any-Of-It) [1980]

Text by Lisa Baumgardner / FFanzeen fanzine, 1980
Introduction © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2015
Images from the Internet

This review was originally printed in FFanzeen, issue #4, dated May/June 1980, page 11. It was written by Lisa Baumgardner Falour, who published Bikini Girl fanzine at the time.

Sadly, Lisa passed away early this year in Paris. Lisa was an incredibly interesting person, as was her fanzine. She worked as a writer, photographer, artist, and for a while as a BDSM pin-up model. She was also known for always carrying a hidden cassette recorder, on which she taped all conversations, and then would publish them in her fanzine when she found them interesting. But hardly anyone she transcribed was as thought-provoking as her. I was introduced to her by Diana Torborina, someone who I worked with at Dimensional Sound Studios, and with whom I became friendly (Diana, if you read this, please feel free to contact me).

For my first half-tabloid newsprint issue of FFanzeen, Lisa wrote a review of Lech Kowalski’s then-new, and now-classic 1980 documentary about the Sex Pistols, D.O.A. As a side note, Lech took out a full page ad for the film, for which he never paid the $100. I’m just sayin’. – RBF, 2015

D.O.A. will soon be released to theaters around the world as a feature-length punk rock documentary. It’s definitely worth seeing, but requires a lot of patience and objectivity. Punk rock and its spin-offs in the fashion, art and political world are both important and inconsequential, and tell a story about the ‘70s, yet doesn’t say much at all.

Lech Kowalski’s Film is hard to sit through but bears a number of incredible scenarios. Beginning with a baptism and a soundtrack peppered with corny heartbeats, we are led through the doorway of X-Ray Spex’s rehearsal studio for an astounding performance of “Oh Bondage, Up Yours!” Cut away to an interview with the president of Warner Bros. Records, who sneers and mentions, “You know, we are not a non-profit organization!”

These perplexing statements are part of a much larger onslaught of visual sludge known as D.O.A. (Dead on Arrival), a 100-minute-long documentary film on punk. Not the “punk” I grew up with. Hopefully, you too were spared because it’s ugly and disturbing, and when I saw it, my own youth suddenly seemed too close and fresh and unsettling. Yuck!

A pretty girl with heavy makeup and short hair is interviewed in a prone position in a parking lot in Texas. She has just been literally thrown out of a theater where the Sex Pistols were playing. Her crime? “Hangin’ out,” she moans. Apparently, the police have used direct physical force to eliminate a group of fans loitering in the lobby. She looks pretty seriously hurt, at the very least extremely distraught. Can she get up? “This is why punks gotta carry chains!” she says. Violence is breeding further violence. “What are you doing tonight?” Lech Kowalski asks her from behind-camera. “Who cares?” she replies, starting to cry. “I don’t care. If you care, you get let down.”

The film is full of gruesome vignettes. The comedy relief? An interview with Sid and Nancy, O.D.-ing and barely coherent in his all-black bedroom in London. The only time Sid seems aware of anything is when Nancy peels off her black rubber t-shirt, glistening with sweat. He picks it up, sniffs it, and smiles with a look of wonder. “’Ey, it smells just like you, Nancy!” “Well, it ought to,” she replies, “I’ve been wearing it since the first day I got to London.”

“I ain’t afraid to walk down the street looking totally ridiculous,” one serious-looking London punk musician explains. “It don’t matter what ya got on. You’re a human bean, just like everybody else. You’re messed up.”

The message behind this film, as well as the continuity, is obscure. Punk is a reflection of decay, one might say, and as the title implies, was born dead. The similarities between British and American audiences are the boredom, pent-up frustration, and search for freedom of expression of the anger youth feels. British public officials are quoted ridiculing punk and insisting, “They can’t win.” Can’t win what? “I’m ashamed of the world we’ve made,” one female official says, “if our children are growing up with attitudes like this.”

There are moments in D.O.A. that come close to capturing the feeling at a band rehearsal. Four or five young musicians are kidding around in an old, garage-like converted studio, and they begin to belt out a tune as if their lives depend on it. Yes, we conclude, it does start out positive. It’s energetic self-expression, and it beats the fuck out of boredom. But by the time it gets to be performed before thousands of kids who’ve paid ten bucks to see it, it’s pretty sorry stuff.

D.O.A. is negative, but very thought-provoking. It is exciting to see a film with guts these days. It is straightforward, raunchy, and has no plot. It seeks to reveal glimpses of a fascinating phenomenon. Lech Kowalski has a lot of energy and determination to have traveled extensively with a crew numbering from four to thirty, and the footage shot of the Sex Pistols’ tour in the South, particularly Georgia and Texas, is priceless. He has not tried to be arty. He presents a variety of conflicting circumstances and opinions, and allows us to be voyeurs without getting spit on at a crowded rock arena full of young people looking and behaving like assholes. He shows us Sham 69, the Dead Boys, and Bleecker Bob, too. He also makes us wonder about money – the concert promoters, the record companies, the media – and the way they present punk to the world. One of the British officials insists the individual musicians are doing it for the money. We think of Sid and Nancy. In it for the money?

Bonus D.O.A. footage:

 

DVD Review: “Final 24: Sid Vicious, His Final Hours”

Text © Robert Barry Francos/FFanzeen
Images from the Internet

Final 24: Side Vicious, His Final Hours
Season 1, Episode 1
Cineflix International, 2006
60 minutes, USD $14.95
MVDvisual.com

Having seen two other of this Canadian series (Janis J and Keith M, reviewed previously) that was once presented on the Discovery Channel, I was looking forward to seeing more, especially the first one, on Sid Vicious. I was wondering what their take on the whole affair, and the question about Nancy’s death. This DVD did not disappoint.

This is another fine mixture of first person interviews and actual images of Sid and his crew, such as footage (including the famous bed interview with Sid and Nancy) from Lech Kowalski’s D.O.A. documentary. Throughout, actors dramatize Sid’s last day while the real persons often included in these vignettes discuss what you are seeing in 2007 monologs. British narrator Danny Wallace (listed on the box, though IMDB claims it was Dave McRae) somberly informs us regularly of the time of day, and just how much longer our anti-hero has to live (e.g., “In four hours, Sid will be dead”).

The action jumps back and forth between the dramatized last day and documentary scenes of Sid’s life up to that moment. Between each commercial break there is a different period discussed, be it childhood, Pistol-hood, drug use, Nancy’s demise, and post-prison. His mom, Anne Beverly, comes off as creepy as Deborah Spungen, Nancy’s mom, did in her book, And I Don’t Want to Live This Life.

There is a mystery exposed here, and I was assuming that it would be information about Nancy’s death, which has had as many expository causes as JFK, but the end takes us down a different and very interesting path that I will not expose, but is an attention-grabbing thought, though it is impossible to track as everyone concerned is mort.

Many familiar and not well known names are presented in 2007 interviews, such as Peter Kodick, who bought him his last shots (Kodick listed as Sid’s “friend,” and yet I still don’t understand why he is not in jail for accessory), his friends Eileen Polk and Alan Jones, his lawyer James Merberg, Pistols’ roadie Steve Connelly, Glen Matlock (which I found ironic), and even the late Malcolm McLaren. Unfortunately they did not talk to his post-Nancy girlfriend, Michele Robinson, or any of his band members.

Usually what really makes the program is not necessarily the last 24 hours, which is nicely dissected in increments of events with a digital clock showing how much time the subject has left to live, but the overview of the person’s life. However, in this case, the show posits an idea into Sid’s death I had not heard before (though I did hear a variation of it), making this a bit more relevant and “new.”

For all the high drama visuals and narratives, the program actually manages to make Sid somewhat of a sympathetic man-child who was out of control and had a lack of boundaries buried under fame and a needle. This surprised me, as I was expecting more of a modern-style expose. Sid comes off as more of a Boris Karloff’s Frankenstein’s monster, created by the media and music business, than, say, the cold killing machine of Glenn Strange’s version of said creature.

Like most of the other people in this series, Sid’s death began with circumstances beyond his reach, in a world full of cameras and twisted adoration, and he just couldn’t handle it. But the question is, who shot the sheriff, and this show tries to examine that very question.