Meat Loaf: In Search of Paradise
Meat Loaf: In Search of Paradise
starts where most concert
documentaries end – and in doing so shows you something you never get to
see. The 59-year-old rocker leaves the stage to thunderous
applause, walks back to the dressing room, slumps to the floor and lays
there exhausted, panting, and seemingly unable to get up.
Then
again, nothing about Marvin Lee Aday’s career has ever been normal.
He
has been able to sustain a rock career for going on forty years (his first
record, as part of the one-off duo Stoney & Meatloaf, came out in 1971).
This long livelihood is basically forged on the strength of two smash hit
albums – one of which was a sequel to the first. He never had the
traditional rock star look (he’s always been notably overweight) or sound (a
dramatic mix of arena rock and Broadway pomp.) Any album he has made
without the Bat Out of Hell banner has essentially tanked – such as
Dead Ringer (1981), Midnight at the Lost and Found (1983)
and Welcome to the Neighborhood (1995). Meat Loaf has
disappeared from the studio for years on end – sometimes due to physical or
mental ailments, sometimes due to drugs and excess, sometimes spending the
down time putting together a respected-but-decidedly-minor career as a
supporting actor.
However, what people really remember Meat Loaf for is Bat Out of Hell,
and Aday has been riding that gravy train since 1977.
The
original Bat, which came and spat in the face of the
prevailing disco and punk rock rhythms of popular music
at the time, spawned three hit
singles and became one of the largest selling
albums of all time. After over a decade in the dregs of the music charts,
unable to follow up his stellar debut, in 1993 Meat Loaf returned to the
Bat Out of Hell well. He regained
his mojo with the frankly-inferior-but-staggeringly-popular sequel, Bat
Out of Hell II: Back Into Hell. Thirteen years and two records later,
he went back to the well again, recording Bat Out of Hell III: The
Monster is Loose. The latest disk didn’t exactly take off, but it did
spawn a world-wide super-tour in which Meat Loaf planned to perform
the entire Bat saga.
This
documentary chronicles the opening Canadian leg of that comeback tour.
Many
of the talking heads here – including Meat’s manager, sound guys, roadies,
his flamboyant vocal coach, group members and bandleader Kasim Sulton
(formerly of Todd Rundgren’s side group Utopia) pretty much kiss up to him –
telling us how great he is, what an artist he is, how much he gives of
himself. Which is fine… you sort of expect those fawning quotes in a rockumentary.
The
filmmakers tread a little lightly around their subject as well. This is
particularly noticeable with the glaring omission of any mention of the
nasty split between Meat Loaf and Bat Out of Hell songwriter/producer
Jim Steinman in the year leading up to the making of the third Bat
album in 2006. In fact, other than being mentioned a couple of times in
graphic scrolls about the history of the albums, Steinman’s contributions to
the Meat Loaf’s work and persona are completely ignored.
Yet
the film is fascinating just because of its central character – a shy,
insecure, funny, slightly hypochondriacal,
kind of anal retentive man who somehow took on the
role of a rock star.
He
is not completely comfortable with that role, as shown in some scenes of him
in the rock star environment of pre-show meet-and-greets,
where he acknowledges that he has absolutely no idea what to say to people
in these situations. (He usually falls back on a variation of “Hey man, I’m
Meat. Nice to meet you…”)
Or
as movie star Dennis Quaid refers to Meat Loaf in a backstage interview – “A
great family man. Loyal to his friends. A little neurotic…” Later
Quaid adds, “He’s an angster. He likes to angst about things. He enjoys
angsting.”
It
is this sense of angst, this neurotic vibe which Meat Loaf gives off which
makes him a hell of a lot more interesting than most shallowly
self-satisfied rock stars. Aday grew up a fat kid and to this day he feels
the need to work twice as hard to get people to like him.
“Right now I’m so tired that I don’t know what I’m doing and I hated every
minute of it,” Meat Loaf tells the cameraman after the first show in
Victoria, BC. “I’m really bummed. I didn’t like the show. It wasn’t good
for me.”
Later, he acknowledges that he is never quite satisfied with any show he has
done and is still waiting for the perfect show.
Frankly, judging from the live clips peppered liberally throughout the film,
Meat Loaf’s performing style has become more affected over the years – as if
it was ever subtle. His vocals have more stops and starts and little
hitches and hiccups in many of the songs – which become actively
distracting. The hits “Hot
Summer Night (You Took the Words Right Out of My Mouth)”
and “I Would Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do
That)”
are particularly hard to sit through due to this odd stylistic quirk.
Not that he can’t sing anymore – the songs he does
straightforwardly still rock, but he is trying to add a drama to the songs
that they just don’t need. They were dramatic enough as it was.
Much
of the documentary focuses on a minor controversy of the tour – when
performing the concerto to teen lust “Paradise by the Dashboard Lights,” the
nearly-60-year-old singer acts out hitting on a much younger and gorgeous
singer. (Aspen Miller is 28, but looks even younger.) This causes a bit of
bad press – mostly calling the choreography creepy or sordid – and making Aday obsess on how to make this problem subside.
It
all seems like a bit of a tempest in a teapot, though. Of course the singer
is older now, but the subject of the song is always the same. The entire
lyric of the song is couched in the fact that it was a memory of a past lust.
This is how a man his age would remember it
– him at his current age, her as she was back then. That is how she would
be in his memory, but he only has to look in the mirror to see himself.
Besides, this is all theater, as everyone tries pointing out.
If
some critics want to be pithy and throw in a few dirty-old-man jokes, just
move on. For someone who earlier in the film stated flatly that he doesn’t
listen to critics, because for good or bad they are usually wrong,
Meat Loaf sure seems to spend a whole lot of time
tweaking his show to try to make it more palatable for the
rock writers. It isn’t quite worth the obsession
that Aday and the filmmakers put into it.
Yet,
that very obsession to small details is vital to an understanding of the
singer. The fact that the star isn’t exactly at the top of his game – and
knows it – makes this movie even more intriguing than most rock docs.
Perhaps the appeal of Marvin Lee Aday as a person is best summed up in a
quiet moment between gigs. The filmmaker asks an unpacking Meat Loaf
about people expecting him to always live the rock
star glamour life. Meat answers back, tongue-in-cheekly, “Well it is, can’t
you tell? How glamorous is this? My baggie with my Wheat Thins in it?
This is pure glamour.”
This
kind of little, personal insight into a smart, funny, nervous, quiet man who
is in a little over his head is what makes Meat Loaf: In Search of
Paradise essential viewing for rock fans.
The
film closes out on Meat Loaf, walking backstage right after a show, quietly
gasping to his manager, “I tried. I tried.” In that brief statement, the
filmmakers capture all you really need to know about the singer.
Jay S. Jacobs
Copyright ©2008 PopEntertainment.com. All rights reserved.
Posted: March 8, 2008.
