In Alex Ross Perry’s exuberant tribute to Pavement, Tim Heidecker gives a succinct descriptor of what made the band a staple of college radio stations in the ‘90s: “For kids who thought everything was stupid and everything sucked, they were your band.” In an era when rock stars gave up hours doing big hair in the makeup chair to instead wear the flannel they walked in off the street with, the band, fronted by Stephen Malkmus, cultivated a fan base that cared quite a bit when they looked like they didn’t care much at all, standing out in the grunge period for their ironic detachment and a general lack of pretense that belied the sophistication of their songcraft.
While passion didn’t necessarily appear to be part of Pavement’s persona, Perry feels obliged to overcompensate, declaring them to be “the world’s most important and influential band” in the opening minutes of his charmingly unabashed celebration — perhaps to curry favor with the uninitiated, but just as intent to convince the band of their own greatness. It’s impossible not to be won over by the director’s efforts, which come to include at least four separate modes of production: a shoot with the band as they prepare for their first concerts in 12 years in the fall of 2022, an off-Broadway stage musical “Slanted! Enchanted!” starring Michael Esper, Zoe Lister-Jones and Kathryn Gallagher, a gallery show “Pavements 33-22” set up like the Whitney Museum where some of the band’s members once worked as security guards and a shameless awards bait biopic “Range Life,” with members of the band to be played by Joe Keery, Nat Wolff, Griffin Newman, Logan Miller and Fred Hechinger.
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The decadent displays of affection may be a mark of Perry’s enthusiasm for Pavement, but also serve a cunning function. The director, who primarily works in fiction, found plenty of tension in taking audiences backstage in his previous narrative feature “Her Smell,” which followed the implosion of a band with a volatile lead singer. Yet Perry clearly knows that the reality of most bands is far less dramatic. Malkmus, by nature, appears to be a pretty mellow central figure and the only major contretemps in Pavement’s history involved letting go of their first drummer and an infamous Lollapalooza performance which ended with flipping off the crowd after being pelted in mud. They ended things entirely in 1999 simply because of the grind.
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Nonetheless, “Pavements” dazzles as a spinning plates act where Perry and longtime editor Robert Greene can cross-cut or split-screen “Woodstock”-style for propulsion, gaining real insight from juxtaposing the fiction-based interpretations of the band in the present with more mundane scenes from when it was all actually happening. Gleefully exposing the self-aggrandizing nature of most musician biopics, which oft invent a pat narrative for an artist’s trajectory that’s anything but (and even then don’t have an especially interesting story to tell), Perry’s film focuses on preparation for the performances in all four narrative strands. They end up speaking to Pavement’s work in ways that generally elude more traditional artist bios, when the band itself and those tasked with reinterpreting their work are finding new things in it.
Although “Pavements” doesn’t skimp on the sound mix for a band intended to be listened to loud, there is a subtle power in how music is deployed. Rarely does a moment go by in which songs aren’t used as an electric undercurrent, but there’s never a full performance on screen, making the moments when the songs do take center stage truly overwhelming. It could also be experienced as slyly reflecting the band’s breakthroughs to the mainstream with hits such as “Cut Your Hair” before receding back to beloved underground status
In general, the indirect approach is unusually effective at capturing the wily spirit of Pavement, whose sense of humor and formal experimentation is on full display, and of bands in general when Perry shows little interest in getting into the personal lives of its members outside of their roots in Stockton, Calif. in favor of seeing Malkmus, Scott “Spiral Stairs” Kannberg, Mark Ibold, Steve West and Bob Nastanovich coalesce into something greater than the sum of their parts. The film risks exhausting audiences when the gaudy faux film “Range Life,” much of which is presented as a For Your Consideration VHS screener, slightly irks in its self-satisfaction — one that could be either mocked or practiced by Perry. The director also misses a few graceful exits en route to a run time just over two hours. Yet the excess can be endearing when they reflect what Perry loves about the band. He clearly doesn’t want the music to end. After “Pavements,” no one else will either.
