By Lewis Wallace
AUSTIN, Texas — Lemmy Kilmister, the Jack Daniel’s-swigging, bass-playing, smoke-belching engine that powers proto-metal band Motorhead, got a hero’s welcome Monday night at the world premiere of a movie documenting his amazing life.
At 64, the rock ‘n’ roll legend still packs more punch than a dozen twenty-something metalheads. Far from retiring, the Motorhead leader tours, gambles and boozes it up like a man a third his age. He looks like a biker, swears like a sailor and lives the only way he knows how: like a rock ‘n’ roll machine.
Lemmy’s menacing persona, gruff singing style and unwavering commitment to thrashing out thunderous anthems about drugs, war and life on the road have turned him into something of a god to a generation of rockers.
“Who wants to rock ‘n’ roll?” co-director Greg Olliver said from the stage at the Paramount Theatre, swiping a play from the arena-rock playbook to get the large crowd amped for Lemmy, which screened Monday at the South by Southwest Film Conference and Festival here. “Lemmy’s in the house!”
Indeed he was (as were other members of Motorhead, who took the stage with Lemmy and Olliver’s co-director, Wes Orshoski, for a post-screening Q&A). When an audience member challenged Lemmy to a good-natured drinking contest, Lemmy exhibited the badass attitude that’s key to his success.
“You must be sure of yourself,” Lemmy said, voice rough as gravel. The audience cracked up, and the bass player waited a beat, displaying the dead-on timing that makes him such a riot in the movie. “You’d lose,” he said.
That kind of rock ‘n’ roll bravado makes for many humorous moments in the movie. But the softer side of Lemmy shown onscreen proves the most provocative, as the filmmakers record the everyday moments that reveal the previously unseen side of a road warrior’s life.
Holed up in a Los Angeles apartment near his beloved Sunset Strip, Lemmy plays videogames and shows off his giant collection of war memorabilia to the film crew that shadowed him for three years. And, in a particularly touching scene with his son, he reveals a tenderness that seems almost unbelievable coming from the man who growled out dirtbag anthems like “Damage Case” and “Love Me Like a Reptile”.
It’s not all heartwarming moments, though. The towering bass player hangs out with Billy Bob Thornton, Dave Grohl and other celebs, shooting the shit and cracking jokes. He practices with Metallica for a special concert and works in the studio to craft another hard-driving contribution to the Motorhead discography. He test-drives a tank.
When Lemmy documents these quiet and not-so-quiet moments, it delivers pure gold, mining a vein similar to the one worked by Penelope Spheeris in The Decline of Western Civilization Part II: The Metal Years. Interviews with Lemmy’s friends, bandmates and high-profile fans further illuminate the living legend and cement his impact on modern heavy metal.
The movie paints an oddball portrait of a true rock ‘n’ roll character. The only problem is there are a few too many brushstrokes. The movie feels about 20 minutes too long: Some interviews could be shortened, and the numerous shots of Lemmy striding down backstage hallways could be trimmed, without diluting the message.
For fans of the man and his powerful band, Lemmy will prove an irresistible treat. And for anyone interested in raw rock ‘n’ roll but not already in awe of Lemmy — if such an individual exists — the movie makes a potent introduction to the man behind Motorhead.
After the SXSW screening, an audience member asked if his sense of humor was the key to his longevity.
“Listen, if you lose your sense of humor, you’re done,” said Lemmy in his thick British accent (parts of the movie are subtitled to help make sense of his Ozzy Osbourne-style speech). “You know, it’s over. You’ve gotta laugh at yourself more than anything else, because if you take yourself seriously, you’re fucked.”
Motorhead plays Tuesday and Wednesday in Austin. The movie screens Friday at SXSW, and Lemmy will take part in a panel at the conference Wednesday
Wired
