SoftInloveRox Horrible, fascist and poorly acted

Contentar Best movie of this year hands down!

Comwayon A Disappointing Continuation

Rio Hayward All of these films share one commonality, that being a kind of emotional center that humanizes a cast of monsters.

Cosmoeticadotcom Alchemy tries to get something from another thing, magic tries to get something from nothing. These ideas stuck in my mind watching The Mayor Of Sunset Strip- a documentary about a cipher of a man named Rodney Bingenheimer, and his coterie of even less significant hangers-on. Rodney's a famed DJ at Los Angeles radio station KROQ, credited with discovering acts such as Blondie, No Doubt, and Coldplay. However, he seems a dinosaur in his field, reduced to just one two-three hour gig on early Sunday mornings.The film tries to convince us of Rodney's significance to rock music the last four decades. This significance rests upon his DJing, and Zeligian ability to brown-nose celebrities. He started off as a stand in for The Monkees' Davy Jones, wrote music articles, owned a hip LA disco, and then got his radio gig. After that, it seems life started eroding. Rodney's become rock's Andy Warhol, with the same fey, blank demeanor. The difference is those who knew Warhol knew it was all an act for the media. With Rodney Bingenheimer, what you see is what you don't get. Pushing 60, Rodney's life is a mess- he lives in a dingy apartment, laced with memorabilia from celebrities such as Brooke Shields, Cher, and many others, yet his life is pitiable. He's lonely, stuck on a woman at least twenty years his junior, who feels nothing but disdain for Rodney- a point hammered home in an especially cruel scene where Rodney and she, on a bed, talk of their feelings for each other. He would marry her in an instant, yet he's only a 'friend'. That a fiftysomething wilts into this junior high sort of puppy love speaks volumes for Rodney.Rodney's lone uniquity seems to be that his cipher makes him a fawning funhouse mirror to insecure celebrities- whose gravitation towards him is perfectly understandable. Yet, with all these pals, why is Rodney so poor off? Because his lone ambition is to be an acolyte, to hang out with celebrities. Yet, we know all this in five minutes. Was it really necessary to devote a whole film to this man? The film isn't bad, but its best reason for existence is as a true life Spinal Tap.The film's commentary track by Carter and Rodney adds nothing. Rodney rambles mealy-mouthed about who such and such celebrity is, while Carter seems awestruck by it all. The track by Hickenlooper at least gives some insight into the film- but not Rodney. Outtakes and extra interviews are standard. Towards the end of the film Rodney travels to England to dump his dead mother's ashes into the ocean and there's an almost pornographic revelry in Rodney's and the film's delight in showing how hurt, bereft, and clueless Rodney is. It's as if the ashes were his last connection to a flesh and blood reality disconnected to celebrity. By showing it, Rodney shows how desperate he is to be known just to be known. The problem is the scene is overkill. We know Rodney's pathetic. While the film is finely made there's nothing within. It can be claimed that the film was a perfect cinematic recapitulation of its subject, and the argument has merit. Yet, this is the rare work of art I view against the prism of what it could have been, not what it is. It's unfair, and hypocritical, but to not acknowledge that would be worse. If I didn't I'd be Rodney- poor, lonely, pathetic Rodney. My quease is its triumph- ah, magic!

ka8ddz I really enjoyed the Mayor of Sunset Strip, although for me it was more self help than a documentary, reminding me of how much there is in the world to see and accomplish in our short stay on the planet.This is the story of Rodney Bingenheimer a KROQ DJ who spends his entire life chasing celebrity, being a part of the in crowd, and hanging out with the who's who of rock and roll.The history of the bands, their stories, and their lives are interesting to most people and this movie certainly has that. Many documentaries of this genre show the high life and the drama leaving you feeling like you wish you could have been a part of it. In this movie you're left feeling happy you left it all behind in your teenage scrapbook, grew up, and have a career.Watching Rodney ride the coat tails of fame in the music industry left me feeling empty and pity. During an interview with Cher, not unlike some of the others, you see Rodney almost coaching her through the conversation having to remind her of things they once did or said, events and conversation she has clearly long forgotten or wasn't sure ever happened in the first place. This facade of a life is brought to a head when Rodney proposes to that special girl in his life.For someone who makes his living behind a microphone Rodney appears boring, and lifeless in many scenes. His conversational skills are are childlike, without substance, and revolve around meeting a celebrity. Rodneys friend Kim Fowley who handed him the reins of Mayor takes a much more aggressive response to his own history but in similarity leaves you feeling like neither of them would have anything to talk about if it weren't for the celebrities they have met.What I saw was man who never found himself but rather lived vicariously through others and ends up with a shell of a life spent remembering when, while everyone else moved on. I never felt like I got to know Rodney from this movie, never seeming to have an opinion of his own but rather following the Hollywood standard of whomever is in the limelight at the time is great and creative and genius, and how cool it is that I've been photographed with them. It made me feel sad that someone could place so much importance and in essence build a life on such trivial things like an autographed record or a brief meaningless conversation with celebrity.In closing, I think this movie offers a unique perspective on the life of DJ Rodney Bingenheimer and it was very interesting to watch.

sabine-d This was one of those films that I regretted renting, for fear that I had put some money into the pocket of the director. The main complaint is that the film is exploitative of Rodney B. Ironically, it reveals much more about the callous indifference of Hollywood by the way it treats Rodney and his life. Scenes I found particularly offensive were the one's where the director strove great lengths to create awkward situations at Rodney's expense, in order to give the film some 'reality' (i.e. scene at Rodney's estranged family's home, tremendously awkward scene with Rodney and Camille, and the director prodding Rodney about his true feelings for Camille, while she looks on, obviously uncomfortable). I understand the need for a documentarian to show the darker side of human life, but I firmly believe that this can be done while being sensitive to the person involved. There is no sign that this director has compassion for his subject. If any, it is of a perverse sort, like how you feel sorry for someone that you can't help but think is a complete idiot and who you think is ultimately to blame for their own demise. I think that one can see this if they are able to perceive the more subtle aspects of the picture--i.e. what scenes are present, how are they constructed, how are the questions posed, etc. Ultimately, this picture is not deep. There really isn't any attempt to really understand the man, likely because the director himself doesn't want to know or thinks he already knows him. The person who made this film is far worse off than Rodney is at present. At least Rodney has sensitivity and compassion. Lucky for us, and without the help of the director, Rodney's simple wisdom shines through at various conjunctures, hinting that there is much more there than a naive boy who buys into the rockstar illusion. If only this film were made by someone else, then we would have had a better grasp of why celebrities and people like Camille were drawn to him, and why ultimately it is a blessing to be spit out by Hollywood...a chance to reclaim your dignity and find more lasting happiness.

David Wraith If it hadn't already been used, a perfect alternative title for a movie about Los Angeles DJ, Rodney Bingenheimer might have been Almost Famous. Listen to how Alice Copper describes Bingenheimer: `He was accepted by the Rolling Stones, he was accepted by The Beatles, he was accepted by The Beach Boys…' This slightly unflattering choice of words is significant. Not `was friends with,' not `hung out with,' not `partied with,' but `was accepted by.' One critic called the documentary Mayor of the Sunset Strip the greatest rock & roll movie ever made. I'd have to watch Stop Making Sense and The Velvet Goldmine again before I could make that commitment, but in my opinion, Mayor isn't even about rock & roll. It's about fame, or the proximity to fame. It's about acceptance. Rodney Bingenheimer's greatest achievement is that, for a generation, he introduced the most influential artists in modern rock to America radio. His second greatest accomplishment was his ability to be accepted. So many larger than life personalities try to force themselves into the spotlight. Meanwhile, quiet, shy, unassuming Rodney Bingenheimer has lived at the edge of the spotlight for his entire adult life. Pamela Des Barres (who appears in the film) is arguably the world's greatest groupie. Bingenheimer is probably a close second, despite the handicap of being male (being a groupie, like being a fashion model or porn star, is one of the few pursuits in patriarchal society where being male is a handicap). But, while Des Barres is a pop icon, published author and happily married to former rocker Michael Des Barres, Bingenheimer is single, lives in a modest home with tattered furniture and has a once-a-week, 3 hour late-night radio show. George Hickenlooper's Mayor of the Sunset Strip is a thought provoking look at Los Angeles and the thin but often uncrossable line between `the famous and the not so famous.' From its opening it seems to ask the question, why is one of the most influential men in American radio not a household name, when so many less deserving souls (cough-Carson Daly-cough) are. From the first frame of the film, I found myself sizing Bingenheimer up to come up with an answer. He's a short, skinny, funny looking guy. He's got what you'd call `a great face for radio.' However, he doesn't have a radio voice and after twenty years on the air he has not developed a radio persona. Perhaps this is why he will never reach the heights of Wolfman Jack, Kasey Casem or Rick Dees (yes, I just used `heights' and Rick Dees in the same sentence. No small feat). He lacks the authority of a Kurt Loader and perhaps was just born too early to take advantage of MTV, the network that can make less-than-handsome music aficionados like Matt Pinfield into TV personalities. Over the span of the film, we see Rodney with the likes of Oasis, No Doubt, Mick Jagger, David Bowie, Coldplay and Cher (who Rodney says was like a mother to him, although she looks remarkably younger than he does. Hmmm …). Many of these artists and many more credit Rodney with being the first to play their music on American radio. In photo montages we see old stills of Rodney with Elvis, Jimi Hendrix, and Bob Dylan, to name a few. We see film clips of Rodney with Jerry Lee Lewis, The Mamas and the Papas and John Lennon. The list is so impressive; if you saw it out of context you'd swear the pictures were fakes. The diminutive Bingenheimer often looks matted into the footage like Woody Allen in Zelig or Tom Hanks in Forest Gump. Before the credits roll we will see Rodney betrayed by his best friend. We will see his unrequited love for a young girl who insists they are `just friends.' In one humorous and painful scene, we see his estranged family searching the house for pictures of Rodney in desperate attempt to look less estranged. Throughout the film two seemingly opposing questions dominate: With all these famous friends, why isn't Rodney more successful? And, why did all the famous people gravitate toward him to begin with?In the end, perhaps the fact that Rodney Bingenheimer couldn't parlay his access to the rich and famous into wealth and fame is not the tragedy of Rodney Bingenheimer. Perhaps the fact that we find anyone who doesn't cash in on their proximity to fame tragic is the tragedy of America. Rodney Bingenheimer is our inner geek, the star-stuck autograph hound in all of us. Hickenlooper's film holds up a mirror to a celebrity obsessed culture, a culture fixated on something 99.9999% its members will never experience. Perhaps this is the tragedy of all our lives. After all, as bad as we may feel for Bingenheimer, the fact remains: WE are watching a movie about HIM, a movie in which he is hanging out with David Bowie, and we are not.