Directed by Iain Forsyth and Jane Pollard
9/10
I remember now. It
all came back. Despite the brief conversation with Blixa Bargeld, “Higgs Boson
Blues” could have a million verses for all I care. And then Brighton, of
course. Seven Sisters. I guess there will always be a part of me that will
think Brighton is my favourite British city. The time spent there, in the warm
chill of early January, expecting rain and then not expecting it, with Nick
Cave’s latest songs playing in my head. “Brighton sky”, says Cave, “is unlike
anything I’ve ever seen”. This is something you would have to take for granted.
However, the
nostalgic feeling should not fool you. One of the greatest things about this
Nick Cave documentary is that it doesn’t try to be nostalgic. Even if Cave does
speak at the very beginning of 20,000
Days On Earth about how much he cares for the past. Past is a way to go
forward and sometimes a memory means more than a person who caused it.
We start with Cave
waking up in the morning and end with him standing on the beach, night
gathering around him and then swallowing the lanky silhouette into the sparse sounds
of Cave’s last album. And in between there is a day in the life of an artist. His
20,000th day on Earth. We go through his creative process, his
archives (the only time when Mick Harvey is mentioned) and even some of his
anxieties. At just a little over 90 minutes, this is like the best sexual
experience: unforgettable and seductively brief.
20,000 Days On Earth is a robust, inventive documentary with never a dull
moment. We hear Cave say smart, vaguely philosophical things (which, crucially,
always make sense); we see him chat with Warren Ellis (fantastic chemistry); we
even see him during an unlikely psychiatric session (the story about Cave’s
father reading to him Lolita at the
age of 19 is particularly priceless). Then there are brief forays into his
archives full of rare pictures, locks of female hair bought at some Berlin flea
market and more amazing stories about Tracy Pew and some lonely guy Chris who
lived in Germany and was mad on erotica. And there is even time for a full take
on “Higgs Boson Blues” which sounds raw yet somehow fully realised. Like the
documentary itself.
Great presence, great
charisma, and a rare chance to look behind the stage flamboyance (Kylie Minogue
describes him as a big tree in the storm – which sounds apt and even manages to
soften Nick Cave’s perpetual frown). He is concerned about not being able to
reach out to that one guy in the last row (come on, Nick). And he is defiant
but very much aware of his age. What if the memory goes? What if it all goes?.. And like a 12-year old
fanboy he is bedazzled by some Nina Simone performance he once saw. It’s the
transformative power of the artist who should always be able to impress and to
intimidate. Does he still have it? He feels confident yet the idea is heavily
on his mind.
And then there are parts
where Cave just talks about his wife Susie (who barely appears), God and the sacred
process of writing songs. Nick Cave is a man with a vision, and in the end it’s
this vision that ties the documentary together and makes it not just a film
about inspiration but a deeply inspirational experience in its own right. The
memories of Brighton are my own powerful testimony to that.
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