Review: 'Mistaken for Strangers'

About midway through Mistaken for Strangers, a tour documentary (barely) about The National by frontman Matt Berninger's little bother Tom, the younger Berninger expresses worry that people think the only reason he's on the tour is because he's Matt's brother.

Matt regards him with a look that becomes all too familiar in the doc. It's a look of slow-burning incredulity and unwarranted patience– The only reason you are on tour is because you're my brother, he tells Tom gently.

This exchange mostly sums up Mistaken for Strangers. If you wanted a super behind the scenes look at the critically acclaimed indie rock band through the lens of a close relative, what you're really getting is a 92 minute therapy session where Tom tries to work out his issues with his older and more successful brother.

The basic framework given is that Matt was the golden boy and Tom was not. It's not a very sympathetic story, though. A few shots of their upper middle class childhood home, and their upper middle class parents who still have their art hanging on the walls doesn't exactly scream unfairness. Their mom is still convinced that Tom will find great success himself. Some people just don't pan out– Tom might be one of those people.

Still, he struggles to understand, as the tour manager puts it, that he's not in the band. He's on the crew. This struggle paints less of a portrait of a sibling relationship– after all, the tension between them is fairly tame– and more of a half-bitter, half self-indulgent pity party. Tom has access to one of the best bands out there, and he spends his time asking dumb questions like "Do you carry wallets on stage?" or seeking family counseling from the other band members who are perplexingly patient.

Moments where Tom rambles over their answers or instructs them to look one way or another, or to make a certain face feel like they would be better suited on a blooper reel, or better yet, left in the recycling bin. And yet– that's a large chunk of the film. In a smaller dosage, it could be funny. Instead, it's frustrating. In the opening scene, Matt reprimands his brother, asking if he's written any questions down, or if he has a plan. No, Matt. He did  and does not.

There are two scenes where Tom's questions lead to the kind of insight diehard National fans were probably hoping for, like perspective on putting together new albums (45 minutes of sounds that take two years to make, says drummer Scott Devendorf). The rest of the interviews? Awkwardness, bemusement, crummy sound quality.

To his credit, Tom is not shy about showing himself failing and flailing. The audience sees the tour manager chew him out multiple times, and then fire him. Matt scolds him for leaving his wet bathing suit on the table in the bus ("Where were you even swimming?!") Tom just comes off so pointless, sometimes– he gets distracted by the reflection of his own arm in the mirror of a Paris hotel room while his brother does a phone interview. He really is an annoying little brother– the kind who shines a flashlight into people's bunks and films them as they sleep.

The thing is, annoying little brothers are common place. And with these two, there's not enough conflict to support a story (which is probably a credit to their parents). Neither hates the other, nor do they have a particularly strong bond. Though, it's obvious they both want good things for the other.

Maybe, however, Matt and Tom do have something in common in their storytelling. The National's always had a knack for singing about the problems of 30-something-year-old men. If you strip out the poetry and the strings, though, it's a bunch of stories about middle class people who are recognizably normal.

Mistaken for Strangers is in select theaters, and also available to rent on Amazon.

Review: 'Sound City'

The great thing about being Dave Grohl, is that you can do just about anything you want. You can make a documentary about an important but not-so-well known recording studio, you can jam with Tom Petty and Paul McCartney. It’s good to be Grohl.

The former Nirvana drummer and current Foo Fighters frontman undertook the former, directing this year's Sound City, a film that mostly tells the story of the studio in Van Nuys, CA. of that name, where countless major albums from Fleetwood Mac’s Fleetwood Mac, to Nirvana’s debut Nevermind were recorded. Over the years the studio saw explosions in popularity (mainly after the success of both those albums, decades apart), and severe dips in business. It also saw the rise of digital recording, something that the doc ultimately attributes to the death of the studio.

Grohl is a good guide into the lovably scuzzy studio’s history, but the film overall suffers from poor organization. It starts with backstory, moves into a techie explanation of the Neve board– the studio’s extra expensive, magical, customized recording console, then into a section about drums, with scattered spotlights on Fleetwood Mac, Rick Springfield (and his relationship with studio owner Joe Gottfried), general managers, runners, along with tangents on the evolution of the role of the producer, and other anecdotes relating to acts like Petty or Nirvana.

The film never figures out what made Sound City, Sound City. Grohl, on numerous occasions– at least four– says that he wouldn’t be where he is without the Neve board. So, is the board the studio? It was undoubtedly integral, but if so, why talk about the best spot to record or the spirit of the people that worked there? It would seem Sound City is the aggregate of all these things, but it doesn't always come out that way. This thread with the board, like a few others, is haphazardly picked up throughout the 147 minute runtime.



Another prominent theme, as mentioned, is the rise of digital. Pro Tools is largely painted as the villain. Of the many major talking head interviews, Neil Young (who recorded After the Gold Rush at Sound City) best champions the idea that digital sucks. Footage of an engineer painstakingly splicing tape with a razor on a splicing bar, juxtaposed with him essentially doing the same thing on a computer with a highlight and delete, sure makes a statement– but the simplification of digital is misleading. As democratizing as newer recording software can be, just try to sit at a Pro Tools rig and blindly make it work to satisfaction.

Beside the elitism that comes through on some interviews, like discussing how some people have no business in music, another anti-digital argument that Sound City makes is that bedroom recording setups have all but eliminated interaction between musicians. Sure, we’re well familiar with the image of a kid in his room with a laptop writing and recording every part himself, but it’s also a modern cliche. Seemingly, Grohl tries to use this argument as a justification for the last half hour or so of the film, which centers around Grohl buying the Neve board, moving it to his own studio, and recording with many of the artists– Stevie Nicks, Fear’s Lee Ving, Trent Reznor (who offers some defense of digital as a creative tool versus shortcut)– who were associated with the studio. He says the project was done in an effort to “keep music sounding like people.” Then he drops the McCartney bomb, and it really feels like Grohl wants to show off the cool thing he got to do, recording a song with Paul and the remnants of Nirvana. Still through all this, the legacy of the studio isn’t fully articulated.

However, Sound City is interesting to watch partly because Grohl has the power necessary to get interviews with heavy weights like Rick Rubin, Neil Young, Mick Fleetwood, hell– even Barry Manilow. He also brings a Grohl-ian humor, like in his interview with board designer and ultra-intelligent engineer Rupert Neve which is subtitled with lines like “He must know I’m a high school drop-out.” And then Foo Fighters drummer Taylor Hawkins periodically pops up shirtless, gleefully playing his drums. There’s just something goofy and funny about it. Also funny is Paul McCartney collapsing into Grohl’s lap. You have to figure that screenshot is framed somewhere.

In any case, it’s worth seeing, whether you agree with some of what it posits or not. Sound City, even if not expertly organized, is an important story for music nerds. And if music nerdom is not your bag, take advantage of the documentary as a rare meeting of some great musical minds. Plus, it’s fun, an essential element Grohl would not have you forget.