

- SPOTIFY SUPPORT BUCKLES COMPLAINTS ANGRY YOUNG MOVIE
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From the first frame to the last, the film was plotted and set-dressed and professionally lit and has all the glitter of a big-budget feature but, while a series of voice-overs by Cave were scripted, every on-screen interaction - from a visit to a therapist to a ride in his Jaguar with Kylie Minogue - was spontaneous and unrehearsed. “ ‘Fifty-four Years and Nine Months on Earth’ didn’t have quite the same ring to it, somehow.”Ī number of recent documentaries have explored the nebulous boundary between reportage and fiction, but in “20,000 Days,” Pollard and Forsyth try to dispense with that boundary altogether. When I asked Cave what drew him to the notion of Day 20,000, he regarded me dryly.

While working on a song, Cave began to play with the idea of measuring his life in days instead of years, and Forsyth and Pollard, who were documenting the band as they recorded “Push the Sky Away,” saw potential for a film. As its title suggests, the film is an investigation into the passage of time, into memory and aging and artistic survival, as dramatized by a single imaginary day in the life of its subject, the musician Nick Cave. It’s unorthodox, to put it mildly, for the subject of a documentary to be given a screenwriting credit, but very little about “20,000 Days” could be described as orthodox.
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The closest the rest of us may come to seeing that movie may well be “20,000 Days on Earth.” Cave co-wrote the film with its directors, the artists Iain Forsyth and Jane Pollard, with whom he has collaborated on a number of smaller projects - music videos and short films. Like many self-mythologizers, charismatics and plain old eccentrics, he has always appeared to be performing in a movie only he himself could see. Cave’s public persona has been called “theatrical,” but a more precise term might be cinematic. It’s the kind of look only a rock star could get away with, especially at his age, but on Cave it seems as dignified - as inexplicably appropriate - as those rhinestone-studded jumpsuits did on Elvis in his later years. His long, backswept hair, dyed black since the age of 16, frames a face that has been described both as “angelic” and “hideous to the eye,” the latter by Cave himself, in song. Tall, gaunt and slightly ungainly, in his snakeskin shoes, chunky rings and rakishly well-tailored suits, Cave resembles nothing so much as a postmillennial hybrid of bookie and peer of the realm. “But a megalomaniac with extremely low self-esteem.” We were sitting in the restaurant of his hotel in Berlin Mitte, trying to have a conversation in the face of frequent interruptions from festival staff, acquaintances and a seemingly never-ending stream of admirers. “As far as work goes, I’m something of a megalomaniac,” Cave told me later that day. Vincent cite him as an influence and the Bad Seeds’ most recent album, “Push the Sky Away,” has proved to be one of the most commercially successful of the band’s career, reaching No. His books are best sellers his film scores have won prizes musicians as far-flung as the Red Hot Chili Peppers and St. At 56, Cave can claim at least half a dozen vocations: songwriter and performer with the Bad Seeds and their garage-rock offshoot, Grinderman screenwriter of the acclaimed (and extremely gory) movies “Proposition” and “Lawless” novelist film-score composer lecturer script doctor and on certain (perhaps thankfully) rare occasions, even actor. But sometimes I hear what they’re playing, and I just want to cut my wrists.”Ĭave, perhaps best known as the frontman for the seminal postpunk groups Birthday Party and Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, was in Germany to promote “20,000 Days on Earth,” a film about his life, which was showing at the Berlin film festival. “They’re just grabbing stuff, on Spotify and all that, and occasionally they’ll find something that’s really mind-blowing. “My kids are at that lovely age where they’re just figuring out what’s good in music,” he said. “These might work,” he said in his travel-worn Australian accent, as he squinted fiercely at a pair of fuzzy white abominable snowmen. The saleswoman was making a serious effort not to seem star-struck, but Cave’s attention was elsewhere. “Do you have these in kids’ sizes?” he asked, holding up a belt with the word “kleptomaniac” engraved across its buckle. It was a bright afternoon in early February, and Cave was in a boutique in Berlin’s trendy Friedrichshain district, buying souvenirs for his sons. They’re like crucifixions.” He paused for a moment.


Those last Elvis performances - the ones for television, when he was already sick - I must have watched those clips a hundred times. “The rest of the band went in, but I stayed out on the curb, smoking cigarettes and feeling sorry for myself. “I went to Graceland once,” Nick Cave said.
