Rock of Ages is an ironic and well-intentioned eulogy to the kind of rock ’n’ roll spirit we thought would never die. Although it’s far from a colossal failure, it should be a lot better than it is.

Instead of a joyful descent into Dionysian excess, which we all really want rock stardom to be, Rock of Ages tames down any gritty exploits in favour of a small-town girl with big-city dreams scenario. It’s so damn harmless and sweet that any authentic head-banger will be banging their heads against the walls instead of along with the film’s music. Upholding everything people hate about musicals, Rock of Ages turns the rebellious into innocents, rock heroes into victims and loud, thrashing, soul-screeching death songs into heartfelt ballads. 

None of the characters seem particularly devoted to the hard-core lifestyle, including Tom Cruise’s Stacee Jaxx, the Cutty Sark guzzling rock idol (there is no drug use) who bails out of his sworn oath to debauchery in order to strike a moral balance between remaining true to the music while suffering as a slave to fame. Faring somewhat better is Alec Baldwin as owner of The Bourbon, the rock palace of Sunset Boulevard earmarked for bankruptcy, and Russell Brand as Baldwin’s faithful and supportive shadow. Baldwin and Brand bring to the film one of the evening’s most memorable moments in a scene-stealing duet. The film has other pleasant surprises but it’s the Brand/Baldwin scene that rises to the top.

One of the issues besides cramming a hard-rock theme into a Cole Porter storyline is, in fact, the music. If ever there was a musical genre to be wary of it would be jukebox musicals where the songs existed long before the story was conceived. It’s like printing the poster before the movie, which was a favourite trick of the late Samuel Arkoff, but never to any great success. That formula doesn’t work any better here.  

The trick of the musical is to create songs organic to the action on screen. The jukebox musical reverses the process where now it’s the responsibility of the story to grow organically from the songs. It’s a lot to ask considering the songs were not created to enhance a cohesive narrative but to stand-alone and sell a million copies for the artist. I place the creation of the jukebox musical solely on Robert Stigwood for creating Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. 

But if only the songs were remnants of truly great music from that era then Rock of Ages might survive on the strength of nostalgia. Instead the creators choose to highlight substandard ballads and mob stirring but forgettable rock chants in its attempt to re-light a flame for a genre that had sufficiently and gratefully burned itself out. 

If anyone was hoping for a revival of the genre, and I’m not sure who that would be, director Adam Shankman pretty much crushes that dream. I’m not certain Shankman is entirely to blame. He has, after all, based his film on a stage production that lived long enough to enjoy a moderate run on the Broadway circuit. And to his credit, Shankman pumps into the film a great deal of energy utilizing the celebrity karaoke appeal so that Rock of Ages seems, at least for a short while, to be a campy and pleasing fantasy. But the film goes on too long with far too few high points to sustain interest.    

It’s not that Rock of Ages kills rock music it merely reminds us that it’s been dead for a long time.

Director – Adam Shankman
Rating - 1.5/5 stars
123 minutes

Also in theatres: That's My Boy