Director: Alex Ross Perry
Writers: Stephen Malkmus, Alex Ross Perry
Stars: Stephen Malkmus, Scott Kanberg, Joe Keery
Synopsis: Documentary about the American indie band Pavement, which combines scripts with documentary images of the band and a musical mise-en-scene composed of songs from their discography.
Pavement is a band that a specific niche of ’90s kids and 2000s rockers adore while the rest of the world ignores. Their songs were the score to the lives of the youth that Richard Linklater described as “slackers” in his 1990 feature film titled after the description. And that is no dig at the band itself. Their records appealed to that group of teens and were their probable introduction to the vast indie scene. But Pavement is not recognized for that. It was a group that was forgotten, and years later, the world reassured and welcomed them back to the scene, which is why their reunion tour received plenty of attention.
Most of these bands from the ’90s have gone through the same journey of rediscovery by a new generation that appeals to them for the same reasons as the original fans did back then. Pavement’s feels different; it has a more sincere revelation, even if the 2020s surge began with the rise in popularity of one of their B-sides in TikTok, ‘Harness Your Hopes’. Yet, I still feel that they are not given their deserved merit. Now, they are the subjects of a double-sided, metatextual project, Pavements, that is one part documentary about their discography, impact, and recent reunion in 2022 and one part fake fiction observation on what could have been–selling out to the masses–and their wayward demeanor through mockery and admiration.
The director helming this project is Alex Ross Perry (Her Smell, Queen of Earth), a talented and stripped-down filmmaker who has made his name by crafting peculiar pieces that tend to work when they aren’t supposed to due to their tone and genre shifts. Pavements is another addition to the list. The film contains his style and spirit. But actually, it is the fan side that predominates the direction, immediately noticeable upon the tagline “The World’s Most Important and Influential Band” and his words on the press notes, where Perry talks about how the group deserves their flowers because there hasn’t been a band like Pavement. And he is right.
Their use of irony and introspection in their lyrics mixed with the nonchalant of their lo-fi slacker aesthetic silently influenced a new generation of artists (Cate Le Bon, Car Seat Headrest, Snail Mail, Destroyer, just to name a few) that the response to it does not measure up with their current sidelined placement. I may not be their biggest fan in the world, but they deserve to be considered one of the top bands of the ’90s. Due to such disregard by the masses (and other reasons later to be explained), Alex Ross Perry made Pavements–a tip of the hat for the underground heroes and a beautiful, outright creative portrait of their essence, the slacker repertoire, and the music world they shaped one shrouded pop record at a time.
This doc hybrid is pitched to the viewer as “the documentary that may or may not be entirely true, may or may not be totally sincere, and may or may not be more about the idea of the band–or any band–than a history of Pavement”. That convoluted sentence leaves you questioning where things might be headed. But nothing can prepare you for the dissection Perry does of the band, rock docs, and biopics. The Her Smell director picks apart the worst tendencies of the Oscar-showered projects and mocks them to oblivion by providing artistry and vision to this film, leaving behind the Wikipedia rundowns and alignments for a more freeform approach.
If it isn’t apparent, Pavements is about the band Pavement. If you know about them, you are up to speed in some regards. If you don’t, Perry has more than covered you. He presents you with their history through archival footage of their beginnings and decades-later reunion, as well as covers of their songs from up-and-coming bands (which serve as an honor for the new generation that has embraced them). The members (singer Stephen Malkmus, guitarist Scott Kannberg, bassist Mark Ibold, and drummer Steve West), past and present, records, and slacker rock style are all given an introduction so that later Perry can delve deeper into their significance.
Their music does not appeal to every soul so you may be detached from the documentary. Perry recognizes that and thoroughly admits it. But one of the many tricks he pulls to turn the rock biographical portraits upside down is sharing his perspective on why the subjects are important not only to him but the music industry overall–with frontman Malkmus learning the meaning of Pavement in his life by reflecting on the multiple breakups and reunions as they reach more fame through new generations. Documentaries about rock music mainly consist of a by-the-numbers structure or “you had to be there” nostalgia trip that teaches you about the subject at hand. Yet, it is all information widely known by the great majority.
You are given one fact after another and no insight into what made them these thunderous forces in the industry, whether they are celebrated by the public or recognized by a more niche crowd. Pavements does the opposite. The film is rooted in the acclaim that made their style and musical posture recognizable and admirable. Perry manages to do such a thing by adding self-referential and unfeigned remarks on them via three different scenarios–two being real while a third one isn’t close to being such and with a purpose. The first is a museum exhibition called PAVEMENTS: 1933 – 2022, featuring memorabilia and “rumored” relics of their actual and imagined history.
This is where reality and fiction begin to intersect. Tokens of forged past cross paths with the knowledge of the fans attending the museum. It is all done with that ironic wink that Pavement’s lyrics contain. Beneath the surface of that experimentality, secrets are waiting for the right person to explore. Nonsensical wordings on a wall dedicated to old notebook pages may seem unimportant. However, these pages in the union tell a story about their creative process and personalities. The same happens with the old tour posters and cover art variants you see in the background. Yet, the writings have more potency and definition, like each wall is a gateway into their minds at the time.
The second is a workshop stage musical named after one of their most popular records, “Slanted, Enchanted”. There is no dialogue, only covers of Pavement songs played to capture the inner feelings of the characters singing them–the vibe rather than exposition. The story is simple and cliched: a boy falls in love, becomes famous, and ponders about that lost love. The interesting element in this on-paper trite concoction is how Perry and the band capture the aesthetic of their records through the restrictions of an off-Broadway play. And it is enjoyable watching it, charming in its low-budget contractions–like a giant pair of mache scissors appearing during ‘Cut Your Hair’, and jokes in its depictions of melodrama in the musical venue.
The third project is the most random yet self-referential of them all: a faux biopic about Pavement called “Range Life”. That “film” within a film starts with the likes of Natt Wolf, Logan Miller, and Fred Hechinger as band members and Jason Schwartzman as Matador Records head, Chris Lombardi. But the standout, and most commanding of them all, is Joe Keery as a brooding Stephen Malkmus. Seeing scenes from it as a “For Your Consideration” tag pops up, Keery immensely commits himself to the role. Keery even believes he is becoming the Pavement frontman; at one point, he mentions that an exorcism is needed to remove his essence from his future roles. These are hackneyed clips, yet with a purpose. The “Range Life” sections of the film mock modern biopics.
Keery is once asked what a special biopic is and answers Bohemian Rhapsody, one of the worst examples of the rudimentary list, or, in other words, the ne plus ultra of horrid biographical portraits. Many multi-layered jokes critique the Hollywood machine’s laziness. These projects need directors interested in the subjects to cover them thoroughly with a distinctive touch. All of this, and more, is done by Alex Ross Perry and Stephen Malkmus. They team up to show the world why Pavement means something not only back then but in today’s world, driven by consuming content quickly without digesting any of it.
Pavements might not be the epitome of rock documentaries or biopics. However, the project can probably pave the way for other filmmakers to craft more inventive portraits of fascinating musical figures with flair and ingenuity instead of million-dollar checks. (I am dying for a project like this about Chelsea Wolfe, Laura Nyro, or Portishead.) Alex Ross Perry culminates Pavements by giving the band their deserved flowers–and a new light shines on them because of this strange, informative concoction.
