Great hair, terrible movie: Netflix's "The Dirt"

The musical biopic seems to be a big trend these days, with the recent release of “Bohemian Rhapsody” and the upcoming summer release of “Rocketman.” We even see this in the world of digital streaming, with Netflix jumping on the train with their Motley Crue film “The Dirt.” Yet all too often I find that the cinematic adaptations of the lives of these bands fail to capture the heart and soul of those that they portray…

This one is skippable, to say the least. If you can get through it without using the ten-second skip button at least thirty times, well, I applaud you. I enjoyed the beginning, with the band getting together, but by the time that was over I found myself asking “when will this end?” The narrative structure of the story is bizarre – there seems to be no real purpose or point other than to show the audience how outlandish and crazy Motley Crue could be. Sometimes it was a little (a lot) sickening. The endless loop of sex, drugs, and partying got old really fast and began to serve no real narrative purpose. It was all over the place. I felt like an extremely dark, twisted story had been presented in a bizarrely fun, vanilla, and carefree light. No thank you.

The positives – the performances. I was actually a big fan of the acting of Douglas Booth, Iwan Rheon, and (surprisingly enough) Colson Baker (primarily known by his stage name Machine Gun Kelly). During his first scene, I was like “who is this guy?” He was shockingly really good. I listened to a podcast where Baker spoke with Tommy Lee, and apparently as soon as he had gotten the part he went over to Lee’s home and sat down with him for hours with the script. I can respect the dedication. 

And I can also respect the hair. The hair and makeup team killed it.