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It’s All Gone Pete Tong

Directed & Written by: Michael Dowse
Starring: Paul Kaye, Mike Wilmot, Kate Magowan, Beatriz Batarda.
Country: UK/CAN

   


Two deaf ears

Reviewed by Hal Gray

Donkey Kong, Piece of Slong.

The story: Rootin’ tootin’ DJ Frankie Wilde, star of the Ibiza club scene, has his hearing destroyed by loud music and general over-indulgence in the party scene. His life in shambles, he works his way back to the top.

Before I have the wrath of the entire Canadian film community down on my head, let me quickly state that Pete Tong has some things going for it. It has great energy, yes, mindless like the Energizer Bunny®, but it gets the pulse racing, and wonderful splashes of primary colour consistent throughout. Oh, and loud music if you’re spaced and like that kind of thing. For the most part, that’s it. But you can get that for free out of a music video on MTV.

Despite Director Michael Dowse’s claims to this contrary, this is a Mocu-mentary under any description but with none of the charm of, say, This Is Spinal Tap. It does wander into ‘fictionalized’ scenes, but the mocu-style is set up from the beginning. So, leaning heavily on a film genre that needs a break—say 20 years—it had better add something new in order to be successful. It doesn’t and it isn’t.

Frankie (Paul Kaye), lives in Ibiza, looks like Pete Townsend, is self-destructive like Keith Moon and snorts foot-high piles of coke. This is all so 70s I felt like I was in a time warp. Derivative and retro. Ouch.

Of course, any sympathetic protagonist can save the day. So, the storyline and characters of Pete Tong need to be inspiring and appealing. The story—someone who depends on his hearing for a living becoming deaf—is certainly compelling. The characters on the other hand—all the characters—have no redeeming qualities. Aside from the arguable point that DJs are ‘artists in their own right’, one would hope there would be something else to make us care about Frankie and his plight even if the material is supposed to be over the top like it is here. That balance is never found.

The first half of the movie is vulgar and crass, creeping into Farley Brothers and Duece Bigalow territory except that most of the ‘ick’ factor is done with language. However, at mid-point there are two pivotal scenes that show promise of where the story can go: one a truly funny moment involving fireworks and one right afterward when Frankie violently confronts his drug-addled self. Then, despite this promise and a shift into a more formulaic routine, it’s really more of the same. Frankie’s still drinking like a fish and the hearing-specialist and romance interest who’s going to save him gets smashed right along with him. Having gone this far, Dowse loses the courage of his convictions. He tacks on a soft, socially relevant feel-good ending which has no basis for believability.

Kaye is full of fire in the lead role. His frenetic body and rubber-like face hold the picture together. His slovenly, puke-incrusted ghet, incapable of reflective thought is amusing then boring. Mike Wilmot, as Frankie’s producer, carries off his scenes with a sleazy hyper off-the-wall cadence. He’s someone we could care about if allowed. Beatriz Batarda, as the deaf hearing specialist, has spine in her first scene but which quickly and mysteriously disappears. Rather than a real character she fast becomes a plot devise. Not her fault, of course. Kate Magowan, as Frankie’s debauched gold-digging wife, delivers exactly what the role requires.

My guess: It becomes a cult classic for those who don’t have the guts to be boorish themselves.   

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