In their native Britain in the early Seventies, skinheads turned glam-rockers Slade notched up a mighty 17 Top 20 hits, including six at number 1. And it wasn’t enough to play comically misspelled songs like ‘Cum On Feel The Noize’, ‘Coz I Luv You’, ‘Mama Weer All Crazee Now’ and ‘Skweeze Me Pleeze Me’ on your brand new wireless portable stereo. You had to play it loud. And like pretty much every rock band before them (The Beatles, The Monkees, The Who…the Dave Clarke Five) it seemed only natural to want to see your favourite band teetering around on their lofty platform-heels cracking jokes, and getting up to all kinds of outrageous malarkey on the big screen. And in 1975, Slade fans got to see just that. Kind of…
Coming somewhere between the classic kitchen-sink style dramas of the early 60s like ‘Saturday Night, Sunday Morning’, and ‘Kes’, gangster flicks like ‘Get Carter’ and more run of the mill rise-to-fame dramas like ‘That’ll Be The Day’ and ‘Stardust’, ‘Flame’ wrong footed both critics and fans alike on its first (and last) commercial release in 1975. What could have been a high-grossing celluloid substitute for seeing the band live and in action, turned into a more than credible foray into serious film-making.
With a gritty, socially realistic screenplay written by Andrew Birkin (brother of the fabulously erotic Jane) ‘Flame’ tells the story of four struggling musicians stumbling their way through the murky underworld of seedy makers and shakers, hustlers and sharks to find fleeting success on the airwaves. By turns the film is bleak, gruesome, amusing, dirty and genuinely poignant. Johnny Shannon (who plays the villainous Harding,) virtually recreates the quietly sinister role of Johnny Flowers he played in ‘Performance’. Alan Lake (drunk for the most part in early filming) is hilarious and tragic in equal measures. And Tom Conti as the courteous corporate assassin Robert Seymour makes one of the most stunning yet understated debuts in film-history.
It may still have its fair share of set pieces (the locked coffin-capers, the larking around in cars, the sell-out stadium) but the discreet and judicious handling of the script by all concerned (although true of Holder and Lea in particular) elevates the film well above the industry standard.
Supported by an hour long candid interview with Slade vocalist Noddy Holder, ‘Flame’ is an essential purchase for anyone with half an interest in the glum side of glam or the flipside of the industry.